The Wedding Party (33 page)

“As for Peaches and me? She needs a little more than a companion—she also needs activity and stimulation. It will keep her younger longer. Can you think of anyone more perfect with whom to read, play board games, go for long walks? Plus, I think I've found a good senior center for daytime activities—if she'll go.”

“Moving in with her? Seriously?”

“You didn't know, did you? Dad didn't tell you!”

He shook his head. “Not a word. It's pretty drastic. I'm…well…” He scratched his head. “Shocked. I'm shocked. When are you doing this?”

“As soon as school is out. I'm just going to substitute next year, with Mr. Conklin as my day-care assistant. We're attending a support group for families of patients with Alzheimer's, even though her diagnosis still isn't official.”

“You know what you're getting yourself into?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” she replied a little nervously. “Right now it'll be kind of fun, but I know that in time it could be a serious challenge. One day at a time, huh?”

“Wow.”

“You really are stunned. You thought I was too selfish for this. Too immature.”

“Well…”

“Never mind, so did everyone. Including me. But I feel really good about this. For the first time in a long time, I feel really good about
me.
”

“And Stephanie? What about us?” he wanted to know.

“What about us, Grant? You were the one who left. You said you didn't have anyone on your team, and there was no one with a team you could get on.”

“What you're doing for Peaches…I could get on that team.”

“Oh?”

“You think Mr. Conklin would spell you so we could go out sometime?”

Going out was something that had rarely happened before, given his schedule. Maybe, Stephanie thought, she wasn't the only one who had things to learn about being a team player…or half a couple. Maybe, just maybe, she hadn't been one hundred percent selfish in asking him to give her a little more time, a little more attention.

“I'm certain he would,” she said.

“Could you use some help moving?”

“Dad will help me, but I'm sure it would go faster if you lent a hand. You going to keep the apartment?”

“I'm fine at my folks' for right now. It lets me save a little for the future, whatever that might be.”

She reached for him and squeezed his hand. “It might be a little brighter, starting from here.”

A
t the beginning and end of every workday, Charlene and Pam met for strategy and wrap-up. In the morning they planned—short-term, midterm, long-term. In the early evening, they had a debriefing conference. Starting today, Stephanie had moved in with Peaches and Charlene was officially back in the office full-time. She found their wrap-up meeting especially gratifying, knowing this.

“Well,” Pam asked. “How does it feel?”

“Like coming home.”

“Like coming home to more work than you can get done in a month of Sundays?” she wanted to know, humor in her voice.

Charlene cast her assistant a sincere smile. “But this is what I do,” she said. “I'm comfortable here. Much more comfortable than sitting at home. Besides, you did an amazing job of keeping up. If you hadn't been here, I'd have been defeated before I began.”

Pam sat down in the leather chair facing Charlene's desk. “Are you ever going to tell me about it?”

“About…?”

“The wedding? Dennis?”

“Oh that. Well, what can I say. Everything's off.”

“Charlene, I know that,” Pam said. “But what happened?”

“Absolutely nothing. And that was the problem. In a fit of panic, I asked Dennis if he still wanted to get married. I'd had a really bad day, I was worried about spending my old age alone and I leaped. It was stupid and impetuous. I didn't want to marry Dennis.”

“I thought you loved him.”

“Of course I loved him. I still love him. He's a very, very special man. Kind, generous, strong. He has a million attributes to recommend him. But our relationship was entirely superficial. We had everything in common—we liked most of the same things and we enjoyed doing those things together—but we weren't at all in love.”

“You're saying it was all a mistake?” Pam wondered.

“Yes and no. Had we actually married, we might have had many compatible years together. That's not all bad.” Charlene shrugged. “You live with a man with whom you're very compatible, Pam.”

“My father!”

“Yes, I know. And the situation has a lot to recommend it. Yes? And given a choice between living alone and living with your father, you've chosen your father.”

“He has a big house. He travels a lot. It's practical. But it's not marriage.”

Charlene smiled. “Exactly.”

“Well, I guess I see your point. So, what made you realize that?”

“Maybe the way we stopped talking or seeing each other the minute we decided to get married. Aside from phone calls—mostly about doctors and tests for Peaches—we were completely estranged. I forgot about him for hours. I missed several attempts at dates, and not just because Peaches needed me. My mind was elsewhere. I missed a couple while I was working with Jake, and that didn't go over so well. And in the middle of all that, Dennis found someone else.”

“No way! Dennis?”

“The wedding consultant.”

“No! I bet you could sue her!”

“I'm told by his sister that the new couple are very happily in love and planning a trip to Europe to meet her family. I wish them the best.”

“Very nice, but really, Charlene—the wedding planner? That's too tacky.”

“Or too funny,” she said. Even though Pam was her best friend and she trusted her implicitly, she was still not going to mention her tryst with Jake. “I kept missing those appointments, Dennis managed to keep them. I'll bet he fell for her immediately. He started working double shifts, or so he said, and I started having little family emergencies, and the next thing you know, we're over.”

“No tears?”

“Pam, Dennis is a wonderful man, but he almost never made me laugh. I could enjoy myself with him, but I rarely had fun. I should have guessed we just weren't right for each other. We kept our own houses. We kept that compulsive independence.”

“Now we're getting to my real question. Explain women like us. There's nothing wrong with us. We're not bad-looking, not dumb, not messy, not bitchy. Why? Are we destined to be alone? Because I don't want to be—but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it.”

“Well, everyone has their own stuff to sort out, but sometimes we don't make room for the right person. I can't speak for you, but I found out something about myself that was a little embarrassing. I thought I was afraid of having the wrong person, the wrong relationship—like I remember my parents having, like I remember having with Jake. And then I found out that I was really afraid of myself.”

“What? I think of you as fearless.”

“Well, good.” She laughed. “Then it worked. I make a point of acting fearless. But I have a deep fear of letting go, of losing control, of making a fool of myself. Seeing my mother begin to lose it really brought these fears into sharp focus. And I had to face them. Facing your fears changes you.” She put some papers in her briefcase, snapped it shut and looked again at Pam. “I'll tell you who's fearless. Peaches.”

Charlene didn't have Pam's full attention because Pam was thinking about fears of her own. Fear of being embarrassed by falling for a much younger man, or being made a fool of by a mere kid. And yes, fear of letting go of the controls.

“Pam?”

“Oh, sorry. Contemplating.”

“You've been working too hard. As soon as we get
some of the accumulation taken care of, why don't you take some time off. Get a temp in here to keep up with the filing and typing, and go somewhere warm and sandy and get a good tan.”

“I just might.”

“You going to lock up soon?” Charlene asked.

“Another half hour, no more.”

“I'm going to my mother's for dinner, then home.”

“And you have the Samuelsons in the morning.”

“Ugh.”

“They've been very patient. Not necessarily polite, but patient.”

“I'll get up early, put on my armor.” Charlene headed out the door. “Have a nice evening.”

“And you,” Pam called back.

Pam took a few moments to freshen up in Charlene's private rest room, and in those same moments did a little thinking. She had not been in the least morose about her singleness until Ray came along and opened her mind to some emotions that had previously lain dormant. This, she decided, was not a bad thing. The bad thing was not acknowledging him or his feelings when he had tried so hard.

She made up her mind. She was going to find him and at the very least, explain. She'd been afraid. Her father was right—none of us knows how much time we get. It's foolhardy to ignore any chance at genuine happiness.

She turned off the lights in Charlene's office, locked the door and went to her desk, upon which was a rose.
“Ray?” she called, but there was no answer. And no note.

She quickly got her things together, turned off her computer, left her calendar open on her desk, switched the phone to voice mail and hurried from her office, her heart hammering the whole time. She passed several young clerks and associates as they labored on, saying good-night to each one.

He stood in the elevator foyer, leaning against the wall between two large decorative urns. Of course she stopped dead in her tracks; she couldn't take another step. She hadn't been this nervous since the junior-high dance when she saw Roy Robards walking toward her across the gymnasium floor.

Ray looked different in his starched white shirt and patterned tie, but no less handsome. He smiled when he saw her and stood straighter, taking his hands out of his pockets. “I heard you were asking about me,” he said.

“I heard you're a lawyer.”

“A law graduate. I haven't passed the bar yet.”

They met in the middle of the foyer; he took her tote and led her to the elevators. “I've been wanting to…how do I say this? I want to apologize for the way I acted the last time. You know, when you brought the Chinese? And I yelled…?”

“I was coming on too strong,” he said. “I do that sometimes.”

“No, you were fine. I was…Well, you must have noticed. I was afraid it was a terrible idea to get involved with someone so much younger.”

“Because…?”

She sighed. “I don't know why, Ray. Because it's not usual. Because I was worried about what people would think. Because I couldn't believe you were serious.”

“Did I ever seem insincere?”

“Never,” she admitted. “I was surprised by how much I missed your flirting. And by how disappointed I was to learn you'd left. I was sure I'd driven you away.”

“I would have explained, but I thought you were angry.”

“I was, but not with you. And I had just decided, this afternoon, that I was going to find you, to make amends and ask for another chance.”

He smiled at that. They were saved from further conversation by the arrival of the elevator. Inside was a cleaning lady with her cart; they each stood on one side of her. Neither of them had noticed the elevator was going up rather than down. When they got to the fifth floor, the cleaning lady pushed her cart out and the doors closed. Neither of them had pushed a button so they sat, idle, alone in the elevator, doors closed, unmoving. Then Ray pulled his keys out of his pocket, put one in the key slot on the control panel and made the elevator begin to move down, slowly. Then it stopped—between floors.

He let her tote gently fall to the floor so his hands were free, but soon they were on her waist, pulling her toward him. His lips were above hers, nearly touching. “San Francisco?” she asked.

“It's not so far,” he said. “It's a nice place to spend a weekend.”

“We should start with dinner,” she suggested.

He kissed her softly at first, then harder. Her arms went around his neck, holding him closer, while his hands ran smoothly over her hips and thighs, around behind her, pulling her hard against him.

His lips rose from hers and he said, “I'll be glad to start anywhere you want, Ms. London.”

“You can start by calling me Pam.”

“Pam,” he said, kissing her neck. “You're no longer unsure of this?”

She tightened her embrace. “Unsure? I'm not sure I'm ever going to let you out of this elevator!”

“Unfortunately, Pete's going to want his key back. But there are other elevators, Pam. And I think we should try them all.”

 

It was nearly midnight when the doorbell rang at Charlene's house. Knowing it was Jake—who else would be rude enough to do that, without even calling ahead—she answered the door in her pajamas. “Oh no,” she said to Jake. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is great. I got a couple of updates, a couple of questions.”

“I know you have my phone number.”

“This had to be done in person. You gonna let me in?”

“Oh, Jake, it's midnight. You aren't going to get me all upset, are you?”

“Not unless you want me to,” he said, stepping inside. “Can a guy get a drink around here?”

“If a guy drinks herbal tea,” she said.

“Ugh. After all I've been through for you?”

“Sit down, I might be able to find you something. But really, Jake, you should have called me,” she said, going into the kitchen.

He followed her. “This is going to make your day. Merrie and her two daughters got together with the Jersynski kid. The three little girls are instant best friends, and the eleven-year-old wants to help her sister with the bone marrow.”

“Are they a match?”

“I don't even know the answer to that. What I do know is old Rick wants to help Merrie out a little bit…and I think the whole struggle is over. She says she owes it all to you.”

She put a few ice cubes in a glass and poured him a bourbon. “But we both know better than that, don't we? You probably laid that giving-as-opposed-to-getting philosophy on her and she decided to do the right thing. I was all for getting money out of him.”

“Well, there will be some of that, too,” he said, taking the drink. “So, question. Stephanie told me the wedding was off, which I took as good news. Then she told me you and Denny were kaput. What's that about?”

“We weren't right for each other, Jake. You knew that before I did.”

“I suspected that, but I didn't expect you to figure it out,” he said, and took a sip, bracing himself.

“Button,” she said.

“Button,” he agreed, and smiled.

“You keep me confused about a lot of things, Jake, but I know you don't really think I avoided relationships for twenty-five years.”

“No button pushing, Charlie. I never could figure out you and Denny.”

“Why? He's a wonderful guy.”

“He's so…stiff.”

“Stiff?”