Hardly Working (29 page)

L
isa's wedding was held outside in Stanley Park by special permission. It featured white canvas pavilions, a trendy curly cabbage bridal bouquet, garlands of dried flowers, leaves, gourds and berries, small white fairy lights, a transexual justice of the peace, and a distinguished mix of all Vancouver's social classes, from top to bottom. The homeless people who were also Roly's guests felt right at home there in the park.

Lisa was dressed in a long trailing mock Renaissance cream velvet gown with moss-green embroidery everywhere and her long blond hair braided with green ribbons. She looked like an oversize wood nymph. We, her bridesmaids, Cleo, Penny, I and Ida the matron of honor, were dressed in similar gowns of rusts and greens.

Ash had deserted us all. She was off to New Delhi to get married in suitable style.

The groom was wearing a full frock coat, top hat and spats. Jake was there, too, having quite a good time picking my mother's brains.

Since Ian's firing, Green World was doing very well under Jake's leadership, but Cleo, Penny and I decided to go ahead with our new tiny, not-for-profit, Outreach United, although we planned to collaborate with GWI.

Because the wedding was outdoors, Joey's dog, Errol Flynn, was able to attend too. He'd made an excellent recovery after that night he'd followed Joey home and attached himself to him. Errol Flynn's wolfish qualities, as it turned out, were much in demand by the big studios in Brollywood. Joey, after years of hustling his butt as a two-bit actor, had finally found his lucrative niche as Errol Flynn's manager and trainer. Errol, according to the Brollywood voices, was destined for stardom.

A small orchestra of jazz musicians was brought together to perch on chairs on the cold dried-up grass, cold blue winter sky glowing through the bare winter trees, and play “The Wedding March.” Lisa looked radiant and not cold at all (it goes without saying that winter is her favorite season), and her groom looked…well…like a normal man, classy almost. But it was when the justice of the peace, in his/her deep and ringing voice, asked, “Do you, Hamish Robertson, take Lisa Karlovsky to be your lawful wedded wife?” that I nearly keeled over.

Shortly after the ceremony, and the big kiss between the two, Jon came over to me and asked, “Are you all right, Dinah? You look a little pale.”

It must have seemed pretty rude, the way I was staring at the newlyweds. And then Roly, aka Hamish Robertson, came strolling over to me and said with the slightest Scottish burr, “I've had my eye on you for quite a while. Lisa tells me we need to talk about your new not-for-profit, Outreach
United. The tough thing about having money is finding the best way to spend it.”

Lisa interrupted. “I'm really sorry I had to keep it a secret. Roly wouldn't let me tell. He's such a kid sometimes. He loves amateur theatrics and all that spy stuff.” Roly smiled at her adoringly.

So as you can probably imagine, no expense was spared to make the reception a success. Outdoor propane heaters had been planted all around the provisional dance floor in another part of the park near Second Beach. Colored lanterns had been strung up and lit the night like the fairyland that Lisa had hoped for. Tables had been laden with food, and while my father's latest orchestra, Hector Ferrer and the New Milongueros, stirred up the cold air, set it on fire, made it sizzle, Jon and I danced.