“Las Vegas…” she says, in a tone Miri has heard a million times, as if ordinary people can’t possibly live there.
The program begins as dessert is served, plates of cookies and some kind of mousse that Miri pushes away. The mayor introduces Henry Ammerman. Oh, god, it’s going to be in alphabetical order? She’s going to be next? She doesn’t want to go next. Doesn’t want to get up in front of these people at all, especially not in front of Mason.
“He was a young reporter for the Daily Post then,” the mayor says. “Today, he’s a prizewinning journalist for The Washington Post. Ladies and gentleman, Henry Ammerman.” Enthusiastic applause.
Henry speaks well, painting a picture of Elizabeth at that time—the fear, the chaos, the adolescent rumors involving spaceships, zombies, sabotage, ultimately of a community coming together. Miri is as proud of him today as she was then. She smiles at Leah. Miri has never been as close to Leah as she’d once hoped. She supposes it has to do with the distance between them, which has become more than geographical. Leah was maternal to her during her college years, when she chose American University, with a major in journalism. But Miri was into trying her wings when she came to Washington, and Leah wanted to clip them. The last thing Miri needed was another mother. She offered to babysit her little cousins once a month, more if she found she had a free weekend. She’d had plenty of experience by then with her brothers, William and Stuart, born a year apart. She’d spent her high school years surrounded by babies and toddlers.
By senior year Leah was lobbying for her to stay in D.C. “There’s not one good reason for you to go back to that ridiculous town.”
“There’s my family,” Miri said. “And a job offer from the Sun.”
“You can do better. Go to New York. Don’t waste all that talent.”
When Miri said, “I’m just going home for the summer,” Leah didn’t buy it.
“There’s a boy, isn’t there? The one you met over the holidays.”
Well, yes, there was someone she’d met over the holidays, a dental intern working for Dr. O. But so what? Half the girls in her graduating class were already engaged, showing off their diamond rings every chance they got.
“What’s his name?” Leah said.
“Andy. He’s from San Francisco. Went to Stanford.” She hoped Leah would be impressed.
“Andy.”
“Yes.”
“You’re just twenty-two, Miri.”
She knew how old she was.
“Give yourself a chance.”
“I’m not getting married.”
“You will.”
“Someday.”
“Just don’t settle.”
“I won’t settle.”
She didn’t give a hoot about a diamond ring, and the idea of one had probably never entered Andy’s mind. When they became engaged a year later, he gave her new skis and a black pearl to wear around her neck on a chain. She still wears it, is wearing it now. He was a young dentist then and insisted on checking her teeth, like a horse dealer buying a mare. “Nice,” he’d said, once he had her in the chair. “Healthy gums.” Before she’d even closed her mouth he’d asked, “Will you marry me?”
“This is a proposal?” she’d said.
He’d nodded, embarrassed, and brought out a bottle of Champagne he’d hidden in the cabinet. He filled two pleated paper cups and passed one to her.
“I must be the first person ever to be proposed to in a dental chair.”
“Is that a yes?” he said.
She gulped down the Champagne, held out her cup for more. “Yes!”
Her family was happy. Marrying Andy would mean she’d stay in Las Vegas. Henry was always supportive. If she was happy, he was happy for her. They didn’t marry for another year. When they did, Ben Sapphire gave them a bungalow.
—
THE MAYOR CALLS Miri’s name. She still goes by Ammerman. If she’d taken Andy’s name, Zinn, she’d be at the end of the program. She thinks about walking out the door and not coming back. But Henry comes to her side, takes her arm, walks her up to the podium, the way he walked her down the aisle on her wedding day, sharing her with Dr. O, who was on her other side. Two of the best fathers any girl could have.