With This Ring, I'm Confused

by Kristin Billerbeck

  “I’ve always wanted a sister, Emily, but—”

  She hangs up without so much as a good-bye. I guess sisters love each other enough not to need the word good-bye. At some less-than-lucid moment I thought this wedding coordinator gig was a good idea. I thought I could focus on patents, and Kevin, and selling my portion of the house. Yet here I am. I’m not focused on patents because I have a new director of software I must avoid. I’m not focused on Kevin because he’s finishing his residency and perfecting his role as an absentee fiancé, and I’m not focused on selling the house because Kay doesn’t approve of anyone. At this point, I’m so blurry even LASIK wouldn’t help.

  Kay comes down the hallway, looking like an unmade-up Sarah Jessica Parker. With the same figure! “You look incredible! But you need shoes.” I run into the bedroom before she disrobes and grab a pair of Stuart Weitzman strappy sandals. “I got these before Stuart Weitzman was a big deal. They were cheap,” I tell her so she doesn’t feel bad about slipping into them.

  Kay ponders the heel. “I can’t walk in those, and cheap to you is a fortune to normal people.”

  “I’ll teach you to walk in them. If you can run downhill at Rancho San Antonio, three inches is nothing.”

  “I’ll be tottering like a Weeble. Do you even remember what a Weeble is? I want to look confident, not like a bad runway model going splat in front of him.”

  “Hey, Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.” I grin at her. She doesn’t smile back, not even a hint.

  “Okay, wait here.” I give in. I run to get some easy slides and run back. “Now let me do your makeup.”

  Kay sits down at the dining room table and clutches the end of it like she’s about to face a torture session. “How long will this take?”

  “Have you ever even been to a spa, Kay?”

  “No.”

  “A hair salon?”

  “Does Supercuts count?”

  “No.”

  “Then no. I mean, I’ve gotten haircuts before.”

  “Kay, how can you call yourself organized with a bad haircut?”

  She feels her locks. “You’re saying my hair is bad.”

  “Um, no, I’m not saying it’s bad. It could just be better.”

  I take out my Jane Iredale mineral powder foundation because I figure it’s the fastest way to get to my desired result. Which is to see Kay in makeup.

  “What’s that?”

  “Foundation. Just hold still.”

  I proceed to work my magic, and in a matter of minutes, Kay looks like the real Sarah Jessica Parker. On a good day.

  She gets up and walks over to the mirror. She blinks a few times and then starts to giggle. “This would be great if I could get away with this look and still have engineers listen to me.” She smiles at me. “I’m going into the bathroom to wash this off, and I’ll start dinner.”

  “Don’t wash it off. Just get used to it. One evening at home isn’t going to change your life. You’re beautiful regardless. I just think it’s fun seeing the change.”

  The doorbell rings, and she looks at me, frozen in fear that someone might see her like this. “Answer the door. I’ll go take a shower.”

  “You answer the door, Kay. It’s just the guys from church. It would be good for them to figure out you’re a girl.”

  She shakes her head. “I haven’t had the chance to call them.”

  “I have to get the dog.” I proceed to walk outside when I notice Kay open the door. It’s not the guys from church but a fabulous looking man I’ve never seen before. I watch his eyes take in Kay and a slight smile cross his face.

  “Hi,” he says, not taking his gaze from her eyes. He puts his hand out. “I’m Matt Callaway . . . Emily’s friend.”

  Kay grasps his hand, and they don’t let go. Not for a long time. I wish I could see Kay’s face, but I can’t. Still, their “time stands still” pause is just how I felt the day I saw Kevin for the first time. It’s then that it dawns on me that this is Emily’s date! The last thing I need is to have sister-something-wicked-this-way-comes and have her be scorned!

  I rush to the door. “Hi, Matt, you’re early. I’m Ashley, Emily’s future sister-in-law. Come on in!”

  5

  It’s 6:20 p.m. No sign of the Southern belle and no sign of the male members of the singles group coming to protect us. (Granted, we never called them, but I thought they had extrasensory perception.) Just the said stalker who I must admit is cute, but he seems wholly interested in the wrong woman! Even Rhett isn’t barking at him. What gives?

  “How old are you?” I ask Matt Callaway. If that’s really even his name.

  “Forty-five.” His espresso-brown eyes widen. “Is that the right answer?”

  I cross my arms. “Emily’s twenty-five. Did you know that?”

  He looks flustered in front of Kay. And why wouldn’t he be? I mean, isn’t that kind of age difference illegal in some countries? “I didn’t realize she was so young.”

  “Yeah, well, she is.” I walk toward the door. “We can tell her you got lost on your way.”

  “Ashley!” Kay gives me a look. “Since when are you so rude?”

  Since he’s old enough to be Emily’s father, and I’ve got to answer to Kevin. “I just think when you make a mistake, it’s best to correct it as soon as possible.” I open the door a little wider. So I’ll just correct it for you.

  Matt stands to leave. “I’m sorry. Ashley’s right. I should go.” He looks at me with those melting brown eyes, and I have to say, he’s like a basset hound, innocent and lovable—not in the least bit frightening. But he shouldn’t be here.

  “It’s the one-year anniversary of my divorce,” he continues. “My wife left me. She said if I was going to simply be a wallet, she’d find a bigger wallet. We had no kids, never had time for them. I promised myself I would date one year after the divorce was final. You know, to get back in the game. Emily was nice to me, and I got carried away, it being the anniversary and all.” He looks at Kay again, and their gazes linger. “I’m sorry I made a fool out of myself.”

  Strike up the violins!

  “It’s Ashley who should be apologizing. This is my home too.” Kay in uncharacteristic shrew-mode is staring daggers at me. I’ve created a monster with just a little foundation.

  The phone rings, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Hello.”

  “Ashley, it’s Kevin.”

  “Kevin, where are you? Your sister’s friend is here.”

  “I’m not having a great day. I have a patient who went into shock, and it gets worse from there.”

  “I’m sorry.” Now I feel guilty.

  “Can you pick up Emily and bring her to her date?”

  I look at Emily’s said date, who has seemingly decided to make another date. He and Kay are walking out the door. “Wait a minute, Kevin.” I look toward the new couple. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Out to dinner.” Kay looks at Matt. “It doesn’t look like Emily’s going to make it. We have an anniversary to celebrate. It may not be a happy one, but I don’t want Matt alone for it either.”

  Lord, have mercy! Kay always manages to find the strays. Since she found me when I was homeless, you’d think I’d have more compassion here. But no. I’m not there yet.

  “Ashley?” I hear Kevin ask. “You there?”

  “I’m here, babe.” The sound of his voice makes me forget the mess I’m in and that the date I’m now supposed to be picking his sister up for just walked out without her. “I wish you were here.”

  “Tomorrow morning, Ash. I have to run. Give Emily my love, and thanks for all you’re doing. I know she’s not easy to deal with when she’s been abandoned.”

  You have no idea.

  “When I hear your voice, I want to run to Reno tomorrow and marry you. All this planning seems like such a waste when I just want to be with you.”

  “Charm will get you everywhere,” I say.

  “Love you, Ash.”

&n
bsp; “Right back atcha, Kev.”

  I hang up the phone and look to Rhett. “How do we deal with this one, Rhett?” I look out the window. “And where is the engineering cavalry? What am I going to tell Emily?” I ask Rhett, who pants in answer. “That her date is out with someone more appropriate?” I can’t bring Emily here, that’s for sure. What if the two of them come back? Over a year of living with Kay, not once has she been out on a date. Now she has to pick Emily’s date? It’s my fault. I had to go with the foundation!

  Before I dial the Georgia peach, I call up Brea. She ought to appreciate this. “Hey, Ash,” she answers.

  “You still have caller ID,” I moan. “I miss it! Can you touch the numbers for me? Just run your fingers lightly across the screen so I can live vicariously.”

  “Shut up. What are you doing?”

  “Not much. I finished a little work, gave Kay a makeover, watched her take off with Emily’s date. You know, the usual.”

  “She did not! I meant to call you, but the kids were wild. Your sister-in-law is crazy. Not like cute-crazy, but like she’s-a-danger-to-herself- and-the-community crazy.”

  “She’s just high-strung. She wants to please her family. So if we’re all wearing hoopskirts at the ceremony, you’ll know she succeeded.”

  “No, Ashley, you are high-strung. She’s certifiably crazy. Did you know, rather than wear bridesmaids’ gowns, she had the idea that we all wear a different Scarlett O’Hara dress? That’s just creepy, Ashley, like someone who has trouble differentiating reality from a movie. And it’s not like we’re in the deep South here, Ashley. I mean, it’s almost like we could be a Franklin Mint plate from the wedding photos.”

  “Don’t give her any ideas, all right? Listen, I’m in a bind.”

  “You’re in more than one. Your brother, Dave, is never going to let you live this down if you dress as a Southern belle.”

  “Listen, first crisis first. I’m serious when I say Kay really did take off with Emily’s date. Got any ideas on what I should tell Emily? I’m supposed to pick her up and bring her back to meet a date who just took off with Kay!”

  “Yes, tell her they’re cloning Rhett Butler from your dog, and she has first dibs when he’s in human form.”

  “Stop it.” I giggle. “I’m serious.”

  “I’m thinking. Give me a minute.” I can hear Brea’s babies in the background. They are squealing happily, and I admit, I feel a surge of envy. “Okay,” Brea continues. “Tell her . . . tell her that he never showed up.”

  “That’s lying. I can’t do that.”

  “Fine, then tell her your roommate took off with him because he wanted to date someone with all her faculties.”

  “You’re no help. I have something else to tell you before your kids notice you’re on the phone.”

  “Oh, is it good?” Brea asks.

  “My company got a new software director. It’s Seth.”

  There’s a long pause.

  “Brea, did you hear me?”

  “Stay away from him, Ashley. He’s like kryptonite to you!”

  I laugh. “Brea, nothing’s going to happen with Seth. I’m just telling you he’s at my office and how painfully uncomfortable that is.”

  “And I’m telling you to stay away from him. You’ve only got four months until the wedding.”

  “Well, I can’t avoid the director of software for four months!”

  “Then quit!” Brea admonishes. “Ashley, you are a smart woman. You are a strong woman. Don’t make me come over there and pound you. Though I’ve never quite understood the hold Seth had over you, I rejoiced with the angels when he was history. I know you’re over him, but proximity is everything where you’re concerned. It has to be, or there’s no rational explanation for Seth in your past.”

  “Are you done?”

  “Yes, now call your freak sister-in-law, and tell her she got dumped. Hard.”

  “Show some mercy! She was excited about this date.”

  “She was kicked to the curb . . . thrown out like yesterday’s trash . . . a victim of natural selection . . . it’s not her, it’s him . . . they’re better off as friends . . . he’s not ready for a commitment . . . and the number one way to get dumped tonight? Emily, you are not in touch with reality, and my plane is just in a different vector right now! ”

  “You are wicked-cold!” I accuse, trying not to laugh.

  “You mentioned Seth. His name makes me irritable, and I spent the day with Southern Belle Barbie, and now I have two baby boys fighting over a single ball. I’d say I’m done with your crises.”

  “You used to be so nice before you had kids.” I laugh.

  “You owe me. I listened to an hour of the history of the Tussy Mussy.” She hangs up, and I stare at the phone. There’s a pad of paper on the table beside the phone, and I pick it up and start a list. When life gets harrowing, write it down. Some people journal; I list.

  THINGS TO DO

  1. Reorder wedding dress.

  2. Politely fire Emily from her duties.

  3. Nicely do Matt’s job and let Emily know she’s been dumped.

  4. Dash into Godiva’s since Prozac is by prescription only.

  5. Take the chocolate in the beautiful gold box to the spa, and forget all about a wedding.

  “Would you like the hot rock massage or the exfoliating back scrub, Miss Stockingdale?”

  “Hmmm.” Ashley looks up at her spa attendant, a dead ringer for Brad Pitt, and swallows the last bit of her raspberry swirl truffle. “I’ll have both, thank you.”

  “At your service, miss. I’ll find your masseuse presently.”

  Ashley wraps her spa robe tightly around herself and goes to wait in the salt-bath Jacuzzi. “This is the life,” she says to herself as she lowers herself into the bubbling water. She’s wearing the newest Miraclesuit that cinches her waist and makes her the size she was meant to be. Without liposuction. As the scalding water reaches her neck, Ashley lets out a long, deep sigh.

  “You can tell that’s a Miraclesuit.” Emily suddenly appears from the deep like a swamp thing. “You’ve got more pooch than that! I think you’ve eaten way too many of those Godivas. Or are you sure you haven’t had children before?”

  “What are you doing here? This is my spa dream!” Ashley sits up so fast that the heat makes her dizzy.

  “Savin’ my brothah from a life underwater with you.”

  Ashley emerges from the pool. “This is a nightmare. A nightmare, I tell you!”

  “You marryin’ my brothah is the only nightmare here. Ashley Stockingdale, you give up my brothah! You let him go now, before it’s too late.”

  “I won’t!”

  “Then I’ll have to get the family rifle. Don’t worry, we’ll bury you in the family crypt. But first, you did pass the Mensa test, didn’t you?”

  “Agh!” I startle at the sound of the phone. “Hello,” I say urgently while I catch my breath.

  “Ashley, it’s Emily. Are you comin’ to get me or not?”

  I look around at the empty living room, trying to force the thought of the family rifle away. “Apparently the party’s been moved. There’s no one here. Just Rhett and me.”

  “What do you mean, there’s no one there? And you want to plan your own weddin’.” She laughs a simpering giggle. “You, who can’t even throw a simple movie night together. You might be excellent at those law papers, but social graces are a gift of a different sort. In the South, every day of childhood is a finishin’ school of sort.”

  “I never said I wanted to plan my own wedding. I said I wanted my own gown.”

  “Put Matt on the phone, will you? I’d like to explain to him my absence, and I know you’re tryin’ to keep him away. He’ll understand my brothah had an urgent surgery.” She clears her throat.

  “Matt isn’t here,” I say slowly. “He left.” With Kay of all people. Funny story, actually.

  “What did you say to him?”

  “Good-bye. And then he left.”


  “Ashley Stockingdale, what did you say to my date?”

  “Au revoir.”

  Her pause is making me nervous. I know she’s collecting steam and is about to blast me with it. “My father always told us intellect was key. Ashley, please explain to me how, when you haven’t passed Mensa, you have managed to snare my brothah.”

  She hangs up on me. Again! What Southern social graces? I would think it is considered rude in the South to hang up without saying good-bye. Finishing school, my eye! Okay, Brea’s right. She is a freak. With a capital F. To think I was starting to feel sorry for her getting dumped because, hey, he just wasn’t that into her. I’d consider Matt Callaway a lucky man. He escaped the wrath of Emily Novak and got a lovely date with someone who will no doubt have his file cabinets reorganized in record time.

  6

  The day is dawning, and my phone is ringing.

  “Hello?” I answer groggily. Looking at the clock, I see that it’s 7:00 a.m. A reasonable time for a Saturday morning call. Not.

  “Ashley, it’s Purvi.” My boss. Sigh.

  “A bride needs her beauty sleep,” I say. Throwing out a slight hint there.

  “You’re not getting married for months.” And it misses its target!

  “Purvi, you need a social life. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “I was going over these pending patents. We can stop them easily enough.”

  Sounding oddly familiar, as in, I said that yesterday. “Yes, we can. We have all the documentation we need to do so.” Is that it, my Saturday morning assignment? “So . . .” Say it nicely, say it nicely. “Your point is?”

  Rhett gets up and wipes his tongue across my face. Disgusting. But he loves me before I’ve brushed my teeth, so I reward him with a few pats and let him up on the bed.

  “Why do you want to go traipsing off to Taiwan?” Purvi asks me.

  “I thought—” Okay, rewind. The day I want to go to Taiwan is the day when couture is offered free there.

  “I canceled your flight. I called Tracy this morning.”