Sarah shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You’re going to just sit up here and wait like . . . like what, like a prize in a pi?ata?”
Lauren gives up out of her own curiosity and a desire to get away from Sarah, who is not speaking, because there’s nothing left to speak about. She’s promised to report back on what she finds. So far, so good. Willa and Lulu have done an impressive job, reorganizing the elements of the house to show it to its best advantage, to make the most of the house’s charm, but also its expanse, the fact that it continues to unfold all around you, that beyond the living room there’s another sitting room you wouldn’t have anticipated, that off the dining room there’s a powder room, that there are so many places in the house to sit and catch up, or congregate and laugh. It’s a good house for a party and the obvious choice for the wedding, even though she knows it wasn’t Sarah’s first choice. She knows just why, too—that air of inevitability. Sarah hates doing what is expected of her, even though that’s just what she ends up doing most of the time.
Lauren does the circuit: through the living room, into the library, back into the hallway, peeks in the dining room, takes the stairs down. Here, too, an impressive job, the kitchen table and chairs banished, the room open and light, and beyond, the garden, tented, in case of rain, though there’s none threatening, after all. There’s not enough room for many seats, just a few for the older guests, but standing, everyone should be able to see the ceremony, lit by paper lanterns overhead. It’s pretty. Dan is here, in his tuxedo, with his parents.
“Lauren!” Dan waves her over. She walks through the kitchen and he walks through the yard and they meet just at the threshold. He touches her arm affectionately. “You look beautiful.”
“Wait until you see your almost-wife,” she says.
“You remember my parents.” Dan gestures toward his distinguished-looking parents, his silver-haired mother, Ruth, in a sensible but still chic dress, not baggy but certainly forgiving, his father, Andrew, his tuxedoed twin, the very image of Dan’s own future: thick neck, puffy hands, intensely focused eyes.
“Hi, again,” Lauren says. “Did you have fun last night?”
“It was wonderful,” Ruth says. “I ate so much. Sarah told us the whole evening was your idea, and I have to say, you really put together an incredible party.”
“That’s so sweet, thank you,” Lauren says. She’s being sincere but a false note always creeps into her voice when she’s talking to other people’s parents.
“A great time,” his father agrees. “How’s everyone holding up here?”
“I think we’re basically ready,” she says. “I’m down here on reconnaissance.”
Huck ambles over to them, draping an arm over the shoulders of father and son. “The inner circle,” he says. “What are we talking about?”
“I’m just saying I snuck down here to check things out,” Lauren says. “We’re all ready and waiting up there, but I wanted to be where the action is.”
“I’d say it’s upstairs, no? The lady of the hour.” Huck grins.
“Sure,” she says. Huck has to have his say.
“Just tell Sarah to come downstairs,” Dan says, impatient.
Ruth looks scandalized. “Daniel! It’s terrible luck.”
“Mom.” Dan rolls his eyes. We’re all teenagers again, when our parents are involved.
“I tried, believe me,” Lauren says. “Propriety, though.”
“It’s not 1951,” Dan says.
“Have a little respect for tradition, Dan,” Andrew says. “You’ve only an hour or so to go.”
“That’s assuming that everyone will arrive on time, which I think we all know to be unlikely.” Huck laughs. “My poor daughter. Should I go up to visit, help pass the time?”
“Pass along some fatherly words of wisdom?” Ruth might, possibly, be teasing Huck, but it’s so gentle no one notices.
“I have some of that,” Huck says.
“I’m sure she’d love some company,” Lauren says. “She’s just sitting up there waiting for her life to begin.”
“Now, now,” Huck says, as though it’s the beginning of a thought, then trails off, says nothing more.
“Has Sarah eaten?” Sarah’s mother-in-law-to-be: concerned.
“She’s eaten,” Lauren says. “I made her two boiled eggs. Protein.”
“You’re a good friend.” Doctor Ruth Burton squeezes Lauren’s forearm gently. “I remember when we got married, I was starving, no one told me I had to eat anything, and then I could barely focus through the whole damn thing, and to this day when I look at our wedding pictures I look so angry, because I’m hungry.”
“Well, this will all be over soon enough,” Dan says.
“What kind of a thing is that to say?” Dan’s mother shakes her head disapprovingly. “Maybe you need something to eat, Daniel.”