Better Than Your Dreams

by Dee Ernst

  “So he said.”

  She put her iPad down. “He liked you, though.”

  “Meaning?”

  She shrugged. “Just saying. I have to talk to a man about a car.”

  “Yes, where is everyone going to park?”

  “At the high school. We’re going to have four limos shuttle them back and forth. Don’t want to block the street. Have to keep the neighbors happy, right?”

  “Right.” I watched her leave. It was two o’clock. I had at least an hour before dressing. I grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and went outside.

  Alex was talking to the man behind the bar, and smiled when he saw me. He was dressed in slacks and a white button-down shirt, the first few buttons undone, revealing a very neat little triangle of dark chest hair. Not that I was into anything like that. Just reporting.

  “You look a little casual for the official videographer of the wedding of the century,” I told him.

  “I’ve got a very nice navy blazer in the car. And a tie if Carmella gets in a snit.”

  “It’s a perfect day,” I said, and it was. Clear blue sky, barely seventy, no humidity. Being the end of April, it could have been ninety-seven degrees, snowing, hailing, or all of the above.

  The man behind the bar, whose nametag read “Stan,” nodded as he polished a wineglass. “Last one of these we did was in a freaking monsoon. The tent blew over, and we got drenched. I thought Carmella was gonna have a cow.”

  “Not even Carmella can control the weather,” I said to Stan. He gave me a look that made me, for just a moment, doubt everything I thought I knew about Mother Nature.

  Alex laughed. “Come on; give me the tour.”

  We walked around the yard. I pointed out where Miranda’s first swing set stood, where the sandbox had been, and the apple tree, just now blooming pale pink and white, where Jessica had fallen from a high branch, resulting in a black eye, a twisted shoulder, and a visit from the Division of Youth and Family Services.

  “They thought you’d beaten her?” Alex asked.

  “You have to understand my daughter,” I explained. “When the ER doctor asked her what happened, she told him I’d thrown her from the second-floor window to see if she could fly.”

  Alex burst out laughing. “I want to make sure to meet her.”

  “She’ll be the one hanging out with Tony the Bodyguard,” I told him.

  “Vinnie’s driver? Nice kid. Takes things a bit too seriously, but he’ll get over it.”

  “So, you don’t take things seriously?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not so much. I’m the perfect example of what women don’t want—a real Peter Pan.”

  “Some women like the idea of a man who won’t tie them down too much,” I said.

  He shrugged. “And if I ever find her, we’ll live happily ever after.”

  I laughed. “If I find her first, I’ll send her your way.”

  Someone was yelling for me, so I waved a hand and trotted back to the house. Miranda and Grace were back. Grace was beaming. Miranda gave me a quick kiss before heading back to Ben’s to get ready.

  Grace whirled around, her newly cut hair shining. “Your daughter is a treasure, Mona. I don’t know why I ever thought she was a spoiled, self-absorbed little brat.”

  “The last time you saw her, she was fourteen. All fourteen-year-old girls are self-absorbed brats.”

  “Yes, but I always figured your daughters would stay that way forever. You know, because you’re so indulgent.”

  Well, it didn’t take her long to get back to her old, charming ways. “I’m not indulgent.”

  “Whatever. Wait until you see the dress I found. I may never go back to tie-dye again.” And she scurried upstairs.

  Carmella coughed discreetly from the den. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she said. “But just for the record, I think your sister is a first-class—”

  “I know.” I held up both hands in surrender. “But she’s family. Can’t live with her, can’t kill her.”

  Carmella raised her eyebrow. Right. I forgot. In her family, killing was an option.

  “Maybe,” I suggested, “we should start getting dressed.”

  “Good idea,” Carmella said. “Because I think Lily is going to need both of us.”

  I took a final look in the mirror. The ivory dress fit perfectly. My hair looked great—a messy updo with pink orchids and a few loose curls around my face. The gorgeous shoes made my legs look ten miles long, but I knew that they were coming off as soon as no one was paying attention.

  Guests had been arriving in long black limos. I watched as they came up the drive, and saw the expressions of delight and surprise as they turned into the yard. But I was not watching just to keep score of who was thrilled and who was not impressed. I was looking for Ben.

  I saw Miranda and David first. Then right behind them was Ben. My heart jumped into my throat at the sight of him. I had not seen him in almost ten weeks. He was still the handsomest and best man I’d ever known.

  I casually went out the back door, just in time to meet them as they turned the corner. Miranda hugged me, as did David, and they hurried off, leaving Ben and me alone in the driveway.

  “It’s good to see you,” I said, a little breathlessly.

  He smiled. “You too, Mona.” He looked around. “I can barely recognize the place.”

  “I know. It looks great. If this writing thing ever falls flat, I’m thinking about turning the place into a yard for hire. You know—weddings, bar mitzvahs, family reunions.”

  He grinned. “Great idea.” He was dressed in the same dark blue suit he’d worn to David and Miranda’s wedding, and his blue eyes sparkled. It didn’t hurt me anymore to look at him, because I finally knew how our story had to end. All I needed was the courage to do what had to be done.

  “How did you like the limo ride over?” I asked him.

  “Are you kidding? It was great! There was even champagne in the backseat, for that long, dry ride over. Lily sure knows how to impress her guests.”

  “I actually think it was Vinnie’s idea. The champagne, I mean.”

  He nodded. “With ideas like that, he’ll be a great addition to your family.”

  I laughed. “Yes, well, I’ve done a lot of thinking about what my family should look like, and I have to admit I’m making a few changes to the original blueprint.”

  We’d been standing a few feet apart, and he stepped closer to me, leaned forward, and kissed me gently on the cheek. I swallowed hard, inhaling the scent of him—clean, with a hint of musk. His lips felt cool and dry. He drew back, and our eyes were inches apart.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said softly.

  “I would not have missed this for the world,” he said, and as I looked into his eyes I knew we would be fine, that we knew each other too well to ever be less than the best of friends, and that today we would slip into old roles. No matter what happened to us in the future, he would always be my gentle, loving Ben.

  He squeezed my hand, briefly, then turned and walked off, leaving me standing in my lovely ivory dress.

  I may have looked vaguely bridal, but Lily had been right—there was no way I’d be mistaken for the center of attention. Lily’s dress was dark pink lace on top, with an elegant boat neck. The satin sash around her waist was a darker pink, the exact color of the bottoms of my silly, expensive shoes, and the skirt consisted of yards of pale pink tulle, tea length, like a perfect ballerina dress. The colors were just perfect for her.

  She looked so beautiful.

  She carried masses of pink orchids and white tulips. I carried a single stem of the palest pink. We walked down the grassy aisle to the traditional “Here Comes the Bride,” even though there was very little else traditional about the ceremony. What other wedding, presided over by a Catholic bishop no less, had the seventy-something bride reciting from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, with the groom responding from Tennyson?

  Joseph DeMatriano and I stood as witness as
they did not vow to love, honor, and obey. Lily swore to give comfort. Vinnie promised to remind her daily of his love. Both agreed to ease each other into the golden twilight with grace, humor, and patience.

  When the ceremony was over, I handed Lily back her bouquet, but she reached past it to take my single, slender stem. She had stood up with Vinnie for one reason, to become his wife, and she’d gotten all she had wanted. She didn’t need to take anything else with her back down the aisle.

  After the ceremony, there wasn’t the usual receiving line. Instead, the happy couple, as well as Joe and I, walked to each table and greeted every guest. I recognized some of Lily’s old Brooklyn friends, as well as some of her more recent Westfield posse. Joe didn’t shake hands with very many people, bowing gracefully from the waist instead. Those he did deem shake-worthy I looked at closely, but didn’t recognize anyone from old episodes of America’s Most Wanted. My feet were killing me in those beautiful shoes, but I was stuck in them at least until the official pictures were taken.

  Alex had videoed the ceremony, of course, but there was another photographer who took countless pictures under the arbor and beside the forsythia. Finally, Lily looked at Vinnie and said, “Enough.”

  With a wave of Carmella’s hand, the photographer was gone.

  The band was excellent, and the happy couple danced to “When I’m Sixty-four,” the irony of which was not lost on anyone. Suddenly the party started. Trays of hors d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne appeared from everywhere.

  I was suddenly ravenously hungry, and champagne would not do.

  Stan made me an exquisite martini, and Jessica appeared at my elbow with a plate of goodies. Tony was right behind her, and as we ate he filled me in on some of Vinnie’s guests. I finally held up my hand and begged him to stop.

  Joe made an early exit, right after he made a touching and obviously heartfelt toast. A few other older gentlemen and their mostly much younger wives left shortly thereafter. Once the politically significant guests left, I relaxed, feeling that the threat of a gate-crashing team of FBI agents was diminished.

  I ate four little marinated shrimp in a row, and came dangerously close to following the waiter around just to steal the whole trayful.

  The sunlight shifted and the yard took on a golden glow.

  What a wonderful wedding.

  At six o’clock, the fountain lights were turned on. I doubt anyone really noticed. The dance floor was packed, the white-coated waiters were running ragged, and the noise level had risen considerably. The bar setup in my garage was so efficient and practical, I wondered what it would cost to install permanently. I’d probably have to get rid of the tulle and ribbon, and I doubted the flowers would last forever, but the keg and outdoor fridge could stay, along with the portable wooden bar with its white marble counter.

  I had a place at the head table, but other than conceding that the bridal party needed its own designated space, Lily had refused to assign people to tables. She claimed that she could not afford to get anyone in this particular crowd mad at her for any reason, and I had to agree with her there. So the tables were set for four or six people, and like found like without any drama. I spent some time with Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria and their various appendages. I hovered around the “kids’ table”—Jessica and Lauren, Tony, Trev, and Paulie. They were arguing some obscure point in one of the Matrix movies. I was beginning to realize that any worries I had about Vinnie’s grandkids were all a result of too much time I’d spent watching old movies and cable TV.

  Grace sat with Miranda, David, and Ben. Miranda, with her usual good sense of style, had outfitted my sister in an ice-blue sheath dress and nude heels, and Grace looked surprisingly elegant. Very surprisingly, because she spent most of her time flitting around the party like a homegrown, one hundred percent organic butterfly. She drank champagne, and danced with Ben, Trev, David, and several dark-suited gentlemen who were probably too polite to tell her to get lost.

  “Mom,” Miranda said in a low voice, “is she really going to be living with you?”

  What? “Did she say that?” I was sitting between Ben and Miranda, and we were watching as Grace and David danced to a very snazzed-up version of the Hokey Pokey.

  “Yes. She said that she was leaving the commune, moving out here, and finding a job. I kinda thought with Aunt Lily gone, you’d be looking forward to being alone.”

  “She told you she was going to find a job? Doing what? All she’s done for the past thirty years is can vegetables and keep bees. Not exactly the job skills needed in this market.”

  Ben chuckled. “Lucky for you that whole third-floor suite is going to be empty.”

  I looked at him. “Ben, what am I going to do? We’ll be at each other’s throats in a week.”

  “But, Mom,” Miranda said, “she was so sweet and friendly yesterday.”

  “I know. But I can’t keep her pumped up on drugs forever. To be honest, I was thinking about downsizing.”

  Miranda sat up. “You’d sell the house?”

  “Why not? You’re gone. Lauren and Jessica will hopefully be gone as well in the next two years. Why would I want to keep rattling around in that big old house by myself?”

  Miranda frowned, thinking hard. “I guess. Where would you go?”

  I shrugged. “I was thinking about just moving to the shore house.”

  “I could see you living there,” Ben said. He was sipping his beer.

  “How was Maine?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “How is Maine, you mean. Going fine, but much slower than expected. I’ll be going back up for at least another month. I need to take care of a few things down here; then I’m going back.”

  “Do you like it up there?”

  He nodded. “It was lonely. And cold. But they tell me spring is lovely, so we’ll see.” He tapped the side of his beer glass with his fingertips. “Lots of interesting characters. I found myself wanting to call you and tell you about them. They’d be great fodder for your next ten books.”

  I smiled. “I missed you too,” I said.

  Something softened around his eyes. “Yes. Missing you was pretty much the hardest part.” He dropped his eyes and played with his spoon.

  Miranda cleared her throat nervously. “So, Mom, about Aunt Grace?”

  “You know, maybe Carmella can help you out,” Ben said.

  “Oh?” Enough already with Carmella, okay?

  He nodded. “She told me that she and Dominique were becoming business partners?”

  I made a face. “Yes. Is that a combination or what?”

  He grinned. “I can imagine a few sparks there, yes. But Dominique will need somebody to sit in the new office and answer phones and do paperwork, right?”

  I nodded slowly. “I bet Grace could do that.”

  “But would she still have to live with you?” Miranda asked.

  I thought a moment. “I have no idea what she’s going to do. This morning she was miserable, and now she’s dancing around like a queen bee. Let’s just wait and see. Maybe she’ll get over this whole thing and fly back to Shadow after all.”

  “Mom,” Miranda said, very seriously, “I don’t think there’s enough Xanax in the world to get her on a plane again.”

  Hmmm. True. I smiled and got up. I needed to mingle.

  I also needed another martini, but on the way to the bar Alex asked me to dance. I immediately looked for Ben, but he was talking to David, and didn’t even notice as I slipped by.

  Alex put his arms around me, and we moved easily. “Have you found her yet?” he asked.

  “Found who?”

  “The woman who could love a Peter Pan.” He was smiling, but his eyes were serious.

  I shook my head. “Sorry. I thought you might get lucky, but I think she’s already left.”

  “That’s too bad. We might have been pretty good together. If she could have ever gotten over her old love.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  The music changed,
something vaguely Latin and upbeat. Boy, he could really dance.

  “Well, Carmella filled me in, of course. But I’ve been watching you. You can’t take your eyes off of him. Some habits,” Alex said, “are very hard to break.”

  I shook my head. “More than a habit,” I told him. “I can only hope he feels the same way.”

  When the music stopped, he looked at me with a smile. “You know how to find me,” he said. I walked away from him and caught a glimpse of Carmella, watching closely. I waved, and she dropped her eyes.

  It took me another twenty minutes to make my way to the bar. Stan saw me, winked, and went to work.

  I took a long sip and felt the familiar jolt. I looked up and over at MarshaMarsha’s house. There, high in the back window, I could see MarshaMarsha and Patricia. I waved. I was glad they got to see the show.

  Patricia opened the window, leaned out, then pointed to something. Several times, in an incessant stabbing motion.

  I followed her finger with my eyes. There, standing alone on a tiny patch of quiet green lawn, was Ben.

  I glanced back at Patricia. She made an exaggerated motion with both her hands—Go, go!

  Yes, I did have to go. The wedding was winding down. I’d been around Ben all afternoon, and never once did I manage to get him alone. And there were things I needed to say to him that could only be between the two of us. I gulped my martini and set the empty glass on a passing tray. I bent down and eased my feet out of those ridiculous shoes, and walked across the yard to Ben.

  He watched me as I walked to him, his eyes crinkled with pleasure, a smile on his delicious mouth. “Hello again. Did I mention that you throw a great party?” he said as I came up.

  I nodded. “Thanks. But the credit all goes to Carmella. The woman really knows her job.”

  “Yes, she’s very good. It was a very lovely ceremony. Moving. I was surprised.”

  “Me too. In fact, this whole experience has been a surprise to me.”

  “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  I felt myself blushing and looked down at my dress. I twirled on my bare toes. “You mean this old thing?”

  He laughed. “Yes. In fact, you could be the bride.”