The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

JUST BEFORE SHOOTING WAS SET to commence, Harry turned forty-five. He said he didn’t want a big night out or any sort of formal plans. He just wanted a nice day with all of us.

So John, Celia, and I planned a picnic in the park. Luisa packed us lunch. Celia made sangria. John went down to the sporting-goods store and got us an extra-large umbrella to shade us from not only the sun but also passersby. On the way home, he got the bright idea to buy us wigs and sunglasses, too.

That afternoon, the three of us told Harry we had a surprise for him, and we led him into the park, Connor riding on his back. She loved to be strapped to him. She would laugh as he bounced her while he walked.

I took his hand and dragged him with us.

“Where are we going?” he said. “Someone at least give me a hint.”

“I’ll give you a small one,” Celia said as we were crossing Fifth Avenue.

“No,” John said, shaking his head. “No hints. He’s too good with hints. It takes all the fun out of it.”

“Connor, where is everyone taking Daddy?” Harry said. I watched as Connor laughed at the sound of her name.

When Celia walked through the entrance to the park, not even a block from our apartment, Harry spotted the blanket already set out with the umbrella and the picnic baskets, and he smiled.

“A picnic?” he said.

“Simple family picnic. Just the five of us,” I said.

Harry smiled. He closed his eyes for a moment. As if he’d reached heaven. “Absolutely perfect,” he said.

“I made the sangria,” Celia said. “Luisa made the food, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Harry said, laughing.

“And John got the umbrella.”

John bent down and grabbed the wigs. “And these.”

He handed me a curly black one and gave Celia a short blond one. Harry took a red one. And John put on the long brown one that made him look like a hippie.

We all laughed as we looked at one another, but I was surprised to see just how realistic they managed to be. And when I put on the coordinating pair of sunglasses, I felt a little freer.

“If you got the wigs and Celia made the sangria, what did Evelyn do?” Harry asked as he took Connor off his back and put her on the blanket. I grabbed her and helped her sit up.

“Good question,” John said, smiling. “You’d have to ask her.”

“Oh, I helped,” I said.

“Actually, yeah, Evelyn, what did you do?” Celia said.

I looked up to see the three of them all staring at me teasingly.

“I . . .” I gestured vaguely to the picnic basket. “You know . . .”

“No,” Harry said, laughing. “I don’t know.”

“Listen, I’ve been very busy,” I said.

“Uh-huh,” Celia said.

“Oh, all right.” I lifted Connor up as she started to frown. I knew it meant tears were coming any moment. “I didn’t do a damn thing.”

The three of them started laughing at me, and then Connor started laughing, too.

John opened the basket. Celia poured wine. Harry leaned over and kissed Connor’s forehead.

It was one of the last times we were all together, laughing, smiling, happy. A family.

Because after that, I ruined it.