Fiona tapped her finger against her cheek. "See, that's the rub. Is it really selling out?"
"That's what I'm asking you."
"I mean," Fiona continued. "It's a predominately male-dominated industry. I'm pretty sure there's a quota of women that they have to hire every so often. So, theoretically, I should be able to get a job."
"I have no idea why we're even discussing this," I said.
She sighed. "Because it would be nice to earn living from what I'm good at. I mean, if I do that, I can drop my second job."
I stopped and looked at her. "What second job?"
"It's not exactly easy to find rich old men to woo me and take care of me," Fiona said. "I mean, it sounds like it would be a dream come true, but it's not. I really have to hunt for these men."
I rolled my eyes. "My heart bleeds for you. And weren't you the one that was all 'Woe is me, I have to sell my artwork through eBay'?"
"Your point?"
"How is being a comic book artist any different?"
"Well, for starters," Fiona said. "I'm not dealing with eBay. Second, it's a regular paycheck. You're familiar with those. I, however, as an artist, have only heard brief rumors of this mystical 'regular paycheck.' Third, it might help me grow as an artist."
"Fi, it's comic books," I said.
She nodded. "They're a lot harder to draw than you think."
My cell rang. It was Luke.
"Saved by the bell," I muttered and answered the phone. "Hey."
"Quick question," Luke said, skipping any pleasantries. "Did you know that lobsters had to be cooked alive otherwise they're poisonous?"
"Did I know that lobsters had to be cooked alive otherwise they're poisonous?" I repeated it mostly for Fiona's benefit. And the look I got from her was totally worth it. "I guess. Maybe?" I shrugged and looked to Fiona. She nodded her head. Of course she would have known that. I'll bet she ate lobster all the time.
"So," Luke said, "is that a yes or a no?"
"It's an 'I don't know,'" I replied. "If I had to cook lobster I'd probably look into how it's supposed to be cooked before doing anything."
Luke grumbled something on his end that I didn't make out. "Yeah, that would make sense. Dang it."
"What exactly happened?" I asked, getting worried. "Is somebody dead?"
"Dead?" Luke said. "No! Why would you even ask that?"
"Because of the question you just asked," I replied. "Are you even paying attention to yourself?"
I heard Luke take a deep breath. "There was just a slight misunderstanding during a matchmaking that was I conducting. Fortunately, the issue was caught and taken care of before anyone got hurt. I think."
"Oh, brother," I muttered.
"I just wanted to see how left field I was on this one," he said.
"But nobody's dead?" I asked again.
"Nobody's dead."
"Okay. So, I'm not going to get a call in the middle of the night because you need legal assistance, right?"
"Nobody is dead," Luke repeated.
"What exactly happened?"
"Just a breakdown in communication," Luke replied with a forced casualness.
"A breakdown in communication?" I repeated.
"Yeah, do you think that'll work on Dad?"
I didn't have an answer to that one.
"Yeah," Luke said when I didn't respond. "I should probably go and make up a better excuse."
"That sounds like a good idea," I agreed.
"Talk to you later."
"Bye." I hung up and set the phone back down.
"What was that?" Fiona asked, pointing at the phone.
"I don't know," I said, turning my attention back to the Drapers. "And I don't want to know."
"How does a breakdown in communication lead to almost eating poisonous lobster?"
"The same way a breakdown in communication effects anything else." I reached for the strawberries and found an empty bowl. I looked at Fiona. "What happened to all of my strawberries?"
"I ate them," she replied. "I thought they were just for me, the way you were too busy reading." She nodded at the packet.
I frowned. "You're not being as helpful as I thought you were going to be."
"Well, you shot down all my ideas."
I held up a finger. "One. You had one idea. And it was the exact same idea I told you that I wasn't going to use."
"It was still a good idea."
I stared at the packet, holding my head between my hands. "I just wish I had some fairy dust to sprinkle all this away."
Fiona frowned. "You know, you keep mentioning fairy dust, but I thought Cupid had a bow and arrow?"
"Yeah, what do you think he dipped the arrows in?" I asked.
"Fairy dust?"
"Fairy dust."
"But not real fairy dust, right?"
"We're talking about my Dad," I said. "Cupid."
"You see," Fiona replied. "You're using that as some kind of barometer, but I'm a little confused on how this all works, especially seeing as you won't regale me with tales of your childhood as Cupid's daughter."
I opened my mouth and then didn't say anything. Something clicked in my head.
"Emma?" Fiona asked, snapping her fingers in my face. "Are you there?"
I looked through the packet. Suddenly I was very energetic. Enthusiastic, you might even say. Honestly, I'm glad my Dad wasn't here to see it. It’d give him all sorts of ideas.
"I've got it."
Fiona raised an eyebrow. "You've got it?"
"The Drapers need to communicate."
"Communicate?"
"Communicate!"
Fiona frowned. "That doesn't sound very romantic. I would have thought there would be more romance involved."
I poured over the two schedules, running my fingers down the lists until I hit the one item that was on both of them. I looked up at Fiona, smiling. "This is going to be perfect."
Chapter Sixteen
Weddings were almost always an emotional affair for everyone from the bridal party to the guests. Granted, the guests may not be sobbing with joy like the proud parents were, but the general atmosphere lent itself to a certain emotional vulnerability.
At least, that's been my experience.
That being said, I loved weddings. Like any normal little girl, I've been planning my own since I was nine. I would even hold little wedding ceremonies for my dolls. Sure, it got complicated after I married off all my dolls and divorce wasn't really an option. But then I would just butter up my parents so they would buy me more dolls to plan weddings for. That's normal, right?
As near as I could tell the Hoover wedding was an event that the Drapers had been invited to, and RSVP'd to, a little over a year ago. Who sends out wedding invites a year in advance? When did that become a thing? I mean, I don't even know what social events I'm going to this week, let alone a year from now.
I snuck in a few minutes after the ceremony started, lingering around the back. I'd never actually crashed a wedding before, and my Mother would probably be horrified to find out that I had crashed this one. It was surprisingly easy to crash since the ceremony was being held outside at a public park under a white gazebo. It was a large enough gathering that I would be able to go relatively unnoticed.
I only had two dresses that were wedding appropriate and one of them was white, so I went with the blue halter top I had purchased earlier this year at a Macy's sale. It stopped just above my knees. I thought I looked rather fetching in it. And judging by a few random glances from the single men, they thought I looked fetching, too.
I felt pretty good about myself until I realized that the bridesmaids were also wearing the same shade of blue.
Awkward...
Anyway, I hid in the back during the ceremony, trying to spot the Drapers. I was reasonably sure that they were coming. According to the packet, the Hoover's were an old family friend of the Drapers. Despite their marriage crumbling down, their profiles suggested that Mr. & Mrs. Draper wouldn'
t be no-shows at their friend's child's wedding.
The ceremony was pleasant enough, if a little long. My ankles felt like somebody was stabbing them with hot pokers around the twenty minute mark. I was pretty sure there should be a warning label on these heels about standing around in them for long periods of time. I was torn about returning them. They caused me so much pain, but they made my legs look so good. Maybe I should do a pro/con list?
The pastor opened with a message on marriage and covenants. I didn't think it was that moving, but I noticed a few people were already breaking out the tissues.
I watched the rest of the ceremony unfold, the nervous butterflies in my stomach slowly turning into rumblings of hunger. I had a loose idea of what I was going to do, but there was no guarantee that it was going to work. Especially since the idea relied heavily on the possibility of the wedding guests giving into their emotional vulnerabilities. I suspected that would be easy for Mr. Draper. Mrs. Draper, however...
The reception was held onsite and it all looked very breathtaking. There was a second, larger gazebo with over a dozen tables. The linens were blue and white. The centerpieces were candy boutiques. Food was buffet-style and the Hoover's had managed to secure a live band for the event. All in all, I kind of liked it. I mean, I don't think it'd was how I'd do my wedding, I'm big on keeping everything indoors where the magic of air conditioning would keep sweat stains to a minimum, but it was a pretty cute setup.
I waited until most of the guests settled into their seats and then grabbed one of the empty ones. There were a few questioning looks from the other table occupants, but I just smiled sweetly and explained that I was an old friend of the bride.
The old lady across from me looked disdainfully at my blue dress and I resisted the urge to toss a cup of water in her face. I mean, for all she knew, I really was an old friend of the bride and the bride asked me to wear this dress.
The reception wore on and I kept looking around at the other tables. I finally spotted the Drapers on my way up to the buffet. They were sitting at opposite sides of the gazebo, pointedly not looking at each other. I made sure to keep my face away from them and tried to enjoy the free food until I found the perfect moment.
That perfect moment made itself very apparent when the Maid of Honor, a bottle redhead for sure, managed to get drunk before it was her turn to give a speech. On her way up to the stage, she actually tripped over her own feet and fell face first into the lap of an embarrassed looking older gentleman.
That was it. I wasn't going to get a better moment then this. I did my best to make sure I didn't have any food on my face, and quickly made my way to the stage.
My heart was pounding so loud, I could barely hear the commotion the drunken Maid of Honor was causing. Wearing the blue dress ended up being a stroke of luck because the band leader didn't think twice about handing over the microphone when I got up there.
I turned to face the wedding guests and froze.
Mostly everybody was still focused on the Maid of Honor, who had gotten her hair stuck in the old man's belt. If America's Funniest Videos had still been on the air, this would have been a shoo-in for grand prize winner.
Why was I nervous? I've done public speaking before. I do it every time in the courtroom. Of course, I'm not stealing somebody else’s thunder in the courtroom...
People were starting to notice me, frozen on the stage. And one of them was Mr. Draper.
Okay. Do or die time.
"Testing?" I said. "One, two, three." I tapped on the microphone to get everyone's attention.
Suddenly, everybody stopped watching the drunken Maid of Honor and focused on me.
Okay. Well, that worked.
I gave them a little wave. "Hi there." I smiled sweetly at the bride and groom, both of whom looked super confused as to who I was. "A lot of you probably don't know me." That was an understatement. "But I was hoping to, I don't know, just maybe share a few words?" I took a deep breath. So far nobody was rushing the stage.
"In my day job, I'm a divorce attorney. I know, I know, scandalous, right? I don't get invited to a lot of weddings because most of my friends think that having a divorce lawyer around for their special day might prove to be a jinx. So, I'm eternally grateful," I looked the bride and groom, "that you both allowed me to share this special day with you. Thank you.
"You know, I look at these two and I see something very special," I continued, turning back to the guests. "But special isn't necessarily what makes marriages work. Trust me, I would know.
"Many of us think that love is like fireworks: giant, sweeping expressions, clothed in bright, colorful explosions. But fireworks don't last forever. Don't get me wrong, I love fireworks. Best thing about the Fourth of July and New Year's Eve? Fireworks. I even tried to get my Dad to incorporate fireworks into other holidays, you know, like my birthday and Christmas. He didn't really go for it.
"See, fireworks are momentary and fleeting. You can't build a foundation on fireworks and be surprised that the foundation falls apart when the fireworks are gone.
"Real love, real commitment, that's hard work. You ask any couple that's been married for longer than twenty-five years and they'll tell you that it's hard work. You have to make an effort every single day to make your marriage better than it was the day before."
I let my gaze drift back and forth between the Drapers.
"Recently I handled a divorce for a couple that been married longer than I had been alive. I don't get many of those through my office, but when I do I'm always a little curious as to why now, after all these years, are they separating? Usually their answer has something to do with wanting to wait until the kids were out of the house or there was an affair.
"But this couple, they were different. They didn't have any kids and I don't believe there was an affair involved. I couldn't figure out why they were getting a divorce. Oh, sure there was the usual anger and bitterness there. But I don't think either of them could tell me why they were angry and bitter.
"After the divorce was finalized I had a rare opportunity to speak with both of them privately. The stories they shared with me had one thing in common. One thing that, if addressed, I believe could have kept them from ever stepping foot inside my office.
"Communication. They simply stopped communicating. Oh, I'm sure they talked to each other. But they weren't communicating. They weren't sharing. She didn't tell him that it made her sad when he worked late and he didn't tell her that he loved her more than anything in the world. And when they stopped communicating, they started growing apart, instead of growing together.
"That is how a marriage works. None of us are mind readers. We don't know what the other person is thinking if the other person won't share it. It's such a simple concept that can lead to such complicated issues.
"When a man and a woman are wed, they become one. They are no longer two separate creatures. in the eyes of God they are one person. But they need to make an effort to foster that oneness, that relationship, because it doesn't happen on it's own.
"Communicate. Grow together, not apart."
I stopped. There was a solemn air that settled in about the gazebo. I watched the Draper's, but they seemed impassive. Okay, well, not what I expected. But then, what did I expect? Them to jump into each other's arms and declare their love?
I should probably just get out of there.
One last thought occurred to me and I turned back to the bride and groom with a smile. "Also, just so you know, sometimes, she's gonna want to go shopping and you're just gonna have to go with her. Don't think of it as a chore. Think of it as an opportunity to express your love for your wife by participating in activities that she cares about. Trust me," I gave the groom a conspiratorial wink, "it'll benefit you at the end of the day,"
And, with that, as some sedate laughter rippled through the guests, I got off the stage before somebody kicked me off.
Chapter Seventeen
Dad was waiting for me back at my apartment.
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I shook my head, closing the door behind me with my elbow. "I'm going to ask for that spare set of keys back."
"You did an excellent job today," Dad said, getting to his feet.
"I don't know about that," I replied, tossing my purse on the counter. "Although, I didn't really stick around to find out." I looked at him seriously. "Please don't tell Mom I crashed a wedding."
Dad smiled and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tightly. Then he pushed me back, hands on my shoulders. "The Drapers are going to be reconnecting this weekend and their marriage will be renewed by the end of the month. All thanks to you."
"Just like that?" I asked, dubious.
"Just like that."
"You're sure?"
"One hundred percent certain," Dad said.
"And all because I gave a little speech?"
"It was a very good speech."
I frowned. "You weren't there."
"But I heard about it," Dad replied. "And it was exactly what the Drapers needed to hear."
"So, now they're all better?"
"They're on their way to being all better," Dad said. "Their marriage will be renewed by the end of the month, but there's still going to be some work for them. Broken bridges aren’t so easily repaired. But at least now they have the desire and means to repair them."
"You and your metaphors."
"It's a gift."
"Well, then, I believe that means I'm done," I replied.
Dad's hands slipped from my shoulders. "Emma," he started.
"No, you promised."
"And you have a gift," he replied.
"I'm also really good at Mario Kart," I said, folding my arms. "That doesn't mean I want to spend the rest of my life playing video games."
Dad looked at me solemnly and I could see it in his eyes. "Emma.”
"No," I said, stopping him. "I don't really want to talk about it."
"That's fine," he said. "Because right now I only want you to listen." He cupped my chin, turning my eyes up to his. "It was never my intention to hurt you when I matched you to James."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't. There was a weird lump in my throat.
Cupid's Daughter (Cupid's Daughter #1) Page 9
