This is all completely fabricated, of course, but it’s so much more interesting than the fact that we dated for a year, but he couldn’t commit and left for India, then went back to a life of video games and pizza nights with his buddies. I can’t even get dumped with intrigue.
“Okay, yeah, the bald guy,” I answer.
“You know what they say about bald men!” Tracy winks and clucks her tongue.
“Actually, I don’t.” I raise my palms. “But you know, I don’t think I want to either.”
She sits down and rubs her hands together. “So tell me why you broke up.”
“Is this going to interfere with your working with him?” Purvi asks.
I put some files into the drawer. “He moved to India. That’s why we broke up.”
“Come on, Ashley, really,” Purvi says.
“Really. He moved to India for a job. He was going to set up an Indian base. I guess it didn’t work out.”
Tracy looks disappointed. “That’s it?”
I’m a thirty-two-year-old virgin. How much excitement is she expecting here?
“That’s it.”
She gets up slowly and smirks at Purvi. “That’s no big deal. I hear ‘ex-boyfriend,’ and I think, finally, my Ashley has a secret social life. Something that makes her about more than patents.” Tracy drops her chin to her chest. “You’ve disappointed me, Ashley.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I answer.
She pops back up. “He’s got great eyes. Have you ever noticed that?”
Saw them on my future children at one time. “I have. Seth has great eyes,” I agree.
“He’s coming in for a meeting in five minutes,” Purvi says as she rises. “Clear your calendar until you have the details of his patent. If you’re not going to prioritize for yourself, Ashley, I’m going to do it for you.” Purvi exits and shuts the door behind her.
Tracy settles back into the chair. “I’ll take notes.”
I cross my arms. “I don’t need you to take notes, but thank you.”
She grunts at me. “You really are no fun. I want to see if he still has feelings for you. I’m really good at reading that. Like, I’m psycho!”
I laugh aloud, but I can’t bear to explain this to her.
“Trust me, you’ll be nothing but bored as we discuss the intricacies of software processes.”
“I don’t care what you say to each other. I want to see the sparks fly.”
I lift up my left hand. “These are the only sparks in my office, and they belong to Kevin’s grandmother’s diamond.”
“Yes, but I haven’t met Kevin. I’m sure he’s dreamy, but I love the idea of your ex working here. It’s so Days of Our Lives, and nothing good ever happens here. I mean, the men don’t even date. It’s like working with a bunch of robots with no social skills. The Stepford men.” She crosses her legs. “You know, that would be a great reality show. They should cross Queer Eye for the Straight Guy with The Bachelor and give the women in Silicon Valley some hope.”
“As interesting as these musings are, don’t you have something to do for Purvi?”
Tracy shrugs. “Not a thing. Why?” There’s a knock at the door. “He’s here!” she sings, like my date has arrived. She opens the door wide to give all the admins a good look at my expression. “Seth, welcome to Ashley’s office. She’s all ready for your meeting. Would you like some coffee?” Coffee? Tracy normally wouldn’t get coffee for anyone else even if she was on her way to Starbucks with eight cupholders.
“Thanks, Tracy,” I say with my eyebrows lifted. She grabs a notepad and sits back down. “It’s okay; I’ve got it from here. If I need you for notes, I’ll buzz.” I take the notepad from her hand, and she mouths at me, You’re no fun!
Seth sits down in my office and looks around at the photos. He sees Brea’s kids, my nephew, and he flinches at Kevin’s picture. I think he did, anyway, but maybe it’s my overactive ego working. A girl needs her ego in Silicon Valley.
“Ashley, you’re looking good this morning. Or is that sexual harassment to say that?” He winks at me.
“It might be harassment, considering everyone knows you’re my ex. Do you mind telling me how that came about?”
“In the interest of full disclosure, I told HR before they hired me.”
Full disclosure or indecent exposure? “Stellar. Is that my paperwork?”
“Listen, what I said the other day—”
“Don’t worry, Seth, I’m quite aware you spoke out of turn when you were heading toward a committal statement.” I scan the paperwork in front of me, flashing my engagement ring for him to witness. “What makes this process special? Give me the high points.”
“It’s a new user interface for the Sunflower project. Reduces the number of mouse clicks to one.”
“One?” I say with disbelief.
He shoves the file in front of me. “One. You have a software engineer with talent and drive. No one listened to him before now.” Seth looks at me, narrowing his tanzanite eyes.
I get a little defensive here. “If his director doesn’t report it to me, I’m hardly responsible for creating patents out of the blue. That’s why your predecessor isn’t here any longer and you have the job.” Sheesh. Make me responsible for world famine and WMDs while you’re at it.
Seth leans over my desk, his hands spanning its width. “Touchy, touchy. You were awfully busy following that foreign boss of yours to Taiwan last year. How do I know you didn’t blow off the last software guy like you tried to do with me on Saturday?”
“Seth.” I grit my teeth in frustration and roll my chair backwards. “Never mind. I’ll have this looked up and compared by the end of the day. If I can get you a process patent, I will. Either way you’ll know by the end of the day what my plans are.”
Seth’s expression softens, and the gentle man I’ve known comes back. I wish I could take back the years and erase the pain for both of us. But I can’t. It’s not my problem. Thank heavens!
As I gaze into those eyes that once melted my heart, I don’t think he’ll ever get married. He’ll be so worried about doing it perfectly that it won’t ever happen. Engineering is a perfect place for him. Seth can constantly achieve the next realm of technology, and he doesn’t have to have much human contact. Of course, it’s his loss, and that makes me sad. I still care about the guy. Not in that way, but in the way that makes you want your friends to succeed in life.
“I know you think I’m nuts, and maybe I’ve acted that way,” Seth says. “But I’m worried about you, Ash. You’ve wanted to get married for so long, and I just think Kevin is not right for you. He’s from a different world. For one thing, he hasn’t been a Christian very long. How do you even know he’s grounded?”
I tap the paper edges on the desk to straighten them. “Let’s agree not to discuss this, okay? Let’s avoid the marriage topic. Sort of like when we were dating.”
“I’d have married you if that’s what you really wanted.”
I can’t help it; I laugh here. “Seth, as romantic as that is, you would not have! You’d have some great crisis that took you to India or the mission field in the Philippines. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not as desperate to get married as you think I am. And you were never as eager as you think. But I do appreciate the sacrificial thought. You’re a good friend.”
I think he breathes a sigh of relief here. It’s silent but deep.
“The Sunflower project.” He looks to the desk. “We’ll get it done.”
“We will,” I agree. And Seth backs out of my office on the same sorry horse he rode in on.
Tracy sticks her head in my office. “Purvi left for the day.”
“Why?” Purvi comes in when she’s back from China on jet lag.
“She didn’t say. Something to do with her husband.”
“Her husband in India?”
“He’s back.”
I don’t know why, but I feel a chill run through me. “Very well. She has some p
atents on her desk that need to be signed by the higher-ups. Did she leave any other instructions?”
“No. Hannah from the bridal shop is on line one,” Tracy adds.
I pick up the phone, and I can hear Hannah humming. “Ashley Stockingdale here.”
“Ashley, it’s Hannah. FedEx just came, and your wedding dress is here!” She pauses to let me take this information in. “When can we do a fitting? It’s incredible. I can’t wait to see it on you!”
I’m shaking my head. “That’s not my wedding dress. I ordered a Vera Wang, remember? You helped me pick it out.”
“Your bridal coordinator canceled that. Emily assured me this is what you wanted, and she offered to pay for it. Your deposit will go to the veil unless you protest. I can issue a refund check in a week.” Hannah sounds nervous. I’m not blaming her. Emily is very persistent, and Hannah had about as much chance of changing her mind as that of an aircraft carrier turning on a dime.
I’m actually calm here. I’m floating away on an espresso crema cloud. Up, up, and away. “Yes, I realize she canceled it,” I say softly. “What’s so great about the new gown?”
“Well,” she says, tentatively now.
“If you weren’t having a costume party wedding, would you wear it?”
“It’s very finely made, Ashley. I think you should come look at it. The stitching is incredible.”
“I’ll look at it, but only to be polite. How long will it take to order my Vera Wang again?”
“At least three months to allow for proper tailoring. Six is ideal.”
I’ve lost a month, maybe two. But money can speed up anything. Too bad I have none left. “I’ll be right over.”
Even as I say it, I know I’m going to pay for this jaunt. I have the Sunflower project to do ASAP, an upset boss, and an ex who will be happy to report I have left the building, like Elvis. But Ashley Stockingdale in Scarlett O’Hara’s wedding gown? It’s just not natural. It qualifies as a wedding emergency! I have kept myself in couture despite being surrounded by techs in T-shirts and jeans everyday. I can hardly set an example dressed like an 1860s version of hoop dreams, now, can I?
“I’m running an errand,” I say quickly as I pass Tracy’s desk, trying to act like it’s desperately important. Of course, she knows I was just talking to the wedding shop, but I’ve got seniority on my side, especially with Purvi out for the rest of the day.
“Your mom called while you were on the phone. She said the candy-coated almonds are in for you to wrap in tulle.”
“Candy-coated almonds?” This is what my mother chose to contribute to my wedding? Maybe she could include ribbon-wrapped Twinkies while she’s at it. “It’s four months until the wedding. Ick.”
“You have to buy the tulle.” Tracy’s reading her notes, which I’m sure my mother dictated slowly and methodically. “She didn’t know if you wanted pink or green. There’s either at the dollar store, so you just have to make up your mind.”
The dollar store. Now that ought to go over big with Emily. “Thanks, Tracy. I’ll be back before lunch.” I look back at my office, wondering if I should take the Sunflower project with me, but I’ll be back.
Driving across town, my cell phone rings. Hallelujah, it’s Kevin.
“Kevin, hi.” I soften as I begin talking to him. Melt is more like it. He’s worth his sister’s Scarlett O’Hara fetish.
“Hi, sweetie. Remember me? You survived my sister? She’s worried about you.”
“Emily’s worried about me?”
“She said you were dancing and singing by yourself at Stanford. She thought the stress might be getting to you, and perhaps we might want to do a psych evaluation before the wedding.” Kevin laughs.
“Let’s see. Well, honey, you have missed most of the Great American Wedding Saga, so let me get you up to speed. I have no dress. We have no cake. We have nowhere to get married or have the reception. I’m living in one of the most populated cities in the country, and my wedding coordinator is in Atlanta. No, honey, I’m not the least bit stressed, or I would have been doing Tai Chi in the courtyard, not singing.”
“Of course, that’s just what I told her.” Kevin laughs. “She said you wanted to get married at Stanford’s chapel. Is that true? It’s a beautiful venue, but I think rather impossible to get into.”
“Not impossible, just more difficult than most. You think I’m willing to settle like the common folk?” I laugh. “Where do you want to get married?”
“We could get married in my backyard for all I care. I’m really more into the honeymoon.”
“Kevin!” I chastise. “We can’t get married in your backyard. Your condo doesn’t even have one! And mine is riddled with dog excrement. I was thinking more along the lines of honeysuckle scent or maybe jasmine candles.”
“Your yard is beautiful, Ashley. You live with Kay, and you expect me to believe she lets Rhett do his thing without consequences? How naive do you think I am?”
I let out a little whimper. There’s something happening here. Some strange wind of darkness swirling about that keeps me from actually settling anything.
“I am the world’s worst bride,” I finally say. “I used to be good at decisions and reality, but I’m off my game.”
“You are not the world’s worst bride. Why did you think you’d be above the fray in the stress department? I’m off work this weekend. You plan for whatever we need: cake, tuxes, china, the honeymoon suite for the wedding night. I’m game to select it all.”
“You have a one-track mind, Kevin. We have to get married first, you know.”
“I’m a guy with a gorgeous fiancée. Like I’m thinking about the stupid cake.”
“Am I ever going to see you?” I ask. “I feel like I’m completely alone, like I’m doing all this planning to marry a groom who doesn’t exist. You are real, aren’t you? I mean, people say the romance dies after the wedding, so things aren’t looking great here.”
“That’s why Emily came out to help. She knew I’d be busy with my workload during the residency. Once we get married, it won’t be so hectic. I’ll be coming home to you every night.”
“In a galaxy far, far away. In the meantime, I’m in a perpetual state of invisible monogamy. Not really single anymore. Not married yet. Just one big interim blob,” I say as I hear his beeper. “I know, you have to go.”
“I love you! If we have to go to Reno, I’m marrying you August 21. I don’t care about where or how. I don’t care about any of that, all right? Just let Emily handle it. She’ll make sure we have what we need.”
Yeah, that’s gonna happen.
“I’ll call you tonight.” He hangs up just as I’m pulling up to the bridal shop.
The boutique is very exclusive looking, and Hannah has been a long-standing fixture in our singles group. So I feel very comfortable as I walk in, and the little bell tinkles, signaling my arrival. I’m lost in all the tulle and satin, and something about the pure white calms me. I’m getting married! It’s not a figment of my overactive imagination. Inside that cell phone lurks a fantastic man, and he wants to marry me!
As I walk toward the desk, I see it: my dress. There’s no mistaking it. It’s the color of a French yellow cabinet from another era. It boasts tiny leaves sticking off the skirt like silk barbwire in a swirled pattern. And the leg-o-mutton sleeves . . . they look like a lamb with major thigh issues. A lamb that needs liposuction! This is not happening.
“Isn’t it exquisite?” Hannah comes out from the back and reverently touches the gown.
I drop my jaw and shake my head, still trying to find the words.
“Look at the stitching on this, Ashley. It’s incredible. The detail work is so finely done. It’s pure genius. Your sister-in-law must really care about you.”
“How tall was Scarlett?” I say, scanning the dress.
Hannah shrugs.
“She was tiny if I remember correctly. I will look like the giant Stay Puft Marshmallow Man in Ghostbusters in that thing.”
Hannah’s countenance falls, making me feel like the shallow girl I am. “You have to at least try it on, Ashley. I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised.”
Tentatively, I walk around the dress. It’s like a spider hanging from its web in the center of the room. “It’s just not my style, Hannah. It’s beautiful, but I’m thirty-two, not eighteen. This is a dress for an eighteen-year-old bride with an eighteen-inch waist with stays.”
“It’s so much nicer than what you ordered, Ashley. The quality is impeccable. Your sister-in-law went beyond the call of duty. I wish you’d give it a chance.”
“How can you be on her side? She canceled my wedding dress! That cost you money. It cost Vera Wang money!”
“I can appreciate true artistry. This gown is unforgettable, Ashley. No one will ever forget you in it.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
Hannah takes it down. “Just try it on.”
We walk into the dressing room, and there’s my favorite: the three-way mirror. Yeah, I need to see this in 3-D. I slough off the black bow dress I got at the last great Bloomingdale’s sale and kick off my heels. I step into the dress, and Hannah brings it up around me.
She doesn’t even get it buttoned. “It’s . . . it’s . . . hideous. I look like one of my aunt’s toilet paper creations at the wedding showers. There’s just fabric everywhere!”
Hannah stands back and surveys me. Her forefinger comes to her chin, as if she’s thinking about how to say, Yes, it is hideous, actually. “Well, perhaps it’s not right on you. But the dress itself is impeccable. I could sell this easily for a mint.”
“How much?” I ask eagerly.
“You know, if you took in the sleeves a bit—”
“It would still look ridiculous. How much do you think you can get for it?”
“I don’t know, Ashley, but it’s all paid for. Your sister-in-law had it completed in Atlanta. I only have to do the fitting.”
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