Wedding Girl (35 page)

“And your Invisible Man, do you think he is your great hope?”

I think about this. “I don't know. I think I can hope that he is kind and caring, and that if he isn't my great hope, that he at least is enough to let me hope for a greater hope.”

“He's a lucky guy, for what it's worth.”

“Yes, yes he is.” And for the first time in a very long time, this is not just bravado. I'm a catch, I'm a good person. The shit I've been through doesn't define me, but how I've handled it does, and whatever insecurities I may have about my current living situation, or lack of career focus, or the debt I'm still carrying, despite having made some really nice big payments from my Wedding Girl money, he is lucky. Or will be. When I meet him.

“Pumpkin time for me,” Mark says, when the song ends, and the DJ shifts into “Disco Inferno.”

“Thanks for coming tonight, I know it meant a lot to my folks and your dad and Bubbles that you were here.”

“Wouldn't have missed it for the world.”

“Well, it was nice for you to be here for a bit. Hot date to get to?” I tease him.

He winks at me. “Nope. Just me, and some popcorn, and a good old movie.”

And with that, he turns and leaves, and it takes me a moment to realize what he just said. A good old movie. It couldn't possibly be, right? I'm a crazy person. Mark is not Jake. That is patently ridiculous. I've definitely had too much champagne. And I shake it off as I catch sight of my parents heading for the cake table, and walk over to watch them dig into the best gift I could give them: sweetness.

“Okay, this shit is insane, you should bake for a living or something,” Ruth says, digging into her second helping of cake.

“So. Good,” Jean says, well into her third, each more generously portioned than the last.

“You think I have a future?”

“In cake, absolutely,” Ruth says.

“Now if only I had a job.”

“You'll get a job as soon as you don't have a job,” Jean says.

“Right. Like last time.”

“It's nothing like last time. Look, you already have one offer, or at least the promise of one. And once you are officially done at Herman's place, your focus won't be split, and you'll find the right thing. Or you'll find the wrong thing that will be a placeholder while you find the right thing,” Ruth says, licking caramel off her finger.

“Exactly,” Jean says.

“Hell, you might even find a guy,” Ruth pipes in.

“Funny you should mention that, I have a date. Two weeks from tonight.”

“Mazel tov. Who is he?” Jean asks.

“Just a guy I met online, might be nothing, but I'm looking forward to it.” Bubbles might not be computer savvy enough to question my meeting someone online and go poking around for my profile, but there was no way to tell the girls the same thing, they would have totally gone snooping.

“Ugh, better you than me with the online dating thing, I can't do it. But it works for a lot of people, so fingers crossed!” Ruth says. “Which site? I wanna see your profile.” Exactly.

“I'm so proud of you,” Jean says. She probably wouldn't be so proud if she knew the specifics, but I'm leaving those out.

“JDate.” Ruth reaches for her phone. “But I took my profile down. This guy seems interesting enough, but the process felt weird and unnatural.” Which is going to be a heck of a thing to explain to them if Jake turns out to be nothing and I do have to do the online thing for real someday.

All of a sudden, Jean and Ruth both stop. “It's our song, bitches,” Ruth says, as the opening bars of Gloria Gaynor's “I Will Survive” begin. And Jean jumps up and drags us both by the hand to the dance floor, and we dance in a group, my parents and even Bubbles and Herman joining our circle, and we sing at the tops of our voices that we will survive, and I know that I believe it.

(1938)

KATHARINE HEPBURN AS SUSAN VANCE:
You're angry, aren't you?

CARY GRANT AS DAVID HUXLEY:
Yes, I am!

KATHARINE HEPBURN AS SUSAN VANCE:
Mm-hmm. The love impulse in man frequently reveals itself in terms of conflict.

Bubbles walks into the kitchen and finds me sitting in the Nook.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?”

“Yep.”

“You look a little pale.”

“I'm just a little bit shocked.”

“By what?”

“By the call I just got.”

I've just hung up from a call with David Francisco. He has a job for me. The Astor Place Hotel wants to bring in a head event pastry chef, since the current pastry chef has his hands full enough with the needs of the restaurant and room service. Since the events job is so site-intensive and long hours, and they are anticipating doing a heavy-duty event business, the offer, which has a competitive salary and excellent benefits, also comes with
a small one-bedroom apartment in the wing of the hotel that is set up for long-term stays, should I want it. It isn't required that I live on-site if I don't want to, as long as I know what sort of hours are expected of me. It was all I could do to not jump at it right there, but I managed to keep my composure enough to thank him profusely and tell him that I would get back to him by the end of the week with my answer.

I fill Bubbles in on the development, and she weirdly doesn't seem surprised.

“I'm delighted for you, sweetheart, do you think that is something that would make you happy?”

“I do, at least I think I do. I've always thought that hotel work would be a good place for me, and I really loved that hotel, and David was a very nice guy. It certainly seems like the kind of job I could really get into. And the fact that it comes with housing is certainly a perk! When Herman moves in, you two are going to want some privacy!”

“You know you always have a home here.”

I shake my head. “I'll always have a room here, but I need to make a home somewhere else. With occasional movie-night sleepovers.”

“Fair enough. I think it's a wonderful opportunity, and I'm very glad that it is coming before you had to think about working for that woman with the teeth.”

“Hey, that woman with the teeth may be providing you and Herman with a tidy little nest egg, so don't knock her too hard.”

“Humph. We'll see about that. I'm not mixing the martinis till I see a check.”

I laugh. Mark and MarySue's attorney apparently had a decent first conversation the other day about her company purchasing the building and business, and while they are hashing
out some details, I do think that ultimately it will work itself out. Whatever her adopted business persona might be, deep down, there is still a little bit of a soft creamy center, and I think she probably feels a bit badly about knocking Herman into retirement, and is making it right . . . albeit with a savvy real estate investment, so not exactly charity.

“Alright, well, we are going to need to have a small celebration. I have one little errand to run, but when I get back, champagne?”

“Absolutely.”

“I'll be back in about an hour.”

Bubbles heads out the door. “What do you think, Snatch, should I go live in a grand hotel like Eloise?”

Snatch licks my shoe.

“That seems good enough for me.” And I toss him a treat, and head upstairs to work on Wedding Girl emails. With my new salary, and the fact that my housing is included, my days as Dear Abby to the Wedding Set are officially numbered. I should be able to pay off the remainder of my debt within the next four months or so. That will be a huge relief—as much as it isn't terribly difficult, and I've had a lot of people tell me that my advice was hugely helpful, it definitely isn't my dream to continue. The more I answer those emails the more I realize that what I like about weddings is the personal touch. Meeting the clients and caring about their details. One of the things that most excited me about Dave's offer was the thought of getting back to that. I think about meeting Amelia and how much fun it was to assist her, the joy of watching my parents taking their vows, Bubbles and Herman planning their sweet little nuptials. Maybe even someday one of my own. If I'm going to be involved, I want to be
involved
. Doling out pat answers to the same questions over and over might be lucrative, but it isn't in my soul. I've made up my mind to use it to
finish paying off my debt, and then see if Beth over at SineQuaNon wants to buy the site from me. She'll be a much better Wedding Girl than I ever was.

Nearly an hour and a half later, I hear Snatch barking his fool head off, which is very unusual; he almost never barks in the house. I can hear Herman and Bubbles, talking in hushed tones, and I head downstairs to see what the ruckus is about.

“What's going on down here?” I ask as I get to the bottom of the stairs.

“We have a little surprise for you. A present,” Bubbles says.

“Oh, I do love presents, as you know.”

“Well, I wanted to do something special, to thank you for everything you've done for me,” Herman says.

“And when he said he wanted to make you a present, I knew just the thing,” Bubbles says.

Snatch barks loudly as Bubbles and Herman lead me into the dining room. The place is covered in bags and boxes, and on the dining room table is what looks like a large basket made of rope. Then I hear the squeaking.

I walk over and look in the basket, where a tiny little pug puppy is chewing on a corner of a blanket and squeaking and scratching his ear all at once.

“You did not!” I say.

Herman puts his arm around Bubbles and they both look at me with faces full of love. “We did indeed,” Herman says, and Bubbles winks. “I always told you a girl needs a dog.”

I reach for the wiggly little piglet of a puppy, and he snuggles into my arms, immediately grabbing the end of my ponytail.

“He's a little muncher,” Herman says.

“
Oooh
, that's a good name for him.” Bubbles gets excited. “Munch!”

Oh lord. “Bubbles . . .”

“It's perfect,” Herman says. And I know I can't fight it.

“Munch it is,” I say, extricating my hair from his mouth. Sigh. At least I can just tell people I named him after the
Homicide: Life on the Street
Richard Belzer character. He turns his attention to the shoulder of my shirt, and I can feel his sharp little puppy teeth shredding the fabric already. I wrest the shirt out of his mouth and put him down on the floor, where he attacks Snatch, latching on to his tail, and the two of them yip at each other happily. I go to hug Herman and Bubbles. “Thank you both, so much, I love him. He's perfect.”

“He's perfectly peeing on the floor at the moment,” Bubbles observes.

“Oh,
Munch
!” I say, picking him up before he can walk through the puddle.

“You take the dogs out, ladies, I'll clean the floor and get the champagne ready,” Herman says, and Bubbles hands me a small leash to attach to Munch's collar.

“Snatch! Now you're all wet!” she says to the dog, who is happily rolling in the puppy puddle. Herman looks at me with a glance that says that he, unlike Bubbles, is fully aware of the implications of the dog's name, and finds it just as charming as I do. We finally get both dogs out of the house and into the brisk autumn air.

“You're amazing, you know that,” I say.

“Well, I do what I can. You are happy about him, aren't you? I know they say you should never give a pet as a present, but when Snatch's breeder called to say that she had a litter with one unclaimed, and she knew that Snatch was getting up in years, and wondered if maybe I was thinking I would want another, it just felt right for you.”

“I adore him already. And you're right, it will be good for me to have him. I can't keep waiting for every aspect of life to be
settled before doing things for myself. So he'll be my partner in crime, whatever is coming down the pike. The perfect man for the next chapter of my life.”

“Well, dear, he's a dog, not a man, and I don't recommend you confuse them. A girl still needs a little two-legged loving, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do, and also,
ewwww
!”

She shrugs. “Just telling it like I see it. Herman and I got you everything you'll need for this little guy, including a meeting tomorrow morning with a trainer. He is already crate trained, so you have a little crate to set up next to your bed, and it has a blanket in it from the crate the breeder was using, so the smell will soothe him. Herman and I are going out for the evening, and then we'll stay at his house with Snatch tonight, so the two of you can get a bit settled. Plus if I know your girls, they are going to head over as soon as you call them to come meet him.”

She's right about that. “Thank you, Bubbles, it's all just so amazing.”

“
Munch!
Snatch is not food; you cannot munch on Snatch!” She
tsks
at the puppy, and quickly hands me a treat to distract him from attacking the older dog, who is looking at us with a world-weary face. I snicker to myself, and pull my new best buddy off, and the four of us continue our walk around the block.

“He's so stinking cute,” Jean says, reaching for another chip, and looking over at Munch, who is curled up asleep in Amelia's lap.

“Seriously. I could rethink my no pet policy,” Ruth says.

“I kinda want to eat him,” Amelia says, poking gently at the pup's ear just to watch it twitch.

“I can't believe it, and lord knows I would have said no if she'd asked, but I'm glad she did it. I love him already. Remind me of that when it's forty below windchill and I'm waiting for him to poop.”

“I want to hear more about this date,” Ruth says.

“Oooh. A date! I didn't know you had a date. Who with?” Amelia asks.

“Some guy she met online,” Jean says.

“Not Best Man?” Amelia says. I had bragged a bit about my influence after Jake sent me the full report on the success of the bachelor party, including that the frat boy brothers went out of their way to say that it was the best bachelor party they had ever been to.

I pause, and smile a little.

“Wait, Best Man? What does she know?” Ruth says.

“Didn't you tell them about the site?” Amelia asks.

“What site?” Ruth says, clearly annoyed that Amelia knows something she doesn't.

“The advice site I did for Sophie.”

You can practically hear the needle scratching across the record. Crap. Well, what the hell. They're my best friends, what's the worst that can happen.

“I've got a sort of event advice site that I've been doing on the side.”

“Event advice,” Jean says.

“Yeah, you know, sort of event-specific ideas or how to handle challenges sort of thing. Like Martha Stewart meets Dear Abby,” I say.