The Wedding Party (32 page)

But I did. I never left Jake. I was close to him for twenty-five years…sometimes closer than I should have been. I was the one who made our relationship
exactly
like the one my parents had had, when Jake would have gladly had better. When Jake wanted more.

It was me.

It was me.

It was me.

Charlene went to the kitchen and retrieved the Boston cream pie and brought it to the beautifully appointed table. She put it on her plate, picked up a fork and began to eat. She didn't cut it into neat little wedges or take servings one at a time. She started in the middle and fully intended to have her fill.

 

Pam could have simply looked for Ray. It was possible he had a listed phone number. She could call him, tell him she was embarrassed by her behavior and ask if they could get together for a drink sometime. But she was afraid his mother would answer and ask who was calling.

He's twenty-five, Pam, not fifteen. He probably gets the occasional call from a woman.

Instead, she went to the Plum Tree after work every evening for sushi and saki. Then she headed home for a long walk with Beau.

One evening a young Asian man came to her table and presumptuously sat across from her. She recognized him as someone who worked in the restaurant, perhaps one of the owners. “Hello,” he said. “I couldn't help but notice you over here by yourself.”

“Oh? Is there a problem with that in this establishment?” she asked in good humor.

“You either have an insatiable hunger for sushi or you're waiting for someone.”

“I don't think I'll ever get enough sushi,” she said, when in truth she didn't want to ever see another fish. “Yours is wonderful. This restaurant was recommended by a friend. Ray Vogel?”

“Yes, Ray has been coming in here for years. How do you know him?”

“We worked together, before Ray left the law firm where I work. I've been wondering where he went.”

“It happens I know. A job came through for him, one that he's been waiting for. He's clerking for a judge in the Bay Area. He had almost given up—”

“Clerking for a judge?” she asked, shocked.

“He's a law graduate. Very recent. A week or two back? Takes the bar in August, I think.”

“Gone to the Bay Area,” she said.

The young man smiled handsomely. “I'm sure he won't forget his friends.”

“We weren't very good friends, obviously. I didn't know he was a law student. And here I am, a paralegal working for a lawyer.”

“Oh, of course. At the firm just down the street. Yes,” he said. “He worked as a security guard there. He not only had time and quiet for study when he worked nights, he also used their law libraries.”

Well, she thought, at least I don't have to eat any more fish and rice.

“If you ever happen to run into him, tell him Pam says hello.” And sorry. Tell him sorry.

 

The work on Lois's house progressed nicely. The new appliances were something she should have had anyway, but being a penny-pincher, she would have waited till the last possible moment to replace the old ones. Some of the furniture cleaned up nicely, some had to be replaced because the acrid smell of smoke crept into the fibers and would remain till eternity. All her clothing had to be washed or dry-cleaned, and some had to be thrown away and replaced. The home-owner's insurance took care of almost everything; Charlene took care of the rest.

Charlene and Lois stood in the family room and looked into the kitchen. There was still plastic draping work areas and construction debris everywhere.

“And no more avocado-green kitchen,” Charlene said with reverence.

“I've always liked that green,” Lois said. “I'm not sure I like this black granite countertop…or these black appliances. You're sure they're ‘in'?”

“You're going to love them,” she promised. It was a lucid day, Charlene thought with a smile. So she asked, “Mom? I have a question about Daddy. Do you mind?”

“I didn't think you'd ever talk about him again,” she answered. “I don't mind, but I don't know what I'll remember.”

“Just tell me, why didn't you divorce him?”

“Why should I have?”

“Well, maybe because he was unreliable, and unfaithful, and never helped support us.”

“And would divorcing him have made him faithful, reliable and supportive?”

“No, but you wouldn't have had to put up with him showing up once or twice a year.”

“But Charlene, that was the only part I actually liked!”

“You liked that?” she asked, confused.

“Listen, you're a bright girl. It was the fifties. I was raising a daughter alone. I couldn't have boyfriends—I would have lost my job at the library. And even though you've thought of me as a dried-up old lady since you were on roller skates, I happened to like the by-products of having a male visitor who spent the night once in a while. He did more than fix the back step and paint the fence, you know.”

“Mother!”

“Besides, if I'd divorced him, he'd never have visited
you.
”

“But he was no good!”

“I know it.”

“Didn't you ever want him out of the picture so you could start over? Maybe meet a man who would prove to be a little more…I don't know…substantial?”

“Good Lord. With all the trouble that man was, you think I'd want
another
one?”

“Oh, Mother.” She laughed. “What would I do without you?”

“Charlene, tell me something. You've been happy, haven't you?”

She put her arm around her mother. She had spent so much energy on perfection, with the ultimate goal being happiness, that it took breaking off her relationship with Dennis and giving her life a long, hard honest look to find the answer to that question. “Almost every single day, Mom. Almost every single day.”

Charlene hadn't seen Dennis in a week. She found herself thinking about him with gratitude and tenderness. She had not yet told Jake that the wedding was off, but she was certain Stephanie had. He was probably turning purple with the desire to gloat. He was a terrible winner. There was one thing she felt compelled to do, and that was apologize to Miss Farnsworth.

 

It was a warm and sunny day, the first of May, four weeks since the announcement of the engagement. The spring rains were dried up for good and the green on the hillsides were growing lush and rich. Charlene went to the Bridal Boutique only to learn that the wedding consultant was having a day off. “She works
almost every weekend, as you might imagine,” the store manager said. “And with June brides gearing up—”

“Sure. Weddings,” Charlene said. And wasn't she almost an accidental June bride.

“She'll be working out of the shop this weekend, then she'll be back on Monday.”

Charlene thanked the woman, but once in the car she realized this could be turned to her advantage. She looked in the phone book under Farnsworth and found an address. She consulted her city street map and, sure enough, the wedding planner didn't live far from the shop.

Charlene purchased a large potted plant from the first nursery she passed and decided to take it to Miss Farnsworth, with her thanks and apologies. Since the consultant had graciously chosen not to charge them for her wasted time, this was the very least she could do.

Miss Farnsworth lived in an adorable little cottage-like house in a section of Sacramento that had become popular among young professionals. As she pulled up, Charlene noticed that the windows to the little house were open, and as the spring breeze wafted in, the classical music drifted out. She stepped up on the porch and rang the bell.

“Get that, will you, darling?”

Darling?
Oh, she hoped she wasn't disturbing—

The door opened and there, shirtless, shoeless and holding a newspaper at his side was none other than her former fiancé—darling Dennis.

She was speechless.

“Sweetheart, who is at the—”

Behind him, donned in a white terry robe with wet tendrils of curling red hair dropping to her shoulders, was the wedding consultant.

I may be at a similar place in my life?

Charlene shoved the huge potted plant into Dennis's midsection, causing him to grunt in either surprise or, she hoped, pain. “Sorry for the
inconvenience!
” She turned on her heel and stomped back to her car. Only then did she notice that Dennis's car was parked along the curb, under the huge elm at the house across the street. She hadn't even noticed it on her way up the walk.

“Charlene!” he called, starting after her. “Let me explain!”

She looked over her shoulder to see him limping along barefoot behind her, carrying the plant. “Leave me alone! Do you think I'm stupid? You didn't just meet this woman! You were meeting with Miss Farnsworth without me! This has been going on for—” She had absolutely no idea. Since the idea of a wedding was born? “Just leave me alone!”

She got into her car, started the engine and peeled away from the curb. Dennis looked perfectly ridiculous standing there, looking after her, holding the potted plant.

She made a right turn, then a left, then another right. She wasn't exactly sure where she was, and the tree-lined residential street was deserted. She pulled over and began to cry, loud, wailing, angry sobs punctuated
with words like
bastard
and
asshole.
She pounded the steering wheel. And then, pulling her hands away from her face, noticed that they were dry. At the same moment she realized that, while she'd been in bed with her ex-husband, her fiancé had been boinking the wedding planner. She fell sideways onto the front seat of her car and was reduced to almost hysterical laughter. Which, indeed, brought on the tears.

 

Stephanie sat at the bar where Grant worked. If he was surprised to see her there, he didn't show it. He put down a napkin, flashed her his sexy bartender smile and asked, “Diet Coke with a cherry?”

“Thanks,” she said. “And when you have a second…?”

“It's not very busy. Why don't I take a little break?”

“That would be nice. Meet you in the booth?”

She tried to keep her heart from pounding, but found it difficult. She wanted to grab him, hug him, hold him close. It had been weeks. She missed him so.

He placed the drink in front of her. “How've you been?”

“Okay. School will be out in a few days. Are you done with finals?”

“I am. I think I did okay.”

“Okay…or dean's list?”

He smiled. “I think I made the list. How's Peaches?”

“You know how she is,” she said coyly. “I know you talk to my dad all the time.”

“What makes you think that?” he asked, the mask of a frown on his face.

“And I know you and my dad did something to Freddy. Did my dad tell you? About the coffee shop?” Grant tried to cover his emotions with a look of confused consternation, but it didn't work. His sly grin popped through. “You're going to have to work on your facial expressions before you start interrogations for the police department. I think you've been in the apartment, too. A small piece of tape on the inside of the bedroom door indicates it's been opened in my absence.”

“What makes you think it was me?”

“Actually, I was a little afraid it was Freddy, except that I couldn't figure out how he'd have a key to the place.”

“Okay, you got me. The apartment looked great, Stephanie. Like you changed your habits entirely.”

“Sort of,” she said. “Actually, I only changed my priorities. I hope my dad didn't tell you everything I came here to say…. I hope he left some things for me.”

“I only called him a few times to make sure you were all right,” Grant said. “And I only went in the apartment to get a couple of CDs I like to study with. I was pretty shocked, to tell the truth.”

“I didn't do that to get you back.”

“I figured not…or I would have heard from you.”

“Well, the lease will be up on that apartment pretty soon—”

“Damn! That's
right!
I forgot. Well, don't worry, I'll still help you with—”

“No, Grant, that's not what I came to talk to you about. The lease is almost up and you can renew if you want to, but I'm going to move in with Peaches. She needs a companion. She's not so bad right now, just has these episodes of forgetfulness and confusion that come and go pretty quickly. The rest of the time she's fine, her old self but older. And Mr. Conklin, next door, he's a wonderful caretaker, and he'll spell me whenever I need it.