Before they exchanged vows, Ben talked about the couple, and said how after Max had met Cleo, he’d told everyone that he’d met “the hottest girl he’d ever seen.” People laughed at this, but Weezy was just plain embarrassed. Then the two of them were facing each other, promising to be friends forever, to love each other, and then Ben was pronouncing them husband and wife, which seemed impossible, Weezy thought, because it was just some words spoken in the backyard. It didn’t seem real at all.
The whole crowd cheered as they walked down the aisle, and then someone handed each of them a glass of champagne and everyone was clinking glasses and hugging. Weezy went up to both of them and kissed and hugged them. She figured if she pretended like this was a real wedding, eventually it would start to feel like it.
One of Max’s friends was a DJ, and he and Cleo had insisted that he should do the music for the wedding. So Weezy hired a twenty-one-year-old kid to be in charge, and just as she predicted, it was a mistake. As soon as the vows were done, he decided it was time for the music. He started off playing a loud song, and the only words that Weezy could make out throughout the whole thing were “bad romance.” So, not only did all of the adults look shocked at the noise, but it didn’t seem to be a very wedding-appropriate choice.
As the night went on, the older people made their exit quickly. Weezy couldn’t blame them. The music got louder with each song, and more vulgar. Her friends came up to say good-bye to her, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek, as though this was a normal wedding. Almost everyone had brought a card with money in it for Max and Cleo, and they’d deposited them into a birdcage that was set up for the purpose. (The birdcage was Samuel’s idea, and it was a genius one. It gave the cards a safe place to go, but it wasn’t so obvious that it looked like they were begging for money.) It seemed a little sad that all the new couple were getting was cash, but then again, what else would people give a young couple who were expecting their first child in the very near future? A place setting of china? A Cuisinart? No, cash was the only practical thing. Weezy would have done the same if she’d been a guest at the wedding.
Max and Cleo seemed to be having a good time, which was nice, although Weezy was a little shocked to see Cleo out there dancing, shaking her round stomach around the dance floor, rubbing it against Max and laughing.
She and Will danced just once, when the DJ found it in his heart to play a Frank Sinatra song, something for the old people, and Will found her right away and led her out to the dance floor. That was a nice part of the day, swaying and twirling with Will. Of course, right after that, the next song played repeated the words sexy bitch over and over, and everyone who had been dancing to Sinatra scattered like cockroaches.
Finally the day was over. It was funny, on all the sites that Weezy had looked at, the bride and the bride’s family always commented that the reception went so fast, in the blink of an eye. But this one seemed to go on forever. At one point, Weezy thought they were going to have to kick the straggling college friends out of the backyard and tell them to go home. Thankfully, by the time it was getting to that point, they all seemed to get the hint and were on their way.
Maureen had hired a limo to take Max and Cleo to the Ritz-Carlton for two nights. “My present to you,” she’d told them the week before. “I know you won’t be going on a honeymoon, so think of this as a mini trip.” She’d made them appointments in the hotel spa, and dinner reservations for the next night. “Enjoy yourselves,” she said.
And so Max and Cleo had driven off in a limo, while the rest of the family finished saying good-bye to the last guests that were hanging on, and watched the caterers fold up the chairs and remove the leftover food. Weezy felt tired through her whole body, right down to the bones in her fingers, which ached just a little bit.
They’d all gathered on the back patio to have a glass of wine, although that was the last thing Maureen needed. She’d downed her glass quickly, then announced that she thought it would be a good idea if she went home, and Drew, who had been waiting quietly the whole day, piled Maureen, Bets, Ruth, and Cathy into the car and drove them off.
“And then there were four,” Weezy said. She felt sad, the way you do after holidays or vacations, just a little let down that the whole thing is over. Isn’t that what she’d wanted the whole day, for the thing to be over? But now, she felt let down. Her own head felt a little swimmy from the wine, but she somehow didn’t want to go to bed just yet.
“I think it all went well,” Will said.
“It did,” Martha said. “Except when the caterers tried to set out the buffet before the ceremony even started. I went right in there and told them they’d have to cool it. I mean, can you imagine?”
Martha had repeated this story a few times already, and Weezy saw Claire close her eyes briefly.
“Well, thank goodness you were there,” Weezy said. “It could have been a disaster.”
“I mean, really,” Martha went on. “How hard is it to follow simple directions? What if the food had been out there for all that time, getting cold and congealing as they said their vows?” She sat back and shook her head.
“Well, it wasn’t,” Claire said. “So there’s no need to keep talking about it.”
“I’m just saying it could have been a disaster,” Martha said.
“We know. You’ve said it only about a million times already. We understand—the caterers were incompetent and you saved the day. We heard you.”
“Girls, stop. Please stop.” Weezy felt the beginning of a headache.
“Give your mother a break, would you?” Will said.
“I’m not doing anything,” Martha said. “I don’t know what Claire’s problem is. All I tried to do today is help.”
“You were a big help today,” Weezy told her.
“Oh my God,” Claire said. “Can we please stop praising Martha for acting like a normal person for once?”
“Claire, stop it.” Weezy could tell that Martha was on the verge of tears.
“I’m serious. This is why she’s like this, you know. This is why she thinks everything’s about her. Because you make it about her. All she did was say thank you to people as they left today. And you’re acting like she performed a miracle.”
Martha got up and walked inside, and Claire rolled her eyes.
“You should apologize to your sister,” Weezy said. Her whole body felt so tired. Had she ever been this tired in her whole life?
“I’m not apologizing to her. She needs to hear it. This isn’t good for her, the way you treat her.”
“You should try to be a little more understanding,” Weezy said.
“Understanding is all I am. You make her worse, do you realize that? She thinks the world revolves around her because you make it seem like it does. You make it seem like every little thought she has is so important. It makes her crazy. She thinks the whole world is supposed to treat her like that. And God forbid we should hurt her feelings. How is she ever supposed to live like an adult if you never treat her like one?”
“When you’re a parent, you’ll understand this more.”
“When I’m a parent,” Claire said, “I won’t focus only on one kid.”
“You know what?” Weezy was mad now. “Sometimes the world isn’t perfect, Claire. Sometimes you just need to be grateful for what you have. Sometimes you need to be a grown-up.” She hadn’t yelled at Claire like this since high school.
“A grown-up?” Claire looked up to the sky and laughed. “Right, a grown-up. Well, since you’re such a great example, maybe you can explain to me why the florist somehow still thinks I’m getting married. Why he told me that the two of you have been planning things, and that my flowers would be beautiful.”
Will turned to Weezy, but didn’t say anything. Weezy felt her face get hot. She hadn’t felt like this since she was in high school, when Bets had found out that she’d snuck over to Steven Sullivan’s house. She swallowed a few times and finally answered.
“I have no
idea what you’re talking about. He does tons of weddings a year. He probably just mixed you up with someone else.”
“Really?” Claire asked. “He seemed pretty sure it was me. He knew Doug’s name, he told me how even though we’d changed the date and postponed the wedding, he was still so excited to work with us. How he’d loved going over the flowers with you, how you had great instincts.”
“Claire, that’s enough,” Will said. “Your mother has had a long day—we all have—and we need to just step back.”
“I can’t wait to get out of this house. I can’t wait to get away from this crazy family. I hate it here.” Claire stormed out, and Weezy had a strange feeling of déjà vu, of the girls’ being teenagers, when their storming out of the room in tears was just another Tuesday. It used to hurt less when Claire said she hated them. Now it stung, like someone had whipped her.
Weezy felt tears come to her eyes, and she tried to blink them back. Oh, she was so tired. Her children all thought she had failed them, probably even Max. Had she? Because even though Claire was being horrendous, she was right—they did treat Martha differently. They’d had to. All those years, ignoring her outbursts, doing anything to make sure that she was happy, or at least stable. Was it true that they’d made things worse for her? Had she ruined her even more? Weezy’s head throbbed and she closed her eyes.
“Don’t let this upset you,” Will said. “It’s been a long day for all of us. Hell, it’s been a long year.”
“Yes, it has,” she said. She waited for Will to ask her about the florist, but he never did.
“We should get some sleep,” he said. “Come on.”
“I’ll be up in a minute,” Weezy told him. He nodded and walked over to kiss her good night.
Weezy sat there for several hours. She was so tired, she thought she might just fall asleep right there on the porch, like a crazy old woman. But she stayed awake. She wondered why Will didn’t ask her about the florist. She let herself admit that she was secretly thrilled that Samuel had said that she was a pleasure to work with, that she had great instincts. She thought about her children—Martha, Claire, and Max—and how none of them was where she wanted them to be. None of them was where they wanted to be. She wondered if it was all her fault, wondered whether if she’d done things differently, they’d all have turned out okay.
She thought about Bets, and how she’d just left Pennsylvania after her husband died, just left her two daughters without a home base and gone back to Michigan to live her own life. She’d just assumed that they’d be okay, that they’d be able to manage. And they had. Was that what she should have done with her own children? She couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t imagine how Bets had just separated her life from theirs.
When the sky started to get light out, and the birds started to sing, Weezy got up from the porch and went in the house to go to bed. It was no use torturing herself anymore, she thought. She couldn’t fix anything by wondering what if.
She finally got into bed, and Will, who was snoring, turned over in his sleep and put his arm on her stomach as if to say, There you are. For a second, she felt a little bit calmer, a little bit less lonely. She pulled the covers up to her shoulders and closed her eyes. She thought she might just sleep all day.
CHAPTER 21
Mr. Cranston’s funeral wasn’t as dramatic as Martha had imagined it would be. They didn’t have a separate wake and funeral, just had an open casket for an hour or so before the mass started. Martha came early, and then sat in the back. When they finally closed the top of the casket, Ruby started crying, loudly. It echoed in the church, and actually was a little dramatic, which was probably what Ruby was going for. But her brother was the one to take her arm and lead her to the pew, so it looked like they were getting along now. Who could tell how long that would last?
There weren’t too many people there, actually. Martha remembered Bets saying once that the older you got, the smaller the funerals were. Because everyone that you knew was dying and there weren’t many people left, which was depressing when you got right down to it. Which was worse? To be one of the first to die and have a packed church or to outlive everyone and have almost no one at your funeral to show for it? Martha couldn’t decide.
The funeral was at a Presbyterian church, and the service was just what Mr. Cranston had written down. Martha felt like she’d gotten a sneak peek, since she knew which hymns and readings she was going to hear. She was a little surprised to see Jaz get up to do a reading, but thought how nice it was that Mr. Cranston had chosen her. It was right.
Ruby and her brother both gave the eulogy, although Ruby didn’t get too far. She talked about being a little girl and having her dad read the comics to her while she sat on his lap. Then she said something else that Martha couldn’t understand, and her brother put his hand on her back and gently moved her out of the way. He spoke about Mr. Cranston like he was a businessman that he admired. But Martha tried not to judge, because maybe he had to keep his speech a little removed or he’d lose it like Ruby.
Martha went back to the house for the lunch, which was catered, but it was still Jaz that was in charge, taking over and giving orders. She seemed happy to have something to do, to be bustling around, arranging and rearranging cold cuts and tiny rolls. Switching out the serving spoons for the salads, inspecting the glasses. If anyone noticed that she was crying while doing all of this, they didn’t say anything. Jaz just kept moving, and every once in a while reached up to wipe away a tear.
She didn’t stay at the house too long. Since Jaz was so busy and Ruby and her brother were greeting guests and accepting condolences, Martha didn’t really have anyone to talk to. She made herself a tiny ham sandwich and ate it standing in the corner of the living room, where she’d had her interview with Ruby. She wondered what they’d do with the house now, if they’d sell it, if they’d have to redecorate it before they put it on the market. To think of it cleared of all the personality (as stuffy as it was), to think of the pictures gone, the furniture taken away, made Martha sadder than she’d been all day.
After she ate, she put her plate in the kitchen and found Jaz to say good-bye. Jaz gave her a big hug, and cried a little in her hair, but Martha didn’t mind.
“It was so great working with you,” Martha said. She meant it.
“You too, baby. Take care now. You take care of yourself.”
They squeezed arms and then Jaz kept moving, picking up plates and glasses that had been abandoned, picking up crumpled napkins. Martha looked around and saw Ruby, so she went up to say good-bye.
“It was really an honor to work for your father,” Martha said. It seemed like the right thing to say.
“That’s sweet,” Ruby said. “Oh, I almost forgot. Come with me.”
Ruby led her back to the office, and gave her an envelope with her name on it. “To thank you for all your work,” she said, sounding strangely formal.
“Oh, no, I already got paid,” Martha said.
“This is just a little extra.”
“I couldn’t.” Martha held the envelope out to Ruby.
“Take it,” Ruby said. She looked like she didn’t really care if Martha was going to or not, but didn’t want to deal with the back and forth.
“Well, thanks.”
“Sure. I know he wasn’t always that easy to deal with.”
“Oh, no. He was great. Really. He loved your presents, I think.”
Ruby laughed. “No, he didn’t. I never knew what to get for him.”
“He did, I think. Even if he didn’t use them all the time, I think he really loved getting them.”
“Thanks,” Ruby said. She looked around the office.
“Thank you again.” Martha felt like she’d done a good deed, like she’d made the day better for Ruby. She smiled as she let herself out the back door.
MARTHA HAD GOTTEN A CALL from the caretaking company, just a few days after Mr. Cranston passed, which seemed a little insensitive, but it was their job, she supposed. T
hey asked if she’d be interested in a new placement, and because she hadn’t thought too far ahead, she said yes.
This was a different sort of job. She’d be with a woman in her early sixties who had fallen and broken her hip. The woman lived alone and would need help getting to the store and moving around. Martha was happy to take a job with someone who wasn’t going to die anytime soon. Although sixty was fairly young to break a hip. This woman probably hadn’t gotten enough calcium or done any of the light weight lifting that could help prevent bone deterioration. Well, no matter. Martha could talk to her about all of those things.
They met once, briefly. Sharon Cooper lived alone in a much smaller house than the Cranstons’. Her husband was dead, she told Martha, but she didn’t elaborate on it. Martha wondered if he was older or if he’d had an untimely death. From what she could tell from the pictures in the house, she had a few children and a couple of grandchildren. Martha stopped in front of one picture of a blond girl, about three years old, hugging a teddy bear.
“She’s so cute,” Martha said. Sharon just smiled. “I’m just about to become an aunt. My brother’s going to have a baby.”
“Congratulations,” Sharon said. And that was that. Well, never mind. They had plenty of time to get to know each other.
It would be strange to be in a new house all of a sudden, surrounded by a new family and a new story. It seemed not right to just leave the Cranstons when she’d been such a part of it. But she knew she could always go and visit Jaz over the next few months. Jaz would be happy to have a friendly face, she supposed, while dealing with the house and the loss of Mr. Cranston. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d make a plan to go there next week and have tea with Jaz.
AT HOME, CLEO SEEMED TOO PREGNANT to even breathe. Martha had never spent this much time up close with a pregnant person—other than when Weezy was pregnant with Max, and Martha didn’t remember that much. It was fascinating. Sometimes Cleo leaned back on the couch, shifting around.
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