“I’m fine, let’s go home,” he insisted. But he looked more tired than he wanted to admit, and he seemed suddenly small in the bed. He had such a mane of hair, and with his bulky sweaters and heavy work boots, one forgot how thin he was. He appeared frail now, which frightened her.
“They said you can go home in the morning.”
“Then you go home now and get some sleep. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You just did it for attention.” She smiled.
“I saw you looking at that boy tonight,” he teased her about Olivia’s new beau. “You don’t fool me. You’re a wanton woman,” he accused her with a grin.
“Well, you don’t need to fake a heart attack to find out how much I love you. You know I do.”
“Do you, Gabbie?” he asked gently, suddenly appearing vulnerable and old to her. Seeing him that way made her feel old too, although she wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, least of all to him.
“Of course I do. I wish I could climb into bed with you,” she said gently, and he smiled.
“Why don’t you? It’ll shock the nurses. It’s good for them.” He pulled back the covers for her and she laughed and tucked him in again.
“Do you want anything?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he said with a smug look.
“What is it?”
“I think we should get married,” he said seriously. It had been his mantra for years.
“There are no shoulds at our age. We can do whatever we want.”
“Good. I want to marry you,” he said stubbornly.
“We don’t need to get married. We already are in all the ways that matter.”
“Not legally. What do you have against marriage? You’re such a rebel.” She took it as a compliment and smiled at him.
“It’s such a bourgeois institution, it’s embarrassing. We’re more creative than that.”
“We can be creative and married.” He never got anywhere with his arguments. She had been resistant to the idea of marriage all her life. Both before she married at thirty-five, which was considered old at the time, and after she was widowed at thirty-seven. She had never been tempted to try again. She had had lovers and long-term relationships, especially with him for fourteen years, but she had no desire to legalize it or make it official, and he did. “You might give me another anxiety attack if you refuse,” he threatened with a grin.
“Oh shut up. Now go to sleep, you need to rest or they won’t let you go home tomorrow.”
“I’ll leave anyway,” he said, and reached out and held her hand. They sat that way for a long time, dozing off, until at last they both fell asleep, she in the chair and he in bed, holding hands. They slept that way all night.
The nurses smiled when they came to check on him, and left the room soundlessly.
“That’s true love in there,” one of them said to the other, and they exchanged a smile. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
“They’re cute together. I wouldn’t mind finding one like that.”
“I don’t think they get like that till they’re about a hundred,” one nurse said, and the other laughed, and eventually, they just let them be, to sleep for the rest of the night. They never let go of each other’s hands as they slept.
Chapter 16
Eileen’s first event for Eileen Jackson Events went off seamlessly. The crystal tents arrived on time and went up without a problem. They were “crystal” because they were transparent and you could see the lush gardens through them. There were three tents on the grounds, one for eating, with tables set with gleaming crystal and silver, one for dancing, big enough for a twelve-piece band, two singers, and a dance floor that had been painted pink, and another for the ceremony, filled with pink flowers. Each tent had to accommodate all three hundred guests. There were chandeliers in each tent.
The linens were perfect, the exact shade of the bride’s dress. There was a gift for each guest at their place, a Tiffany silver heart dish, engraved with the bride and groom’s initials and the date. The flower arrangements on each table were spectacular, done by a florist Max had found who charged them a tenth of what everyone else wanted to. There were garlands of pink flowers, rented topiary trees, lily of the valley everywhere, among the pink flowers. The food was delicious, supervised by both Eileen and Max, and the wedding cake was a masterpiece. Max made it himself, in pink, with pink sugar work Eileen had done, and real flowers on it, tiny pink roses and more lily of the valley. Eileen had gotten the bride an appointment at Oscar de la Renta, for an exquisite pale pink organdie dress with a long train, which was ready on time and fit her like a glove.
The videographer showed up, and the wedding photographer had given them a decent rate.
Mrs. Melling, Sandy, had spent seven hundred thousand dollars on the wedding without batting an eye, and thought she got a deal because everything was so perfect, stress-free, and effortless for her. To make that happen, Max and Eileen had jumped through flaming hoops to get the best quality supplies, the prettiest décor, the freshest flowers, the most talented people willing to work for lower prices for the exposure. They had watched every single detail, pressured every supplier, tasted all the food, checked the quality of everything. Nothing had gone awry or escaped their notice. And the results were flawless. The bride wasn’t beautiful in a classic sense, but she looked lovely on her wedding day, had gotten the pink wedding that she dreamed of, and said everything was more beautiful than her first wedding, which was done by a famous wedding planner, had cost her parents two million dollars for five hundred people, and wasn’t nearly as nice.
Sandy Melling had thanked them a thousand times all night long. There were a few things that Eileen thought she might have done differently for efficiency’s sake, and Max agreed, but they were learning.
By the end of the evening, Eileen had had four requests for meetings with new clients, three of them for weddings and one for a fiftieth anniversary party, where they wanted everything in gold, flatware, china, crystal, tablecloths, dance floor, tents. Their business was off and running. The last guest left at four A.M., and then they had to break everything down by morning to return to the rental companies. Max and Eileen oversaw it all themselves as the men worked taking it all apart. One day, they might have staff to supervise the breakdown, but for now it was only them. They had made a handsome profit on the wedding, and Max a healthy commission, but it wasn’t the money that thrilled either of them, although that was nice. The real thrill was knowing that everything had gone perfectly, and the client was happy. No one had failed, disappointed anyone, or not shown up. And the quality of the food had been exceptional.