Vinegar Girl (Hogarth Shakespeare)(54)

Kate lowered her glass guiltily, although really it was Uncle Barclay’s fault. He was the one who had told her to drink up.

Her father said, “The thing that gets me is, I still don’t understand why this happened. This thing with the animal people, I mean. My mice lead enviable lives! More healthful than many humans’ lives, in fact. I’ve always had a very good relationship with my mice.”

“Well, better with them than with no one, I suppose,” Aunt Thelma said, and she sailed off with her tray.

Aunt Thelma’s son, Richard, was making his way toward them with his wife, a pale, icy blonde with poreless skin and pearly pink lips. Kate tugged at her father’s sleeve and whispered, “Quick: what’s Richard’s wife’s name?”

“You’re asking me?”

“It starts with an L. Leila? Leah?”

“Cuz!” Richard said jovially. He wasn’t usually so friendly. “Congratulations! Congratulations, Pyoder,” he said, slapping him jarringly on the back. “I’m Kate’s cousin, Richard. This is my wife, Jeannette.”

Dr. Battista raised his eyebrows at Kate. Pyotr said, “Rich, I am glad to meet you. Jen, I am glad to meet you.”

Kate waited for Richard to draw one of his nose-breaths in protest, but he let it pass. “Can’t believe we’re finally marrying this gal off,” he said. “Whole family’s beside themselves with relief.”

Since this confirmed Kate’s worst suspicions, she felt stabbed to the heart. And Jeannette said, “Oh, Richard,” which somehow made it worse.

Pyotr said, “I too am relieved. I did not know if Kate would like me.”

“Well, sure she would! You’re her own kind, right?”

“I am her kind?”

Richard suddenly looked less sure of himself, but he said, “I mean you’re in that same milieu or whatever. That science milieu she was raised in. Right, Uncle Louis?” he asked. “No normal person could understand you people.”

“What exactly do you find difficult to understand?” Dr. Battista asked him.

“Oh, you know, all that science jargon; I can’t offhand—”

“I am researching autoimmune disorders,” Dr. Battista said. “It’s true that ‘autoimmune’ has four syllables, but perhaps if I broke the word down for you…”

Kate felt somebody slip an arm around her waist, and she started. She turned to find Alice standing next to her, smiling and saying, “Congratulations, stranger.”

“Thanks,” Kate said.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. How’ve you been?”

“I’m okay.”

“Have you seen my little lambie pie over there?”

“Yes, I noticed. Is it a boy or a girl?”

Alice frowned. “She’s a girl, of course,” she said. Then she brightened and said, “Hurry up and have one of your own now, so they can be playmates.”

“Oh, gosh,” Kate said. She looked around for the canapés, but they were clear across the patio.

“So tell me about your guy! Where’d you meet him? How long have you known him? He’s very sexy.”

“He works in my father’s lab,” Kate said. “We’ve known each other three years.” This was beginning to feel like the truth, she realized. She could almost summon up some concrete memories from their long acquaintance.

“Are those two over there his parents?”

“What? Oh, no, that’s the Gordons,” Kate said. “Our neighbors from two doors down. Pyotr doesn’t have any parents. He doesn’t have any family at all.”

“Lucky,” Alice said. “I mean, sad for him, of course, but lucky for you: no in-laws to deal with. You should meet Jerry’s mother sometime.” She flashed a huge toothy smile toward her husband and trilled her fingers at him. “She thinks he should have married his girlfriend the neurosurgeon,” she said through her smile.

Uncle Barclay stepped out to the center of the patio and called, “Everyone have champagne now?”

There was a general murmur.

“Like to propose a toast, then,” he said. “Pyoder and Katherine! May you two be as happy as your aunt and I have been.”

Little cheers rose up here and there, and everyone took a sip. Kate had no idea what to do in response. In fact, she had never been toasted before. So she just tipped her glass to them all and nodded, and then she slid her eyes toward Pyotr to see what he was doing. He was grinning from ear to ear. He was holding his glass sky-high, and then he lowered it and threw back his head and drained his champagne in one gulp.

—

For her seating arrangements at dinner, Aunt Thelma proceeded as if they were in a formal banquet hall—the bride and groom placed next to each other at the center of one long side of the table, with members of the family aligned to their right and left in descending order of relatedness. It was sort of like The Last Supper.

“Your father will be on your right,” Aunt Thelma told Kate as she ushered her into the dining room, although she really didn’t need to explain, because elegantly calligraphed name cards stood at the head of each plate. “Bunny’s on Pyoder’s left. Then I’ll sit on your father’s other side and Barclay will sit on Bunny’s other side. Theron’s at this end of the table and Richard’s at that end, and everyone else is boy-girl-boy-girl on the side across from you.”