“Do you mean that?” she asked him in a whisper.
“Yes, I do.” His eyes never left hers. “Jenny Arden, will you marry me? If you do, I will love you until the end of time.” She smiled when he said it. He was so earnest, and such a good man. She had known from the very beginning that he was the one for her. And he had finally convinced her that it was destiny that they’d met. They were perfect for each other, they got along, and the fact that their paths had crossed twice seemed like more than just happenstance or blind luck. They felt made for each other, whatever his parents thought.
“Yes,” she said in a tiny voice, with tears in her eyes. “Your parents will kill you, though. I didn’t go to boarding school, or Vassar. I was never a debutante, and I’m not blond.” She was teasing him a little, but she had them nailed.
“I don’t give a damn,” he said, smiling, as he kissed her again. He was ecstatic, and she was smiling too. They were engaged! “I’m twenty-nine years old, and they’re not going to stop me from marrying the woman I love. And besides, they may have been rude today, but they have no right to interfere with us.”
As it turned out, he underestimated them. His father was outraged and discussed it with Bill in an icy tone. His mother had nearly fainted when he told them. “Are you insane? A coal miner’s daughter? Are you on drugs?” And his brothers had begged him not to break their parents’ hearts. They said that Jenny seemed like a nice girl, but not someone he should marry. They told him he’d get over it, and when he assured them he was serious, his brother Peter had stormed out of the room and slammed the door, after telling him he had been a weirdo all his life, and now it was obvious he was nuts. Tom was more restrained, but clearly felt the same way. They acted as though he had told them he was planning to join a monastery or cut off his head. No one in the family had ever married someone who wasn’t in the Social Register, and hadn’t been a blue blood for countless generations. Bill didn’t tell Jenny how bad it got or how rude they were, and their appalling behavior convinced him even more that he was right, and he didn’t want to wait.
On Thanksgiving, he told them that he and Jenny were going to be married in January, in a small ceremony. They had decided to get married in New York, in a tiny church they loved. Her grandmother and mother were going to come, and there would be a lunch afterward. Bill’s mother burst into tears, and Bill was grateful that Jenny wasn’t there to hear it. She had gone to Philadelphia while he told them on his own. It was a painful weekend for Bill. They didn’t sway him, but they made it as hard for him as they could. By Sunday, his parents said they would give a luncheon for them at their home after the wedding, providing they kept it small. They didn’t want to lose him by boycotting the event, but Bill had the feeling they would have planned his funeral with less despair. All of them were treating his marriage to Jenny as a tragedy. He was exhausted when he went home that night, and he spared Jenny the details of the weekend. He told her about the luncheon his parents were giving for them after the wedding. She had spent the weekend designing her wedding gown with her mother and grandmother. She wanted something very simple, but spectacularly beautiful for their big day. It was going to be absolutely exquisite, covered with incredibly delicate embroideries and tiny pearls, encrusted on antique lace. It was a gown that would have cost a fortune in Paris and would look magnificent on Jenny.
The wedding went off as expected. Bill and Jenny were radiant in the tiny church with a few friends. Her mother and grandmother were happy for her, though concerned about her unpleasant in-laws. And Bill’s family was as chilly as possible to Jenny and her family and gave restrained toasts at the luncheon, that made their disapproval clear. Bill and Jenny were both relieved when it was over, and they went to the Bahamas for a week and had a wonderful time, although the atmosphere in the office was painful when he returned to work. They treated him like an outcast and never mentioned his wife, as though she didn’t exist. And they wished she didn’t.
It made Bill’s next decision easier, when he completed the three theology classes he’d been taking. And as he did with everything, he told Jenny first. He wanted her approval before taking such a major step. He hoped to enter the seminary, get a master’s of divinity, and become an Episcopal minister when he graduated. He had already explored the possibility, and he could do his coursework at Columbia. It would take three years, or four or even five if he stretched it out. He wanted to leave his father’s law firm and go to school full time. It was a huge decision and a complete change of course. He had no idea how Jenny would feel about it, but he was sure now that it was right for him.
“I think I have a vocation,” he said, looking embarrassed. “That sounds so holier-than-thou. But I’ve loved everything I studied for the past year. I thought about it a lot, and it feels so right. But I don’t know what you think about being married to a minister.” He looked worried, but she smiled tenderly at him.
“Will you still love me when you’re a minister?” she asked gently.
“More than ever,” he said, and kissed her.
“Will you object to my working in something as superficial as fashion?” She looked concerned, and Bill seemed startled by the question.
“Of course not, silly. I’m proud of what you do. I’m not going to turn into some righteous prig if I become a minister. I just want to do some good in the world, and I think that’s the right way for me.”
“I think so too,” she said gently, “and I’m proud of you too. I think it’s a wonderful idea, if that’s what you want to do and it makes you happy. I’m behind you a thousand percent.” She always was, which meant the world to him. He told her then that he was planning to quit the family law firm, and she was worried for him about the explosion it was likely to cause, and possibly a serious rift with his father and brothers.
“I’m ready for it,” he said calmly, looking wise and mature. Making the decision to do what he wanted had already grounded him. And he looked more peaceful and sure of himself than she had ever seen him. It was obvious to both of them that it was the right thing for him to do.
The ensuing explosion, when he told his father and brothers that he was leaving, was entirely predictable. He told them that he believed he had a vocation, which they brushed off as immature and irresponsible. No man in the Sweet family had ever not become an attorney or quit the law firm, and none had ever joined the church. His brother Peter told him he was psychotic, and Tom just looked pained. And for good measure, they all blamed Jenny.
Bill left the law firm in February, and began his coursework at Columbia in March, toward his master’s of divinity, and he had never looked back after that, or regretted it for a moment, although his family still acted as though he was doing something truly crazy, and even dishonorable. Bill stayed on his path, with Jenny’s support, and stretched his studies to the full five years.
As they headed downtown to the second fashion show she was doing that night, he was five months away from graduation. He was going to be a minister. Jenny had encouraged him all along the way, just as he had done for her when she left Vogue and began consulting. And if anything, he had become more tolerant and compassionate over time. He had discovered that his strength was in the Arts of Ministry, which integrated psychiatry and psychology into the counseling he did. His gift was working with people in a religious context, rather than the drier areas of theology, church history, or Bible studies, although he enjoyed them as well. But his real forte was in reaching out and offering comfort. Jenny was proud of how much he had grown in the past five years, and their marriage had never been better. All was well in their world.
Her grandmother had died two years after they were married, which had been a great sorrow to Jenny, and she still missed her. She thought of her while she was planning to give Bill a lunch when he graduated from Columbia in June, and wished Thérèse could have been there. Her mother was coming from Philadelphia. Helene still made dresses for her clients, though far less elaborate ones than Thérèse had made. But
she made a good living at it and led a comfortable life.
They were going to invite his parents to the graduation, and Jenny was determined not to let them ruin it for them this time, as they had tried to do with their wedding. This was going to be Bill’s big day, and she wanted everything to be perfect for him. She had been planning it for months.
He got out of the car with her, when they reached the theater that Pablo Charles had rented for his show. She had been there, planning the production with him until two in the morning the night before, and everything had been under control. It was organized chaos when Bill followed her backstage to where the models were putting on their clothes. Half of them were naked, and Bill no longer even noticed. He was so used to it, it seemed commonplace to him, and they were so emaciated, and most of them were so young, they didn’t even look like women to him. Most of the girls they used as runway models were between fifteen and seventeen.
Pablo was frantically sewing a high embroidered collar onto a dress when they walked in, and he looked at Jenny in panic.
“The fucking thing just arrived from the embroiderer ten minutes ago. How do they expect me to get it on in time for the show?” He was desperate as Jenny told him she’d take care of it, and signaled to one of the women doing last-minute alterations and showed her how to put the collar in. She left her struggling with it on the model, and then sewed it quickly and expertly, as Jenny went to check on everything else. It was all in order, and even though Pablo was a bundle of nerves, she could see that his show was going to be a hit. He was a young Puerto Rican man with enormous talent, who had emerged as a major star in the past two years, in great part with Jenny’s help.
“Hang in,” she told him when she saw him again. “It’s almost over, and the show is going to be fabulous. Trust me.”
Bill watched her as she raced around backstage solving problems, amazed, as he always was, at what she did. She was a magician, and she pulled rabbits out of the hat every time.
Bill kissed her before he went to the auditorium to take his seat. He was happy to be there with her, and give her the support she gave him. “See you after the show. Knock ’em dead!” he whispered to her, and then went to find his place among the buyers and the press. He recognized most of them now, and enjoyed talking to some of them. It was a world he found interesting at times, and he loved seeing how respected Jenny was in her field. It was richly deserved. She was a talented woman, and she worked hard. She had climbed the mountain all by herself, under her own steam. The coal miner’s daughter from Pittston, Pennsylvania, had become a star in the fashion world. It had taken her eleven years to get where she was today, and three before that at Parsons. It had been a long, hard, dedicated climb to success.
As he sat down in the audience, squeezed on either side by buyers from the Midwest, he was thinking about Jenny and smiled to himself. He was a happy man, deeply in love with his wife, and they were both pursuing careers they loved. You couldn’t ask for more than that, except for a family of their own one day. They talked about it a lot. But for now, the blessings they shared seemed abundant to them.
Chapter 2
The day after the last fashion show of February Fashion Week, most of the designers started working on their next collection, which was resort. There was no breathing space in the fashion business, no downtime. The minute you finished one collection and one season, you moved on to the next. And the weeks after the shows were always a busy time for Jenny, meeting with each of the designers she worked with and advised, talking about the next season. It was a time to throw out new ideas. Many of the designers did historical research, digging back into the archives, even to find designers who were no longer remembered but had been important at one time. The weeks after Fashion Week were all about inspiration, and Jenny was part of that process. More than one designer called her their muse. And she had fun discussing their research with them. She also enjoyed working with designers who were entirely different from each other and unique. The clean, more classic look of David Fieldston contrasted with the wild, edgy young spirit of Pablo Charles and the half dozen other designers she worked with. It was a little schizophrenic collaborating with such different people, but it made the process more exciting for her. And she had two assistants now, who helped her keep all the balls in the air. They took care of appointments and logistics, but she did all the design consulting herself. That was what her clients hired her for.
One of her assistants, Nelson Wu, was a young Chinese boy from Hong Kong originally, who wanted to become a designer one day himself. He made clothes in his loft in the Village. He worked for Jenny occasionally to help her out, and was more passionate about his own designs. But he enjoyed his time with her, and she was grateful for it when she was overwhelmed.
Her other assistant was with her full time. She had dropped out of Parsons, when she had discovered that designing wasn’t for her. She was an excellent illustrator and photographer, and did a little freelance photography at night or on the weekends. Jenny had discovered that most people in the fashion industry, if they were truly creative, wore many hats, just as she did herself. And Azaya Jackson was a beautiful girl, whose mother was Ethiopian and had been a famous model. Azaya had grown up with fashion, and also did some modeling on the side. She took a real interest in Jenny’s clients and had great admiration for her. They had met when Azaya modeled for a shoot when Jenny was at Vogue, and she had turned up again when Jenny was looking for an assistant once she had gone out on her own. She was twenty-five years old, very bright, and excited to be working with Jenny. She was willing to do any task and hungry to learn the business side of fashion.
And just as Jenny had been until she met Bill, Azaya was so busy with so many projects, she never had time for a social life. She was in the office all the time, and Jenny always urged her to go out and have some fun.
“Just like you, right?” Azaya teased her. “When was the last time you and Bill went out? You work late every night.”
“That’s different.” Jenny smiled at her. “I’m married, and I’m older than you are. Besides, Bill has exams.” He was wrapping up all his final classes, finishing his term papers, and completing his thesis for his master’s. By the time Jenny was deep into the resort collection with her designer clients, in mid-March, Bill was three months from graduation, and struggling to get everything done. He was grateful that Jenny was busy too, and happy not to go out. They planned to celebrate in June and take a vacation. But until then, neither had time for fun. And they were happy with what they were doing, so it didn’t matter. And they knew it was only temporary. After Bill graduated, they’d have more time.
He was in the process of applying to churches at the moment. He had written to dozens of Episcopal churches in the city and nearby suburbs, hoping to find one that needed a young minister freshly out of school. He didn’t want to commute for many hours a day, and where he worked had to be close to the city for Jenny’s career. She was too busy and had too many clients and projects to commute. And everything she did was based in New York. She ran from one meeting to the next all day, looking at new designs, consulting with her clients about fabrics, discussing the direction they were taking with the next collection, and new trends. Bill knew he couldn’t consider a job that was too far away. But so far, no one had offered him one. He had recently listed himself with a service that sent out inquiries about positions in churches all over the United States, but he had been very clear that he had to stay in New York. And every place he had applied to in the city had turned him down. They had no openings and the same was true in the suburbs closest to New York. He wasn’t discouraged yet, he was sure that something would turn up. He had applied to a few churches in Connecticut and New Jersey, but nothing had panned out there yet either. He had feelers out all over the place.
He was working on his thesis one afternoon when his brother Tom called and invited him to lunch the next day. Bill rarely enjoyed contact with his family, but he didn’t want to alienate them
any further, and he tried to see them whenever he could. Tom was usually more reasonable than Peter or his father, although he didn’t pretend to understand the choices his younger brother had made—neither his choice of wife, nor his decision to become a minister. It seemed like a terrible waste of a bright legal mind and an excellent legal education and the social connections he had. And they needed him at the firm. Bill’s radical break with family tradition was incomprehensible to Tom.
In an effort to keep the channels of communication open, Tom and Bill met for lunch at “21” the next day. It was familiar turf for both of them, and a restaurant they both liked and had enjoyed going to since they were boys.
“So what are you up to these days?” Tom asked, sounding cordial, after they both ordered a glass of wine. The two brothers were ten years apart. Tom had just turned forty-four, and it always shocked Bill now to realize that his brother was middle-aged, and even Peter would be turning forty in a few months. And each of his brothers had two children, while he and Jenny had none. Their lives and focus seemed very different. And even more shocking to Bill, Tom’s younger son was in high school, and his older boy had just started college. Bill told Jenny that it made him feel old, even though he was only thirty-four. At least his brother Peter’s children were considerably younger.
“I’m working on my thesis,” Bill said in answer to his brother’s question. “It’s taking me forever.”
“Have you found a job yet?” Tom asked him casually, and Bill shook his head.
“There are waiting lists a mile long for churches in the city, and the suburbs aren’t much better. And we can’t get too far out of town. I can’t do that to Jenny. She has too much work.” Tom nodded, well aware that she was some kind of hotshot in the field of fashion, although he had no exact idea of what her job was. He knew she ran her own business, but it always sounded frivolous to him. It was not a business that interested him.
Until the End of Time: A Novel Page 3
