Chapter Twenty Seven

"Libby, baby, we really need to get going," she said, looking back at her daughter, who was still staring, transfixed, at a Peter Rabbit display. An afternoon about town sounded like a fun adventure at first, better than spending a beautiful day indoors, but the city seemed particularly crowded, and it felt like everyone on Fifth Avenue ended up in Barnes & Noble. After nearly losing Libby in Macy's in the winter, she was always wary of crowds now. Of course, none of this was Libby's fault, and so she was making enormous efforts to keep the distress out of her voice despite the fact she was getting dizzy by the second. And Mark was texting her literally every three seconds with the weirdest, most random questions about the wedding. She couldn't even begin to imagine what he was up to. She could barely keep up with texting back while keeping her eyes on Libby.

"Can't we stay for Story Time, Mommy?" asked Libby, her eyes huge and imploring.

"Not today, sweetheart, I'm sorry. If you want, we can read it tonight before bedtime."

"You'll do all the voices?"

"You bet."

Libby wasn't one for temper tantrums, but she was still holding her breath for one before her daughter nodded and followed her obediently up the escalators. She allowed herself a tiny sigh of relief at that small victory.

"Right. Are you ready for our gift hunt?" she asked Libby as they got to the top floor of the shop, which was somewhat more spacious.

"Ready," giggled Libby. She looked around thoughtfully, then walked over to a nearby display and held up a large Moomin doll. She couldn't for the life of her remember which one it was; their names always eluded her.

"I don't think Mark will want a Moomin doll, Munchkin," she said, holding back a giggle at the mental image. He'd actually accidentally confessed to her recently that they terrified him (They don't have a mouth! He reasoned while she was roaring with laughter. Why?), so she could only imagine how that would go down.

Libby considered it, then said, "Then he'll let me borrow it."

"You're a practical little girl and I love you. Come on."

They moved from one display to the next, one of them suggesting something and the other saying what she thought. Getting Mark a present was Libby's idea, when she learned that the adoption procedure had been finalized that morning. They'd explained the process to her beforehand, and she even met with Mark's lawyer and a social worker as part of the procedure.

"Mommy, look at this one."

The coffee table book Libby had pointed at was almost bigger than she was, and it featured gorgeous portraits of landmarks in New York City. She didn't know any of the photographers' names, but it definitely looked like something Mark would appreciate, and probably ramble endlessly about. "That's actually perfect. Good catch, Munchkin." Libby beamed proudly. "Right, let's take this downstairs and – "

"Maureen Johnson?"

She turned instinctively as one would at the sound of one's name, and her eyes met the bright eyes of an unfamiliar woman who was approaching them. At least, she thought she was unfamiliar, although the woman looked at her as if they'd known each other. Her smile was warm and pleasant despite the rather awkward situation, her blonde hair tied back in a messy bun.

"You are Maureen Johnson, aren't you?" she repeated, with slightly less confidence.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"And you must be Libby!" cooed the stranger, smiling warmly at her daughter, who was suddenly clinging to her side. She wrapped her hand around Libby's and squeezed it for comfort. The woman, seeing Libby's reaction, shook her head. "Oh, sweetheart, I didn't mean to scare you; either of you," she added, throwing an apologetic glance at her. "It's just that I've been looking forward to meeting you for such a long time." Before she could question her identity, the stranger continued. "I'm Cindy Baum, Mark's sister."

She stared at Cindy's outstretched hand, then snapped out of it and shook it uncertainly. Nothing about her stance was judgmental, and her words sounded candid. She looked harmless; she wouldn't make a scene in the middle of this crowded shop, would she? "Well, this isn't awkward at all," she said at last, and it seemed to have broken the tension just a tiny bit. "I'm not sure what to say, to be honest."

"Nice to meet you is a good place to start," replied Cindy encouragingly. She suddenly noticed the resemblance; she and Mark had the same dimple on their chin when they smiled. Before she could snap out of it, Cindy was addressing Libby again. "Mark has told me so much about you, Libby. I'm sort of your aunt, you know."

"How did you know – "

"Mark has pictures of you in his office. I was there a few weeks ago." Her expression darkened ever so slightly. "Look, I just want to know you better. I know it will mean a lot to him. Do you want to go someplace and talk?"

They ended up in one of the restaurants in the nearby Rockefeller Center, talking about nothing in particular until a waitress took their orders. Even Libby seemed at ease, for she answered all of Cindy's questions and seemed impressed by the fact she now had an aunt, a real one, not like Tammy and Arianna. Cindy seemed surprised to learn they'd only just finalized the adoption. She knew Mark hadn't told her about the HIV scare, not wanting to alarm her over nothing, and she wouldn't say anything next to Libby anyway.

"Aren't you a little far away from home?"

"It always feels like another world, coming down here," said Cindy, shaking her head. "I had some errands in the area, and I needed to collect some books for my sons' school." She spoke of her husband, of the twins and of Natalie. But as normal as it all felt, it also felt as if they were treading on eggshells, for Cindy didn't mention her mother, and she didn't ask.

The waitress returned with their drinks, and some coloring sheets for Libby, much to her delight. It was a warm day, and in the absence of long sleeves for her fingers to fumble with, she wrapped them around her coffee mug. Cindy's gaze followed her hands for a moment, and she smiled.

"You're wearing my grandmother's ring," she pointed out softly; she seemed moved to see it again.

"Mark said you gave it to him."

Cindy nodded. "Our grandmother gave it to me when Dan and I got engaged. I was really close to her, especially towards the end. Unlike my adventurous brother, I've never ventured that far from home, except maybe for college. So while Mark was struggling with pain and loss in the Village with all of you guys, the first time I experienced real loss was when Grandma Ida died. I still think of her often."

Now she felt sort of bad to be wearing a piece of family heirloom that clearly meant the world to the woman sitting across from her. "If you want it back – "

"Don't be silly. It's yours. And maybe someday you'll give it to Libby." Libby raised her head from the papers in front of her at the sound of her name, and returned Cindy's smile before bringing her attention back to her work. Cindy waited a moment as if to make sure she was well-distracted before speaking again, the words more hushed and urgent. "Look, I know the situation with my mother is... complicated."

She held back a snort; complicated didn't even begin to describe it. But Cindy was hardly to blame. "It must be awful, to be stuck in the middle of this."

"It is, but I don't think it's right to rant to you about this. You're in the middle of this just as much as I am." Not exactly, she wanted to point out, but Cindy continued in earnest. "I did everything in my power to change her mind, and I know you have, too. And I'm not trying to make excuses for her, but the truth of the matter is that my mother wants what every old-fashioned Jewish mother wants, for her son to marry a nice Jewish girl and have a respectful profession with a steady income. Unfortunately for my mother, Mark is not just any son. Both my parents have always refused to see that. When their friends' kids went to study law or medicine, he pursued film. It crushed them."

Cindy wasn't telling her anything she didn't know or couldn't deduce by herself, but she wasn't sure what was the point of it. "So we should call it all off so he could be all those things that she wants?"

"Not at all. Because even if he did try to be all those things, he would never be happy about it." Their eyes locked. "He's happy now. And as stubborn as my mother is, I know she sees that. He's loved you for so long; he would never admit it, but sometimes I think he's never settled down with anyone else because in the back of his mind he was always waiting for you to return."

The words barely had time to sink in when the waitress returned with the rest of their orders, and the conversation quickly shifted into a lighter note. They spoke for so long that even Libby seemed bored with them at some point, although Cindy made sure to include her in the conversation. But by the time they parted on the street with the promise of meeting for dinner that weekend, she felt a new understanding forming between the two of them.

She didn't know where that mini-meltdown came from that evening. When she and Cindy parted, she was fully confident they could make this thing work. She felt calmer by the time they drifted to sleep, but sat up an hour or so later when her brain just wouldn't turn off. She took her phone and left the bedroom, throwing a glance at Mark, who was sleeping peacefully.

In the kitchen she warmed herself some milk, then took the glass to the living room, placing her phone on the sofa next to her. She drank the milk slowly as she scrolled through her messages, flagging some relevant for work and smiling when she caught a one from Benny she must have missed earlier. He attached a picture of Mark in what looked like a fitting room, surrounded by discarded jackets with a helpless look on his face. There was also a message from Cindy, saying how excited she was for her to meet the rest of the family that weekend. She thought back of their conversation just several hours ago. She reopened the picture Benny had sent, staring at it for a second, deliberating. Then she walked over to her bag and found the hardcover she used for notes. On a new page she spent the next hour or so composing a short letter for Mrs. Cohen. Her previous attempt to speak to the woman's heart may have been disastrous, but she owed it to Mark, now to Cindy, to never stop trying.

Cindy called her on Wednesday, initially meaning to ask what she should bring for dinner on the weekend, but pretty soon the two of them were having such long conversations about anything but that Mark began to tease her he was feeling left out. But it clearly meant the world to him that they were getting along. His eyes were gleaming whenever he was around when Cindy called or texted.

Between meeting Rabbi Feldman (who was fabulous) and finally making progress regarding her wedding dress (which thrilled Arianna to no end), she hardly had time to stress over dinner anymore. The letter to Mrs. Cohen was constantly on her mind, though. The final copy didn't say much; it contained details about the wedding, extending an invitation to join them on the day. Once it was done, she confided in Cindy, who agreed to pass it on to her mother. The two of them agreed not to tell Mark about it. Even though they agreed they were done with keeping secrets, this was different. She didn't know if he'd approve, and even if he did, she didn't want to get his hopes up in case nothing came out of it. If she was completely honest, she wasn't sure which outcome she'd preferred; as far as she knew, Mrs. Cohen might use the information in order to sabotage the wedding. And in that case, she would have no one else to blame.

Somewhere in the apartment, Mark was calling her name, shaking her out of her reverie. She blinked at the digital clock on the oven, which said Cindy and her family would be there in about fifteen minutes. She picked up the glass of wine she'd poured herself earlier, to ease her returning panic, and was about to take a sip when Mark said her name again, this time right behind her. She turned abruptly to find him standing in the entry of the kitchen, looking at her with dismay.

"Why are you still in here?"

"Just making sure we haven't forgotten anything," she replied, pushing worst case scenarios to a dark corner in her mind.

Mark walked over to her and took the glass from her hand. After placing it back on the counter, he put his hands on her shoulder blades and began to massage them gently. She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly as he worked his way through tense muscles. "Stop stressing," he murmured, sweeping her hair aside so he could press his lips to the back of her neck. His arms snaked around her waist as he held her closer against him. She turned to face him, and his gaze was blazing with mutual intention as he leaned closer. But as soon as their lips touched, the doorbell rang. Mark groaned softly, pressing his forehead to hers.

"We got this, okay?"

She nuzzled her nose against his and smiled up at him. "We got this."

She stayed behind as he went to get the door, and listened to the loud and cheerful voices that suddenly filled their home. We got this, she told herself again, then took a deep breath, and went out of the kitchen to join them. Mark was just introducing Libby to the kids, her cousins for all intents and purposes. She stopped on her tracks and watched her daughter. She looked a bit wary (after all Natalie was ten, not to mention the boys who were practically towering over her), but she seemed to trust Mark, who was kneeling next to her and talking to her softly. Pretty soon the twins did the same as Mark, and one of them said something that made her giggle. The sound calmed here down instantly.

"There you are!" gushed Cindy, who suddenly noticed her in all the commotion. They hugged hello, and Cindy whispered, "Don't worry, she's fine," as they pulled away, as if she knew exactly what was on her mind. Then she looked over her shoulder at her husband. "Dan, come meet Maureen!"

Any remaining reservations had flown out of the window then. Cindy's husband shook her hand enthusiastically as Mark introduced her, telling her how Cindy didn't stop talking about their accidental encounter, and grilled her about her job at the theater as Mark and Cindy disappeared from their sight. The kids she hadn't even met properly, for they all disappeared in Libby's room before anyone had a chance to introduce them, apparently playing bowling with Libby's Moomin set.

At the dinner table, Cindy lit the Shabbat candles and Dan recited the Kiddush over a cup of wine. While Mark said Amen in all the right places, he seemed as out of place as she felt, whereas the Baums were probably doing this on a weekly basis. Thankfully, Libby seemed at ease, sitting across from her between Josh and Natalie, and beaming at her whenever their eyes met. Mark squeezed her hand underneath the table, smiling at her encouragingly. Thinking of the letter she'd snuck into his sister's purse earlier, she squeezed back, feeling new confidence.

That weekend, when Mark and Libby met with Benny and his sons in Central Park, she stayed behind, claiming she had to tie some loose ends at work when actually she rented a car and drove to the cemetery. She felt rather silly, sneaking out like that. She didn't even know why she felt the need to hide it from Mark, as if she wasn't entitled to visit there whenever she felt like it. Since moving back East, she hadn't been back there, and it felt wrong somehow. That week when she finally finished reading Collins' book, the one he'd never got a chance to finish himself, she couldn't shake off the feeling that she needed to be there.

Mark once told her how, whenever he visited the cemetery, he used to speak to their friends as if they were there. While it made sense to her in theory, it didn't sound like something she would ever do, and yet upon arriving there, she found herself unable to stop the words from flowing. She told Angel and Mimi about her job at the theater, she told Roger about the bear who carried his name, she told Collins the end of that book, all the while simultaneously giggling and sobbing until a gardener working nearby was beginning to look at her funny. She couldn't care less though; she was catching up with her friends.

"It's good to have you here, Mo."

She looked up with a start, thinking it might be that gardener who came to tell her off or tease her, but why would he know her name, or say the complete opposite of what she'd assumed he'd say? But sure enough, there was Collins again, on the grass next to her, twirling a stem of a pink buttercup between his fingers.

"I'll try to come more often," she told him earnestly, for once not in a rush to find out why he was there. "I wish..."

I wish things were different. I wish you were here. I wish my daughter got a chance to know you.

But instead of completing her statement, she settled on asking him what had been on her mind for months now. "What did you want to tell me, Collins?"

He didn't say anything for the longest time, and she feared he would be leaving her in the dark yet again. But then he smiled at her, that broad, radiant smile she still missed every single day, and said, "Just be happy, babe. We got your back."

When she next blinked, he was gone.

"Come on out, Maureen, you're killing us here!"

"Mommy, come out!"

"Hush, darling, she'll be out whenever she's ready."

"Maureen, do you think you'll be done by our Tony rehearsal tomorrow?"

"I'm coming out, jeez!" she giggled, taking one last look at the mirror. She had no idea when she'd acquired such an entourage for this final dress fitting. But suddenly it wasn't just her mother with her, but Libby who insisted to be included, and Tammy, and Arianna who rightfully said she was the reason this was happening in the first place. They all crammed inside the Washington Heights apartment, where Arianna's childhood friend Jack had his tiny studio in the spare bedroom in his abuela's home. To call this a final dress fitting would be a gross exaggeration because very minor alterations were needed. Jack had created the dress as the finale piece for one of his design classes. As soon as she laid eyes on it, she knew. And now she smiled at him through the mirror. "So what do we think?" she asked him, although his opinion was evident in his beaming smile.

"You were meant to wear my dress," he said, his voice thick with emotion although they'd known each other for less than a month, all in all. "Go on, show it to them before they wreck my abuela's living room."

But she lingered in front of the mirror, taking one last critical look at herself as thoroughly as if she was examining one of the costumes at work. It looked nothing like the dress she'd worn the first time around. This one was all clean lines, subtle and mature, with gorgeous lace sleeves. It shocked her how someone as bubbly as Jack could design something so elegant and low key. She tried to imagine Mark's reaction, but found herself unable to.

"Maureen!"

"I'm coming!"

Their excited chatter grew more audible as she left the studio and made her way back to the living room. However, as soon as she stepped out, they fell silent, taking her in. Feeling self-conscious, she did the obligatory half spin to show off the back of the dress, then looked back at them expectantly. "Well?"

"You look like a princess, Mommy," said Libby, her voice filled with awe, as she came closer to examine the tiny pearls sewn into the fabric.

"You'll look like a princess too, sweetheart," Jack assured Libby, who seemed delighted by the prospect of it.

"Jack, mi vida, you outdid yourself. I knew I should have insisted," said Arianna, visibly tearing up.

"You look stunning, Maureen. Mark won't know what hit him."

"Thanks, guys." She looked up at her mother, who still hadn't said anything, but looked as emotional as Arianna. "You okay there, Mom?"

"Never better, darling," replied the older woman, taking a step towards her. As they embraced, she remembered their conversation at the café, early in May.

It was beginning to hit her now. She and Mark were getting married, and she couldn't effing wait.