Plantation (6 page)

I was focused on the job with all the intensity of a mother pigeon feathering her nest.
They’re living in sin!
I could hear Mother’s voice the whole way from the Edisto River. My mother’s friend Miss Sweetie would say,
I thought they were living in the Village
.

Then Millie would say,
Humph! That child ain’t capable of sin!
So there was a lot of clucking going on while I renovated and the southern contingent waited to see what would become of our relationship.

Once again the doorman at our new building turned out to be a well of information. Through him I hired a fellow to gut the apartment back to the bricks. I had it rewired, restored the chimney, reinforced the floors, cut through the walls for air conditioners, built an entirely new kitchen, and redid both bathrooms. I bought most of the fixtures from Ikea and the appliances from Sears dur-P l a n t a t i o n

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ing their Fourth of July sale. Honestly? They looked almost as good as anything in
Architectural Digest
.

To save money on plastering, the walls of the living room were padded Sheetrock, upholstered in a slubby white rayon-and-cotton fabric that I found on Thirty-ninth Street for seven dollars a yard.

The wall-to-wall carpets were textured ivory wool in a basket-weave pattern, found in huge remnants at ABC Carpet. The curtains were white sheers shot with silver metallic threads, looped around pewter finials—fabric from the bridal district of the garment center. If this seemed like a lot of white, it was, but I suppose I had this romantic notion of our life together starting as a blank canvas.

Last month when the major renovations were over, I began scouring the city for houseplants and put them in Chinese reproduction ceramic planters. I took lots of photographs and framed them in red lacquer with tan linen mats. The effect was cool and tranquil. I couldn’t wait until he saw it all pulled together. He worked like a maniac at all hours of the day and night and I ran back and forth to the apartment from my office to check on this and that. This had been going on for over a year. We hardly saw each other vertical!

I’ll never forget the day I gave him the grand tour. It was just three weeks ago. We hadn’t moved our furniture in yet. The only other furnishings were small things I had recently purchased. The carpenters had finally attached all the doorknobs and drawer pulls.

The shower curtain was finally pressed and hung. I spritzed all the plants to make them shine and Richard rang the doorbell.

I opened the door and there he stood with a bottle of champagne and two paper cups. As we walked from room to room, we touched the rims of our cups and, smiling, he gave me lots of kisses, saying what a resourceful girl I was, how thrilled he was with everything. We ate Chinese food from cartons on the living room floor.

At some point during the evening we christened the apartment by making love. I remember gathering up all our containers and putting the garbage bag outside the kitchen door in the service hallway.

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k We turned out the lights and waited for the elevator. He turned to me and said, “You’re amazing, Caroline. Simply amazing!”

Can you imagine how that made me feel? He gave me such courage! Acting as my own general contractor had given me a new career. I learned so much about the practical placement of wall sockets, electrical needs, plumbing requirements, and how to get things done that I decided to become an interior decorator. I knew that Richard thought it was a pretty shallow way to make a living.

He never came right out and said it, but I could tell by his tone of voice when he commented as I went over our renovation plans or fabric swatches with him. I didn’t care about that because I knew decorating was more fun than being the branch manager of the Bank of New York at Fifty-seventh and Third, which is what I had been doing after I finished my MBA.

Up until yesterday, I was still dealing with the man from California Closets about the way the bedroom cabinet shelves were hung. It wasn’t until this morning when the florist arrived and decorated the mantelpiece with flowers for the ceremony tomorrow that I started to get the shakes. I had been too consumed with organizing the wedding and taking care of the final touches on our apartment to allow myself to face the fact that I was really going to be married. Married to someone not of my family’s faith, of another citizenship, with an ex-wife and a toddler son. Someone my mother would no doubt disapprove of on sight. Yep. On sight.

Mother’s disapproval was the reason we were being married in New York and not at Tall Pines. I didn’t want to deal with it. We were just having a tiny ceremony anyway.

Frankly, I was surprised she made the trip. I knew it was Millie who convinced her to come to our wedding just last week, by train, of course. Mother refused to fly. My brother, Trip, was going to give me away and my sister-in-law, Frances Mae, probably wanted to take inventory.

I looked at my watch. Five-thirty. Where on earth was Richard? The phone rang. It was Trip.

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“Hey! You nervous?” he said.

“Hell no,” I said.

“You lying?”

“Hell yes!”

We started laughing.

“Yeah, just you wait! That man’s gonna put the old leash on you! You’re gonna be slaving away for him! That’s what Frances Mae does!”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. Your room okay?”

“Oh, fine, fine. Frances Mae has got her feet up; says her ankles are swollen from being in the family way. I reckon I’ll mosey on down to the bar and see what kind of riffraff I can find to keep me company around here. You want to come over?”

“I’d love to! I’ve been walking around this apartment going nuts, waiting for Richard to come home. You buying?”

“Yep,” he said. “Leave him a note!”

“Good idea! See you in ten minutes.”

I called Richard’s office and got his service.

“Do you know where I can reach Dr. Levine? This is his fiancée.”

“No. Dr. Levine had an emergency out in Long Island and left his office at two o’clock. Would you like me to call him?”

Long Island?
That was where Lois, his ex-wife, and son lived!

We didn’t have any friends out there and Richard’s patients were usually from Manhattan. “No, that’s all right. I’m sure he’ll be home soon. Thank you.”

He had probably gone out there to calm Lois down. She was having a giant temper tantrum because we were getting married. I didn’t blame her for that. She was a stupid ass to let him get away in the first place. I never could figure out why either. I wrote him a note, taped it to the front door, and left.

It was freezing outside, low twenties. Just last week we had a snowstorm that left Manhattan covered in twenty inches of snow.

After it was shoveled and banked, it froze. The doormen of all the 3 6

D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k buildings in the city had to cut passageways in the banks so people could get off the curb to a cab without climbing a wall. The cold didn’t bother me. In fact, I loved it. I pulled my black coat around me and walked quickly to the Pierre.

By six o’clock, Trip and I were way ahead of Mother and Millie in the alcohol consumption department. I have to say, they made a heroic effort to catch up as quickly as possible. Mother thought I was too thin; Millie thought I looked the same. Mother didn’t like my haircut—made me look older; Millie thought it was chic. Mother said she didn’t like New York; Millie said she thought it was exciting. Frances Mae sat silently, sipping on orange juice, picking at the nut bowl, and finally, at six-thirty, Richard appeared. I spotted him and got up to bring him over to our table.

“Ooh!” Frances Mae said, “he’s a hot one!”

“Yes, he is!” I said.

“For God’s sake, Frances Mae!” Trip said, rolling his eyes.

I put my arm through Richard’s and whispered in his ear.

“Where have you been, darling?”

“Fighting with Lois, darling,” he whispered back. “But, you look beautiful tonight, darling!”

“Come meet my family, darling.”

My scowling mother had him in her sights and he went directly to her side, taking her offered hand in between both of his.

“It seems that I have made the greatest mistake of my life, Mrs. Wimbley,” he said to her.

“Oh?” she said.

“Yes. I’m marrying the daughter when it’s her mother who has stolen my heart on sight.”

“Suh? That is one crock if I ever heard one, but you just go on and flatter me to death!” Mother was grinning from ear to ear, fingering
the pearls
. “Do call me Lavinia, won’t you? Come sit next to me, you adorable man. Isn’t he adorable, Trip?”

“Just precious, Mother,” Trip said.

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Richard shook hands with Trip, gave Frances Mae a peck on the cheek, and finally turned to face Millie.

Millie looked more elegant than I had ever seen her. At five feet tall and maybe one hundred pounds dripping wet, she didn’t look a day over forty, even though she was in her fifties. Her laser eyes cut right through you and could see your soul naked. I used to tease her that the long braid she wore around her head was where she hid her third eye! She was wearing a pale pink wool bouclé suit with black trim. It looked just like Chanel and probably was. Yep, elegant but not happy. Something had come over her like a bad mood. I knew that look too well.

“Richard, this is Millie Smoak. She’s been running Tall Pines all my life and she’s my dearest friend in the world.”

“It is a great pleasure, Mrs. Smoak, a great pleasure indeed.”

“So you’re the man who’s going to marry my Caroline?” Millie said. She looked at him, staring deeply into his eyes.

“Yes, ma’am, I am the one who is not only going to marry her, but I’m going to love and cherish her for the rest of my life.”

“Well, you be sure you do!” Millie said and two big tears splashed her cheeks.

“Oh, Millie!” I threw my arms around her and we hugged.

“I was there the day you were born, Caroline!” Millie said and sniffed, trying to compose herself. “The very minute you came into this world!”

“I know, and I love you, Millie, you know I do!” Then I felt like I was going to cry.

“Well, then,” Richard said to the approaching waiter, “let’s have a bottle of champagne!”

“Um, I’d prefer Jack Daniels on the rocks with a tiny splash?

Does that suit?” Mother said.

“Me too,” said Trip.

“Make it three,” Millie said, “and call me Millie.”

“Oh, what the hell, Richard,” I said, thinking I hadn’t drunk bourbon since college, “I’ll have one too.”

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k Richard turned to the waiter and said, “I’m new to the family.

Forget the champagne, I’ll have a Dewar’s neat. Bourbon all around. And please bring another orange juice for my future sister-in-law.”

Richard picked up the check. After that, Richard could do no wrong. We moved on to the Post House and had the most delicious dinner—big steaks, steamed lobsters large enough to give you nightmares, creamed spinach, and cottage fries. We ate and told stories until after ten o’clock.

“Does anyone care for dessert?” Richard said.

They all declined, except Frances Mae, but when no one else ordered dessert, Trip told Frances Mae she didn’t need it either. She went into a serious funk. I was a little surprised he spoke to her that way. I would have kicked
my
husband in the shins under the table! But, in all fairness to my brother, Frances Mae was rotund.

“Does anyone want to go over to our apartment for a nightcap?”

They declined again, saying they were tired, that didn’t the bride need her rest and so on. Mother had discreetly slipped her American Express card to the captain, so the bill was handled before Richard could even offer to pay it. He got up and bowed to Mother, kissing her hand. We said good night at the door and went our separate ways.

“You were utterly charming,” I said as we crossed Park Avenue, “thank you.”

“They are very nice people, Caroline,” he said, “and, I love you.”

“Thank God,” I said, “because I sure do love you too.”

Eddie the doorman held the door for us and into the lobby we went.

“Eleven degrees,” he said.

“Really?” I said, “I didn’t feel cold a bit!”

“Aye, that’s love for ya,” Eddie said and pressed the elevator button for us.

Tomorrow I would become Mrs. Richard Levine. I felt pretty wonderful.

Caroline Boswell Wimbley

and

Dr. Richard Case Levine

5

Request the honor of your presence

At a reception to celebrate their marriage February 26, 1987

Le Perigord Park

563 Park Avenue

Six o’clock in the evening

The favor of your reply is requested by January 30

Black Tie

Four

Going to the Chapel

}

1987

UR wedding ceremony, which was to be held in our new apartment, was minutes away. I was in our bedroom O with Mother and Millie, nursing my nerves with breathing exercises—ujayia breathing, a technique I learned in yoga class to organize my prana. It wasn’t working all that great.

“Do you want something to help you compose yourself, dear?”

Mother asked. “You certainly don’t want to go out there and look like a damn fool all jittering, now do you. Five milligrams of something might be a big help.”

I took another deep breath before answering, turned away from the closet door mirror, and just stared at her instead. Why did she say these things? Mother was not going to aggravate me, no matter what.

“Miss Lavinia?” Millie said, jumping right in. “You leave this chile alone! This yanh is her day! You done had yours! You be the fool, not she! Imagine trying to give drugs to the bride! Shame on you!”

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“Oh, hush, you old woman!”

“Oh, brother,” I said, laughing, “will you two birds quit fighting over this worm?”

The girls loved to bicker—they always had.

I had just finished my makeup and was brushing my hair behind my ears. I could hear our guests outside my door, talking and greeting each other. The ivory crepe dress, just a simple sleeveless sheath, slipped over my head and Millie moved in to zip it.