out the interior with a cleaning rag. She had put a pot of hot water inside to speed the defrosting of the upper freezer, which had grown thick with ice. She rocked back on her heels and drew her hand across her forehead.
“Hi, Ivy. Can you talk?”
Ivy looked up at Rachel, her young guest from the bachelorette party, and stretched out her hand. “As long as you give me a hand up.” She’d been in that position so long that her legs were aching.
“What are you doing?” Rachel asked.
“Defrosting the freezer.”
“I didn’t know you had to do that,” Rachel said, biting her lip. “Guess I have a lot to learn about taking care of a house—and a baby and a husband. Not that my mother is any sort of a role model. All she does is order the staff around. Topper and I won’t be able to afford help—and we don’t want it anyway. I want it to be just the three of us in our home. Mom tells me that’s ridiculous.”
“Don’t worry. Defrosting freezers isn’t done much anymore—unless you have refrigerators older than I am, which you probably won’t. We’re just lucky that way.” Ivy wasn’t sure she was doing the defrosting right either. “I was just about to take a break and make a cup of tea. If you like, we can talk over tea.”
“Thanks,” Rachel said. “We’re checking out today, but I’ll be back for the wedding.”
Ivy gestured for her to sit on a stool at the long counter in the kitchen. She hadn’t been planning to take a break, but Rachel’s voice sounded so plaintive. The young woman had been scarce after speaking to her mother. Since Eleanor had paid to reserve space for the wedding, Ivy was committed. She only hoped it wouldn’t be a fiasco.
While Ivy put the kettle on, Rachel said, “I guess you overheard everything. I had confided in my Aunt Lillian—my mom’s sister. She was concerned, so she told my mother. Mom went ballistic, and now she’s rushing around moving up the wedding for us.”
Ivy measured fragrant tea leaves into a mesh ball and hung it on the side of a teapot. “Is that what you want?”
“Topper and I want to get married—even more now—but our original wedding date is now the baby’s due date. So we have to do something. We’d thought about getting married at City Hall. I always wanted a small ceremony, but Mom planned her extravagant dream wedding. That’s needlessly extravagant, especially now.”
Ivy listened while Rachel went on. “After the divorce, Mom and I lived on a modest income until she remarried. My father is a musician. He’s a rock-and-roller at heart, but he makes his living as a studio musician. He’s the kindest person you’ve ever met, but Mom was always angry because he didn’t get the huge break she’d thought he would. She dreamed of being a famous rock-and-roller’s wife, touring the world, and living in Malibu. She says Dad let her down.”
Rachel picked at a hangnail. “Mom finally got what she wanted, except for the rock-and-roll wife part. She usually does.”
As Rachel’s words hung in the air, Ivy studied the young woman’s face. What a shame it was that Rachel couldn’t celebrate what should be one of the happiest moments of her life because of a domineering mother. Ivy tried to imagine Eleanor as a rock-and-roll wife, but she couldn’t. It sounded like Eleanor derived her identity from whomever she was with, rather than having the confidence to create her own.
Ivy could understand that. It was easy to get swept up in someone else’s dream when you were young, especially if they were good-looking, adored you—and spoke with a swoony French accent. But she was past that now.
Gently, Ivy asked, “Do you have a good relationship with your father?”
“I do, but Mom is jealous of that.” Rachel fidgeted with her fingernail. “I want both my father and stepfather to walk me down the aisle. Churchill is a good guy, even though he’s a lot older than Mom. He’s been really nice to me.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how Mom attracts such nice guys when she’s such a tyrant. It’s her looks, I guess. She really puts herself out there.”
Eleanor was attractive, Ivy allowed, but in a highly polished, trophy-wife sort of way. She couldn’t picture Eleanor with a musician. Watching Rachel fidget, Ivy opened what she and Shelly called their kitchen junk drawer, a collection of lost buttons, hair clips, coupons,