Chapter 12: Rehearsal

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

Dad has been running a business since he was my age. It was much smaller then, but that tells you how good he was. For the rehearsal dinner, he requested the catering division's best chef come out to the house and do a dinner. That caused a bit of a stir, rather like the golden apple in Troy. The result was sort of Top Chef, a dozen years before the show debuted. They still do it every fourth year. Last year the prize was a trip to Fiji.

That first year, no one warned the chefs about Aunt Francine.

Siobhan:

The whole press tour was a prelude to the rehearsal. When Sean ended it, there was good natured grumbling, but I could tell that most of the reporters were itching for a keyboard. As the press was leaving, our people started showing up. Francine and her escort had joined Jason and Christine. Sean returned from wherever he had been. Last to arrive was a minister I did not recognize—Pastor Mueller. Everyone assembled on the drive, then we trouped down to the lake.

My last wedding rehearsal had been just after High school, so I forgot picky they could be. We spent more time letting Justin arrange the photography than everything else combined. His makeshift reflectors were quite efficient, effectively putting whole front of the houseboat in sunlight, but none for the bride. There was a lot of discussion about how to put a spot reflector on Sheila. In contrast, Francine's people had covered the sound so well it never came up.

A lot of details needed to be adjusted, but the pattern for the service was set. The service itself was straight out of the hymnal, or rather a period hymnal. The required minor disaster came from the music. At the wedding, the orchestra would be playing from the portico, near the Ballroom. Since there were no musicians, we had a boombox to play recordings. No one thought to load the thing with batteries. Everyone had a laugh.

After we finished walking through the process, Sean kissed Sheila possessively. That signaled the end of the rehearsal. I went to talk to our cheering section. There was a nice collection of people watching the show. Several Amish, divided by both age and sex were on the boathouse side. My grad students, less Evaine, were next to the gazebo. The brothers Gilbert and their staffs strung along the back. In all, it was a nice crowd.

All things end. Sean and Sheila escorted the minister and remaining reporters back to their transportation. The staff went home. Justin and Michael got involved in details of positioning the boat and reflectors. Mitchell took my grad students into the house to get them settled. I collected Francine and her date, Jason and Christine. We all went to the Dining Room.

The old house had the Ballroom, which served as the dining hall, but there was also a pantry kitchen and family dining room. The addition had a modern kitchen and a Dining Room, which could seat as many as twenty. No one had used the kitchen for anything but storage for years. To the best of my knowledge, this was the first time anyone used the rooms for anything like a formal dinner. I never understood why it was there, but I was soon glad it was part of the design.

I knew something was up the minute I turned down the hall. The aromas were incredible—cooking meat and mushrooms, garlic and elusive sweeter scents. Rick Williams greeted us at the door and directed us to seats. Shortly we were joined by Curtis Albrecht and his wife, Donna. I had met Curtis a couple of times, but never his wife. We took turns introducing the others. With some effort, I managed to remember that Francine's escort was named Roxanna. I suspect Francine brought her because she lacked other options. Last to arrive were the bride and groom. We all stood. Sheila blushed.

Dinner was amazing. Someone had suggested a competition among the cooks in Events. I was wearing the corset, though not laced tight. Tuesday night had shown me how fast I would fill up. So I sampled and picked, which was a new experience. Because I was careful early, I was able to get a good taste of everything I was served.

For dessert we each received a small bowl of freshly churned ice cream, with finger food on the table. Once everyone had tasted the ice cream, coffee and brandy followed. Good coffee and VSOP brandy. It was a great setting to cheer the chefs. Sean bumped the prize up by a night on the Town. More applause. I stood and toasted the bride and groom. Sean kissed Sheila as a camera flashed. Justin Immons was standing in the kitchen door.

I could see why Sheila usually wanted to strangle Justin, but the article in Gourmet was worth it. After the wedding I talked to Justin about shooting the chef's competition. He had simply shown up and started making shots. No one had even suggested a photographer, but Justin could not resist the drama. The candid shots of the chefs were excellent, but the closeups of plated food were truly outstanding. For the catalog, Justin spent almost two days lighting and shooting a 17^th century letter. His core interest was in tableaus. I told him that he should consider food photography. He could travel less and the demand was booming.

There was a fuss while Sheila ran Justin off, which was an interesting scene. Justin knew that Sheila was Cynthia, though not everyone in the room did. He was baited Sheila, hoping for a heavier whipping. This would not end well for him. Sheila knew what Justin wanted—and what he avoided. She leaned close and whispered in his ear. Justin went pale and rushed off without his kit.

Once the door shut, Sean rang his water glass.

Sean:

A wedding ceremony on a boat required some thinking. We had no way to walk the bride down an aisle. A suggestion that she ride standing on a paddle boat was quickly shot down. Justin suggested a spot light, which was more or less what we settled on. From the beginning, one of our big questions had to do with lighting. Between Justin and Francine's theater people, we had a lot of lighting expertise on tap. They arranged a bank of reflectors which illuminated the front of the boat.

Justin suggested making an large aimable reflector. He had a small one, which he used for illustration. Properly adjusted, it shone to the back of the boat. Sheila said that it was bright, but she could handle the glare. Justin promised to work on something larger, but more diffuse. Details would be exacting, but it was doable.

Once that was covered, Pastor Mueller walked us through the traditional service. Sheila was trembling when I took her hand—stage fright I think. After we walked through the vows, I was able to kiss my fiancée. It was a mistake, because neither of us wanted to stop. Still, duty called. We returned to our guests and finished the details. The rest of the wedding party adjourned to the Dining Room. As man of the house, I needed to escort the last two reporters to their rides. Sheila waited at the steps.

Since both of these men competent, I wondered how much wool was over their eyes. I said, "Randall, Frank, I am pleased to have you covering this affair. Sheila would prefer a quiet wedding, but events dictated otherwise. The best we can hope for is friendly coverage. Lord knows we have seen the other kind. Thanks for coming today. I hope you enjoy the party on Saturday." Pay your money and take your chance.

Randall Wilson spoke first. "Sean, it has been and will be a privilege. Unique Bride was created to cover weddings like this. That is quite a woman you have there. I commend you for snapping her up." Frank Costello agreed, "A couple of this town's more persistent mysteries were set to rest today. I am pleased to be the one covering them. I hope Cynthia enjoys her retirement." Blood drained from my face until he winked. I coughed a laugh. It never hurts to have a friend in the local media.

They drove off and I escorted Sheila to the formal dining room. I never understood why my grandfather had built the new wing with a large kitchen and formal dining room. To the best of my knowledge, this was the first time it was ever used. When my mother entertained, she would rent someplace in town. So, I was stepping into unfamiliar territory when I sat down. That was just the first new experience.

The table sat twelve and could be extended. That made it too large. Normally these dinners have a lot of family, but the only family in attendance was Jo, who did not bring a date. Francine brought a girl named Roxanna, who was clearly not a romantic interest. Curtis brought his wife and CC brought Jason. Nine people in all. For that small group, we had three chefs, Rick Williams as MC and judge, and three servers. I learned there was a contest when Rick announced it to the room.

The first course was an appetizer. We each received a plate of three, except Francine. She received two of each. I later discovered that George was expected, so the chefs prepared ten of each, plus one for the judge. The second course was cold soups, served in champagne flutes. The colors were interesting: red, green and white. The next plates was three renditions of cheese ravioli and sauce, also red, green and white. Rick later told me that the chefs had drawn their theme colors from a hat.

For the main course, we were asked a preference of beef, chicken and pork. Jo chose pork, Sheila chose chicken and I chose the beef, which was fixed Wellington. Choice of meat had also been drawn. My Wellington was outstanding, with a flaky crust and earthy mushroom stuffing. Rick said the chef was British. Go figure.

Dessert was the first batch of ice cream from the my freezer. I was pleased. On a warm spring day, people will eat any sort of ice cream, but this was not out of place with the meal just finished. I stood toasted our chefs, Rick Williams and the person who suggested a competition—I never did discover who it had been.

In appreciation, I awarded them each a trip to the New York restaurant of their choice. The winner would get a night at the Plaza and tickets to a Broadway show, in addition to whatever else they were promised. This was well received. Sheila topped me by walking up to each of them and kissing their cheek. That's my Kitten. Not to be left out, Jo raised her glass and toasted the bride and groom. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to kiss my fiancée, so I did. Everyone cheered.

Some nights it is good to be alive.

Sheila:

Eventually, all the escorting reporters ended, but it was only a prelude to the rehearsal. There, for the first time that day, I was pleasantly surprised. For one thing, I could stand and watch other people work. Secondly, I was surrounded by my people. Having been away from them, I realized how much Christine, Siobhan, Francine, even Jason and Justin were each a part of my life. Three weeks ago, none of them were even on the horizon, much less Sean. Not all change is bad, even if it can be stressful.

When the rehearsal was over and the minster seen off, Sean took me to a part of the new house I had not yet seen. It was a modern formal dining room, with a kitchen to match. There I was introduced to Francine's guest, Roxanna, and Curtis' wife Donna. We were seated at a table set for ten. Siobhan did not have a date, which might account for the extra place.

There was little ceremony. Rick Williams informed us that dinner was the product of a cooking contest. We would be eating the entries. He cautioned us to go slowly, since there would be several courses. Francine promptly popped out of her seat and grabbed the extra plate, which loosened things nicely.

I was impressed. My diet is simple. When I eat restaurant food, it is for business. None of the local restaurants had food like this. In succession we received a trio of appetizers, then cold soups, then hand made ravioli in sauce. It was all delicious and beautiful. For the main course, I chose chicken. Typically, Sean had beef. Siobhan and Christine both ordered pork, but Christine gave hers to Francine, who then had all three.

My chicken was excellent, as were the roasted sweet potatoes, but the star was the frozen pea salad. I made a mental note to get the recipe. Better yet, I should get the cook. We needed a staff and a cook would be part of that. As I ate, I also fed Christine, who was seated on my right. Francine ate all three plates and called for seconds.

After the meal, they brought samples of Sean's experiment. He had decided that an ice cream churn was the perfect match for a warm spring day. With due ceremony, he tasted of the first batch. It was over the top, but everyone had fun. We cheered the cooks. Sean added a nice bonus for playing and a big prize for winning. We kissed, which drew Justin and his camera out of the woodwork. He tried to laugh it off by offering to take a whipping. I told him that I thought ice water and candle wax was more appropriate. Justin scurried away.

Justin's departure left only the six of us and our guests. Sean stood and rang his glass. I thought I knew what was coming and steeled myself for it. It was such a relief to be wrong. He toasted everyone else. Curtis stood and told some stories about Sean. All were new to me, but none were surprising. Then Christine stood, followed by Jason, who acted as interpreter. She wanted to thank Francine, Siobhan and I for the trip to the City. She thanked Sean for his business card, which received a nice laugh. She did not thank me. Instead, she waved for Jason to sit. She looked at me and spoke my married name.

After that, we talked of the final preparations. We four were going back into the City, though not Brooklyn. Francine was taking us to the bowels of the city, near the garment district. Naturally, we needed to go through Elizabeth, to pick up my corset. Siobhan asked Francine to take her back to the warehouse and show her what to look for. Whatever else Francine is in this life, she is a teacher first, so she assigned Siobhan some homework.

At home, Sean had to nail down what he could prior to a week's absence. That likely meant signing a contract with the Columbia pictures. Francine took this opportunity to present her plus one. Roxanna DeWinter had experience as a receptionist in Hollywood, which would be handy for such things. Francine glanced at Christine, so I did as well. Christine shrugged. I looked at Sean. He nodded. Roxanna was hired, provisionally, as my receptionist. I would let her use my apartment for a while. Throwing her to the media would be good practice and also provide Cynthia more cover.

Siobhan ran through a list of things which needed to be finished. Sean was holding his phone out, presumably in dictation mode. I asked how the Amish were doing and Evaine with them. Siobhan smiled. She was well satisfied on both counts. All the temporary help would be off Friday, since the Amish were having a social day. This meant that most of the booths were already finished, or that the Amish were committed to clean them before the wedding.

As for Evaine, Sean had said he wanted to deal with marriage proposals. That may have been partly in jest, but at least three unattached young men were competing for her attention. I suggested that Evaine and Sean could serve as contacts for Amish when they went on their Rumspringa, the time away from the community. This was well received. Siobhan felt that something long term could be set up, possibly through the University. It would serve the Amish community and provide a communications conduit with the world outside.

With that settled, dinner was officially complete. Sean and I stood by the door, so everyone could offer their personal congratulations. In succession I was hugged be Francine, Siobhan, Christine and Jason. I noticed that my new receptionist watched, trying to seem nonchalant.

I went to her, took one hand in both of mine and said, "Welcome to the team. Believe whatever you hear from the people here, but very little else.

"I expect you have no place tonight." Roxanna nodded. "I will have you driven to my apartment. I will be staying here. Your first test, off the clock as it were, will be handling the media camped at my doorstep. You and Christine can share the apartment for the next couple of weeks, at no cost to you. Then we will see. When a room is prepared, Christine will be moving in here, so this is strictly temporary.

"You may call me Sheila, or Miss Sheila if you insist. At work I will be Mrs. Schwartz-Richards for now. Go ahead and start tonight. Eventually I will drop the maiden name, but for now we need some continuity. Everything goes through Helen, but not verbally. She and Christine are from the same mold. I will alert to Human Resources that you are coming in the morning. Don't worry about that. They are used to people just showing up with a job in hand.

"One word about Jason. Feel free to do whatever. He has skills. Do not expect him to be your long term anything, except friend. Christine will not get jealous, but she will also not disappear from Jason's radar. He is going to be famous. In fact, he may be already. His agent is JD Mann, of Mann and Hartman. Please contact JD and say I requested it. You can be useful to each other.

"Welcome to the asylum. Now, go face the music."

Francine:

The rehearsal was boring, as such things often are. I had three set people on site. They all had lighting experience. Justin Immons was a photographer, so lighting was in his job description. Whenever professionals work on a problem, there will be variations. They dickered a while, but they found a way to make it work.

The nice thing about wedding rehearsals is that there is a dinner attached. I was about a thousand calories short on my daily quota, so the timing was excellent, provided they ate before talking. At least there was promise of reasonable portions. Roxie and I were placed facing each other. I was next to Christine, which put Roxie next to Jason. That could prove interesting. On the far end was Siobhan, which meant the seat next to Sean would be the best man. His name turned out to be Curtis. By the time I learned that, my stomach was audibly growling.

With all due modesty, I am an experienced gourmand. The chefs in New York love to try things out on me, because I will eat almost anything that stays on a plate. We would be getting a competition of main line New Jersey cooking, meaning American with a heavy Italian influence. It showed from the start. The amuse bouche was a seafood trio, one from each contestant. The shrimp was called a croquette, but crocchetta would be closer, based on the seasoning. The scallop almondine could have come from any seaside cafe from Sicily to Spain. Only the deconstructed crab salad was strongly American. It was also the best prepared and most imaginative.

The soup course was in green, white and red, the colors of the Italian flag. That was probably not coincidence, because the pasta course mirrored it. I made a mental note to talk to the chef that did the lemon basil pesto. His ravioli was pedestrian, but the sauce was killer. In contrast, the alfredo sauce was ordinary, but the ravioli had a deadly roasted pepper and ricotta filling.

For the main course (only idiots call it an entrée, which means first course) I told them to give me the leftovers. That turned out to be chicken and beef. Christine passed me her pork, to make the trio. She and Sheila shared one portion. For this course, there was a clear third place. The smoked pork was merely good and the pilaf only slightly better. The beef Wellington was on par with the Savoy, which is high praise. The three mushroom stuffing was perfect: pungent, earthy, and moist. Unfortunately, the sides were boring.

The star of the evening was the chicken plate. This chef put real effort into the sides. Wine braised chicken is slightly sweet, which was a theme for the plate. Most braised chicken uses red wine, but the chef had chosen a white. It allowed the rosemary and thyme to show through. Herb roasted sweet potatoes are rather simple, but easily over or undercooked. These were perfect. The frozen pea salad had a healthy dose of mint and basil, with just a touch of oregano. There was the Italian influence again. Those played well against the rosemary and thyme in the chicken and the cilantro and fennel in the sweet potatoes. Improve the plating a bit and this could be served at a five star restaurant.