“Yes, of course,” she said. “Also, shrimp cocktail would be nice. Are the shrimp colossal?” Then she turned to me. “No one likes a shrimp of a shrimp.”
To be polite, I laughed at her big remark about little shrimp.
“Four jumbo in every order,” the waiter said.
“We’ll have two shrimp cocktails,” Mug said.
Jake, Amanda, and I each ordered filet mignon. Harvey ordered the garlic spinach without garlic and the onion mashed potatoes without onions, scallion if they had it. Harvey was a waiter’s nightmare. Always had been. Always would be. Julius Caesar felt powerful in Rome. Harvey felt powerful in a restaurant ordering a Caesar salad with olives instead of anchovies.
“And a bottle of your Cakebread Cabernet,” Harvey said.
He was such a food addict. Even his wine had cake in it.
“This is our first time in Connecticut,” Mug said. “It’s not as beautiful as they say.”
“What did you expect?” Jake asked, clearly annoyed by her comment.
“More horses,” she said.
“Mom, this is Stamford. It’s a city,” Jake explained.
“You should come in October,” I said. “The foliage is breathtaking.”
“We like Wisconsin,” Mrs. Burglar said. “Have you ever been?”
“No,” I said.
The waiter brought the wine, waited for Harvey to taste it, poured some in each glass, and lingered at the table.
Jake stood up. “I want to thank my parents for coming to Connecticut. I want to thank Harvey for this wonderful dinner. And I want to thank Marcy for giving up her ticket to Hamilton.”
The waiter whispered to me, “You gave up a ticket to Hamilton?”
I nodded to the waiter and returned my attention to Jake’s toast. I clinked my glass with a utensil.
Mrs. Burglar’s spoon was already in her handbag.
Jake turned to Amanda, pulling her up. I thought how wonderful they looked next to each other, a perfect set.
The couple held hands, swinging arms back and forth.
Amanda was grinning. “There’s something we want to tell you.”
Say anything now except that you’re pregnant, I thought.
“We’re engaged!” Amanda said, then let out a shout.
They kissed each other for a long time. Probably a minute, but it felt like an hour, because we were watching our daughter in a serious embrace.
“I asked Mans a while ago.”
“And I said yes!”
Jake reached into his pocket and brought forth a small velvet box. I could tell from Amanda’s face that she had no clue he had brought the ring to dinner.
Jake opened the box.
“You’re amazing,” Amanda said. She leaped into his arms, her heels in the air.
People at adjacent tables started clapping. Tears ran down Amanda’s face. Jake placed the ring on her finger.
I looked at Harvey. He looked at me. I looked away. I tried to swallow, but the lump in my throat had hardened into rock. I was thrilled for Amanda, but there was something else. Here was a moment Harvey and I had dreamed of, but sadness settled in. Amanda was starting out, and we were finished.
Don’t think about yourself, Marcy. This moment belongs to your daughter. Shake it off. Now.
Amanda held out her hand so we could all see the vibrant emerald set in gold. Then we all stood, and she walked around the table, showing it to us one at a time. When she placed her hand in front of Harvey, I could hear him thinking, “An emerald. Not a diamond. That’s the ring?” It wouldn’t occur to him that Amanda might have asked for an emerald. She was a rock-hard Taurus. Her birthday was in May. The May stone was emerald. Please don’t say anything, Harvey.
“Mazel tov,” I said, crying and smiling at the same time. I had never had a daughter get engaged before, and I suddenly felt overwhelmed by joy. Then I had the odd feeling again, the bite of loss. She had gained a husband, and I was losing a daughter. I felt as though someone had taken her away from me and on to something definite, as though her life was now decided. It seemed so final. Yet look at Harvey and me. That had seemed final. I hoped what had happened to me wouldn’t happen to her. I prayed it.
Mug came over to hug me. Quickly, I remembered that my daughter was marrying into either a family of crazies or a family of felons. Maybe both.
I could hear my mother: “She’s marrying a boy from Kenosha?”
Jake’s father could’ve been governor of Wisconsin and my mother would have looked down on him. Well, she was in heaven—she was looking down on everyone.
Mug was still hugging me. Her dress had a cap sleeve, and her armpits were wet. I could feel the stickiness of her deodorant, so I took a step back. I kissed her on the cheek.
“We’re family now,” she said. Then she walked back to her seat.
I was still standing when suddenly, I felt Harvey’s arms around me, thicker than I remembered.
“We did it,” he said. “Our daughter is getting married.” He stopped just short of twirling me around.
How wonderful this would have been if what had taken place the year before had not happened. But it had, and I was in no mood to dance.
“Come on, Marcy, one twirl.” I didn’t want to ruin the celebration. I let him twirl me. As we sat down, he held my hand too long.
We enjoyed the meal, and Mrs. Burglar asked that her leftovers be wrapped for her to take home. She was taking the food back to Wisconsin? I hadn’t finished my steak. The skin was left from my potato. She asked if I minded if she took my leftovers. Jake shook his head. I could tell he was embarrassed.
“What are the plans?” I asked Amanda once the waiter delivered dessert. I had ordered cheesecake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream on top. Amanda looked down at her ice cream parfait as though she didn’t want to discuss what she had in mind. Right then and there, I decided that I wanted to make up for the unfortunate fact that my daughter was getting married while Harvey and I were at odds, and the way I could do that was to do whatever it took to keep Amanda happy for her wedding, to be a help and not a hindrance, to keep my mouth shut. I knew from the stories I had heard from friends, especially Dana, that nuptials could go nuclear, that walking down the aisle was no piece of wedding cake, but I was going to keep the peace no matter what.
“Please say you will get married in Wisconsin,” Mrs. Burglar said. “I’m not a flyer—and those lines at security. On the way here, I nearly toppled over while trying to remove my shoes, and I was patted down.”
Harvey had a question. “Do you wear an underwire bra?”
Mug looked at him quizzically. She nodded.
“Never wear an underwire to the airport. You were stopped because of the metal in your bra.”
Mug was not paying attention. “They search nice American people like me but allow a young man in a caftan to sashay through security. Those morons are examining me while the shoe bomber is on the loose.”
“Mom, you can’t say things like that,” Jake reprimanded as Amanda looked away in embarrassment.
“Your generation! Politically correct this, and politically correct that. I’m just telling it like it is, Jake.”
“No. You’re telling it like you think it is.”
It was getting uncomfortable at the table, and I decided I didn’t like this whole in-law thing. Like my family didn’t have enough issues. We had to marry into some more?
“There’s a catering hall near our home in Wisconsin,” Mug said, hoisting her wineglass.
“There are three weddings at a time, and everywhere you look, you see a bride coming or going,” Jake said, still obviously annoyed with her previous remarks.
“I will not ask our relatives to fly to Connecticut,” Mug proclaimed, her face reddening. “The wedding must be within driving distance. People have weddings in Wisconsin all the time.”
“Hammers do not get married in Wisconsin,” Harvey said.
I heard my mother. “I always liked that Harvey.”
&
nbsp; Amanda and Jake were silent. Like people who knew in advance that this would take place and had planned to shut it down.
“We haven’t discussed anything,” Jake said.
You haven’t discussed anything? I know my daughter better than that.
Jake squeezed Amanda’s forearm, which translated to “We agreed not to discuss venues tonight.”
I assumed they didn’t want to talk in front of Jake’s parents. I understood that, too many cooks and all. But I was the bride’s mother, the celebrity chef. I couldn’t wait to get alone time with Amanda. To hear her ideas, to tell her how much I wanted this wedding to be the best.
After the kids left, Harvey and I stood curbside. He asked me for my ticket, passed it to the young valet, and walked back to me.
“I had no idea she was serious about him,” he said. “She hasn’t known him long.”
“But you know him,” I said.
“No. Not really.” He paused, considering. “Well, I guess we have a lifetime to get to know him.”
“We”? I thought. We are not “we.”
“I know all I need to know about his parents,” Harvey said.
“Well, I think they felt uncomfortable with the prices. Mad Maestro is steep.”
“Not when I announced I was paying.”
“Do you think the mother has a problem?” I said.
“No,” he said. “She just likes to be the boss.”
“Harvey, she stole all the tampons out of the bathroom.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I saw her. And she took all the breath mints.”
“Now those she needed.”
I was feeling uncomfortable being relaxed with him. “I wonder what’s taking so long? Did they go to Sweden for my Volvo?”
The valet pulled up with Harvey’s sports car. He turned to me. “You have the Volvo, right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Sorry, but it won’t start.”
“What do you mean?” I said, confused. “It’s a Volvo.”
He shrugged. “What I said.”
I looked at Harvey. Harvey looked at me.
“Can you jump it from my car?” Harvey asked.
“I guess,” the valet said.
“Let’s do it,” Harvey said, and they drove Harvey’s car to mine.
I was hopeful, but when they returned, Harvey shook his head. “The Volvo wouldn’t start. We’ll have to deal with this in the morning.”
Even though he was trying to help me, I was put off by his “I’m in charge here” tone. I felt like saying what Ben used to say when he was a toddler: “You’re not the boss of me.”
“I’ll drive you home,” he said.
“No, no. I can call AAA now,” I insisted.
“We’re about to close the lot,” the valet said, shoving his hands in his pockets as though to say his hands were done working for the day.
I didn’t see much choice, so I got into Harvey’s car.
“What about the ring?” Harvey said as he began to drive me home.
I pretended I didn’t understand his inference. “What about it?”
“Who are you kidding? Jake bills six hundred dollars an hour. What did he do with the other five hundred and ninety-nine dollars?”
“The ring is stunning.”
“If you like green.”
I tried not to, but I had to laugh.
“Like old times,” he said happily. “So, what were you saying about Jake’s mother?”
“She stole a spoon off the table too,” I said.
“It’s not her I’m worried about.”
“Whom are you worried about?”
“Our daughter.”
“She’s in love.”
“With a guy who thought an emerald was a diamond.”
“Maybe she asked for an emerald. And Harvey, you fixed them up.”
“I didn’t fix them up. I just said my daughter lives in Seattle. He must have taken one look at me and known she was a knockout too.”
I laughed.
“I can’t believe I’m losing my baby,” he said. “I mean, this is it. It’s so final. She’s young. Maybe she could have done better.”
“What kind of better?” I asked, wanting to see if we were on the same page.
“Someone like Jake but from a family like ours.”
You mean like the family you dumped in the river?
“We’ll never know,” he said.
“Forget about the ring, Harvey. You’re displacing your feelings.”
“Tell me, is this how serene one gets when living with a professor?”
Now I was annoyed. “I’m not living with him. Besides, Harvey, we’re separated. Why do you care what he does?”
There was silence, and then, as we stopped at a red light, he begged, “Go to a diner with me. Our baby just got engaged, and I would like to be with you.”
He said it so sadly that I felt bad for him and for me. It was supposed to be a happy moment, but I felt loss. Like I was handing over a prized possession, and I had no idea how the new owners would take care of it. I didn’t know Jake. I didn’t know his parents, and they weren’t what I would have expected. Suddenly, I was in business with strangers.
“Okay,” I said.
Harvey pulled into the Happy Days Diner, a few miles from Atherton. The place had old-fashioned aluminum siding and flashing neon lights. We passed a rotating display of black-and-white cookies, linzer tortes, cheese Danish, apple turnovers, and immense buttercream cakes. We found a booth with a jukebox at the window.
Although we had just eaten at Mad Maestro, Harvey ordered my all-time diner favorite—rice pudding. He asked for a strawberry Belly Buster, their largest shake. When he left me, I had wished he would get fat, but I had meant maybe a fifteen-pound gain. At this rate, he was going to need a fire rescue team to lift him out of his bed. There was no point in saying anything. No one wants to hear a word about weight. Want to lose three hundred pounds? Tell your three-hundred-pound friend she has to take better care of herself.
“So what do you think?” Harvey asked.
“I was just thinking that I feel like I am going into business with total strangers. Who are these people? We meet them once, and they get our daughter?”
“I thought she’d marry into a family we had something in common with.”
“They’re Jewish. We’re Jewish,” I said.
“Marcy, they might as well be Eskimos.”
The truth was, he was right.
I looked up as the waitress delivered my rice pudding. It was then that I saw Jon entering the diner. He took his hand out of his jeans pocket and waved. He smiled. Nerves shot through my body, a lightning bolt.
He came right to the booth. Although Harvey and Jon had never met, I could see from Harvey’s face that he knew Jon was “the professor.” When you live with someone for decades, sometimes you get to know them. On one hand, Harvey was surely not glad to see Jon. On the bigger hand, the hand the size of the diner, he would enjoy his chance to check the guy out. I was uncomfortable with Harvey inspecting Jon like second-rate merchandise not good enough for his business.
“What a coincidence. My kind of coincidence,” Jon said sweetly as he smiled at me. The last time I felt that ill at ease, self-aware, and uncomfortable, I was in a Lamaze class.
I introduced them.
“Harvey, Jon. Jon, Harvey,” I said matter-of-factly, wondering whether Harvey was what Jon had expected.
“Mind if I join you?” Jon said.
I gave him a look that said “What are you doing?”
Harvey wanted to size Jon up, so of course he patted the seat next to him, across from me, but Jon ignored him. He sat down beside me, as close as he could get.
“Interesting to meet my girlfriend’s husband,” Jon said.
“So, I hear you’re a professor,” Harvey replied.
“And a painter,” Jon said.
“A lot of outside work in the spring I bet,” Harvey said,
just to be irritating. He knew what kind of painter Jon was. “Maybe you could give me a fair price on my warehouse.”
“And I hear you’re into lingerie,” Jon said. “Anyone’s in particular?”
I was pleased that Jon had handed it back to Harvey, but if I was ever going to die, this was the right time. I moved further into the booth, toward the window, hiding my face behind the jukebox.
“So I thought you two were meeting Jake’s parents tonight.”
“We did,” I said, wondering if he thought this was a ruse. “We did,” I repeated.
“How’d it go?”
“Amanda and Jake are engaged,” I said.
“That’s great!” Jon said to both of us. “Any plans?”
“Not yet,” I said, hoping this scene would soon be over.
Jon could obviously feel my discomfort, and I could tell how disappointed he was to find me with Harvey and a rice pudding. “I only came in to get one of those big black-and-white cookies to go.”
“And I only came in because my car wouldn’t start at the steak house.”
“What happened to the car?” Jon asked.
“Stuck, wouldn’t move,” Harvey said.
The waitress put the check on the table.
“I’ll take Marcy home while you pay the check,” Jon said.
Perfect, I thought. “Good night, Harvey.”
“Quite an evening,” Harvey said, although he was downcast and appeared pale.
I felt sad. I knew that normally this situation would have made me deliriously happy—a handsome man enters a well-lit diner on a cold winter night and whisks me off, leaving my duplicitous spouse waiting for the check. But that night, our daughter had become engaged. Where would this lead next?
Chapter 6
“Are you having some kind of neurological problem?” Candy had said when I told her I was bailing on Hamilton. Her cousin Donna had scooped up the ticket, but Candy wanted to go to the city with me. I agreed on another play, and that’s how I wound up so far off Broadway I could have dipped my foot in the Hudson.
The theater, Fifth Stage, was on Forty-Eighth Street. “This isn’t Off-Broadway,” I said. “This is Off-Off-Off-Broadway.” I finally spotted Fifth Stage, which was in a brownstone. “How many times have you been here?”
“I go whenever Kate does the design.”
Husbands and Other Sharp Objects Page 6
