By Invitation Only

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “I haven’t decided,” she said.

  I knew what she was saying. I could read into her reply fifty different ways, and every interpretation would be bitchy. I should wear beige. Besides, it wouldn’t matter what I wore. Any choice I made would pale next to what she wore. No one would be looking at me anyway. Now that my socialist son had blown her June wedding to bits, who cared what anyone wore?

  We would never be great friends. I faced this fact with a sigh of relief, because to tell the truth, the price tag of being close to Susan was no doubt too high. But surprisingly, I got a call from Alejandro.

  “Alejandro? How nice to hear from you!”

  “And how are you, Diane?”

  “Well, I’m just fine. Getting very excited for the big day. And you? How are you doing?”

  “I’m as well as can be expected given the stresses of the day.”

  “Oh, I know all about stress.” Drought. Drought is huge stress. So is brown rot. And don’t forget grasshoppers, beetles, and moths. Spring freezes were a particular nightmare of mine. “Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, yes, yes, of course. I just wanted to run something by you.”

  “Sure!”

  “Well, some time ago my company bought an interest in a small winery in Napa Valley. Their wines are quite good. Anyway, they send me cases of every varietal when they’re ready to drink. I’d like to give it to the kids for their rehearsal dinner party. What do you think?”

  “I think that’s very generous.”

  “Good! As it is, I’m stacking cases and cases in our storage unit in the basement and I can’t hold much more. It would make Susan very happy to have some space for her things, and there’s no point in spending money when we don’t have to.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Wonderful, then I’ll have it delivered to their apartment. Now, can I help you with hotel reservations?”

  “Alejandro? You might be the nicest man I know. Yes. Yes, please, because I have no idea where to stay that’s logistically convenient to the kids and to the wedding.”

  At the engagement party we had just stayed at a Marriott by the airport. It was very nice, but we spent a fortune on taxis.

  “It’s a pleasure to handle this for you. How many of you will there be?”

  I told him who was coming and he said he would get back to me. I hit the End button.

  “What’s Alejandro doing calling you?” Mom said.

  “Trying to be helpful, I guess.”

  “A big shot like him is going to make hotel reservations? A big shot like him is giving away wine? I don’t know, Diane.”

  “You’re just cynical. It’s his only daughter. He just wants things to go smoothly. Who knows what Susan said to prompt his call?”

  “Maybe.”

  The days flew by, and the next thing I knew I had a long red puffer coat from L.L.Bean across my arm, black Uggs on my feet, and I was boarding a flight to Chicago, wiping the armrest, the reclining button, and the tray at my seat with antibacterial wipes. I was sure the guy next to me thought I was germphobic, but it was flu season and I wasn’t taking any chances.

  I was excited and relieved we were having a wedding my nervous system could handle. Alejandro’s secretary booked the entire wedding party at the Park Hyatt, where he was able to get an incredible discount. Floyd and I went online and looked at the hotel.

  Floyd was suspicious. Driving me to the airport he said, “Yeah, so the room’s only a hundred dollars but a cup of coffee is a billion dollars?”

  I said, “I doubt it. They wouldn’t set us up for sticker shock. What would be in it for them? Besides, I don’t think that’s Alejandro’s style. I mean, I doubt it’s the presidential suite, but I’m sure the rooms are fine.”

  As the plane climbed above the clouds, I had the thought that things were working out very nicely. What had begun as an adversarial situation had become reasonably harmonious. Susan would always be difficult. I was certain of that. But Shelby and Alejandro especially were certainly showing well. And Alejandro was sending his driver to meet me at the airport. I told him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted.

  “No. I simply will not have the mother of my almost son-in-law riding around Chicago in some crazy taxi. You don’t understand, Diane. You could wind up at the bottom of the lake!”

  “Well, all righty then. Thank you.”

  What else could I say?

  I was feeling pretty sad that Alden wasn’t coming. I missed him. I was such a fool. Maybe Betsy would leave him. I could hope.

  The flight was smooth until we began our descent, and then it was so bumpy, I was terrified as the plane lurched one way and then another. The pilot addressed us.

  “Folks, don’t be alarmed about the bumpy ride here. We’re encountering some turbulence as we enter warmer air. We’ll have you on the ground in about fourteen minutes, where the local time is three fifteen and the temperature is all the way up to eleven degrees. Please remain seated, stay buckled up, and enjoy the rest of your flight.”

  Easy for him to say, I thought.

  But we continued to rock and roll until we landed, and as we taxied down the runway, I looked out the window. It even looked like it was freezing outside. There was no sun. Ground crew was everywhere, dressed in down jackets, with hoods pulled over knitted stocking hats. Everyone had on gloves and heavy boots. Even the ground looked frozen with remnants of a recent snowfall here and there, dirty and rock hard. If I had owned a convertible, this would not have been a top-down day. I was in a different world. One without Alden.

  Alejandro’s driver met me in the baggage claim area, and as soon as my bag appeared on the carousel, he grabbed it and we were on our way.

  “My name is Martin, ma’am. I have been Mr. Cambria’s driver for almost twenty years.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Martin. Thank you for coming to pick me up.”

  Martin was very handsome. And his manners were gorgeous.

  “It is my pleasure, Mrs. Stiftel.”

  He opened the door for me, and soon we were in downtown Chicago at my hotel. I thanked Martin, had a brief naughty thought about him, and went to the registration desk. I went up to my room and unpacked. There was a beautiful view of the lake. It was only four o’clock and it was already getting dark. My poor son lived in this dreary place. I called him.

  “Hi, sweetheart! The mothership has landed. Are you at work?”

  “No, I took the rest of the week off. How was your flight?”

  “A little bumpy and only twenty minutes late, which I’m told is the same thing as being on time. But fine, really. And my room has a view of the lake, which is very nice.”

  “How’s the room itself? Are you next to the ice maker? Or next door to a room of crazy partiers?”

  “Not at all. It’s quiet, so far anyway. I have a gorgeous king-size bed and a bathroom fit for a queen! It’s all marble and chrome, with thick towels. And there’s beautiful photographic art on the walls. I even have a minibar if I want a Snickers in the middle of the night. Basically, I could live here and be very happy, except for the weather.”

  “That’s what we all say!”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Okay, so the plan is that I am picking you up at six, we’re going to the Cambrias’ club for dinner so you can see where the ceremony is going to be held, and then I’ll take you back to your hotel.”

  “That sounds great! I’m so excited to see where my son is getting married in four days!”

  “Please, Mom, I’m already a wreck. Tomorrow I thought I’d bring you over here to see the apartment and maybe you can help us figure out what we need to make the rehearsal dinner go smoothly.”

  “Fred, my precious heart? I don’t want you to worry about a thing. I want you to enjoy this week. And your rehearsal dinner is going to be so much fun. Uncle Floyd guarantees it. I’ll see you at six.”

  I went to the window and looked out across the gray and frozen city, wondering how
my boy, a son of a peach farmer, could live in a place that was so forbidding and uninviting. In one way, it was easy for me to understand why farming didn’t appeal to him. And he wanted a career that was dependable, one where it wouldn’t matter if crops everywhere were infested with some biblical pestilence or severe drought. He could be an accountant anywhere and it paid well. These days kids seemed to want to test themselves someplace new, to see if they could make it on their own. But damn, it was really cold here.

  In just the time it took for me to walk from the car to the door of the hotel, the stems of my pierced earrings froze and my ears began to ache from the bitter cold. But you can get used to anything, I suppose, and the cold weather didn’t really seem to faze my Fred.

  Day turned to evening by five and the city lights began to twinkle in the cold air. Suddenly, as I looked down North Michigan Avenue, Chicago was dazzling with powerful beauty. Maybe the population liked to see if it could withstand the awesome climate; maybe living in a city like this was a personal challenge, something that would show you what kind of grit was in your DNA. Well, bully for them. I’d take the Lowcountry humidity and mosquitoes any day over this kind of cold. At that precise moment I really but thoroughly understood why people from the North moved to the frying pan that Florida could be. They’d plain had it with winter.

  We’d be home in a few days and it would be time to fertilize all the peach trees. Maybe do a little pruning. These poor people would still be dealing with subzero wind chills.

  I changed into a navy knit dress Kathy made me buy and pinned a pearl brooch I’d inherited on the shoulder. I wore stockings and a pair of lowish heels and hoped there was no black ice waiting for me. I’d never seen black ice, but I’d heard terrible things about it. I’d ask Fred how to identify it. I brushed my hair and put on some lipstick and thought I didn’t look too bad. In fact, I looked younger with makeup. On examination in the magnifying mirror in the bathroom, I realized that my complexion was actually fading. I needed a little color in my cheeks and on my lips. It made me look like I used to look. I wondered what would happen if I used mascara and an eyebrow pencil. That made me laugh at myself. Since when was I so vain? How’s now? Maybe I’d go to CVS and play with some Maybelline or whatever brands they carried. I’d seen that there was a salon in the hotel. Maybe I’d make an appointment for the wedding. Why not? Heck! My only child was getting married. Did I need to wear a schoolmarm’s bun? I wanted to look good in the pictures. Besides, I was certain Susan was gonna put on the dog, like we say in the Lowcountry. For Fred’s sake, I needed at the very least to try and be presentable.

  I called the salon, left a message, explaining that this was a 911 desperado call, and went downstairs to meet Fred. He and Shelby were waiting in Fred’s Jeep right in front of the hotel. A doorman opened the Jeep’s back door for me and I climbed in as quickly as I could.

  “Brrrr!” I said. “Hey, Fred! Hey, Shelby!”

  “Hey, Mom! You made it!”

  “Of course I made it!”

  “Hi, Mrs. Stiftel! Welcome to the Windy City!”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. But we’re going to have to figure out what you’re going to call me. Mrs. Stiftel is way too formal.”

  “You’re right,” Shelby said. “How about Lady Di? I love when Uncle Floyd calls you that. Plus, I love all things Princess Diana.”

  “Perfect!” I said.

  “Lady Di!” Shelby said.

  “That’s me! Anyway, I’m so happy to be here. Didn’t Chicago pay its heating bill?”

  Shelby giggled and Fred said, “Yeah, it’s pretty nippy out there.”

  “We’ll be at the club in just a few minutes,” Shelby said. “Thankfully, they have valet parking.”

  “I’m so glad I’m going to see your parents tonight,” I said. “They must be so excited too! What a week this is going to be!”

  “Oh! Gosh! My parents aren’t coming tonight. My father had some kind of an emergency, who knows what, and my mother wasn’t feeling so great. We’re going to see them Friday at the rehearsal and then for the wedding.”

  “Oh, I hope everything is okay,” I said.

  “Daddy’s just working late. This happens all the time,” Shelby said. “Don’t worry. They’ll be fine.”

  I sat back and thought, Okay, I understand Alejandro working late. People do that. But unless I was in intensive care, I’d be here to welcome my new in-laws. Another reason Susan and I would never be close.

  We pulled up in front of the club, a stately structure of granite and stone with the largest brass and milk glass sconces I’d ever seen. I guessed they were art deco. Overhead were enormous windows with curtains. A man dressed in an official down jacket took the car and gave Fred a ticket to retrieve it later on. We hurried inside through the enormous brass and heavy glass revolving door.

  “You look pretty cute in that coat, Mom!” Fred said.

  “Thanks. It’s, um, not the most flattering, but it’s warm. I probably should’ve worn the boots too, which I love, but I figured we’d just make a mad dash.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you like your Uggs!” Shelby said. “I have them in pink and black. You get a lot of use out of them here.”

  “I’ll bet you do!” I said. “Fred, we have to talk about black ice.”

  I said this so earnestly that their lighthearted faces instantly assumed a very serious demeanor.

  “What about it?” Fred said.

  “How will I recognize it? I understand it’s treacherous.”

  Fred looked at Shelby and they both giggled.

  “Well, we don’t have any right now. But when snow melts and refreezes, it becomes ice, right? So if you see shiny asphalt? That might be black ice.”

  “To be avoided at all costs,” Shelby said.

  “But there’s none right now,” I said.

  “Right,” Fred said. “You’re, um, safe for the moment.”

  “You’re not too big for me to turn you over my knee, you know.”

  “Yeah, you can mansplain to your mom, but watch the attitude,” Shelby said. “Men.”

  “You tell him, sweetie,” I said.

  We left our coats with a glamorous woman at the coat-check counter, went upstairs and immediately to our booth in the Wigwam.

  “This is a lovely dining room,” I said. “It feels like a club should. Cozy but still very beautiful.”

  The walls everywhere were gleaming oak paneling, and the vaulted ceilings were hand-plastered.

  “I practically grew up here,” Shelby said. “They have wonderful programming. Last year I actually heard Amanda Knox speak about her terrible ordeal in Italy.”

  “Amanda Knox! My goodness.” I was surprised a club that seemed as exclusive as this one would issue an invitation to someone so controversial. “What did you think of her? Do you think she was innocent?”

  “I’d bet my life on it,” Shelby said. “She was totally framed.”

  We ordered steaks and french fries, and Fred chose a bottle of red wine for us to share.

  Shelby then went on to explain all the reasons Amanda Knox was innocent, which were astounding. And of course, when the Knox trial had been going on, I was usually busy in the orchard doing some hand-pollinating or pruning or working at the farm stand.

  “You have to wonder how these things even happen,” I said.

  Shelby said, “I think it’s because sometimes the police want to solve a murder, so they rush to name the bad guys and close the case. I mean, if the public thinks there’s a murderer on the loose, it makes people nervous.”

  “And the police look bad if they can’t find the bad guys right away. Hearing her was a real eye-opener,” Fred said.

  “I imagine so. There’s nothing worse than taking an innocent person’s reputation and dragging it through the mud,” I said. “So, tell me how I can help you this weekend.”

  “Well, we have this crazy idea that we hope will be a fabulous surprise.”

  “Let’s hear it,” I sai
d.

  “We don’t want our rehearsal dinner to be some stuffy night,” Shelby said.

  “It can’t be. We’re serving barbecue,” I said.

  “Yes, but with just a little effort we can take it to the next level,” Fred said.

  They laid out their plans while we ate and I literally squealed with delight.

  “So, do you love it?” Fred said.

  “Isn’t it the best?” Shelby said.

  “How did you even think of this? It’s genius! I’ll call Floyd. He’ll help us.”

  When we were finished with dinner Fred said, “Would you like dessert?”

  “Oh, not for me!” I said.

  “Please! I have a dress to squeeze into,” Shelby said.

  “I can’t wait to see it,” I said.

  “Let’s go see the ballroom,” Fred said.

  “Let’s do! Thank you both for dinner. It was delicious.”

  I slid out of the booth and looked back at the wall. There, right over the spot where I sat and indulged in red meat and fried potatoes, hung a life-size portrait of General Ulysses S. Grant.

  “Holy Jesus, Son of God!” I said before I could catch myself. But still. “Pop must be spinning in his grave! Sometimes I forget you’re marrying a Midwesterner, Fred.”

  Fred and Shelby laughed so hard that I began to laugh with them.

  “Well, it is the Union League, after all,” I said, “and he was a president of the United States.”

  “We’re staying here on our wedding night,” Fred said.

  “A gift from Daddy,” Shelby said.

  “That is so nice!” I said.

  The ballroom was gorgeous, and I knew when the tables were all in place with flowers everywhere, my son’s wedding would be amazing.

  “And where’s the ceremony going to be?”

  “In the Wrigley Room, down the hall. Want to see?”

  “Sure!”

  I followed them down the hall and wondered how they were going to make this large empty room feel right for a wedding ceremony, but there was no reason to doubt that they would.