‘Aunt Marion, those are such sexist ideas.’
‘Yes, dear. I expect that’s just why they work.’
Sandra tried to laugh. She said, ‘You sound as if you disapprove of marriage.’
‘Not at all. On the contrary. I simply think it’s a mistake to hope that it’s going to be something it couldn’t possibly be. It isn’t heaven; it’s merely a way of life.’
‘Surely it’s heaven to spend your life with someone you love.’
‘If you’re not suited, that life together can destroy the love.’
‘But how do you find out if you’re suited? You get married.’
‘Sandra, you mustn’t think I’m against you when I say these things. I’m very worried for you.’
‘There’s no need to be.’
‘You’ve known him barely a week.’
‘Yes. I hope you’ll be able to come to the wedding.’
‘That depends on when it is.’
‘As soon as possible.’
‘The child – what’s his name?’
‘Rick. Eric.’
‘Do you think he’s a jealous boy?’
‘No. He’s accepted the marriage. In fact, he seems to be delighted by it.’
‘I meant – when you have children; how do you think he’d take that?’
He might cut them up to see what was inside.
‘I don’t know. I don’t really know how I’d take it myself. I’ve put off thinking about a lot of things. I’m just going to have to worry about that later.’
‘I have an idea that they may keep me in here for a time after the operation. After that, I could be in a wheelchair or maybe on crutches, with a cast. All very awkward. But you’d understand if I didn’t come, wouldn’t you? Everything can be such an effort when you’re not feeling well, even if you’re looking forward to it.’
‘Of course. But I’d miss you.’
‘Well. What would you like for a wedding present?’
‘I can’t think. I’ve got everything I want.’
‘Yes, that’s one good thing: you won’t have money troubles. She was fabulously rich. They say that’s what he killed her for.’
‘Oh, Aunt Marion, how can you? He’s a brilliant man. He’s made more money on his own than she ever had.’
‘Starting from what she left, and using that to back his ideas.’
‘He could have asked any big corporation to put up funds for him.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Definitely. Anyway, if he’s supposed to have killed his first wife for money, I shouldn’t be in any danger. He’s the one who’s rich. I don’t have much of anything except my car, and that’s all beat up.’
‘Yes, that’s a blessing. But you might quarrel about something. About other women, for instance.’
‘Really? Why would we do that?’
‘Because that was part of the story. He even invited the other woman to the dinner where it happened. I suppose he felt obliged to marry her afterwards. But she wasn’t the only one.’
‘He didn’t murder her either, did he?’
‘It’s possible that she held something that might be used against him.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Well, in that case, it’s also possible, isn’t it, that she was the one who killed the first wife?’
‘No. She didn’t have the technical skill.’
‘She could know enough to take the insulation off a wire.’
‘Ah. So you have read up about it, after all. Why did you do that, if you were completely sure?’
‘I didn’t. I asked him about it and he told me: it was an accident.’
‘I see.’
‘If you wanted to give me a present, what I’d really like is something you’ve made yourself. When you’ve got time. Something to wear, or something for the house.’
‘Oh. All right. That’s easy.’
‘I was thinking last week that I might give you something, but I forgot to ask you about it. Aunt Marion, have you ever wanted a cat? A kitten?’
‘Oh, not after Catarina. You never knew her, did you? I’m afraid I’m a one-cat woman. And at my age, I really don’t want the worry. No pets whatsoever, please. Not even a guppy.’
There were footsteps in the hall. The door opened and Reba announced, ‘Teatime, ladies.’ Carroll followed her with a tray that she set up on the bed. Sandra pulled her chair forward.
Aunt Marion said, ‘Thank you, girls. That looks just fine.’ She told Sandra, ‘Reba’s getting married, too.’
Reba said, ‘That’s right.’
‘Are you nervous?’ Sandra asked.
‘The way I look at it, if you never take a risk, you might as well be dead. Got to take a chance sometime.’
‘That’s what I think, too. And if it doesn’t turn out to be what you thought, you can deal with that later.’
‘Right.’
‘Nothing’s ever exactly what you expect, anyway.’
‘You’re telling me.’ Reba gave the pillows one last push and turned to go out with Carroll. ‘Chip off the old block, your niece, ain’t she?’ she said. ‘You’ll be okay, honey.’
‘Good luck,’ Sandra told her.
‘Uh-huh. Likewise.’
Aunt Marion said, ‘It’s not the kind of tea I like, but it’s not too bad.’
‘It’s nice that there’s one person at least who agrees with me.’
‘That’s entirely different. Any man who tried to kick up a fuss with Reba would find himself in the emergency ward before he knew what hit him. She’s no shrinking violet.’
‘Am I?’
‘Oh darling, of course. Stars in your eyes, head in a whirl after one week. It’s heartbreaking.’
‘It’s what I want.’
‘I had gathered that. And I do appreciate the invitation. Sandra dear, I wish you many, many years of happiness.’
‘Thank you, Aunt Marion.’
‘But if it doesn’t make you happy, please feel free to come and cry on my shoulder at any time. I’ll try hard not to say, “I told you so,” even though it’s always such a temptation.’
‘I might be the one to say it to you.’
‘Now that’s a much better idea. That would please me enormously. You’re the only younger person in the family who seems to be even partly recognizable as a member of the human race. I mean – well, you know what I mean. Is your sister still doing that thing to her eyes?’
‘The kohl?’
‘Last time I saw her, I thought she’d walked into a door.’
‘I like it. I think it brings out the color in her eyes. And it makes them look bigger.’
‘And she doesn’t wear any lipstick at all. She’s too pale.’
‘She hates lipstick. Aunt Marion, she has her own style.’
‘Well, we all have that.’
‘And some of us have enough for two,’ Sandra said, putting her cup back on the tray.
Aunt Marion laughed lightly. She held out her arms for Sandra to kiss her goodbye.
*
As her panic grew, the formal pattern of events helped her to look at them as if they were normal. Things were proceeding as they were supposed to: she invited her bridesmaids, spent hours talking over the telephone, shopped, put her apartment up for sale. The burden of emotion might have been heavier if she’d had to deal with her own family interfering on the spot, but her parents didn’t think that they’d be able to fly in until the very last minute and her sister gave the impression that the wedding couldn’t have come at a worse time. ‘How much would it matter to you if I didn’t show?’ she asked.
‘It wouldn’t matter at all to me. Mom and Dad are the ones who’d hit the roof.’
‘Well, that’s nothing new. I just wouldn’t want you to feel bad.’
Sandra said again that she wouldn’t mind.
If her sister did turn up, her mother would find an opportunity of criticizing whatever she’d chosen to wear. There might be open hostilities. At a time when every detai
l had to be right, it would undoubtedly be better not to have both of them together.
She tried on her wedding dress, in which – despite the unusual design – she felt extremely bridal. As she stood in the center of the floor with her arms up, the dressmaker and her assistants worked deftly over the sleeves, back and neck. She turned around, put her arms down, moved to the left and to the right. They knelt on the floor. While two remained busy near her, the third would go farther back in order to judge the effect. It was like watching people trying to hang a painting; this time, she was the picture. All three of them were amazed by the quality of the materials they’d been given to work with. You couldn’t find lace like that any more, they told her – not anywhere. And the veil, they said, was beyond belief.
When the last pins were out, the last stitches in, one of the girls said, ‘Oh, you look just like a swan,’ and another one added, ‘You can’t have even one extra spoonful of cottage cheese between now and the big day. Those seams stay where they are.’
On the morning of the first fitting Roy asked her if she’d like a new car. At first she said no, but when she saw how much he wanted to give her one, she remembered what trouble she’d always had with the old rattletrap she’d been driving for years. She’d bought it second-hand and she’d never owned another car. She said yes. The excitement and pleasure of this new toy drove many other things from her mind. She forgot, for instance, about the ring; that is, about the engagement ring. The wedding rings were already being sized.
‘Would you like something brand new?’ he asked her. ‘Or antique? From an estate jewelry collection – that kind of thing? Or would you like to see a ring that’s been in the family?’
He’d already described his parents as the sort of people who’d never had much of anything. If there were rings in the family, they’d have belonged to his first wife, Harriet, and now – presumably – to Eric. She said, ‘If we had enough time, we could try everything. But if you have something in mind already, maybe you could show it to me now. It might save us a trip in town.’
‘That’s what I thought. That’s why I had it made the right size when we were choosing the other rings.’ From his jacket pocket he took a box, opened it and handed it to her.
She took the ring out of its box. The elaborately carved gold was set with three diamonds: two matching stones that flanked a center one of slightly larger dimensions. Wherever the light hit them, they played it back.
‘Do you like it?’ he asked.
‘I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.’
‘They’re not as bright as modern diamonds because they’re the old cut – not so many facets. But the stones are tops.’
‘They look plenty sparkly to me. Would you put it on for me?’
She handed the ring to him. He put it on her finger. They both looked at it. It was obviously the right ring. He kissed her.
She asked, ‘Was it Harriet’s? I don’t mind. I’d just like to know.’
‘It belonged to one of her aunts. It’s not very old: about 1910. But Ricky thought it was the prettiest one and he made a big point of how practical it would be, because it wasn’t too big, so you could wear it in the daytime and not think that somebody was going to mug you for it.’
‘I love it,’ she said.
*
Although – as Roy said and as Eric had told him – the ring wasn’t too large or too showy to wear every day, she was conscious of it all the time. She kept looking at it. When the stones were hit by direct sunlight, they blazed. Under artificial light they sizzled and glittered as if generating brilliance and color, unaided, from within. She was fascinated by them. Her mother’s engagement ring had never caught the light like that, nor had her grandmother’s.
All the girls at the office loved the ring, too. At the party they gave for her, one of the secretaries yelled above the babble of voices, ‘Hey, Maureen says you’re marrying a billionaire. Does he have any brothers?’
‘No brothers,’ she said. ‘And if he had any, they wouldn’t be anywhere special. He’s a self-made man.’ She smiled, as if she’d been paid a compliment.
‘Gee,’ the girl said.
She’d been waiting for someone to mention the money. Bert hadn’t said anything, but Bert would know that the money wouldn’t be important to her. Now, for the first time, she wondered how true that really was. It would certainly make everything easier. She would have her own space, lots of it; and physical comfort and all the freedoms people didn’t have when they were forced to limit their spending. That easiness would become a way of living. ‘It’s just luck,’ she said. ‘I’m glad about it, but I’d want to marry him no matter what.’
‘Yeah,’ the girl said, ‘that’s better than money. But it’s never lasted with me. Six weeks and it’s like you can’t believe you were so dumb.’
‘It’s different when it’s for keeps,’ she said, adding graciously, ‘You’ll see, when it happens to you.’
*
She went to the church with Roy and Eric. The officiating clergyman for their service was to be a Reverend Eustace: a large, plump man whose air of primness was offset by good humor and a tidy-minded efficiency that broke down periodically as he forgot where he’d put things. The most troublesome article he owned was his pair of reading glasses. He’d never needed spectacles until a few months ago, he explained to Roy. Now he had them and he couldn’t find them.
‘This never used to happen to me,’ he said. ‘I’ve always thought of increasing age as a time of aches and pains, but in my case it seems to be this ridiculous forgetfulness. It started with the glasses and it’s spreading to other things. I keep finding myself over in a part of the room and I can’t remember why I got up to go there, or what I was looking for. The glasses used to be a real problem until I discovered those ordinary magnifying glasses they sell in drugstores: they’re almost as good. So now I have four pairs. But there are days when I can’t put my hand on any of them.’
Eric was sent off to check the places where the flower arrangements were to be set up. He also wanted to ask some questions about baptism and funeral services. A dark-suited man named Bates took him in tow.
Reverend Eustace ushered Sandra and Roy into his study. He sat them down and gave them a short speech that left enough margin for them to express approval about the goodness of man without having to lay claim to any specific brand of religion.
It came as a relief to Sandra that she wasn’t going to have to lie. Despite the Reverend’s appearance, he was on home ground now and, once the door had been closed, it was – she felt – a little like being called to the principal’s office. She didn’t have either the effrontery of Roy, who was prepared to say anything in order to get what he wanted, or the honesty of someone like her sister, who had once told an interviewer that she wanted the job because she needed the money.
If asked, she was going to express regrets about her lapse from churchgoing. And if she tried, she could convince herself that that was true. She would have liked to believe.
The chair she sat in faced a windowframe that had been given a shape she recognized as religious. The books in the bookshelves, the cross on the wall, even the Reverend Eustace, put her in mind of the way she’d felt about religion as a child. It had seemed to her, a long time ago, that there was a special sweetness – a rightness – in adherence to a certain way of life and a lovely perfection in its precepts, which you could aspire to but never fully live up to.
Reverend Eustace offered them each a sherry and poured one for himself. ‘I’m sure everything will go exactly as planned,’ he said, ‘although if it doesn’t, there’s nothing to worry about. If there’s a hitch, just remain calm and wait. I’ve seen people catch their clothes on the door, get their heels stuck or slip on the carpet and fall over. The children can wander off. If there’s a baby in the audience, you can bet it’s going to cry. Someone drops the ring. And so forth. All perfectly normal. The important thing is that the bond should be made, the words should be sp
oken and understood and that the union should be consecrated by a man of the cloth in God’s presence.’
‘Of course,’ Roy said. He knocked back his sherry without changing expression. Sandra knew that it wouldn’t be dry enough for him. She and the Reverend had a taste for sweet things.
‘But some quite extraordinary things can happen,’ Reverend Eustace murmured.
‘Like people getting up to complain,’ Sandra said, ‘when you ask them if anyone objects: “Speak now or forever hold your peace?”’ Suddenly she thought about Bert. She imagined him shouting out for everyone to hear: This woman once spent three days in bed with me and we weren’t reading the Bible to each other, either. Memory, combined with the alcohol, rushed the blood up into her face.
‘It’s interesting that you should mention just that place in the ceremony,’ Reverend Eustace said.
‘Well, it’s the one everyone waits for. You think it’s going to be like the end of Perry Mason, where somebody stands up in the courtroom and says, “I did it.”’
‘As a matter of fact, there was a story going around last year about a case where the proceedings were interrupted at that very point. It happened in a church down south. Everything was going according to the schedule until the minister said those words. There was a silence – you know, you have to leave a little pause – and then he was about to go on, when the bride herself spoke up. She said, “I have something to say.” She turned around to face the congregation and she said, “I’d like to thank all the people who’ve worked so hard to make this moment possible: my mother, who organized the food; my aunt, who arranged the flowers; my sisters, who helped with the catering; and my bridesmaids.” She stopped and the preacher was about to continue, when she took a breath and kept going. She said, “I’d like to thank all my friends and relatives who’ve come here today, some of them from far away, to wish me luck.” She stopped again. And once again the minister was about to resume, but she turned around a third time, and said, “But what shall I say of my matron of honor, who went through school with me, and who spent the summers with us all through college, who’s been just like one of the family all these years: and who slept with my bridegroom last night?” And then she picked up her skirts and marched right out of the church.’
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