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“There’s a difference between enjoying thrifting and wanting to get married in five layers of petticoats and matching bloomers that your great-grandmother probably lost her virginity in!” Rebecca snarled.
“Rebecca, language!” Now I could see where Rebecca got it from. It was fun seeing the fiery side of her personality. I could get used to it—the rest of the meal centered around wedding talk. I tuned out and nodded at the right moments. Our families had planned every detail of this wedding for the last year and a half. Rebecca and I were simply playing our roles. I looked around the restaurant.
The walls were decorated with oil paintings and tasteful photographs, giving the place an air of sophistication. The floor was made of polished marble and stone, with Turkish-style rugs underneath each table. The tables were made of dark mahogany, and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sending a soft glow over the room that mingled with the afternoon sun.
Rebecca focused on our mothers, but the glassy look in her eyes tells me she was not paying attention. I draped my arm across the back of Rebecca’s chair and did my best to look like a couple in love.
I noticed a man seated at one of the tables across from us dressed sharply in an expensive suit. He glanced over at us and smiled. Instantly, I recognized him as one of the investors in the Dover Mall project, Mr. Mead. Before I knew it, he was making a beeline for our table.
“Sebastian,” he exclaimed as he approached the table. I stood up and shook his hand with a smile. “It’s good to see you, Rebecca, Mrs. Cavanaugh, and Mrs. Steele, I presume.”
My mother confirmed his assumption.
Rebecca and her mother greeted him by name.
“John, it seems you know Sebastian, my future son-in-law,” she said, grinning like she won the lottery.
His eyebrows shot to the top of his receding hairline, and then he looked at Rebecca. Before I could say anything, Rebecca smiled graciously. “My mother sent out the official announcement to the paper, and you will see it by the end of the week.” Her smile was dazzling.
“You’ve found out early,” she stage-whispered, flashing her ring.
He chuckled. “I’m glad to have found out. You already look like one big happy family.” He gestured at the table, and our mothers beamed.
We exchanged a few more pleasantries before Mr. Mead excused himself.
I looked back at Rebecca, and she was back to eating her meal as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Regina started again, “You know, Rebecca—my friend Gwennie—” She turned to my mother. “Yes, Paltrow. Well, she wrote this absolutely elucidating article about how a Cesar salad is like the cheeseburger of salads. You really should get on that juice cleanse I told you about.”
“I’m not taking advice from a woman who calls bone broth a snack,” Rebecca hissed. She took a massive forkful of her salad and plunged it into the plastic cup of dressing before shoving it into her mouth.
My mother sensed the tension between them and immediately stiffened. She hated conflict.
“So, speaking of heirlooms, Sebastian’s grandmother has some lovely bone China that we can use for the place settings for the wedding party. It was a gift from her wedding day in 1959. How cool is that?”
Mrs. Cavanaugh perked up, “That’s wonderful. I’ll have to talk to my antique dealer about getting it appraised.”
“You have one of those?” My mom exclaimed.
“Of course, don’t you?”
While our mothers discussed the intricacies of fine China, my mind drifted back to John Mead.
Mr. John Mead was a member of the Columbia Club. I’d been working with him for months, and he’d never spoken to me outside of business dealings.
When the bill arrived, I paid, and we continued talking at the table for a few more minutes.
“You two enjoy the rest of your day,” my mother said. “Regina and I have a meeting with the caterers.”
We exchanged goodbyes. Once our mothers left, I leaned in close to Rebecca and placed my hand on her thigh. She stiffened at my touch.
“If we are going to sell this, you can’t react like that when I get close.”
She sighed and relaxed. “You’re right.” She folded her napkin.
We sat together in comfortable silence for about ten minutes before leaving the table. On the way out of the restaurant, Mr. Mead stopped us.
“My wife and I are having a dinner party in a couple of weeks. We want to invite the two of you.”
Rebecca smiled. “Thank you, John. Please, send Sebastian and me an invitation.”
