The Wedding Party (34 page)

“No jazz. No sparks. Stephanie says he's nice and steady.”

He sat down at her kitchen table and she joined him there, elbow on the table, chin on her hand.

“Jake, nice and steady can be worth a king's ransom. I get enough excitement at work.”

“Then why'd you break it off?”

“What makes you think it was me?”

“Wasn't it?” he asked.

“It was, but that was an accident. He was on his way over here to break it off when I came to my senses and beat him to it. And the old dog, he never let on. I found out a couple of weeks later, he'd been fooling around with the wedding consultant.”

Jake was at first stunned into rare silence, then he nearly fell off his chair in laughter. “Denny?” He laughed, slapping his thigh. “The wedding consultant? I have a whole new respect for this guy!”

Men, Charlene thought. Disgusting down to the last one.

“You came all the way out here at midnight to ask me why I broke up with Denny…I mean Dennis?”

He was still laughing. “That had to really piss you off, Charlie.”

“Jake! What are you doing here?”

“Gimme a minute, will you. That's hysterical.”

“I'm going to kill you. I mean it!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “But I mean, Jesus, that's so rich.” She made a movement. “Okay,
okay!
No, that is not why I came all the way out here. I came for a much more ridiculous reason. I wanted to ask you, where'd we go wrong? You and me?”

She frowned, and stared at him, mute.

“Was it just the screwed-up thing you had about your dad? Was it me? Was it you? What was it?”

“What makes you think we went wrong?”

“Charlie,” he said somewhat impatiently, “we were so much in love we didn't know if the sun was up or down. We could hardly get out of bed long enough to get married. We were going to save the world. Then all of a sudden you couldn't stand me because I spit and watched ball games. Now, I'm not saying you didn't always have a case. I've never been good enough for you. But where'd we go wrong? Why couldn't we, different as we were, ever find a common ground? A compromise? What happened?”

“I'm serious, Jake. I'm not sure we went wrong. I used to think so. I used to feel like a failure, if not because I married you, then because I divorced you.
But now, looking back at the last twenty-five years, I think we did exactly what we were supposed to do.”

“Huh?”

“I think we managed pretty well. We were so intense when we were young, we were almost combustible. The two of us, both doing law enforcement work, under the same roof, raising a little girl—it might've been disastrous. Maybe we were just too much for each other. Maybe not living together was the best way to go. Not for everyone, but for us.”

“Hmm.” He considered this. “Think so?”

“It's possible,” she said.

“You hated me so much,” he said.

“No I didn't,” she said, smiling. “I couldn't have relied on you so heavily if I'd hated you. And there were those times…you know…”

“Those times…I know….”

“And you were a wonderful father, all things considered. I mean, she doesn't spit anymore.”

He laughed. “Not when you're around, anyway.”

“I never found anyone else. That has to say something.”

“You think we were just too much for each other? We just couldn't manage a full-time relationship? Is that what you're saying?”

“I guess that sums it up,” she said. “There's a lot of powerful energy between the two of us.”

He finished his drink in a gulp, then stood. “Well, I just had to ask. I was…I guess you'd say I was
compelled
to ask. Tonight.” He started for the front door.

“I don't think that's
still
the case. However.”

He slowly turned. “You don't?”

“Naw. I think I can handle you. Now.”

T
here was a night in June—the third Saturday night to be exact—that would have emerged as the selected wedding date for Charlene and Dennis. But it fell apart in the worst possible way with the best possible results. So, on that particular night, at about the approximate time the bride would have been walking toward the groom, this is what the participants were actually doing:

At a table in Peaches's brand-new kitchen there was a game of gin rummy going on, and she was doing pretty well. Playing were Grant and Stephanie, Jasper and Peaches. Grant had decided that, since he was economizing by staying with his parents, he could afford to give up one night of the weekend and spend it socially. Peaches was on medication that was having very positive effects, and her periods of forgetfulness and confusion were few. Stephanie and Jasper kept her active and busy with mind-exercising games and physical activities.

There was some talk about Grant moving into Peaches's house in about a year if things were still compatible between the young couple. But for Steph
anie, life had taken on a new meaning. She spent valuable time with Peaches, went to support-group meetings with her, took over her grandmother's job of volunteer reading and began to see a counselor to help her sort out her own personal issues. Also, she'd become tidy, but not dangerously so.

Jasper was going through the process of being licensed to manage an assisted-living facility for the elderly. He hoped to have three, perhaps a couple and a single like himself.

In San Francisco, in a very nice hotel, a striking couple dined in a restaurant on the wharf. Pam London and Ray Vogel found out that, in addition to bodybuilding, they had dozens of common interests, not the least of which was the practice of law, and not a weekend passed that they weren't together. Before summer's end they would announce their engagement and plan a wedding date with absolutely no hesitation due to ages. In fact, Ray's older sister, forty-two and pregnant with her first child, was a beacon of hope for the couple.

Back in Sacramento, in Gwen and Dick's backyard, there was a barbecue going on. The kids and Agatha were in the pool playing Marco Polo, a game she had barely mastered, while Dennis and Dick turned burgers on the grill. Gwen observed her brother's new-found happiness with deep personal joy. That the children were about the ages Agatha's would have been made it even more special.

Across town, against all odds, Mr. and Mrs. Sam
uelson reconciled. But that didn't necessarily mean they had stopped fighting.

And in a little suburban nook east of the city, at Charlene's house, Charlene and Jake were dressing up for a black-tie dinner.

“I feel ridiculous,” he said, tugging at his tie.

“You don't look ridiculous. You look very handsome.”

“Is this absolutely necessary? Can't I just wear a sport coat?”

“It's for a politician. It's for a cause. Grow up.”

“But I'm not comfortable.”

“You're also going to dance.”

“Aww…”

“With all the stuffy old matrons…”

“Charrrrrlieeeee…”

“And charm them, and then they will give you money for your foundation.”

“I should never have let you talk me into all this….”

She fixed an earring. “I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you.”

He looked over at her—in her strapless black evening gown, at her narrow waist, her silky shoulders, her long neck, her sparkling, happy eyes—and knew this was so, so true.

“I will wear this for you, and do you know why?”

“Yes I do,” she said. “Because I'm making you. And because I'm right.”

“That is correct,” he said. He couldn't keep his hands off her. He grabbed her around the waist. “And
because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

She gave him a kiss. “And so are you. Now, don't mess up my makeup.” She smiled. “Yet.”