by Linn Young
who reminded Roberta of a female guard in a Nazi concentration camp. She was deathly afraid
of her, because the planner was so forceful in her opinions and was ruthless in casting aside any
ideas that Roberta might contribute. In self-defense, she dragged her mother along in the
excursions. They were ushered everywhere in a long black limousine that Heron lent them for
that very purpose, with at least three assistants who were perpetually at Hildegard’s heels, always
writing things down on their clipboards to her constant snapping orders. While riding with
Hildegard, both mother and daughter sat silently, shivering in their seats while the planner yelled
abusively in her cell phone to one of her hapless helpers.
And everything that Hildegard picked for the wedding was bigger, more elaborate, and
much more expensive than anything that Roberta would have chosen. At one exclusive wedding
shop in San Francisco, she gasped when she saw the price tag of the guests’ gifts that Hildegard
had picked out. Each was a small gift bag with glittering Christmas print tied with red and white
bows. For the women, each bag a contained gift certificate for the ballet or opera, a small vial of
French perfume, Godiva chocolate, and a miniature Waterford crystal champagne glass that had
the names of the bride and groom. For the men, the bags contained gift certificate to the 3M
stadium, cashmere socks, Godiva chocolate, and the same champagne flute. Each bag cost over
one hundred fifty dollars.
“One hundred and fifty dollars,” Roberta exclaimed. “We can’t buy this. This is
criminal…”
“Don’t worry, I’m going to get them to lower the price down to one hundred each, one
hundred and twenty-five, tops,” Hildegard said.
Roberta’s blue eyes widened with horror. “But, that’s over a hundred thousand dollars,
and just for the guests’ gifts. We can’t do that.”
Hildegard looked up from her notes. “Why not?”
“I can’t be spending that kind of money…”
The wedding planner waived her hand dismissively. “Oh, that. What are you worrying
about? Your fiancée’s very rich. Remember?”
“But that’s not right. Just because he has money doesn’t mean I can rack up the bills
outrageously.”
Hildegard rolled her eyes, and then feigned a yawn. “Oh, boy, don’t tell me you’re one of
those principled women. Is that how you hooked him, lady, making him think that money was
the last thing you look for in a man? Well, you got him, so you can stop with the act. Besides,
one hundred thousand is just a raindrop in a one gallon pail for Heron Wait. And his family has
several of those pails, I understand.”
Not liking the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that she had been
experiencing more and more lately, Roberta tried something that she was not very good at; being
assertive. “Now, look, I think this is getting a bit out of hand…”
Hildegard looked at her watch. “Okay, it’s time to get moving. We need to get to the
dressmaker in fifteen minutes.” She began to bark orders at her assistants.
“Dressmaker?” Roberta questioned as two of the assistants took hold of one arm each and
firmly ushered her towards the door. “What dressmaker?”
“For your wedding dress.”
Roberta pulled herself free and stopped in her tracks, and an unfamiliar groove of
stubbornness began to form between her eyebrows. “I already have a wedding dress.” “You do?” Hildegard, her eyes blinking with deceptive innocence.
“Yes. Don’t you remember? I showed you my mother’s wedding dress a week ago.” “Oh, yes. It was that fifties number, wasn’t it? It was quite charming, with its clean
simple line, short, broad sleeves, deep scoop neck, and narrow lace skirt. And the yellowing
white veil is a romantic, if rather trite, touch.”
“I’ve always loved my mother’s wedding dress and have always dreamed of wearing it to
my own wedding,” Roberta explained.
“Do you love that dress more than your future husband?”
“What?”
“Well, you need to decide if you want to be sleeping with Heron Wait or your wedding
dress for the rest of your life.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
Hildegard took Roberta’s arm in a bruising grip and walked her out the door. “Do you
think you can really do that to a man like Heron Wait? Do you think a dress like that justifies the
prestige and wealth that he is about to bestow on you?”
“Well, I never thought of it that way…”
“Of course you didn’t. Like all brides, you become selfish, self-centered, because you are
so engrossed in your wedding preparations, that the groom becomes this forgotten other thing
that you barely remember you’re supposed to do something with in some future date, something
vague like walking down the aisle with him. That’s what I’m here for, sweetheart.” Hildegard
patted her hand and signaled to the limousine. “I’m here to make sure that everything goes right,
make sure that you do all the right things to make your fiancée proud of you, to make him smile
with love and pride as he watches you walk down the aisle towards him, towards your future
with him. Now, what do you think he’s going to think when he sees you in your wedding dress
and the faded veil?”
Roberta blinked. “I had hoped that he will think that I will make him happy…” “He will, but not if you wear that dress. You know what he will think if he sees you
walking down the aisle in that used dress?”
Roberta felt that feeling again in the pit of her stomach. “What?” she asked, dreading the
answer.
“He’s going to think that you didn’t think enough about him and everything he’s about to
shower on you to buy a new dress, a dress of your own for your own wedding, but that you
borrowed someone else’s wedding dress to wear in yours and his, a dress that was bought for
wedding that happened over thirty years ago. Now, how do you think that’s going to make him
feel?”
Roberta croaked feebly, “Unappreciated?”
“Exactly. He’s going to think that you do not appreciate what he’s done for you, and what
he’s going to be doing for you. Now, what would a perfect fiancée do for her groom?” “Go and buy the most beautiful, the most expensive wedding dress there is?” Hildegard patted her on the shoulder. “Now you’re talking. By the way, the dressmaker is
Vera Wang. Heron had her flown up from Los Angeles in his private jet. She only has a few
hours before she has to fly to New York to fit Donald Trump’s wife for a dress. So, we must
dash.”
As the limousine swept them through the San Francisco traffic, Roberta reflected that she
was getting better at losing these small skirmishes with Hildegard.
Still, a few days later, while having dinner at the revolving restaurant atop the Hilton
Hotel with Heron, she tried to broach the subject of the growing extravagance of the wedding. “I mean, Heron, it’s going be a beautiful dress that Vera will make for me, but the
price…”
Heron was buttering his bread. “Why are you concerned about the price?” “It’s a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar dress. And I’m only going to wear it one
day. Don’t you think that’s excessive?”
He smiled down at her with amusement. “That’s what first attract
ed me about you. You
forget about the money.”
“But, I’m not forgetting about the money. How can I, when the budget of this wedding is
reaching the proportion of some dictatorship of a minor Latin country.”
“You’re not going to break the bank. Believe me.”
“But do we really need to spend so much money? On everything. I mean, I was perfectly
happy with wearing my mother’s wedding dress. But Hildegard said that wouldn’t do at all.” “She’s right.”
Roberta’s face deflated a little. “She is?”
“This wedding is important to a lot of people, especially to me and my family, my
relatives, my friends. A lot is going to be expected from this wedding. There’s going to be a lot
of publicity surrounding it. There already is. It’s the talk of the town. What do you think all these
people are going to think when the photographers snap you in a dress that was your mother’s,
which she wore to her own wedding a few decades ago?”
“I would think that most people would think it romantic, as I do.”
“I’m afraid most people aren’t like you, at least to those who will be watching closely.
They’re going to think a lot of things, and a lot of it not good.”
“Is it really important to you what others think of us?”
Heron gave a smile that was half tolerant, half amusing. “When you’re in my position,
and when you’re from a family like mine, I’m afraid we have to be careful, especially when
we’re in the public eye.” He put a large hand over hers. “Come on, darling. It’ll be over soon.” Roberta forced a smile and nodded, then reached for her red wine and gulped. A few days later, around five-thirty in the evening, Tanner happened to be walking past her office, its door open, when he stopped. Roberta’s head was resting on top of her arms which
were folded on the desk.
“Hey, pretty lady, go home and sleep. You’re going to get a crick in your neck if you fall
asleep like that.”
She lifted her face, which was very pale with exhaustion, and her sunny blond hair was
coming loose from its chignon, making her look unusually disheveled, emphasizing the desperate
look on her face. Tanner became alarmed when he saw the paleness of her face and the fear
lurking in the blue depths of her heavy eyes and her trembling lips.
He quickly stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. “Hey, hey, hey, are
you alright? What happened?”
Roberta shook her head and started to babble. “I can’t take this anymore, Tan. I can’t take
it anymore. It’s all too much. And that woman, she’s making me a nervous wreck. And
sometimes I think she’s doing it on purpose.”
Even more concerned when he heard her voice break, Tanner went around the desk and
pulled her to her feet. He sat on the desk and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh, shhhhhh,” he
crooned, stroking her bright blond hair and began to rock her. “Come one, Robbie, tell big
brother all about it. Tell me what’s happened. Okay? It’ll make you feel better, if you do.” Her thin shoulders began to shake as she started to cry. “We…we just came from the
florist, you know to pick the flowers for the wedding. It was awful, Tanner. I never knew looking
at flowers could be a nightmare. But she had me looked at thousands of pages of arrangements.
And, I swear, they all looked the same.” She lifted a teary eye to him. “They did, they did. And I
had to choose one. And I didn’t know which one to choose, because I was so afraid that I might
choose the wrong one, and then I would embarrass Heron and you and your parents, and all your
friends and family, and then my parents and sister and friends would be embarrassed for
me…Oh, God, Tan, it was just horrible. Just horrible.” She hid her face in Tanner’s shoulders
and sobbed for a moment, before she could continue. “And then she…”
“Who’s she?” Tanner asked.
“Hildegard, the Nazi…the wedding planner. She and the owner argued for five hours
about this shade of red and that shade of red, and if we should have hollies with roses or
poinsettias, or white roses or white gardenias, and if baby’s breath would be too weak to make a statement. And I have no idea what that statement is. And when the florist suggested that white carnations would be elegant with red roses, Hildegard slapped her with a clipboard, and now the florist is suing her for injury…And before the florist, we interviewed bands for the wedding. And you know what they all played? Polkas. Polkas. Now, how did Hildegard ever get the idea that I wanted polkas being played at my wedding reception? Perhaps it’s because she knew that Heron has fondness for polkas. Do you know if your brother is harboring a secret passion for polkas?
Because I don’t.”
Tanner couldn’t prevent the laughter that escaped his lips. “No, I don’t believe that my
brother is hiding such a secrete.” He pulled Roberta closer, who started to shiver. “Shhhh, shhhh.
There, there, now. It’s all over.”
She lifted blue eyes that were drenched with distress up to him again. “But, that’s just it,
Tanner. It’s not over. It’ll start up all over again, tomorrow. Hildegard is going to come down
here, at nine o’clock in the morning.”
“You’ll be in a meeting with marketing, then.”
“That doesn’t matter to her. Nothing stands in the way of Hildegard. She’ll just come
barging into the meeting and escort me out into the limousine. And I can’t go with her tomorrow,
Tanner. I can’t. I can’t. I have all these reports that I need to get done. And I have to meet with
your father tomorrow afternoon…And I need to rest. Did you know I haven’t been able to sleep
in two weeks. I don’t think I’ve closed my eyes for longer than five minutes since then. And I
can’t seem to eat anymore.”
“Okay, honey. Everything’s going to be alright.” While crooning soothing words, and
keeping one arm around Roberta’s shaking shoulders, Tanner grabbed her jacket and purse. “I
know what you need, darling. And I’m going to take you there, right now, okay?” Feeling infinitely comforted by the strong arms and the warm male body, Roberta let
Tanner lead out of her office. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere where it’s safe and warm, and where people love you and aren’t expecting
you to perform colossal feats.”
“You promise,” Roberta begged pitifully.
“I promise.”
Three hours later, Roberta was sitting at the bar in her sister’s bar, digging hungrily into a
plate of seafood linguini in lemon and white wine sauce, while her parents sat next to her, watching her with concern. Tanner was sitting on the other side of her, enjoying his own plate of brined pork medallions with chili, apple, and pear chutney, herbed rice pilaf,, and butter and
garlic sautéed baby vegetables.
Riley was behind the bar, pouring wine to her family and Tanner. It was close to nine
o’clock at night, past the dinner hour so there were only a few diners, and a straggle of regular
patrons at around the bar who had dropped in for drinks after work.
Besides a bar and dance club with the impromptu a sex club on the side, Riley’s
establishment was also an excellent restaurant, one that served food that rivaled any five-star
restaurant. This aspect of the bar was not well known to the public for a couple of reasons. The
first was that Riley didn’t bother to advertise on any aspect of her place, and two, the chef wasn’t
even
a trained chef, and was barely in his twenties, tattooed all over his body except for his neck
and head, sported a Mohawk that was currently died a shocking blue. He had little interest or
ambition to further his job into a more flamboyant career of a professional chef. But he poured
over cookbook after cookbook and liked to use the small kitchen behind the bar as his own
laboratory. Mostly he cooked by instinct, having a natural affinity for food.
Caroline rubbed Roberta’s shoulders, relieved that the frightening ashen color was gone
from her face. “Are you feeling better, honey?”
Roberta pushed her empty bowl away and patted her full stomach, looking and feeling
well fed, well satisfied. “Oh, much better. That was so good, Riles. Thank you. And, thank you,
for bringing me here. You were so right. It was just what I needed.” This she said to Tanner,
planting a kiss on his cheek.
Tanner smiled. “Well, I had to do something, perform this miracle triage, before we lost
you completely.”
Roberta stretched like an elegant cat in her bar stool. “Well, it worked. And, now, I’m
energized, enervated, revived, and I’m ready to go back and face the battle, again.” “Why don’t you stay over at the house tonight, honey,” Lawrence offered, still
remembering the pale, frightened look on her face when he first saw her tonight. “Thanks, Dad, but I have a meeting tomorrow morning, and then I have to meet the
wedding nazi at noon about the tables and chairs for the reception.”
“I think it might be a good idea if you took a few days off, Robbie,” Tanner said, sipping
his wine.
Caroline nodded. “He’s right, Robbie. This whole wedding has obviously taken quite a
toll on you. And, remember, I’ve witnessed at first hand, your wedding Nazi…Uh, planner, that
is. So, I know exactly what you’re going through.”
“You need to tell Heron that you want to cut the wedding down to half its size,” Tanner
said.
“I agree,” Lawrence said emphatically. “Having a thousand guests is ridiculous. Who
knows a thousand people in one lifetime, for God’s sake?”
“I can’t do that. This is too important to Heron.”
Tanner pointed out, “Well, is he marrying you or those one thousand people?” Caroline said fretfully, “I think what you really need, darling, is a few days of rest. Come
