“Yes. Bob is my husband now. Not hers. And this is my yacht, not hers.”
“I sincerely hope you don’t have to remind her of that, but yes, that’s the general story. Always deal from strength, not weakness. Got it?”
“Got it,” Maritza said and her bottom lip quivered.
“None of that, Maritza! Pretend you’re Meryl Streep and give that mean old bitch an Oscar-winning performance.” There! Olivia finally called the situation what it was. “When she’s gone tomorrow, I’ll sit on the deck with you and we can call her every name in the book.”
“I’ll try,” Maritza said.
Olivia had her own serious doubts about Maritza’s ability to rise above the utter nonsense she was about to be forced to endure.
Somehow Olivia helped Maritza completely avoid Colette until lunch. Olivia sat with her while she had her hair and makeup done, and they went over her outfit for the evening, considering all her options several times. Her hair was put up into an elegant twist and her makeup was soft and dewy—very natural, except for the eyelash extensions.
“I think I’m going to wear the pale blue dress. I love the sparkles.”
“You’re going to be stunning!” Olivia said.
By one the whole gang convened on the main deck where the table was set for thirteen. Everyone was milling around, waiting to be told where to sit. Ellen and Gladdie were having pizza in the media room, watching Cinderella. Again.
“You’ll know where to find me, Bob,” Ellen said to him in her sultry voice.
Betty, Ernest, Olivia, and Colette heard her as plain as day, and Ellen’s demeanor was not lost on any of them.
“Y’all just sit wherever you want,” Maritza said. “I’ll be right back.”
Maritza went inside for a tissue.
“What the hell is going on around here, Olivia?” Colette said. “By the way, it’s nice to see you again.” Colette was as phony as could be, but she hoped there was some vestige of congeniality between her and Olivia. After all, she needed someone to talk to.
“Hmmm. It’s nice to see you too and I wouldn’t know what’s going on. I’m just the decorator. You should ask Bob.”
“Oh, right. I’ll do that. Thanks.”
Olivia looked at her with a completely blank expression and shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t getting involved in the Ellen/Bob quagmire.
“I think all these nannies can be moody.” Olivia gave her that much to chew on, which was basically nothing. “They’re so young. And truly, who does that work?” At least Olivia wasn’t being a bitch.
“Uh-huh. Overly ambitious young women with no prospects, that’s who,” Colette said. “You still in the city?”
“I’m commuting. Nick retired so we have a place on Sullivans Island, right outside of . . .”
“Charleston! What a coincidence! How about this? I just bought a huge house on Tradd Street! It needs to be gutted back to the bricks! Want the job?”
“You bet I do,” Olivia said. “Thank you.” My God, Olivia thought, is this wretched woman going to follow me into eternity? And she quickly told herself she wasn’t betraying Maritza. This was just business. “I’d be honored and thrilled to do the job. We can start as soon as this trip ends. How’s that? I’ll put together some storyboards. Historic Charleston colors?”
“Perfect. It’s kismet, that’s what it is! Just send all the bills to Bob. I’ll have keys made for you.”
“Good. Of course,” Olivia said with relief, knowing she’d get paid at least. She felt better for the first time in weeks. And she hoped Maritza wouldn’t object. Why would she really? “We’ll talk later.”
“It will be like old times,” Colette said. “With this one, I think I want the house to look like my family has lived there for a few hundred years but updated for the times.”
“I know exactly what you want,” Olivia said.
“I know! You always get it!” Colette said.
The menu was wonderful. They were offered several choices of entrées. Roasted calamari served with linguine garnished with olive oil, lemon zest, shaved fennel, black olives, and scallions. Grilled prawns with chopped tomatoes, red onions, and cilantro with a lime vinaigrette over Boston lettuce. Or a simple fish, Nick’s favorite, just grilled with lemon and olive oil and fresh herbs. There was a platter of grilled vegetables for those who ate nothing with a face and a wide selection of sorbets and gluten-free biscotti (in consideration of the bride and groom) to finish the meal. Corks were pulled, champagne and white wines were poured, and everyone’s spirits were high.
Maritza returned smiling and didn’t say a word when Colette took a seat next to Bob. Maybe Maritza had reached into her medicine cabinet for a few milligrams of something. Everyone was talking at once.
Because it was the first time Colette had met Kitty’s mother, she took a special interest in her for all of about twenty seconds when Betty said something like how happy she was to have Daniel in her family. If there had been a digital readout going across Colette’s forehead it would’ve read: What? Are you kidding me? Please tell me why my pain-in-the-ass son should make you happy? Is this just some bullshit platitude, make nice, chitchat? Colette didn’t know the meaning of “make nice.” Olivia made note of the instantaneous change in Colette’s attitude, thinking, Working with Colette again is going to be just awful.
Maritza looked beautiful, relaxed, and serene, but it didn’t take long for Colette to take a jab at her.
“So, Maritza, you do know that Bob and I are walking Daniel up the aisle, don’t you?”
“There is no aisle, Colette.”
This brought a smile to Michelle’s face and Olivia’s.
One point for the current wife.
“I see,” Colette said and withered on the vine. “Well, Bob is sitting next to me.”
“That’s how I planned the seating. I’ll be on his other side.”
Two points for the home team.
It was a terribly awkward moment, so much so that the second bitch at large made an attempt to clear the air.
“We bought a little something in town for the happy couple,” Dorothy said to Daniel, after consuming one prawn cut into bites the size of garden peas. She passed a shopping bag around to Kitty.
Kitty opened the bag, pulling out a scandalous amount of tissue paper and disrobing the gift as though she were conducting a striptease. Finally she lifted out a large wooden salad bowl with a very irregular shape.
“Thank you,” Kitty said and actually smiled. “It’s beautiful. Look, Daniel.”
“Very nice. Thanks,” Daniel said.
“It’s made of hand-carved olive wood, which of course is local. And there are tongs somewhere in there too.”
Olivia knew that salad bowl didn’t cost a dime over twenty dollars, if that. She pinched Nick and gave him some wide eyes, but Nick didn’t understand what she meant. What Olivia was trying to tell him telepathically was: Here’s Bob taking Dorothy’s drunk ass on a hundred-thousand-dollar vacation, and the best she can do for his son’s wedding gift is a salad bowl with tongs? Their businesses must be on the skids.
Michelle and Buddy then produced a box tied elaborately with a multitude of ribbons, curled grosgrain and streaming satin of every color and width Olivia could name. It was simply a beautiful package.
“Save the ribbons for Gladdie!” Maritza said. “We can use them for her hair!”
“Oh, now you’re saving money?” Daniel said.
“Sure,” Kitty said and gave Daniel a naughty-boy slap on the hand. “Bad boy.” Suddenly the nice side of Kitty, the girl Betty raised on corn and red meat, began to emerge. “This was so nice of you, Mr. and Mrs. Bemis. Thank you.”
Inside the box was a beautiful tall and heavy hand-blown clear glass vase. It had a wide bottom and a narrow neck, the kind of vase that would stop hearts with one perfect long-stemmed calla lily placed in it at an angle on a table in a foyer.
“How dramatic!” Kitty said. “It’s a treasure! I love
it. Don’t you love it Daniel?”
“Um, I guess so,” he said. “Thanks!” he said to the Bemises.
“Now, you have to write down who gave you what so that when you get back from your honeymoon you can write proper thank-you notes,” Betty said.
“Oh, Mom! You are just priceless.”
Everyone had a chuckle at Betty’s remark.
“What did I say?”
“Nothing,” Bob said. “You’re just adorable!”
“I am? Well! That’s a first for me!” Betty said.
“Come on, Betty,” Ernest said. “Let’s go get ourselves ready.”
They all left the lunch table, intending to give Olivia, Maritza, and Kitty some time for last-minute details, but as Colette passed Maritza, she sniffed loudly as though she smelled something rank.
Kitty waited until Colette was far enough away and said quietly, “If that’s the best she’s got, it ain’t much.”
Maritza smiled and so did Olivia. It was the first bit of daylight Kitty had shown Maritza, who in just a very few hours would be her stepmother-in-law. She was trying to be nice, no doubt as a result of a severe talking-to from her mother.
The musicians arrived at four-thirty in their own launch. The photographer arrived by water taxi at five and began taking pictures. The ladies had long disappeared to dress. At five-thirty, the crew carefully moved the wedding cake to its own small table on deck where the reception would be. It was a crazy-looking thing but a beautiful one. The top layer, a five-inch round that was five inches tall, was covered in buttercream frosting and had marzipan hydrangeas on its top. It was leaning thirty degrees portside. The second layer was an eight-inch round that was five inches tall; it was covered in marzipan roses and other small flowers that cascaded down the sides of that tier. It leaned thirty degrees starboard. On it went, layers headed port or starboard until you reached the bottom layer, which was the square cake on which the whole fantastic production rested in a garden of exquisite flowers. There would be plenty of cake for the guests and the crew, a thoughtful gesture.
“What does it mean, all cockamamie like that?” Maritza asked Olivia when she came on deck for the ceremony. Maritza was a sparkling vision of the Balearic Sea in an aqua chiffon tight-fitting dress trimmed with silver sequins. She was wearing a pair of diamond earrings that looked like chandeliers. They were large enough to cause cataracts if worn on a sunny day.
“She said it’s an interpretation of that song ‘Sailing, Sailing,’” Olivia said. “You know, ‘Sailing, sailing, over the bounding main, many a stormy wind shall blow, ere Jack comes home again?’” Olivia was wearing her favorite black summer crepe dress with flat sandals, pearls, and her diamond studs.
“So it’s a ship in stormy waters! How smart is she?” Maritza said.
“I suspect, very,” Olivia said and thought, That cake might be the perfect metaphor for a lot of things.
Now, Olivia might have added that Maritza’s earrings were sure to stop Colette’s heart but for two things. One, Olivia wasn’t certain Colette had a heart, and two, she would be working for her again. Can’t dis the boss and expect a good outcome. Fortunately, Olivia thought again, Maritza didn’t realize Olivia was playing both sides of the fence. Yet.
Soon they were all gathered and of course Colette, who intended to show up Maritza, wore a very slinky gown that glittered in gold, with canary diamond earrings that were large enough and spectacular enough that Dorothy, who’d been wearing sunglasses all day, began to shake. And Dorothy’s ensemble defied description except to say it was red and weird.
Colette’s earrings had to have been a guilt gift from Bob; at least they looked like something he might have brought home after he did something completely unforgivable. Olivia had the funny thought that great sex doesn’t last, but diamonds are forever.
Bob and the other men were sporting white dinner jackets with black tuxedo trousers, one more handsome than the other. And they all smelled good; even Ernest was—as Olivia would say—rocking some Old Spice. Suddenly the evening began shaping up and looking like a swanky soiree from a James Bond movie.
Promptly at six o’clock, the entire crew gathered and stood as a group in the background. The pianist began to play and Gladdie came tiptoeing through the door in a baby-blue dress with cap sleeves and a full skirt of tulle shot with glitter that just dusted the tops of her Mary Jane silver shoes, which glittered as well. She had a basket of rose petals. She dropped the petals gingerly as she walked slowly until she got to the place where Kitty’s uncle stood with Daniel.
Then she shouted loudly enough for all of Spain to hear, “I’m Cinderella!”
There was much muffled laughter.
Ellen, dressed in a clinging wrap dress, slipped into the group and found a chair.
Next Kitty appeared in the doorway, smiling and even trembling, adding to the charm of the occasion. Her mother’s dress was so stunning that all the women gasped. Had stocky Betty really ever been that tiny? The dress had a sweetheart neck encrusted with pearls and little glass diamonds, long lace sleeves that nicely covered her tattoos. The cut of the dress accentuated her narrow waist, which was cinched with a cummerbund. The ball gown skirt was made of duchess satin, with inverted pleats and tiny covered satin buttons climbed all the way up the back. Her short hair was gelled up, curled with a curling iron, and decorated with flowers pinned inside of curls. As it turned out, Kitty had a beautiful figure hiding under all those baggy clothes. And as she had been made up by one of the crew, they all discovered she had a lovely face. She carried a beautiful bouquet of flowers, brought in from Nebraska.
“Holy crap!” Sam said. “She’s a babe!”
“Shut up!” Dorothy said. “You’re such an idiot.”
“She’s beautiful,” Buddy said.
“Who knew?” Michelle said. “You’re an idiot too.”
Kitty smiled and walked slowly toward Daniel. Daniel was transfixed, as though he’d never really seen Kitty before.
The vows were mercifully short, were spoken clearly, and went off without a hitch.
“Do you, Kathleen Elizabeth, take this man, Daniel Robert . . .”
“I do,” she said.
Minutes later, her uncle Ernest was encouraging Daniel to kiss his bride and shouts of joy went up all over the boat. One of the crew fired Le Bateau de l’Amour’s saluting cannon and the celebration began. Horns blew from every corner of the harbor. The musicians stepped up their tempo, playing “Danke Schoën.” Needless to say, the crew was opening magnums of Veuve Clicquot, whose corks were popping and filling flutes. Most of the crew had the night off in honor of the wedding.
On the buffet table of hors d’oeuvres, under a profusion of fragrant roses and lilies, there was a mountain of beluga and Osetra caviar from Petrossian ready to be dolloped on the tiniest warm blinis and finished with a dab of crème fraîche. One of the chefs stood by carving nearly transparent slices from a leg of Iberian ham, which comes from precious pigs raised on acorns, a Spanish delectable banned in the United States. There was foie gras on toast points from a goose probably raised on Mozart, tender abalone flown in from San Francisco that garnished a special ceviche of fluke and Prince Edward Island oysters. In time they would sit down to a dinner of lobster from Maine and prime rib from Nebraska, and if they didn’t eat themselves into complete oblivion there would be hand-churned gelato served with Kitty’s very clever cake.
Amid all the talking and laughter and the devouring of the extravagant buffet, Bob finally offered a charming toast.
“Friends? Tonight is a very special night. My only son, Daniel, has brought this beautiful and talented young woman into our family, and I want to thank him for that. Marriage is a very special commitment. I should know . . .”
Everyone laughed at that, including the crew.
“Well, what I mean to say is that in this unconventional world of anything goes where everyone seems to be rewriting the rules of society to please themselves and to justify their
bizarre behavior, you two, Kitty and Daniel have chosen to do the traditional thing, which is to marry. I am proud of that, Daniel, and I am proud of you. And, Kitty? I can’t wait to know you better and to see more of your amazing cakes. Anyway, I want to thank you all for being here tonight and for being a witness to a very important day in my family’s history. And to the newlyweds, my wish for you both is perfect health, prosperity, endless love, and many babies! Congratulations!”
Everyone said, Here, here! It was almost time for dinner.
Colette approached Maritza and Olivia, who were chatting with Kitty.
“I’m so happy to be working with you again, Olivia,” Colette said and turned to Maritza. “I just bought an old house in Charleston, minutes away from where Nick and Olivia moved. Isn’t it a small world?”
“No, she didn’t tell me,” Maritza said and looked at Olivia in horror. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” Olivia said and died inside. “You see, I was—I mean, I have time now that . . .”
Maritza cut her off.
“I see.” Then Maritza said to Kitty, “So, Mrs. Vasile? How does it feel?”
Her remark was directed to Kitty just because she wanted to be the first person to address her as such. But Colette answered instead.
“What, Maritza? How does what feel?”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Colette. I was speaking to Kitty.”
“Oh, that’s right! She’s Mrs. Vasile now! Now there are two of us, right, Mrs. Vasile?”
Kitty, sensing trouble, said, “Uh . . .”
“Excuse me, Colette, there are three of us,” Maritza said.
“But only two that really matter,” Colette said.
“I’m not going there with you, Colette.”
Maritza stepped away and Colette put her foot down firmly on the hem of Maritza’s gown. As Maritza stepped forward, the gown ripped, exposing Maritza’s bare backside.
Oh boy, Olivia thought, here we go.
With that, the cats got in the bag and had some choice words for each other before they even sat down for dinner.