4 gaudy glass frames
3 Frederick’s of Hollywood outfits (and I use the term loosely—as most outfits do not come with a thong—from my aunts, naturally). Thank you?
The doorbell rings, and I feel the plastered smile on my face relax for a moment. A break.
My Aunt Babe thrusts underwear toward me. “It’s a comfort thong!”
Not even gonna ask.
“Smile, Ashley, and just say thank you,” my mother hisses through clenched teeth.
Okay, but I imagine everyone is getting a mental image of me in this costume, and that’s just not right. Lingerie should be Italian, certainly not colored lace from third-world countries. There’s a separation between sexy and sleazy, and I’m certain my aunts have led their entire lives not understanding this fine division.
“Ashley, it’s Kevin!” Brea shouts.
I look up and see my fiancé for the first time in a week. He’s like a wavy mirage, a miracle. I forget about appearances completely and rush to his arms, clutching him like if I let go, he’ll disappear. He smells the same, minus the hospital antiseptic smell, and his perfect teeth smile down upon me like a Crest commercial. I squeeze a bit harder. “You’re here.”
“I heard the lingerie party was here,” he whispers into my ear.
“Thanks to my aunts, it is,” I say, biting my lip.
“Even better; it will be naughty.”
“Stop! Does this mean you’re finally here for premarital counseling?”
He looks down at my aunt, who’s dangling the thong publicly. “We need more than that to get ready for marriage?”
“Oddly, yes, we do.” I pull him down closer so I can get to his ear. “And if you think I’m wearing that, you’ve been in surgery for far too long.”
He snaps his fingers. “Let’s get out of here,” he growls. “I haven’t kissed my woman for ages.”
“Kevin!” I say aloud. “Did you see your mom and sister . . . and everyone else here?”
He turns back to my ear, “Actually, I was still thinking underwear. Are we married yet?”
I slap the side of his arm. “Kevin went to Philly to interview for neonatal surgery, everyone!”
A polite round of applause goes up.
“Want a hummus sandwich, Kev? You must be hungry from traveling.” Brea holds out a tray, and I shake my head ever so slightly.
“No thanks. I had some pretzels on the plane.”
His mother steps up and lifts her chin. “Aren’t you going to say hello, Kevin?”
“Hello, Mother.” Kevin kisses Elaine’s cheek coldly.
“Did you see the new house in Philadelphia?” she asks, and the entire room waits for his answer.
“Can we talk about this later, Mom?”
“It makes me want to get married,” Emily spouts. “A new house! You’re so lucky, Kevin.”
My mother’s jaw drops. “You bought them a house?”
“His dad just bought a new investment, Mom,” I say, trying not to make my family feel like the poor relations.
“Well, they’ll need a place to live in Pennsylvania,” Elaine says, fiddling with her diamond tennis bracelet.
“Ashley,” my mother says. “What is she talking about?”
“Open our gift,” Emily says excitedly.
Slowly and gingerly, I open their present. I pull out a fluffy bathrobe with the name of a country club plastered on an embroidered emblem. “A bathrobe!” I say, faux excitedly.
“Look underneath it!” Emily cheers.
“It’s a golf outfit.” Not even a cute one, mind you. Lilly Pulitzer makes golf wear. Tommy Bahama even! This is straight out of the Lacoste collection. Let’s forget the fact I don’t actually golf.
Suddenly, everyone makes their excuses and dissipates like Jell-O in hot water. Mrs. Novak takes me aside roughly. “You’ll notice the certificates are in the name of Mrs. Kevin Novak.”
“I plan to take his name,” I say, hoping to refute the feminist argument. “I think that’s wonderful.”
“Kevin, if you only knew the mistakes I made when I was young. I’d like to spare Ashley those awful days.”
Here’s the part where I’m supposed to believe Elaine wants the best for me. I’ll buy that right after a Birkin bag goes on sale for $100.
Emily’s got a sly smile on her face, so I’m bracing.
“The certificates are the best part of the gift, Ashley. I’d like to send you to finishing school before the wedding. To acquaint you with Southern hospitality.” Elaine is oblivious to all the guests, which—as my aunts are still talking about thongs—might be a gift from above. “There’s a fabulous finishing school that specializes in training wives of executives.”
Finishing school? Oh, trust me, I’m finished. “Actually, I am an executive, Elaine. Maybe this is for Kevin?” I try to pass this off with laughter.
“Mom, Ashley’s brilliant. She—”
“I never implied she was anything but, Kevin. However, this is about learning to entertain at the level that will be expected of her.”
At this point, Brea can sense my “brilliance” about to reach out and touch someone, so she comes up behind me. “Excuse us, Ashley needs to say good-bye to her guests.”
“That woman is nuts,” I mumble. “St. John, Brea. She wears couture that’s so 1970s, I’m surprised she didn’t get me an apron for my shower.”
“She’s just posturing, Ashley. It’s what mother-in-laws do to let you know they still own their sons. You play the game, get married, and then show them who has the keys to the kingdom. It’s the cirrr-cle, the circle of life!” she sings from The Lion King.
“Okay, Mom, we’ll discuss it,” I hear Kevin say. “In the meantime, can you be more supportive of Ash, please?”
A flat-lipped smile from Mrs. Novak. I didn’t even know she could flatten those collagen-injected lips! She collects her handbag and turns with Emily at her side. I start to pick up some of the gifts when she catches my chin with her finger and says quietly, “I don’t know what hold you have over Kevin when he should be readying for his new job, not traipsing down the aisle, but I feel it my duty to warn you that destroying his future for the sake of your own is hardly the Christian thing to do.”
“What hold she has?” Brea dangles my new lingerie. “Kevin hasn’t seen her in this yet.” Brea winks at my future mother-in-law, and I go from wanting to seriously deck her to holding back guffaws. Hah, see if they teach me that in finishing school!
I start to put the gifts in my trunk, and Kevin follows after me. “So are you willing to talk about a new house in Philly? Moving to Philly? Or even finishing school?” He puts the new comforter in my trunk, but it won’t fit, so he pulls it back out. “This is nice.”
I nod. “It’s from my mom. You’re kidding about finishing school, right?” But I’m not seeing a lot of humor in his eyes. “Isn’t that for English orphans or something?”
“It’s a small thing my mom is asking. She just wants to know you respect her, the life that she’s lived.”
“Then she needs to respect me, Kevin. I’m a lawyer. My life’s goal is not to graduate from trophy wife school.”
“It will be a couple weekends here and there. For me?”
“Maybe I’m not worthy of the Novak name, and you shouldn’t bother to lower yourself into my world.”
Kevin’s jaw locks. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Well, it will be no skin off your nose, because the wedding gift is addressed to whomever you marry. I’ll be sure and forward her the Scarlett O’Hara gown too so you can still have the wedding of your sister’s dreams!”
“Ashley, you’re being childish. We haven’t seen each other in a week, and you’re just thinking of all the bad stuff.”
“I’m being childish? I’m not the one so concerned about my mommy.” I climb into my car. “Tell Brea I’ll get the rest of my gifts later.” I hit the accelerator and speed off, leaving the man I love standing in the street with a comforter in
his arms. A comforter in the arms where I belong, and if I had any sense of humility, I’d turn my car around and beg his forgiveness. But I can’t stand to think of his mommy winning another round. So I don’t. Forgive me, Lord. I’m such a mess.
31
Churchless, fiancé-less, but determined not to be shoeless, I spend Sunday morning sewing the beads back on my wedding shoes. Granted, I didn’t know the first place to start, but Kay helped me with a needle and directions before she left for church. The beads are bumpy and the rows are no longer straight, but no one’s examining my shoes that day either. I gaze into the crystal beads looking through the prism of color and wonder if they’ll ever really see the light of my wedding day. Will they ever catch the glimmer of sunlight? Or walk beside my father down an aisle? These questions remain as I sew. It’s 1:00 p.m. when the doorbell finally rings. Rhett begins to bark, and I put the project down. “Please let it be Kevin.” This isn’t so much a prayer as a desperate cry for an end to my confusion. Am I getting married or not?
I can’t help but wonder if Kevin’s allegiance is aligned with his mother and sister. Call me crazy, but this is something I need to know now, as I have no intention of spending my life in Elaine and Emily Novak’s skeletal shadows. But being alone doesn’t sound all that great at the moment either.
Going to the door, I see that it’s not Kevin. It’s Matt Callaway. Make my disappointment complete.Matt’s dressed in a button-up shirt and a tie. A tacky one, but hey, he’s got a tie on. Not something you see every day anymore.
“Emily’s not here. She’s at her brother’s.” I start to slam the door.
He steps in and shuts the door behind him, “Nice to see you too. I’m here for my date with Kay. Would you let her know I’ve arrived?”
Kay? I just feel a wave of rage roll through my frame. Why can’t Kay see who this guy is? “Sure. I’ll just send Jeeves to the north wing and announce you. Please have a seat in the library.” I roll my eyes and head down the hallway, muttering to myself. I rap on Kay’s door, and she opens the door, still dressed from church and now wearing makeup. Granted, not well, but she’s wearing it nonetheless. I’d fix her, but . . . nah, I gotta fix her. “Get back in here. You have lip pencil on your nose.”
Kay grabs her nose and backs into her room. “Before you say a thing, I’m doing what you told me. I’m facing my fears. I apologized to Simon, prayed about this, and, Ashley, I’m going to do this. We’re just going out to dinner. All right?”
“Do what you want. You’re a grown woman. I’m not going to tell you what to do, just my opinion of it.” I let a smile slip.
“How about we make a deal? If I kiss Matt, I don’t tell you the gory details. And if you have an opinion on the matter, you’ll keep it to yourself?”
“Deal.” I brush the lip pencil off her nose, pound some powdered foundation in its place, and spread it around. “There, a nice even coverage. Now you’ll look incredible, and guys will fall at your feet. Then you’ll see you don’t need to settle for the likes of Matt Callaway.”
Kay clutches her neck dramatically. “Matt comes in closer, his lips puckered neatly as he leans toward my face . . .”
“Stop! That’s just inhumane! Go on your date. I’ll say no more.”
She bounds down the hallway, my floral skirt flowing behind her. How come it looks so much cuter on her? Probably because she jogs five miles a day while I drain mochas. They aren’t even out the door when the doorbell rings again.
“Ashley, I think you’d better come out here,” Kay calls.
I walk to the front door, and Kevin is standing there. Dressed like Captain Rhett Butler. He has a black tux on, with a gray ascot and white shirt. Even a top hat. He bows deeply when he sees me.
“Kevin? What are you doing? It’s a little early for Halloween, isn’t it?” He looks like a dream, and I have to say I’m beside myself with joy at the sight of him. “You’re really here.”
“Get your Scarlett dress on, Ashley,” he says in his sexiest Southern drawl.
“What are you doing?”
“Get your Scarlett gown. We’re going courtin’ and we have a social visit to make.”
“In our Scarlett-and-Rhett wear?” I ask him in disbelief. What happened to my sober pediatric surgeon? Why is he dressed like a fictional movie icon? Is there such a thing as jet lag from Philadelphia to California?
“Go on, I’ll wait.” Kevin says with a sweep of his top hat to his chest.
Kay and Matt are standing beside him, eyes wide.
“Pleased to meet you,” Kevin says and thrusts out a hand toward Matt. “Kevin Novak at your service.”
“Novak?” Matt coughs. The guilt is like phlegm in his throat, and I can tell he’s wondering if he should expose his name. “Matt Callaway,” he says through a cough. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m not getting dressed until you tell me where we’re going,” I announce with my fist to my hip. “I don’t exactly look like Gisele in this dress.”
“Again, no idea what a gazelle is, except some kind of African deer. I hope you don’t look like that,” Kevin says, and how can you not love that? “I’m taking you home to Tara, Ashley Wilkes Stockingdale. Go get dressed.”
“I can’t get into that contraption without help.”
“Even better—”
“I’ll help,” Kay quickly says. “This I gotta see. It lost something with the jail-cell background.”
I notice the glimmer of fear on Matt’s face as realization strikes that he’ll be left alone with Emily’s brother. Payback is so fun to watch. Sue me. It’s that whole “Vengeance is mine” thing. Usually God doesn’t give you the pleasure of watching it unfold. I’d give anything to just sit right here and watch it happen, but Kay yanks me.
We skip to my room. Kay and I giggle as we take the dress out of its bag. “That thing is hideous.” Kay throws her head back in laughter. It dawns on me that I bet I could count the times I’ve seen her truly laugh like that on one hand. Even if I was missing three fingers. “Where on earth do you think he’s going to take you dressed like this?” Kay asks. We look at the hoop, and both our eyes go wide. No on the hoop. I don’t even have to say it aloud. Kay nods in agreement.
“Maybe we’re going to one of those old-time picture studios.” I shrug.
“Wouldn’t that be fun?” Kay says and starts on the litany of buttons.
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
“You’d better hope you have a strong bladder.”
“How utterly reassuring.”
We get the dress cinched up, and Kay asks, “Where’s the veil?”
“No veil. Am I not ridiculous enough?”
“You have to have the veil, Ashley. Kevin’s wearing a top hat. Marriage is all about sharing. You’d let him have that humiliation alone?”
“Um, yeah.”
She grabs the veil from the bag and tries to figure out how to attach the yellowed lace.
“I’ll do it. Are you in on this?”
“I have no idea what he’s doing. I’m completely naive.”
I tug at my dress and try to appear sophisticated as I walk down the hallway dressed like an 1860s prom queen. When I get to the door, I can’t look at Kevin. I feel completely exposed in this inane getup. Kevin sinks to his knees, and my stomach tingles. I thought I loved Seth, but I only loved the idea of Seth. With Kevin, I know it’s real. No more immature outbursts or running away from conflict. I’m in this for the long haul.
“Ashley Wilkes Stockingdale, you are truly a Southern belle.” He kisses my hand and stands up, cupping his arm through mine.
“What did they do to you in Philly? You didn’t get into the drugs, did you?”
He kisses my cheek. “Philadelphia, followed by your wedding shower, gave me a new set of priorities, and you and I are going to test-drive them. Right now.”
We walk down the path together, garnering the attention of all my neighbors. I’d like to say this is not the kind of attention
I’d hoped for in my life, but after having had these same stares while getting put into the backseat of a police car, I’m okay with it, actually.
Kevin helps me into the car and goes around to the driver’s side. He looks at me for a long time, and sparks fly. My stomach remembers all the reasons I’m marrying this man. Love alone may not be enough, but add some major chemistry to it, and I’ll tell you something, it’s a good start. We drive for a while until we come to his condo.
“What are we doing here?” Seeing the rental car out front, I’ll admit, my hopes fade.
“We are paying a social call, Ashley Wilkes Stockingdale.”
“Dressed like this? And would you stop calling me that?”
“It’s the best way. My family thrives on secrets and quiet conversations. And this is one we’re going to have out loud. Can you think of a better way to announce ourselves?”
“Yes, actually. This seems like a DKNY moment to me. Maybe Hugo Boss for you. Perhaps it’s a couture moment, Chloe maybe. But it is definitely not a Civil War reenactment moment.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your opinion, isn’t it?”
I slough off the wedding shoes, deciding I definitely need a Birkenstock equivalent before the big day.
“You’re going in there barefoot?”
“Look at me, Kevin. Least of my problems.”
We head up the walkway, which seems incredibly short all of a sudden, and Kevin rings his own doorbell and then pushes the door open, gently guiding me in first. “No way!” I shuffle behind him. “I’m not being the human shield. Gentleman first in this case.”
He walks in the front door. “Mom! Emily!”
I stand behind him. My heart is beating out of my chest. The simple fact is these women scare me. Mrs. Novak is the first to come out. For once, I see she’s not in a St. John knit. She’s wearing a silk running suit that just makes me think, Static cling! She’s donning invisible-line glasses, which she slides slowly down her nose and to her side.
“Kevin?” she says sternly.
“Mother.”
Emily comes in next, and she has on a pair of swanky jeans. Sevens by the looks of them. Now I can’t help wondering if she doesn’t have the obligatory tattoo on her lower back. But I’m dressed like Holiday Barbie, so who am I to judge?
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