On This Day (20 page)

A
my and I make it downstairs and to the tent just as my father-in-law informs the guests that dinners about to be served. I can tell by the look on Catherine’s face that his style of announcement wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. But I think there may be no pleasing her, no matter who you are or how you do it.

I spot David just sitting down at a table near the front, but it takes me a couple of minutes to navigate through the crowded space to join him. He smiles at us as he takes Amy in one arm and pulls out the chair for me with his free hand.

Alex is tapping his fork on the glass again, and everyone grows quiet. “I want to welcome you all here tonight,” he says in a loud voice. “We’ve had quite a day, and it looks like we’re in for a really
great evening too. But before we get started, I’d like to make a toast.”

As he’s saying this, a number of waiters move around the tables with silver trays, quickly distributing prefilled glasses of champagne. Soon we are all holding our slender champagne flutes, waiting for Alex to continue.

“To Jennifer and Michael,” he says in a hearty voice as he raises his glass high toward the wedding couple. “Here’s hoping that the rest of your days together will be as happy as today. But if times should ever get tough, just hold on to each other with all your might, and enjoy the ride.”

The crowd echoes with “Hear! Hear!” and “Cheers!” and everyone takes a sip. Then Jenny’s father stands up for the second toast. I sense that he’s not as comfortable speaking in front of crowds as Alex, but his smile is sincere, and I see real tears in his eyes as he looks at the newlyweds.

“First I’ll toast the bridegroom,” he begins. “Michael, you’ve got yourself a fine woman there, and I know you’ll take good care of her.” Clearing his throat, he adds, “Because if you don’t,
I know where you live.”
Everyone laughs.

“But seriously,” he continues, “Jennifer has always been my little princess, and I am entrusting her into your care today, Michael, knowing full well that she’s in good hands.” He holds his glass higher now. “And to the bride, my Jenny, I wish you nothing but the best, sweetheart. Sunshine and blue skies and daffodils …
But as Alex said, if the going ever gets rough, you two just hold on tight and weather the storm. In the end you’ll be stronger for it. Here’s to Michael and Jenny—
God bless you both!”

Again this is echoed by “Cheers!” and “Hear! Hear!” and the clinking of glasses. This time David turns to look into my eyes as he clinks his glass against mine. As the waiters serve food, several more toasts are made, including one by David. He stands up with Amy cradled in one arm and his glass of champagne held high. And I must say they look adorable together, and I’m thankñd to see that the photographer is getting a shot of this.

“Here’s to Michael and Jenny,” he begins. “May you be as happy and blessed as Laura and I have been. May your love mature and grow with the passing of each year. And may you have lots and lots of children so that our little Amy will finally have some cousins to play with.”

Everyone laughs at this.

“Good one,” I tell David as he sits down.

“Not too goofy?” he asks as he shifts Amy to a more comfortable position.

“Nah, not coming from a brother.”

“Mom warned me not to be goofy.”

I refrain from making a snide remark or rolling my eyes. “Do you want me to take Amy while you cut your steak?” I offer.

He glances at my plate and sees that I’ve already made a dent on my meal. “Okay, it is kind of tricky to eat and hold her. Then I can take her back while you finish.”

“We’ll play pass the baby,” I tease as I take her from him. But he’s right; it is a challenge to balance a baby and eat without making a big mess in your lap or a fool of yourself. And since this table is filled with Fairbanks relatives and business associates, I think I’d better mind my manners.

So I just sit here and casually watch and listen to the other people at our table. I try not to stare, but one couple in particular really grabs my attention. It’s that same woman, Suzette, who left in such a huff at lunch today. I know that her husband is Michael’s boss, but he doesn’t look very pleased to be here tonight. I’m sure it’s one of those things where they feel they must make an appearance for the sake of business. But they both look like they wish they were anywhere else right now. Or maybe they simply wish they were with
someone
else. Judging by their expressions and body language, they may be having some sort of snit.

I’m really not one of those people who rejoice in the suffering of others, but I find it the tiniest bit comforting to know I’m not the only one who’s been having a bad day. Then Suzette turns and smiles at the older woman sitting next to her, and I think I might be imagining the whole thing.

“Oh no,” Suzette says to the woman. “We don’t have any children. It’s like I always tell Jimmy—if I
have
a baby, then I won’t
be
the baby.”

The older woman laughs. “You might be right about that.”

Okay, I know Suzette isn’t trying to personally slam me. At least I don’t think she is—and why would she, since she doesn’t
even know me? But it stings a little just the same, and I’m tempted to make a smart-aleck remark. But I don’t. Instead I tell myself I’m more mature than that. And I continue to smile, but at least my smile doesn’t feel quite as phony as it did earlier today. For some reason, it’s a whole lot easier to smile when you’re holding a baby, especially when it’s this little doll in her fluffy pink dress. How could I not smile?

“Your turn to eat,” says David as he holds his hands out for Amy.

“That was quick. Are you sure?” Then I look over to see that other than the garnishes, his plate is completely empty.

“I guess I could lick the plate.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, your mom would love that.” Then I look at my plate, with my half-eaten tri-tip steak and salmon fillet. “Do you want more, David? You could finish mine.”

“Are you kidding?” he says. “You should eat it, Laura; it’s really good.”

“But if you’re still hungry,” I say in a lowered voice, thinking it probably wouldn’t hurt me to have a light meal since I’m still trying to lose those extra baby pounds. “You could just finish this—”

“No, honey,” he insists. “You
need
to eat it. You need to take care of yourself, Laura. No arguing with me.”

So I hand over my treasure and turn my attention back to dinner, which really is pretty delicious. And while I would’ve shared it, I’m glad he wanted me to have it. Okay, it’s a small thing, but meaningful just the same. Maybe David hasn’t noticed the extra
thickness through my midsection; maybe he really likes his full-figured woman. I can only hope.

Maybe all my crazy imaginings and doubts earlier today were nothing more than postpartum hormones gone amuck. David seems as devoted to me as ever. Why did I even question him?

Im not quite finished when I see Catherine motioning to David from the head table. But he’s so focused on Amy that he doesn’t notice.

“David,” I say, “I think your mom is trying to get your attention.”

“Huh?” He looks up to see her waving at him. “Here,” he says handing Amy back to me. “Can you take her now?”

I set down my fork as David hands Amy back. Then he hops up and obediently goes over to see what his mother wants. Well, I never said the man was perfect. And besides, he is the best man today, so he’s supposed to make himself useful. Even so, I would’ve liked to finish my meal.

I glance around the table to see if there’s some grandmotherly figure (like Jenny’s sweet grandma Märgaret) who’d like to step in and hold Amy for a few minutes, but everyone, including Suzette, seems to be engaged in conversation. And no one seems the least bit interested in holding my child. Oh well.

J
ust put on your happy face, I keep telling myself. Pretend like everything’s just peachy. So what if Jim stood me up—never returning to the lounge like he’d promised earlier this evening. It doesn’t mean anything. Not really. No need to obsess over such trifles. I wish I hadn’t gotten on his case about it since he’s now sitting here with the worst expression on his face, like he just bit into a sour pickle. If I’m not careful, someone might actually guess that we’re quarreling. Well, not quarreling exactly, since we didn’t really exchange words.

I simply said, “Where’ve you been, Jim?” when we finally met for dinner. I told him that I’d expected him to return to the lounge for me and that I’d felt slightly abandoned. Of course, he informed me that this wedding was as much about business as anything.
“Some of us
work
for a living,” he told me in that warning tone that means “Don’t bug me, Suzette.” After that I gave him my silent treatment. But maybe that wasn’t too smart. I mean, there’s no sense in aggravating the man.

I turn from my frosty spouse and smile at the older woman sitting next to me. “Isn’t this lovely?” I say in my most lighthearted voice. I hope Jim is listening and that he’ll be impressed with my ability to bounce back by talking to a complete stranger.

She returns my smile. “I was thinking the same thing, dear. Such a wonderful idea to hold this wedding up here. Harry and I used to come to this very lodge back when we were newly married. It brings back so many fond memories. I simply adore everything about this place.”

“It is a charming place,” I say in what I hope is a convincing tone. What I’m really thinking is that I can’t wait to get back to civilization. In fact, I may try to talk Jim into leaving tonight.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m Abby Bernstein. My husband and I are old friends of the Fairbankses.”

I try not to look too impressed as I introduce myself to her. I’ve heard of Harry and Abby Bernstein and that they’re worth nearly a billion. A billion dollars! I can’t even imagine.

“Oh yes,” she says. “Your husband has handled a number of legal things for Harry over the years. I didn’t realize he’d remarried, though.”

She probably means she didn’t know that he’d gotten divorced.
She must have met Jim’s ex and figured out that I’m not her. Thank goodness for that! Jim’s ex is pushing sixty now. And despite her numerous face-lifts, she really looks it.

“Yes, we’ve been married about twelve years now.”

“That’s nice. Harry and I will be celebrating our fiftieth next year. I can hardly believe it.”

I congratulate her, telling her that she doesn’t look old enough to have been married that long. “You must’ve been a child bride,” I tease.

She laughs. “No, not at all.”

What I really want to say is that someone with her kind of money really ought to dress better. Honestly, the green suit she’s wearing looks like it’s right out of the sixties, but not the fashionable Jackie O sixties that so many designers are imitating nowadays. It looks like something that’s been packed in mothballs for the past several decades, like something that should’ve been thrown out long ago.

“What an interesting suit,” I say, then instantly wish I hadn’t. What if she thinks I’m insulting her? “Uh, that color is very nice with your eyes.”

“Thank you.” She smiles, and I assume my real meaning must have gone right past her. “Harry laughed at me for wearing it. Goodness, it’s probably about as old as you are, dear. But for some reason, I’ve held on to it all these years. Then I worked so hard losing weight this year that it actually fits me again.” She lowers her voice now. “You know, it’s a Chanel.”

“Really?” I examine it more closely, thinking maybe it’s not so bad after all. “A Coco Chanel?” I say with real interest.

She nods. “I got it in Paris on our ten-year anniversary trip to Europe.”

Okay, so I was wrong about the suit. I thought it was tacky, and it turns out to be Chanel. “Well, it’s lovely,” I tell her.

“It’s really more about the memories than the suit,” she continues in a dreamy voice. “Harry and I have had such a wonderful life together. So many blessings, so many memories, so much to be thankful for …” Now she pauses and looks at me. “I’m sorry, dear; I’m rambling, aren’t I? I think it’s the wedding and the jazz music and being up here at the lake. It’s as if I’m taking a delightful sentimental journey.” She pats my arm. “I’m sure you’ll understand what I mean after you and Jim have enjoyed fifty years together.”

I don’t admit that Jim would probably be toothless, senile, bald, and sitting in a nursing home by our fiftieth anniversary, and that’s assuming he was still alive or that we’d managed to stay married that long. “I’m sure you’re right,” I tell her. And that’s when I notice a certain pale blue suit. Her back is toward me, but I’m certain it’s Nicole. She’s seated at a table near the doorway, not an impressive location, which makes me feel a trifle better. Just the same, it irritates me that she’s here at all. She’s only an employee of the firm, not a personal friend. At least not a personal friend that anyone here besides me is aware of—or so I hope.