“Fabu,” Bruce said.
“I’ll be there,” Sharri responded. “With the kids. A flower girl and a ring-bearer. Did he give you a big ring?”
“God! You sound just like Mom!” Sig told her sister.
“Nah. Could never happen. Not with any of us,” Bruce told them. “Oh, and Sig? Do you need any help with your hair?”
Sig laughed and put the phone down. There was so much to do: paperwork, phone calls, and the wedding preparations. While all of this had been happening she also had seen an almost overnight turnaround in her business. Monty had asked her to manage some investments for him, while, oddly, both Bernard Krinz and Mrs. Katz had decided to put their money in her hands. As if that wasn’t enough, Paul had put Wendy’s very significant trust fund under her supervision. But that would all have to wait until the new year. Sig stood up and turned off her Quotron. She was leaving early to prepare for her wedding and then she and Paul would spend the next week together on their honeymoon.
For a change, Bruce was not hovering around Phyllis. Instead he was hovering around Sigourney, and as he took a step backwards he breathed a sigh of complete contentment. “God! This is just like Peau d’ne when Jean Marais has to find a woman more beautiful than his dead wife. And the only one he can find is his daughter!” Bruce was a little hyper, but Sig loved him and knew he was happy for her. Instead of dissing him she kissed her eccentric brother. “Are we in a French movie?” he continued. “Sig, are you Catherine Deneuve?” He didn’t pause for breath. “You are absolutely ravishing,” he said, and Sig smiled, believing him. “But let me fix your lipstick. And don’t kiss anyone else.”
Sig was wearing the Bergdorf’s satin wedding gown and strangely enough didn’t feel the slightest bit ridiculous. That was because she was wearing it for Paul, and as he had said to her, “When you love someone, anything is possible.”
Sig had even opted for the veil. She definitely didn’t feel like the mother of the bride now. Paul—older, more experienced, and so loving—made her feel young. She didn’t feel too old, too overdressed, too dramatic, or too anything. What she felt was beautiful—her most beautiful self.
So she wasn’t surprised that when she looked into the mirror she saw that Bruce was right. Her eyes sparkled, her hair was lustrous, and the satin of the dress glimmered. She didn’t care that they were only marrying at City Hall, or that they had no guests other than Bruce, Todd, Sharon, Barney, her niece and nephew, Wendy, and Mrs. Katz. When she thought about it, those were the people she needed to have around her—them and Paul.
And her mother, of course. She would like it if her mother and Monty could have been there. But now she understood: if her mother had felt like this, did feel this way about Monty, Sig had been very, very wrong to stand in her way. Sig truly believed that if Paul didn’t have a penny she’d still be on her way downtown. She looked forward to all of the small things in their future life together—cooking dinner, helping to raise Wendy, seeing movies together, and just talking. Corny Sigourney. Corny or not, she hoped her mother felt half as besotted with Monty as she did with Paul. And she hoped that her mother’s honeymoon in the Caymans would be half as nice as their honeymoon, which they were going to spend here, in Sig’s apartment, which Paul had bought and put in both of their names. Sig was about to have her cake and eat it too, and she only hoped that her mother was enjoying more than just crumbs.
It was getting late. Paul was not, of course, supposed to see her arrayed like this, so he would meet them downtown. But he was sending a limo for them. Anyway, Sig felt that if he did see her it wouldn’t bring bad luck. She’d already had all of that that she’d ever need. Now she had nothing to worry about. If anyone was willing, had experience or the knowledge of how to make a marriage work, it was Paul. He’d loved his late wife, he’d loved their son, and he loved his granddaughter. He knew how to be married, and in case she didn’t, he’d show her.
The buzzer rang, and the doorman announced that the limo was waiting. Bruce and Sig took the elevator down to the street level, where they were greeted by Jessie and her brother, both in white velvet outfits trimmed with bunny fur. As Sig and Bruce stepped out through the door, the children threw handfuls of spangles, rice, and confetti at her. “Not yet, not yet!” Sharon yelled. “You throw it after Auntie Sig gets married.”
“That’s right,” Uncle Bruce told them. “Don’t mess up her outfit.” He brushed some of the sparkles off Sig’s shoulder, then turned and looked at Sharon, who was wearing a shapeless blue velvet shift. “Where’s Barney?” he asked.
“I’ve left him,” Sharon said.
Sig and Bruce stood there in the cold, stock-still. “You’re kidding!” Sig finally exclaimed.
“Hey, one out of every three American marriages ends in divorce,” Sharon said, always ready with research. “I figured I’d carry the brunt of it and let you off the hook. It leaves you safe with Paul and Mom fine with Monty.”
“Come on, Sharri. Seriously. What’s up?”
“Get in the car, kids,” Sharon told the children, who did. Then she exploded. “Oh, Sig, Barney’s not just a failure. I could take that. It’s that he’s so comfortable failing. It was too much! Imagine turning down a job when Jessie and Travis have no lunch money! When you were paying his kids’ tuition. It was enough.”
“Another Christmas miracle,” Bruce exclaimed, looking up to the ominous sky. It looked like a white Christmas was on its way. He put his hand on Sharon’s arm. “I’ll support you any way I can,” he said, his voice solemn. “Except, of course, financially.” They all laughed.
“Congratulations,” Sig said in a serious voice. “You deserve better, Sharri.”
“Hey, even alone is better than Barney,” Sharon said.
“Time to go,” Mrs. Katz called from the car. “You don’t want to make a man wait. The groom could get cold feet.” She actually sounded nervous.
“You could get cold everything out here,” Bruce said.
Sharon, Bruce, and, lastly, Sig got into the long black stretch limo. A word to the driver and they moved off toward City Hall.
Downtown, despite the tacky surroundings, Sig didn’t mind that she’d spent so much on her wedding dress. She swarmed through the long, high-ceilinged corridor, as near to perfection as she would ever be. “To the Marriage Bureau,” said an ancient sign painted in gilt. It looked as if it was older than City Hall itself. How many brides-to-be had looked at it? Had they all been as happy, as hopeful as she was? Sig wondered. They trailed down the long hallway of the huge municipal building, following the faded signs until they at last reached the right office. A none-too-clean waiting room with assorted odd chairs and even odder people awaited them. The holidays clearly made for some strange bedfellows. Mrs. Katz held open the door as Sig, in her forty-eight-hundred-dollar gown, swept into the room. With her entrance, the dirt, the very, very pregnant bride-to-be sitting beside her nervous groom, the couple getting married with their two children along with them, the bored clerk at the desk—all of it—seemed to fade away. All Sig saw was Paul Cushing, who was standing beside Wendy, his granddaughter. With him there the room was transformed: the pregnant girl in her cheap polyester gown was beautiful. When Paul turned and looked at Sig, when she saw the joy and affection—the love—in his eyes, the room became beautiful, just as she did. The rest of the room felt it too, and it seemed as if there was a deep breath, a collective sigh. Today Sig was a princess, not a businesswoman: a princess, and beautiful enough so that all of them were transformed. Paul Cushing smiled and walked across the room toward her.
“The judge will be ready to see us in a minute,” he said, taking her arm.
“Hey, hold on there,” Bruce said. “This part is my job. I’m giving her away.” Bruce appropriated his sister. “She’s not quite yours yet.”
“Smile pretty,” Todd told them as he focused the lens and took a picture.
Mrs. Katz held out the box she was carrying. “Don’t forget this,” she said, and
Sig opened it. She found two beautiful bouquets. In the frenzy of planning, she’d left out flowers! “Oh. Thank you,” she said. “But why two?” Then she looked at what else was included. There was a blue handkerchief and a tiny locket.
“Something old, something new. You know …” Mrs. Katz said. Sig smiled and reached into the box. “And then you’ll lend them to me. Okay?” Mrs. Katz asked. “That will be the borrowed part. The locket is old, the flowers are new, and the handkerchief …”
“But why the two bouquets?” Sig repeated.
“One’s for me,” Mrs. Katz admitted. “I’m going to be like your mother.” She lowered her voice. “Except for the S, E, X.”
“Don’t tell me you’re running off with Monty,” Bruce joked.
“No, no. Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Katz said, the joke going right over her badly permed hair. “I’m getting married here after you do. I hope you don’t mind.”
Sig couldn’t imagine what delusion this was, or who on earth Mrs. Katz could think she was getting married to. She never left the apartment, and when she did, she’d always been with Phyllis. The only male other than Monty, Todd, or Bruce that Sig had ever seen Mrs. Katz talking with was—“Bernard! You’re marrying Bernard?” Sig quickly looked around the room. And there he was, sitting in a chair in the corner. “Don’t you know that he’s …”
“He’s perfect for me,” Mrs. Katz said. She lowered her voice again. “I don’t have to change the monogram on my towels. Plus he promised to take care of my money. And no …”
“I know. No S, E, X.” Sig laughed and then bent down and hugged Mrs. Katz. Oh, why not? Krinz was no crook. He’d been married before. And a lot stranger marriages had worked.
“Hold that pose,” Todd exclaimed, tearing up. “This is so beautiful.”
“Get out of here with that thing, will you?” Bruce told him. “We’ve got to get this show on the road.” He paused. “It’s not a show. It’s a Frank Capra movie. It’s a Wonderful Life. God, how did this happen? It’s the holidays and I’m in a Frank Capra movie!”
Sig had to agree, finally, with Bruce’s endless movie references. It was a wonderful life, or she expected it to be. The ceremony was both enormously quick and exceedingly slow to Sig. She felt her hands actually shaking under the flowers she clutched. It happened so quickly, and she had waited so long. Had she made a mistake? All the time that the judge spoke words over them she looked only at Paul’s face. He was not a young man and she hadn’t known him more than a month, but already he was very, very dear to her. How would it feel, now that she had found him, to have to live life without him? How many years did he have left with her?
At that moment, the judge asked for the ring. Bernard, serving as Paul’s best man, collected it from Travis and handed it over. How morbid I am, Sig thought. Nobody knows what’s going to happen, ever. At any minute something could go wrong, something could happen; a test result could come back positive, or a random incident of violence could strike.
As if in response to that thought, the door was thrown open and Montague Dunleathe stuck his head into the room. “We’re not too late! We’re not too late!” he exulted and stepped aside so that Phyllis could walk in. She looked exactly the same as always, except that she was tanned, well dressed, and for some reason Sig immediately focused on the fingers of her left hand. There was an enormous sapphire solitaire, along with a diamond-studded wedding band. So it was all true.
“I couldn’t let my eldest daughter get married without me,” Phyllis said, smiling at the crowd. “So …” she paused, obviously pleased with her dramatic entrance. “Don’t let me interrupt anything.”
Sig looked at Bruce. They both rolled their eyes. Their mother was an act of God, a freak of nature, a pain in the ass. But they loved her.
They began Sigourney and Paul’s wedding all over again.
It didn’t take long for the ceremony to end and then they all waited while Mrs. Katz—now Mrs. Krinz—married Bernard. “My dress wasn’t as nice as yours,” Phyllis whispered to Sig during the second wedding, “but Monty gave me a lovely gift for a wedding present.” She leaned closer to Sig. “A million dollars. It’s in my name in a bank in the Caymans. And that check didn’t bounce.” She looked down at her sapphire ring, not quite as big as the perfect diamond that Paul had just given Sig, but quite big enough.
“He’s got a condo in the Caymans as a present for you two.”
“We don’t need any gifts,” Sig said.
“Speak for yourself,” Bruce told her. “Todd and I could use it.”
“Yeah,” Sharon added. “I got a job, but I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“You got a job?” Sig asked, taken aback. Todd clicked his camera; Sig could imagine the look on her face.
“On your own?” Bruce added. Todd took his picture, too.
“Shut up, Bruce,” Phyllis admonished. “Be nice.” She looked at Sharon. “You got a job, on your own?” she asked. Todd completed the trio with a shot of Phyllis.
“Just a little something for the wedding album,” Todd chimed in and went on to his next victims, the newlywed Krinzes.
“I’m going to be research librarian at Stirling Corporate Headquarters,” she admitted, shyly.
Bruce, Sig, and Phyllis burst into applause. “Well done,” Monty said. “Have you heard the one about …”
“Well,” Paul said, interrupting the family conference. “We have quite a bit to celebrate. Let’s go.” They got into the waiting cars, drove past the busy last-minute Christmas shoppers and finally reached the Carlyle, where Paul had kept a pied-à-terre for years. He had a light dinner waiting and he was about to break out the Veuve Clicquot. “Here’s to all the newlyweds—all six of us.”
“Well, eight actually,” Bruce added. He turned and looked at Todd. “We’ve gotten married,” he said. “Or its equivalent in this state.” Shyly, he held up a beringed hand.
“Oh, Bruce!” Phyllis cried. “I’m so proud of you.” She turned to Todd. “I couldn’t like you better, even if you were a doctor.” She kissed him on the cheek. Todd actually blushed, then raised his camera and took a picture of them all.
“Congratulations, or best wishes, or whatever,” Sig said to Todd and hugged him. Then she turned to Bruce. “Best wishes to you,” she said and the two of them embraced.
“Love is a beautiful thing,” Mrs. Krinz told them all, Bernard Krinz at her elbow.
I guess she’s not Mrs. Katz anymore, Sig thought with a pang. No more cats jokes. But, she thought, there’d be plenty of Krinz jokes. As if he heard her thought, Bruce leaned over to her. “Doesn’t she make you Krinz?” he asked.
“No, he made her Krinz,” Paul said. “But I couldn’t make your sister into a Cushing.” Sigourney had kept her own name.
“No,” Bruce agreed. “You could only make her into a really happy woman.” He looked around the room. “What a long strange trip it’s been,” he said.
“Yes,” Mrs. Krinz agreed. “The municipal building was way downtown.”
Sig laughed, and Phyllis joined her. Paul filled all of their glasses. Sig looked at him in that way that couples exchange glances. Meanwhile, Phyllis winked at Monty and Bruce and Todd both cracked up.
“Happy holidays to everyone,” Phyllis said, raising her glass.
“And a dysfunctional new year,” Bruce added.
“It’s a sure thing,” Sig told him and smiled at her family.
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