Page 14 of My Ex-Best Friend's Wedding

“Not exactly. We had discussed living together, but not in any really serious way.”

“I can’t believe he did it in front of an audience and with backup singers.”

“Yeah, well, you know that question about if a tree falls in the forest and no one’s there to hear it, did it make a sound? With Spencer if there’s no audience then it probably didn’t happen.”

There’s a silence on the other end. She knows just how much I hate being the center of attention and I have no doubt that she’s already seen through the grinning. But she’s a bit off her game, too. Normally she’d already be all over the positives of the situation.

“But you are glad? I mean, you do want to marry him, don’t you?” she asks more tentatively.

“Who wouldn’t want to marry Spencer?” I say even though we both know this is not actually an answer. “Of course I want to marry him!” I add the exclamation point because it’s true and because my grin is slipping. “I just wasn’t expecting it. And you know me, I don’t really like surprises. Plus, the cast was singing and everyone in the restaurant was watching.”

“It does sound like a very significant romantic gesture.” There’s the positivity I’m used to.

“Yes,” I reply, my grin slipping further. “But I guess I would have preferred some warning. And maybe a little more privacy for such a private moment.”

“Aww, honey.”

Her understanding makes me want to cry. “Well, I suppose one person’s romantic moment can be someone else’s uncomfortable one.” My attempt at humor falls flat. And there’s another silence on the other end.

“You do realize that you’re allowed to change your mind and your answer. Until you walk down the aisle. And even sometimes after you do.” She pauses and something I can’t identify steals into her voice. “There are people who suddenly change their minds even at the altar. I read a statistic somewhere that five percent of marriages get called offonthe day of the wedding.”

I snort. “Where in the world did you read that? I mean, who keeps those kinds of statistics and who besides a crackpot would show up and then change their mind?”

There’s another silence on the other end. I gather that I’m missing something, but I can’t imagine what.

“Have you talked about where you’ll get married?” she asks.

“No, not yet.” I’ve given up on the smiling and am now going for matter-of-fact.

“Well, you know I can’t wait to meet Spencer. When could you bring him for a visit?”

“I agree it’s definitely time for you and Spencer to meet. But why don’t you fly up here?” I try not to beg, but the very last thing I want to do right now is come down and parade Spencer around. And how will I explain the ex-best friend I’ve barely mentioned and the former boyfriend she’s married to? “You could meet his family and we could discuss possibilities. There’s plenty of time to work out wedding details. It’s not like we’ve set a date yet or anything.”

“I’d really prefer that you come here, Lauren. It’s been far too long and I’m sure Spencer would like to see where you grew up.”

It’s unlike my mother to insist. She’s the last one to push or prod and she’s generally been willing to come to New York or meet me somewhere before. We’ve had “girls’” trips to Charleston and New Orleans. Once we spent a week in the Keys.

“Is everything okay?” Suddenly I’m imagining all kinds of worst-case scenarios. “Are you all right? You’re not... sick or anything, are you?” I can’t handle even the idea of my mother being ill. I swallow. (A turbocharged imagination is a much bigger asset when you’re writing fiction than it is in real life.) Within ten seconds I go from illness to incurable. She is my entire family. We are all the other has. Is forty too old to be an orphan? Clearly all that grinning has turned me into a crazy person.

“Of course I’m not ill,” she says. “I’d just really love for you two to come down so that Spencer and I can get acquainted and we can show him around. Maybe we can even look at venues. And, of course, that way you can try on THE DRESS.”

She has just dangled the ultimate carrot in front of me. And given how rarely my mother ever asks for anything, it’s not as if I’m going to refuse. “All right. I’ll check Spencer’s schedule and see how soon he can get away.”

Eight

Lauren

Spencer’s parents, Gene and Nancy Harrison, are very lovely people who sometimes seem to forget that New York City is part of a larger country. In their early seventies, they look and act younger—which is easier when you are wealthy, of course— and get on remarkably well for people who met in grammar school and started dating when Nancy was only fifteen. They have a wide circle of friends, enjoy good food, see every show and performance worth seeing, are almost fanatic supporters of the arts, and serve on numerous boards and committees. They live in an incredible brownstone on East 65th between Fifth and Madison, just a block from Central Park, that’s been in the Harrison family for a couple generations. While they have traveled extensively in Europe and Asia and parts of the Middle East, if they had a family motto it would be “If you can’t do it or get it in New York it is most likely not worth doing or having.”

All in all they’ve been very welcoming and I’ve grown increasingly comfortable in their home, but I don’t see myself sprawling on the Louis XIV sofa anytime soon.

Tonight we’re celebrating Spencer and my engagement with a family dinner that includes Gene and Nancy, Gene’s mother, Grace, who is in her early nineties and has a private suite of rooms that take up half of one floor of the five-story home, and Spencer’s younger sister, Molly, her husband, Mac, and theirtwo-year-old twins, Matthew and Mariah. (Who could totally appear onSesame Streetthe next time the letterMis presented.) Spencer’s older sister, Anna, along with her second husband and his children from a former marriage, lives in San Francisco. A city these dyed-in-the-wool New Yorkers visit on occasion, but about which they seem ambivalent.

Although this was billed as a casual family meal, it takes place in the formal dining room, and we’re served by two maids in uniform.

“I know how nervous Spencer was,” Grace says after we’re seated. “Were you surprised?” This is my first clue that everyone in his family knew he was going to propose before I did.

“Definitely. In fact, it took me a little while to understand what was happening,” I admit.

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