The Two-Family House(69)

The music started, something classical and elegant, wafting toward Rose from the string quartet in the corner of the room. Half a dozen good-looking young men, bow ties carefully knotted, strolled down the aisle one by one. Rose supposed they were Edward’s friends or cousins—she didn’t care. She didn’t recognize any of them. Next came Edward himself, flanked on one side by his father and on the other by the cunningly coifed Mrs. Feinstein. Mrs. Feinstein’s slim gown was the same pale blue as the dresses the bridesmaids wore. The same blue, Rose noticed, as the flowers cascading down the sides of the wedding canopy. No one had told Rose what color dress to wear. Her dress was gray.

After a few moments the music changed, and the bridesmaids entered carrying impeccable blue bouquets. The maid of honor took her place at the front of the room, and the crowd stood in unison, all hoping for a glimpse of the bride. Rose felt Edward’s grandmother take her hand and squeeze. She tried to pull away—she didn’t even know the woman—but the grandmother’s grip was too strong. “Oh my,” she murmured to Rose when she first saw Mimi coming through the door. The old woman’s eyes were watery and bright. “Now I can die happy,” she whispered. Rose managed to free her hand.

A minute later and there was Mimi, floating past in the ivory gown that Rose had seen for the first time just that morning. Mort marched beside her, solid and slow, as unremarkable as Mimi was stunning. The guests let out a collective sigh. Only Rose was unmoved.

The sensation was a familiar one and took Rose back to a day she had spent with her father at the very first Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. It was called the Macy’s Christmas Parade back then, and she couldn’t have been more than ten years old. She had been excited for the outing, thrilled to see the animals, the floats, the costumed employees. There was a large family standing next to her, the girls in bright red wool coats and the boys in matching sweater vests. At the end of the parade, Santa glided past in his red velvet suit, waving to the crowd from his perch on a giant golden sleigh. The children next to Rose squealed with delight. “It’s Santa! He’s here!”

Rose had looked around at the other faces in the crowd. All of the children were convinced that the man in the sleigh was the real Santa Claus. Suddenly, she was disappointed. What had seemed so magical just moments before was only paint and glitter after all. The parade was not meant for her. She felt the same watching Mimi walk down the aisle.

What if she had done what she was supposed to do? Would she have felt differently if she had walked down the aisle with Mimi and Mort, if she had stood under the canopy with her daughter? She was certain of the answer: it wouldn’t have changed a thing. It would only have made her duplicitous. Since Teddy’s death, each year that passed found Rose more and more resistant to gatherings of any kind. The wedding was no different.

The rabbi persisted in his musings and the seven blessings were recited. By the time Edward shattered the glass, half of the people in the room were crying. Rose’s eyes were dry, but Edward’s grandmother passed her a tissue anyway. “Here you go, dear. Don’t worry—you know the old saying.” She patted Rose’s arm in a show of comfort. “‘A son is a son til he marries a wife, but a daughter is a daughter for the rest of your life.’”

Rose wanted more than anything to escape from the doddering old woman, but she was stuck in her seat until the bridal party made their way back up the aisle. Natalie was the last of the bridesmaids to exit, and though Rose had barely glanced at the girl before the ceremony, something in her expression caught Rose’s attention in the moment she passed by. At thirteen, she was already a beauty; there was no denying it. But there was something more—the hairline, the eyes—something reminiscent of Rose’s own mother as a girl in one of Aunt Faye’s old photos. The once-unnecessary tissue, forgotten in her handbag, was retrieved. Edward’s grandmother handed her another. “No more tears now,” she warned gently, and Rose nodded in agreement. She didn’t bother to explain that she hadn’t been crying for any of the reasons the old woman imagined.





Chapter 52





HELEN


No one could say Mimi wasn’t a beautiful bride. On the outside at least. On the inside, Helen wasn’t so sure. As she watched the bride and groom interact, Helen decided Edward was the kind of man who cared more about the outside.

What does Rose think of him? Helen wondered. She’s sitting alone, not talking to anyone, not even trying to enjoy her daughter’s wedding.

The passage of time had taught Helen some important lessons. A few years ago she would have sat down next to Rose and tried to talk to her. She would have praised Mimi’s wedding gown and complimented the lavish celebration, all in an effort to earn back some small bit of affection. It wouldn’t have worked, but she would have tried. This time she wasn’t going to make the same mistake. She wasn’t going to ruin her evening feeling guilty. She was going to keep her distance and keep her mouth shut.

“Hello, gorgeous.” It was Abe, wrapping one arm around her waist and waving a waiter over with the other. He kissed her on the cheek and grabbed a handful of mini–lamb chops from the silver tray.

“Abe, how many of those have you had?”

“A few.”

She raised an eyebrow and patted his stomach, which protruded visibly from his unbuttoned tuxedo jacket. “Remember what the doctor said? You’ve put on too much weight, sweetheart. You can’t eat like that anymore.”