Jesse was a handsome groom, too — muscular the way a twenty-seven-year-old could be. Best to get married at your physical peak and have a year or so of feeling like you really were Warren Beatty and she really was Natalie Wood, and you could evolve into your humdrum paunchy selves a little at a time. Lillian looked over at Arthur, who was dancing with Andy. Andy had not evolved — she was more like a fly in amber — but she gracefully followed where Arthur led, and every time Arthur swung her around, he looked past her ear, caught Lillian’s gaze, and smiled. Lillian said, “Andy is a good dancer.”
“She’s pliable,” said Frank.
Lillian disapproved of the casual disrespect Frank always showed when he talked about Andy, but she had to admit that Andy didn’t seem to notice, or else seemed to think she deserved it. Lillian said, “She told me her brother broke his leg.”
“His sixty-year-old leg, on a black-diamond slope in Vail. Running the moguls. They had to helicopter him out, and it wasn’t easy. But he’s getting around. I think he abandoned his crutches after two weeks. Andy said that he doesn’t consider pain to be important.”
“Emily is cute.”
“Isn’t she?” said Frank. “She likes to stand there with her hands on her hips, giving you a disapproving stare. She reminds me of Mama.”
“She’s like Janet. She has high standards.”
“Indeed,” said Frank.
Lillian decided not to pursue this line of conversation. She said, “I would have loved to see Richie, and I’m sorry Michael and Loretta couldn’t come.”
“Loretta is calving again, you know,” said Frank. “And the yearling isn’t even weaned yet.”
“That’s very traditional.”
“Very California. Andy is all in favor. Richie has a new job, and he has to look like he’s paying attention for at least three months.”
“Our kids seem better prepared than we were.”
“Do they?” said Frank. “The older I get, the more amazed I am that parenthood is reserved for the young and foolish. Seems like a recipe for doom, if you ask me.”
“You never seemed young and foolish.”
Frank turned and regarded her. His suit fit perfectly, and he still had that predatory look. He said, “The less young and foolish you seem, the more young and foolish you are.”
“If you could give them one piece of advice, what would it be?”
“Don’t do what I did. How about you?”
Lillian looked at Arthur, who was spinning Andy around. She, of course, had a catalogue of worries, but they couldn’t be boiled down to a single thing to avoid. In fact, she was taken aback by Frank’s remark. Finally, she said, “Don’t wait too long to go to Paris?”
Frank laughed out loud in a way she’d hardly ever heard him, and she could not help being ignited into merriment herself. He said, “I think I’ll write that down.”
Just then, the music ended. Arthur escorted Andy back to the table, where she smiled, picked up her handbag, and wafted toward the ladies’ room. Arthur sat down and took a sip of his champagne, then a bite of the wedding cake. He said, “Well, I kept my ears open. You want the news?”
“So much,” said Lillian.
“Let’s see. They met at a party in Ames when Jesse was down there last fall, visiting his old roommate, who is now in the engineering school, and when they started talking, they realized that they remembered each other from the crèche at Sunday school, lo these twenty years ago, before her family switched to the Foursquare Gospel in Usherton, and she went to South Usherton High, because their house was just inside the boundary between the two districts. She went to Cornell College over in Mount Vernon and studied chemistry.”
“Due date?” said Frank.
“Hush-hush. Didn’t get that one yet,” said Arthur.
“Family income?”
“The farm is paid off,” said Arthur.
“Oh, stop,” said Lillian, then, “Good.”
“She has an aunt by marriage who once knew Frank here.”
“Who was that?” said Frank.
“Do you remember a Eunice someone?”
Lillian saw it — Frank turned pale. Then he said, “Maybe.”
“She’s at the wedding.”
“No, she is not,” said Frank.
“She is.”
Lillian thought Frank almost looked angry. Arthur seemed not to notice. He said, “To the left of the buffet, in the blue dress. Short, a little osteoporotic.”
They all stared. Andy, who returned, said, “What are you looking at?” Then, “Oh, Eunice. Poor Eunice. She is unrecognizable.”
Frank said, “But you recognized her.”
“She recognized me. She’s Betty Prince’s cousin’s second wife. He works for Monsanto. They came up from St. Louis.”
And now Lillian saw the really odd thing: Andy, the most dizzy, accepting, hapless woman in the world, drove her gaze into Frank like a knife, daring him to react. Arthur saw it, too. He and Lillian exchanged a glance and dropped their eyes. When they looked up again, normal life had somehow resumed. Frank said, “I should say hi, anyway.”
“Yes, you should,” said Andy.
It was time to toss the bouquet. There wasn’t a stairway in the American Legion Hall, but there was a small stage, so the three bridesmaids and two other girls gathered just in front, where the stage bowed out, and Jenny stood above them, now dressed in a green suit with big shoulder pads and white trim. She turned her back and threw the gardenias straight into the air. All the girls in their yellow bridesmaids’ dresses threw their arms out and started shouting. It was the youngest who caught them, athletically, as if she were going for a rebound. She laughed and put her face into them, then handed them to someone who looked like her older sister. Now everyone followed Jesse and Jenny out to the car — Rosanna’s eleven-year-old Volkswagen, still running like a champ. They were driving to the airport in Des Moines, then honeymooning at a resort in Arizona.
Lillian, who was holding on to Arthur’s arm, caught sight of the Eunice woman making her way up to Frank. It was amazing — they didn’t even look like members of the same generation. The woman had blue hair and a frail demeanor. More amazing than that, she gave Frank’s arm a familiar little squeeze. Arthur said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I’m not sure I would,” said Lillian.
“Just for the drama aspect,” said Arthur.
Lillian shook her head.
That night, settling into the very comfortable bed Joe and Lois had vacated for them, Lillian said, “Do you think Frank has a sense of humor?”
“Frank is a terrible romantic, sweetheart. He has always worn his heart on his sleeve.”
“Frank? I never noticed that,” said Lillian.
“It’s a very small heart,” said Arthur.