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Conrad shook his head, looking confused. “I thought guys just wore suits for weddings.”
“Well, yeah, but you guys are his best men, so you’re all dressing alike. Khaki shorts and white-linen button-down shirts. He didn’t tell you?”
“This is the first I’m hearing about linen shirts. Or being a best man.”
I rolled my eyes. “Jeremiah needs to get on the ball.
Of course you’re his best man. You and Steven both are.”
“How can there be two best men? ‘Best’ implies only one.” Biting into his corn on the cob, he said, “Let Steven be it, I don’t care.”
“No! You’re Jeremiah’s brother. You have to be his best man.”
My phone rang as I was explaining to him what being the best man entailed. I didn’t recognize the number, but since the wedding pla
“Is this Isabel?” I didn’t recognize the voice. She sounded older, like someone my mother’s age. Whoever she was, she had a thick Boston accent.
I said, “Um, this is she. I mean, her.”
“My name is Denise Coletti, I’m calling from Adam Fisher’s office.”
“Oh … hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yes, hello. I just need you to okay a few things for your wedding. I’ve selected a catering service called Elegantly Yours; they do events around the area. They’re doing this very last-minute for us; this caterer books months in advance for parties. Is this all right with you?”
Faintly, I said, “Sure.”
Conrad looked at me quizzically, and I mouthed, Denise Coletti. His eyes widened, and he gestured for me to give him the phone. I waved his hand away.
Then Denise Coletti said, “Now, how many people are you expecting?”
“Twenty, if everyone can come.”
“Adam told me more like forty. I’ll check with him.” I could hear her typing. “So probably four to five appetizers a person. Do we want a vegetarian option for the meal?”
“I don’t think Jeremiah and I have any vegetarian friends.”
“All right. Are you going to want to go and do a tast-ing? I think you probably should.”
“Uh, okay.”
“Wonderful. I’ll book you for next week, then. Now for seating arrangements. Do you want two or three long tables or five round tables?”
“Um …” I hadn’t even thought of tables. And what was she talking about, forty? I was wishing I had Taylor next to me to tell me what to do. “Can I get back to you on that?”
Denise let out a little sigh, and I knew I had said the wrong thing. “Sure, but be as quick as you can so I can give them the go-ahead. That’s all for now. I’ll be touching base with you again later this week. Oh, and congratulations.”
“Thank you very much, Denise.”
Next to me, Conrad called out, “Hi, Denise!”
She said, “Is that Co
“Denise says hello,” I told him.
Then she said mazol tov, and we hung up.
“What’s going on?” Conrad asked me. He had a corn kernel stuck on his cheek. “Why is Denise calling you?”
I put my phone down and said, “Um, apparently, your 184 · je
dad’s secretary is our wedding pla
Blandly, he said, “That’s good news.”
“How is that good news?”
“It means my dad is okay with you guys getting married. And he’s paying for it.” Conrad started to cut his chicken.
“Huh. Wow.” I stood up. “I’d better call Jere. Wait, it’s the middle of the day. He’s still at work.”
I sat back down.
I probably should have felt relieved that someone else was taking over, but instead I just felt overwhelmed. This wedding was getting a lot bigger than I had imagined it.
Now we were renting tables? It was all too much, too sudden.
Across from me, Conrad was buttering another ear of corn. I looked down at my plate. I wasn’t hungry anymore. I felt sick to my stomach.
“Eat,” Conrad said.
I took a small bite of chicken.
I wouldn’t get to talk to Jeremiah until later that evening. But the person I really wanted to talk to was my mother. She would have known how to configure the tables and where to seat everyone. Denise wasn’t the one I wanted to swoop in and tell me what to do, and not Mr. Fisher either, or even Susa
Chapter Thirty-seven
Conrad
It didn’t really hit me how hard of a time Belly was having until I heard her on the phone with Taylor later that week. She had her door open, and I was brushing my teeth in the hall bathroom.
I heard her say, “Taylor, I really appreciate what your mom is trying to do, but I promise you, it’s okay… . I know, but it would just feel too weird with all the adults from the neighborhood at my wedding shower and then my mom not being there… .” I heard her sigh and say,
“Yeah, I know. Okay. Tell your mom thanks.”
She closed her door then, and I was pretty sure I heard her start to cry.
I went to my room, lay down on my bed, and stared up at the ceiling.
Belly hadn’t let on to me how sad she was about her mom. She was an upbeat kind of person, naturally cheerful, like Jere. If there was a bright side, Belly would find it. Hearing her cry, it shook me up. I knew I should stay out of it. That was the smart thing to do. She didn’t need me looking out for her. She was a big girl. Besides, what could I do for her?
I was definitely staying out of it.
The next morning, I got up early to see Laurel. It was still dark out when I left. I called her on the way and asked if she could meet for breakfast. Laurel was surprised, but she didn’t ask questions; she said she’d meet me at a diner off the highway.
I guess Laurel had always been special to me. Ever since I was a kid, I just liked being near her. I liked the way you could be quiet around her, and with her. She didn’t talk down to kids. She treated us like equals. After my mom died and I transferred to Stanford, I started calling Laurel every once in a while. I still liked talking to her, and I liked that she reminded me of my mom without it hurting too much. It was like a link to home.
She got to the diner first—she was sitting in a booth waiting for me. “Co
“Hey, Laur,” I said, hugging her back. She felt gaunt in my arms, but she smelled the same. Laurel always had a clean, ci
I sat down across from her. After we ordered, pancakes and bacon for both of us, she said, “So how have you been?”
“I’ve been all right,” I said, chugging down some juice.
Holy crap. How was I supposed to broach this subject?
This wasn’t my style. It didn’t come naturally to me, the way it would for Jere. I was butting in on something that wasn’t my business. But I had to do it. For her.
I cleared my throat and said, “I called you because I wanted to talk about the wedding.”
Her face got tight, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Laur, I think you should go. I think you should be part of it. You’re her mom.”
Laurel stirred her coffee, and then she looked at me and said, “You think they should get married?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then, what do you think?”
“I think they love each other and they’re going to do it regardless of what anyone else thinks. And … I think that Belly really needs her mom right now.”
Drily, she said, “Isabel seems to be doing just fine without me. She never even called to let me know where she was. I had to hear it from Adam—who, by the way, is apparently paying for this wedding now. Classic Adam.
And now Steven’s a best man, and Belly’s dad is going to give in the way he always does. It seems I’m the only holdout.”
“Belly isn’t fine. She’s barely eating. And … I heard her crying last night. She was saying how Taylor’s mom is throwing her a wedding shower but it won’t feel right without her mom there.”