I wanted to ask him about the necklace and the wine. I wanted to ask about the nonexistent dress fitting and if they were selling the house. I wanted to ask if Miles almost fainted when he turned the doorknob.
But today was about Miles and Violet. And Shay. It wasn’t about me and it wasn’t about Celia. How I longed for the distance and detachment I felt from my usual wedding couples, their history and lives revealed only in reenacted sweetness and photo montage videos.
I sat in what had been Celia’s chair at the table. I didn’t know who sat there now, or if no one did. I pulled my tablet out of my bag, turned it on, and slid it toward Miles. “Why don’t you look at these photos and show me which ones you like, and which ones you think Violet would like.”
Miles scrolled through the photos with hardly a glance, as if swiping away losers on a dating app. He stopped on a photo of a couple under a tree. His eyes traced the couples in the next few photos as well. Was he thinking about himself and Celia standing amidst the trees at Jasper Pond? About the wedding where he was the groom and I was the maid of honor? About his life with Violet where I was an interloper? Maybe he was not really looking or thinking anything at all. Most likely.
“Will you be on the hook with Simon Hester for doing a side job?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to pay you? Will Hester be mad? We’re not exactly ‘high profile’ here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I do not want you to pay me. And who do you think Simon is? The godfather of the hotel mafia or something?”
“I just know he’s a serious businessman.”
“He’s a really nice guy.”
“Nice guys don’t build mini empires. And they’re not named eligible bachelors in national magazines.”
Miles was wrong again.
“You stopped at a photo back there. What caught your eye?”
“Nothing, but I think this is really Violet’s area of expertise. I’m in charge of the bar.”
“Great, because I could really use a drink.”
“Nice.”
“I was only kidding, Miles. Did you have to pack up your sense of humor to hit the campaign trail?”
He grimaced and pushed the tablet toward me. “It’s not easy raising a daughter alone, Teddi. And working full time. And trying to have a life. And planning a wedding.”
Or having me here.
“Sometimes it’s all just a lot. Can’t you just take the pictures? Do we really have to discuss it?”
“It’s protocol.”
He cocked his head and lifted one eyebrow.
“Okay, so it’s usually protocol to have the bride and groom look through photos and let me know what they like, what they don’t like, what they want their photos to be like. Violet wants to do this, I can tell. And I think Shay would like it too.”
“I know. Can you just make sure the three of you do it together? No one gets left out, okay?”
“Sure.” I tapped the tablet and opened another online photo album. This one was headshots for Hester executives, all except for Simon. “I can take some headshots while I’m here. If you want. For your campaign, or just for work. I have a lot of time between now and the wedding.”
Miles stared at the tablet.
“We don’t have to.”
“Let me think about it?”
“Sure. What made you want to run for office anyway? I don’t remember you ever having political aspirations.”
“Things change. Now I just want to make a difference. Leave a mark. Improve what goes on in the county for future generations. Bring in more commerce, attract tourists.”
“To Union County?”
“Why not?”
I rolled my eyes.
“A hotel by the outlets would be perfect. It’s near the airport and close enough to Chance to attract some shoppers and history buffs. West End Cemetery is the oldest in the county, did you know that? Real estate is doing well because of the jobs in the area.” And with that he changed the subject.
“You don’t like San Francisco?”
“I love it. But I’m not there for more than a few days at a time. And when I’m there I’m living out of a suitcase.” Or one drawer at Simon’s.
“So rent an apartment. Or buy a house. You must make enough money. You don’t—”
Miles stopped.
“What? I don’t have any responsibilities? Attachments? Yes, I know. I also travel all the time.”
He tucked the box of crackers back onto the shelf. He closed the cabinet door without making a sound, as if a baby were sleeping nearby. Then he lowered his voice, certain not to wake the nonexistent baby. “You should have a place to call home, Teddi. Even if it’s not Chance. Especially if it’s not Chance.”
I clamped my lips to hold everything inside. Miles turned away, unable, unwilling, uninterested to know more. I watched as he puttered, wiping the counter, turning on the dishwasher, watering a windowsill plant in a painted terracotta pot I recognized from a Web chat with Shay. I envisioned Simon, and how his condo with the waterfront view could be the home where I could putter and water plants. My clothes would hang in a walk-in closet as big as a hotel room, but without dry cleaner bags. Nothing would stay folded indefinitely inside the Samsonite suitcases my parents had given me for college graduation. Simon’s condo that could be “our condo” had four bedrooms—each one with a view of the Bay Bridge.
I would have it all.
“Teddi, did you hear me?”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry.”
“Are you staying for dinner?”
“Do you think Shay could visit me in San Francisco instead of us meeting in Chicago? I mean, if I ever did end up making that a more permanent home? Like one with a guest room?”
“I guess. Is this something we have to decide right now?”
“No.”
“Are you staying for dinner?”
“Is that something we have to decide right now?”
Miles smiled. “I guess not.”
“Let’s have some photos ready to show Violet when she gets back.”
“I think she’d like to see Gretchen Halliday’s photos, but I don’t think she’d ask you.”
Everyone wanted to see the photos of the actress’s wedding to the Olympic skier. And then to mimic them.
“I’m not really supposed to but … I can show her a few.” I meant it to sound more secret-spy-like than it did. “Can you at least give me a list of the wedding party? Or tell me how many tables you’re going to have so I can put that into my notes?”
Miles picked up the tablet again and scrolled back through the photos, stopping at one with the bride and groom sitting on a tree swing. “Do you ever wonder if people are as happy as they seem in your pictures?”
“They’re usually happy that day. After that I never see them again, so it doesn’t matter.” I stammered. “Of course, it won’t be that way with you and Violet. And it does matter to me if you’re happy. I haven’t forgotten all the fun times we had. All those years we were the Three Amigos even when you would have rather been alone with Celia. You did that for her. I always appreciated how you included me.”