“DO YOU want a tissue?” William said to my mother, in an attempt at humor. He nodded at Mrs. Lin’s ample bosom, where a Kleenex was indeed poking out, at the ready. “Because I know where to find one.”
In response, my mother just blinked, trying to hold back the tears of frustration that were brimming in her eyes. Just moments earlier, she’d found out via text that the next week’s wedding, for which we’d done tons of legwork and put down multiple deposits, had been called off. Then, as she was absorbing that news, Mrs. Lin approached and unloaded a loud, shrieking tirade about her sudden, strong dislike of the tulle bows tied on the backs of the chairs, which had been her idea in the first place. It was the latest in a long day of similar takedowns over tiny details; anyone else would have cracked hours earlier. It took my mom until now, almost eight p.m. and three hours past the ceremony, but finally, she’d gotten there.
As William patted her shoulder, moving his hand in that familiar soothing circle, I forced myself to take a deep breath. I hated to see my mother upset. Mostly because it never happened, so it was kind of scary, like the world—or my world—was tilting the wrong way on its axis.
“Louna, I’m fine,” she said to me now, clearly aware of this. “I’m pissed off, not sad. And it’s mostly about the Marlo Wagner cancellation. At least now we know why she bailed on the photo shoot.”
“Being yelled at about the chair bows did not help matters, though,” William said, moving his hand now in the other direction. “Considering we were clear we were against it from the start. Who wants their chair gift wrapped? And then she takes her bad decision out on you? Unacceptable.”
“I hate this wedding,” my mother grumbled, wiping her eyes with a tissue not snatched from someone’s chest.
“And I hate that woman,” William told her. “But let’s look at the upside, shall we? No Wagner wedding next weekend means we can actually go on that freebie trip to check out St. Samara for the Kerr wedding.”
“Oh, God,” my mother groaned. “Are you still even thinking about that? We don’t do out of town weddings. And now you want to try one on an island?”
“Correction. I want to take a free trip to an island under the guise of considering a wedding there,” he told her. “Just think about it. Beach, clear blue water, cocktails with umbrellas, all expenses paid. If you didn’t already deserve it, you definitely do after tonight.”
As if to punctuate this, Mrs. Lin began at that moment to lay into a member of the catering staff. The woman, startled, cowered back, a tray of empty glasses trembling above her. I looked over to the head table, where Elinor Lin was huddled close with her new husband, their heads ducked together, both of them smiling. While part of me wished she’d take responsibility for the tornado that was her mother, I had to admit she looked awfully happy. And God knew she probably deserved it. We’d only dealt with Mrs. Lin for a few weeks. I couldn’t imagine an entire life.
As I thought this, Ambrose walked up to our little confab. “All clear on the fainting junior bridesmaid,” he reported. “I just checked on her again and she’s fine.”
Hearing this, I glanced over at the head table, where, sure enough, the tween who’d passed out during the vows earlier was now giggling with one of the flower girls. We were used to people getting woozy, if not blacking out altogether. It was why my mom always gave her “don’t lock your knees and standing will be a breeze” speech at rehearsals, especially when it was hot outside. Inevitably, though, we had a few people go down, and this girl had done it in spectacular fashion, crashing into a flower arrangement and taking it with her. When she came to and realized what happened, she was so embarrassed she burst into tears.
I’d led her into a side room, water in hand, prepared to stay with her there until the ceremony ended. But it was Ambrose who proved to be crucial in the moment.
“You think that was bad?” he asked her, sliding into the folding chair adjacent to her own. “I’ll tell you about embarrassing. This one time? I was trying to walk backward while talking to a girl and didn’t see the curb. Fell over it, landed right on my tailbone, screamed like a baby. It was horrifying.”
The junior bridesmaid, face red, just looked at him. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, waving his hand easily. “And that was nothing. Another time, at school, I was giving this presentation on toxic waste and my pants fell down. I was into baggy clothes then, but man, not that baggy.”
At this, I laughed: I couldn’t help myself. He grinned at me, then at the girl, who now had the barest semblance of a smile. “And another time,” he continued, lowering his voice slightly, “I was messing with this tape dispenser and it exploded in front of my boss and this seriously pretty girl who worked with me. There was smoke, and I had to get down on the floor and clean it all up, in front of everyone.”
I blinked, remembering. He sure hadn’t seemed embarrassed. And I was pretty now, in this retelling? Just as I thought this, he looked up at me, the tween now tittering beside him, and I felt myself smile. I’d realized a lot of things about Ambrose that day and since, but this one always surprised me. He was kind. So kind. Who knew?
Now I watched as he adjusted his tie, then said to us, “DJ says they’ll do the bouquet and garter toss in fifteen. Next, another half hour of dancing, followed by the grand exit. Then we can start kicking people out.”
“Starting with Mrs. Lin,” I said, as my mother gave me a smile.
“Good luck with that,” he replied. “She just read me the riot act about the dessert forks. I don’t even know what those are.”
My mother, hearing this, turned to look at the nearest table, taking in the place settings there. Even when she thought someone was crazy, she still wanted things to be just right. It was either a professional strength or weakness: I had not yet figured out which.
“Oh, and Louna,” Ambrose added, as she picked up a fork, conferring with William, “that guy at table ten asked if I knew where you were. Just a hunch, but I’m betting he doesn’t know your strict policy about dancing.”
“I don’t have a policy about dancing,” I told him. “Just dancing at weddings at which I am working.”
“Well, you better tell him. Because here he comes.”
Sure enough, when I turned, Ben Reed was approaching from behind me, that same familiar easygoing smile on his face. My mom and William moved aside, giving me space, and I expected Ambrose to follow suit. But of course, he stayed right where he was.
“Hey,” Ben said. “You disappeared.”
“This is the kind of wedding that keeps you running,” I explained. “Having a good time?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at Ambrose. “Um, actually, I wanted to ask you something.”
Now, surely, Ambrose would leave us alone. He didn’t. I turned my body, to at least block him out. “Sure,” I said.