Mom stops him.This, for the record, is a Michaels family first. "No. I have to have my wits about me to think this through.” She is clutching her chest, gasping, her mind racing as she mentally runs through the list of all the cancellations that need to be made.
"Don’t worry, Mom,” I assure her.“I have the list of guests and their phone numbers. I just wanted you and Dad to know before I started calling everyone.You won’t have to do a thing.”
Mom hasn’t heard a word. ". . . The caterers. The band. The florists.”
Dad, ever the paterfamilias, pats her gently. “Don’t worry, Nance. Brides call off weddings every day. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal. Ha! How would you know? You haven’t done anything to prepare for this wedding. Absolutely nothing whatsoever.”
“Aside from paying the bills.” He shoots me a stern look.
Ouch.The bills. Better not to think about those right now.
Mom lets out a cry and starts gesturing maniacally to the back window.Todd and Patty are coming up the walk.
And they’re holding hands and swinging their arms—swinging their arms!—practically skipping up the garden path. Patty’s in a yellow sundress and she actually has a daisy tucked behind her ear. I bet Todd picked it and slipped it there himself.
“What’s she doing here?” Mom howls. “On today of all days.”
“I asked her to come,” I say calmly. "She is my best friend.”
Mom is horrified. “Why? Why would you invite that horrid Patty Pugliese into our house when I am under such distress?”
“For support. Besides, I thought you liked the horrid Patty Pugliese now.”
“I liked her when she was engaged to that Moe Howard person. But as soon as they broke up she sank her claws into my Todd. And don’t tell me that wasn’t her plan all along.”
Probably not far wrong, knowing Patty.
Dad says,"I dunno. She’s kind of fun.Very bright. Makes a hell of a living.”
Mom is unaware that Todd and Patty have been inseparable since Todd played her fiancé. And I mean inseparable. I think they Krazy Glued themselves together for three days afterward.
I wouldn’t know, really, since Nick and I haven’t exactly been holding back on the Krazy Glue either.
“Hey, guys!” Todd bursts through the door wearing his loud pink and yellow Hawaiian shirt and grinning like a dope. He is fitter. He even looks younger, and the same can be said for Patty. Gone are her caustic comments, her razor-sharp tongue. She is rosy and giggling and—I don’t believe it—acting coy.
Dad and Mom are ashen zombies in comparison.
“Geesh.Who died?”Todd asks.
“Hugh!” Mom wails.
Todd blanches. “What?”
“Hugh didn’t die,” Dad says.“Your mother’s being overly dramatic. What she means is that Genie and Hugh broke up. The wedding’s off.”
I’d assumed that Patty told him, but I think not because Todd pumps his fist and yells, “Yes! I won the bet!”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. I completely forgot about that stupid bet.
Todd holds out his hand. “Cash. No check. Cash.”
“What bet?” Dad asks.
Getting out my checkbook anyway, I warn Dad it’s a long story and he doesn’t need to be bored to death. Besides, Mom appears to have slipped into a trance and is rattling off an itemized list of wasted wedding food.
“... seventy-four chicken almondines, fifty-two beef bourguignons, fifteen portobello steaks, gallons of shrimp, plates of salmon, crates of champagne and wine and”—she lets out a sob—“the five-tiered white chocolate and lemon wedding cake.”
"Oh, Mom.” I am beginning to feel really, really crappy about this. “I’ll pay for it all. I promise.”
Dad’s incredulous. “You have no idea what those deposits are, Genie.They’re huge.”
“Hold on.” Patty jumps in just like her old self. “There’s got to be a solution to this. I’m sure the caterers won’t hold you fully liable. There are three weeks until the wedding. Where are your contracts?”
Mom blinks and sniffs into her tissue. “Contracts? Donald has them.”
“They’re in my office at the bank. I’ll send them to you Monday. ” Dad rubs his hands together and says, “All right. Enough of that. Let’s let bygones be bygones. Anyone for a drink?”
Hold on. My old man doesn’t even part with a penny if he doesn’t have to. He should be plunking Patty in the car and whisking her off to the bank right now. And how come he’s not throwing a fit and pounding the counter and lecturing me about being selfish and immature?
Todd says to Patty, "I need to talk to you. Alone.”
“About contracts?”
“Kind of.”
They step outside and Mom excuses herself to wash her face in the bathroom and redo her lipstick, thereby providing me with a perfect opportunity for a one-on-one with Father of the Year.
Dad brings out a bottle of cheap chilled chardonnay from the fridge."So, what’ll it be, Toodles? Your usual white? Or something with actual taste?”
“You knew.”
"No. I don’t know.” He pops out the yellow plastic cork.“You might have switched to merlot since we last had drinks.”
I swing around the counter so he can’t flee. “Don’t bluff with me, Pop.You knew all along I wasn’t marrying Hugh, that I made up the whole thing.”
His hand shakes slightly as he pours the chardonnay. Otherwise, he’s composed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you do a crazy thing like that?”
The threads of evidence are weaving together to form a perfect tapestry. “That’s why my condo mortgage went through so easily at the bank and why there was that special meeting with Nick.You were behind that.”
“Now, Genie. Just let it be.” He’s trying to sound noble, but I can tell he’s pleased with himself for being so smart because there’s a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth.
“When did you find out?”
“Jason told me at the barbeque, right after you got so-called engaged.” He looks up from his preparations and winks.“He didn’t want to violate your confidence, but he was concerned you’d be too afraid to tell us and that we’d end up blowing a wad of cash. And for that I am forever in his debt. Literally.”
Dad’s known all this time. Since the very beginning. I’m rocked. "Does Mom . . .”
“No. Are you kidding? She’d hog-tie you if she found out the truth, so you better make sure she doesn’t. I had to make sure those invitations never went out and then I had to talk her into letting me handle all the bills, which required me to contact the vendors and explain that my nutty kid was trying some sort of experiment and could they please be patient. Because, for all I knew, you were on the slippery slope to a nervous breakdown.”
Oh, great. Flowers by Elsie. J&J Caterers. They think I’m . . . insane! “Why didn’t you try to stop me?”
“I did. I told your mother I ran into Hugh to strike the fear of God in you. I figured that would frighten you into coming forward. No such luck.”
“So you never saw Hugh on my porch.”
“Of course not. Hugh was still in England, I believe. When that didn’t do it, I started to worry. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why you felt it necessary to tell such a lie to your own family.Your own family, Genie. How could you?”
Suddenly, my nose is hot and my chest is tightening, thinking of the hell I put him through. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to . . .”That’s it. I’m about to cry.
“Now, cut that out.” He reaches out and strokes my hair, his sign of forgiveness. “You know I’ve always had a soft spot for you, Genie.You’re the middle child, the overlooked one in the family. The good girl who got the good grades and kept to herself.
“I assumed you weren’t being frivolous with this fake engagement. I trusted you had a valid reason. So, I was willing to be patient and play along until you got what you needed. I wasn’t happy about it, but I did it
because I love you.”
Man, do I love my father.Yes, sometimes he’s dreadfully boring, droning on and on about interest rates and bond returns. But mostly he’s my hero.
"I just want to get this straight,” I say.“There is no band.There is no caterer, right?”
“Not even a tent. They’re all booked at other events for the twentieth. So you can breathe a great big sigh of relief.”
I let out a great big sigh of relief.This has ended far better than I ever could have hoped.
“However,” he says, giving his ice a stir. “You were wrong about one thing.”
“What?”
“Nick. I may have sped up the paperwork on that mortgage, but I had nothing to do with him meeting with the bank president. That’s standard procedure for our twenty-eighty clients.”
This makes no sense. A twenty-eighty client is the banking term for the richest twenty percent of a bank’s clients who generate, on average, eighty percent of a bank’s profits. Investors, doctors, CEOs. Dad courts them constantly.
“But Nick’s not rich. He’s a carpenter.”
“He’s also smart. MIT grad, you know.”
No. I didn’t know. I know other things about Nick, very intimate things. But somehow between our bouts of passionate, sweaty sex, I never stopped to ask,“Did you happen to graduate from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology?”
“Economics major,” Dad is saying. “Bored him dead. So he became a carpenter. Do you know how much sought-after carpenters like Nick can make in a year? Combine that with his investment savvy and discipline, and you have a multimillionaire.”
Crash!
“What broke?” Mom rushes out of the bathroom, bumping right into Todd and Patty running in from the other direction. I am frozen in place, shards of wineglass and puddles of chardonnay at my toes.
Nick. A multimillionaire? An MIT grad?
It’s so ... geeky!
“Good news!” Todd shouts. “We have solved the problem of Genie’s called-off wedding.”
Mom claps her hands. “I just knew you’d find a way, Todd. How?”
“You know those caterers you have to cancel? The florist and band and photographers and whatever. Don’t call them. Not quite yet.”
He pauses to squeeze Patty’s hand. I’ve never seen my brother so infatuated.
“Instead of Genie and Hugh getting married, it’ll be Patty and me. I’ve asked her and she said yes and the best part is, it’s already arranged. Patty’s even got her dress.We’re good to go.”
Crash!
This time my father’s the one to drop his glass.
Epilogue
Todd and Patty were married under the willow tree in my parents’ backyard on a beautiful, dry August day with puffy clouds in the blue sky and the lemony fragrance of bee balm in the air. Which was great, as we couldn’t rent a tent to save our souls.
Granted, we were not serenaded by a string quartet or a jazz band at the reception. Though I can’t say that the neighborhood garage band, the Waverly Idiots, totally sucked. They were kind of eclectic. A sort of Red Hot Chili Peppers meets Dixie Chicks meets the Partridge Family. Danceable, and yet not.
The food, though, was fantastic. All the naan and samosas you could eat. Bombay Delight served up a feast and, frankly, I wouldn’t have done it any other way. I mean, you can have chicken Kiev or beef tenderloin at any wedding. Indian takeout is definitely the way to go.
The Indian buffet was a surprising hit with many of the thousands of Puglieses who showed up and parked their cars on the sidewalk. (The Pugliese family has some sort of dispensation from the governor to do this, apparently.)
And I have to say, it was a blessing to have that many armed men around when the national and local news crews started acting belligerent.We explained and explained that Todd and Patty were getting married, not the megabestselling author Hugh Spencer. Still, the news crews accused us of hiding him, which was ridiculous as Hugh was back in England, cursing himself for not marrying me when he had the chance.
Patty wore her Carmen Marc Valvo dress, which fit perfectly, if barely. She’d lost a lot of weight right before the wedding due to the nausea that we hope will disappear in a couple of months when she passes her first trimester.
“One whiff of a prospective husband, and I get knocked up,” Patty cried when the little pink plus sign appeared on her pregnancy test.“This is what I get for being a Pugliese. Now I gotta sell the Porsche and start making lasagna. It’s the Pugliese way.”
Despite all her railing against God and her fertility, I know she’s secretly pleased. Todd, too. And it is kind of like a miracle, when you think about it. One day you’re two self-centered adults going about your self-centered business.The next thing you know, you’ve fallen in love and now all your attention must be devoted to raising a helpless being for eighteen years.
At least, that’s how my mom put it. She’s still coming to terms with the fact that she’s going to be grandmother to a Pugliese, a bellowing, screaming, hollering Pugliese. In anticipation of this, she has quit drinking. A hangover is one thing. A hangover with a Pugliese baby could result in criminal action.
For the record, I carefully returned every wedding gift with a note of explanation and thanks. Any money I received, I sent to All Saints Church, with receipts to the donors. It has been a daunting task, though Reverend Whitmore now acts like he’s my best friend.
Long ago, I’d given up the notion that life could change over one summer. That was only for teenagers who’d fallen in love at the beach or kids who’d suffered through some coming-of-age drama at camp, right?
But I like to think of my experience as proof that it’s never too late to come of age. In one summer I had transformed from a wilted wallflower, an overlooked employee, and an inhabitant of a cramped rental into a risk-taking woman, a valued member of my workplace—a homeowner.
Most important, I was loved.Truly and passionately loved by a man I, in turn, loved back. And not just any man, Nick.
One golden fall evening, Nick and I are walking hand in hand up to the golf course. The oaks and maples that line the country club are turning red and yellow, losing their leaves, and there is a definite change of seasons in the brisk air. I button up my sweater and let Nick hold me and keep me warm as we watch the Boston skyline fade into the twilight.
I never imagined life could be so perfect.
“That’s it. Summer’s over,” Nick says, pulling me to him.
"It was a great summer. Hot. Busy. But great.”
Nick smiles. “Hot and busy.You got that right.”
I give him a playful poke in the ribs and, in so doing, notice something glittering in the grass. It can’t be.
"My ring!” I shout, bending down to pick it up. “My twenty-four ninety-five cubic zirconia from Bickman’s. It’s still perfect.”
“Ah, yes. How could I forget? I was there the day you picked it out, remember?”
This is impossible. “How did it get here? I lost it months ago. It never could have survived the golf carts and the mowing.At the very least, it should be mangled and ruined.”
“Maybe you should keep it then. It might be another sign.” Nick’s eyes are twinkling. He’s up to something.
I think about this, holding the ring up to study how the stone so perfectly catches the evening’s last light, shooting off brilliant rays of pink and yellow. Not bad for a cubic zirconia. Not bad at all.
“You know what?” I say, keeping my voice bright so Nick won’t know I’m about to cry. “I don’t think I will keep this ring.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I don’t need it. For years, I thought I did, that I wouldn’t find happiness and fulfillment without a diamond ring, even a fake diamond ring, on my left hand. But I was wrong. I already had what I needed to be happy.”
And with this declaration of independence, I toss the ring as hard as I can toward the city skyline.
Nick throws up his arms. “Genie! I can�
��t believe you did that!”
"It wasn’t so hard, actually. Very liberating.” I slap my hips. “Aren’t you proud of me?”
But he’s not proud. He’s in shock. I can tell because his lower jaw is open and his hands are on his head and now he’s dashing across the golf course.
“That was real!” he’s shouting.
“Real?” I say, laughing. “It wasn’t real. That ring cost twenty-four ninety-five!”
"No, it didn’t. It was . . .” He is down on the green, searching. “It was supposed to be for you. I made it myself.”
“Platinum?”
"Yes,” Nick says sadly.
"Diamond?”
“Two carats.”
“And you made it yourself?”
Finally, out of the darkness, Nick says, “It’s gone.”
I try to be encouraging. “Maybe we can find it in the morning.”
“And if we do,” he asks slowly, “will you wear it?”
After I’m silent for a while, I say, “It’s lovely. Why wouldn’t I?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.What do you mean?”
“Now I’m afraid to ask. After seeing what you did with the ring, I’m worried you’ll do the same to me.”
“Life’s all about risks, Nick. I might toss you across the golf course. I might not.You’re never going to get what you want unless you ask.”
He lets out a deep breath. "Would you like to get married?”
“Someday.”
“I mean to me.”
“To you? Hmmm. Let me think about that. Well, any man who doesn’t get mad when his bride-to-be throws away his handmade platinum-and-diamond ring is bound to be the best husband ever, wouldn’t you say?”
"So . . . your answer is yes?”
I take his hand and tuck my answer into his palm.
“I never threw your ring away. I never would,” I murmur, as Nick gently slides his ring on my finger. “After all I’ve been through, I think I finally know how to spot the real thing, even if it’s taken me a while.”
Like they say, good things come to those who wait.
But, if you ask me, better things come to women who don’t.
The Sleeping Beauty Proposal Page 27
