Chapter 66

Dad took off before we arrived. He left it for my mother to inform us he had decided to postpone his efforts to use weddings to help promote business.

He had gotten so carried away with the prospects it had escaped his notice that it would be inappropriate to do at his daughter's wedding. My mother tried hard to sell it, but it was pretty clear she didn't believe him either.

I told her to let him know how much I appreciated his understanding. I doubt she believed me any more than she believed him. She seemed to be satisfied that everything had been resolved.

It hadn't.

I told Jeff to take a load off. We had a little more to discuss.

"Mom, how many people are invited to the wedding?"

"We're at a little over seventeen hundred, but I don't think there will be more than another hundred to add."

"Really. Only eighteen hundred guests. Aren't we going to feel lonely?"

"Where did you learn that sarcasm, young lady?"

"In my defense," said Jeff, "she had the full complement of sarcasm when I met her."

We were both startled. I knew Jeff was still there. It just hadn't occurred to me he would participate in the discussion.

"Fortunately for both of you, I speak fluent sarcasm. Please allow me to translate.

"Ashley has suggested that in this country and in this religion, a wedding is an intimate occasion. While there is no precise definition of intimate in this context, it is uncontroverted that eighteen hundred exceeds it by thirteen to fifteen hundred.

"Universal wedding etiquette places the comfort and enjoyment of the guests near the top of the list. The expense, effort and logistics required to seat eighteen hundred people plus the support staff to purchase, prepare, serve, clean up and dispose of the debris resulting from such an event is seriously deleterious to the enjoyment of the guests.

"I didn't anticipate this discussion, but if it would be helpful I'm sure I can develop a mathematical model to not only prove my assertion, but calculate the number of guests where the experience begins to switch from enjoyable to burdensome."

"How do you know that?"

"Thank you, Ashley," said Mom. I had saved her the embarrassment by asking her question.

"I read it somewhere," he answered.

Mom stood there with her mouth open shaking her head slowly.

"It's okay, Mom. He does this kind of stuff all the time."

"How do you get used to it?"

"I'll let you know when I do. Still, Jeff makes a good point, I'm pretty sure."

"I'm inclined to believe him. But how do we get this past your dad?"

"I infer from the fact that you're still adding to the guest list that you haven't sent out invitations?" Jeff asked.

"No," said Mom.

"That and the fact it's too early to send them out," he added.

"How do you know that?" I asked. "Never mind. You read it."

"So, what do we do?" Mom asked.

She looked toward Jeff as if we all assumed he would have the answer. So did I. I was thrilled to have identified the problem. I hadn't even begun to work on a solution.

"Well, we have a resource limited over a fixed period." He didn't miss a beat. It was just like it was the obvious next step in an elementary problem.

"Think of it like a Counting Crows concert or a Philadelphia Orchestra concert."

What was he talking about? Mom's face didn't register any recognition either.

"There is only one opening night and I'll grant that is seen as the most valuable performance. But each night they produce a substantially identical performance. In the course of a week seven times as many people can see a concert as opposed to just one night."