Chapter 31

I watched as my rival, and that is how I saw him, walked my daughter down the aisle. I was standing in the group of troopers supporting Daniel Prescott.

“I do,” said my rival, when asked who gives this woman in marriage today. I was almost sick with envy, but I held it together. It was her day. And I’d have to have said that the man looked good: his suit, I was certain, cost more than my car; well, my car was eight years old when I bought it, so...

I did chance a glance at my ex-fiancée, Marian Carton, who was a bride’s maid and at the far end of the line of four young ladies supporting the bride. Two, complete strangers to me, were cast in the roles of Best man and Maid of Honor. The more I thought about my willingness to be a groomsman rather than insisting on being best man, the more I realized that I’d done the right thing. I sure as hell had done the right thing for me. I would have been terrible in the role of best man.

Fifteen minutes later, my estimate, the wedding march announcing the exit from the church played and the parade was on. I should mention that I’d heard the guy playing the organ for the festivities was a pro, a Russian, played for the Metropolitan Opera Company in New York in times done by was the word; well, my brother did have money, and, connections. And, no, I still wasn’t jealous, not about any of that.

The reception at the country club was tiring. And yes, I was in the line greeting the hundred or so invited guests as they passed through the line and to their assigned tables inside.

Ava herself led me to my place at the long family table at the front of the room. Waiters attended to serving the guests, as well as the bridal party per se. The guests, I was certain, were all big wigs in business or politicians or other “fancy-dancys” seated at well-appointed tables around the largish dining hall.

I had occasion to talk to nobody apart from the other groomsmen before the wedding. I was, as it turned out, indeed pressed into usher service even though I had not been part of the rehearsal the Thursday before the big event.

The dancing music began to play after all had had an opportunity to eat, have a drink, and relax a tiny bit. My rival got up and led my daughter, and his, out onto the floor for the official start of the social hour.

I was shocked out of my socks as Ava came up to me after the father-daughter dance and dragged me out onto the floor for a dance. She smelled great.

“Well, our girl is married and a Prescott now,” said Ava.

“Yes, I guess so,” I said. I smiled, weakly, but I did smile.

“You okay?” she said, as we continued to tour the floor.

“Yes, I’m okay. I feel a little strange; well, you can imagine, but okay,” I said.

“Yes, I do imagine,” she said. “But Julian, to say I am so grateful to you for your help today; well, maybe ‘you’ can imagine.”

“No problem. It was a nice wedding,” I said. It came to me that I had not heard from or even seen Marian up close during the whole ceremony or now during the reception; She’d been around, but not around me. That said, I soon realized that that was about to change because it soon did.

“Father, are you okay?” said Candace.

“Yes, and it was very nice today, the wedding,” I said.

“Daniel and I will be leaving shortly. Daddy is sending us to London for our honeymoon,” she said.

“Wow, sounds like fun,” I said. “Well, be good and be well and be happy.” Just then her husband, her new husband joined us, and the usual thank yous and wish-fors, and what all said; they left to say goodbye to half the richest people in the state.

I was just about to say my goodbyes to the host and hostess when Marian Carton came up to me.

“How are you doing?” she said.

“Good, I guess. You?” I said.

“Also good. I have to say I was surprised to see you in the wedding party,” she said.

“I got a special visit from my daughter and she convinced me to be a part of it,” I said.

“Well good,” she said. “It was Bea who signed me up.”

“Would I be out of line asking if you’d like to have dinner with me tomorrow night,” I said. She gave me a strange look.

I’d decided to have one more shot at the woman who might have been the best fit for me given my situation. I didn’t hold out a lot of hope; but, well, one more shot, and she did look good today.

“No, no, sure,” she said.

“Lift off,” said Daniel. Missus Daniel Prescott smiled and leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder.

“It’s going to be wonderful,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “And, I want you to know up front that I did not marry you just so I could vacation in Europe.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Good, I was worried.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Can I ask? I mean your other dad?”

“My father, not my dad,” she said. “And just so you don’t forget, I adore that wonderful man. He’s not my daddy, but in some ways he’s at the top of the totem pole. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “But someday you’re going to have to tell me your reasoning, because it makes no sense.”

“When you’re old enough,” she said.

“Hmm, whatever you say,” he said. “But on another subject. How hard a task master is your daddy?”

“Pretty hard. Money is his game and it does require a deal of blood, sweat and tears—oh and toil,” she said, and she laughed. “You didn’t have to take the job!”