Once and for All(68)

Hearing this, I glanced over at the head table, where, sure enough, the tween who’d passed out during the vows earlier was now giggling with one of the flower girls. We were used to people getting woozy, if not blacking out altogether. It was why my mom always gave her “don’t lock your knees and standing will be a breeze” speech at rehearsals, especially when it was hot outside. Inevitably, though, we had a few people go down, and this girl had done it in spectacular fashion, crashing into a flower arrangement and taking it with her. When she came to and realized what happened, she was so embarrassed she burst into tears.

I’d led her into a side room, water in hand, prepared to stay with her there until the ceremony ended. But it was Ambrose who proved to be crucial in the moment.

“You think that was bad?” he asked her, sliding into the folding chair adjacent to her own. “I’ll tell you about embarrassing. This one time? I was trying to walk backward while talking to a girl and didn’t see the curb. Fell over it, landed right on my tailbone, screamed like a baby. It was horrifying.”

The junior bridesmaid, face red, just looked at him. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, waving his hand easily. “And that was nothing. Another time, at school, I was giving this presentation on toxic waste and my pants fell down. I was into baggy clothes then, but man, not that baggy.”

At this, I laughed: I couldn’t help myself. He grinned at me, then at the girl, who now had the barest semblance of a smile. “And another time,” he continued, lowering his voice slightly, “I was messing with this tape dispenser and it exploded in front of my boss and this seriously pretty girl who worked with me. There was smoke, and I had to get down on the floor and clean it all up, in front of everyone.”

I blinked, remembering. He sure hadn’t seemed embarrassed. And I was pretty now, in this retelling? Just as I thought this, he looked up at me, the tween now tittering beside him, and I felt myself smile. I’d realized a lot of things about Ambrose that day and since, but this one always surprised me. He was kind. So kind. Who knew?

Now I watched as he adjusted his tie, then said to us, “DJ says they’ll do the bouquet and garter toss in fifteen. Next, another half hour of dancing, followed by the grand exit. Then we can start kicking people out.”

“Starting with Mrs. Lin,” I said, as my mother gave me a smile.

“Good luck with that,” he replied. “She just read me the riot act about the dessert forks. I don’t even know what those are.”

My mother, hearing this, turned to look at the nearest table, taking in the place settings there. Even when she thought someone was crazy, she still wanted things to be just right. It was either a professional strength or weakness: I had not yet figured out which.

“Oh, and Louna,” Ambrose added, as she picked up a fork, conferring with William, “that guy at table ten asked if I knew where you were. Just a hunch, but I’m betting he doesn’t know your strict policy about dancing.”

“I don’t have a policy about dancing,” I told him. “Just dancing at weddings at which I am working.”

“Well, you better tell him. Because here he comes.”

Sure enough, when I turned, Ben Reed was approaching from behind me, that same familiar easygoing smile on his face. My mom and William moved aside, giving me space, and I expected Ambrose to follow suit. But of course, he stayed right where he was.

“Hey,” Ben said. “You disappeared.”

“This is the kind of wedding that keeps you running,” I explained. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at Ambrose. “Um, actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

Now, surely, Ambrose would leave us alone. He didn’t. I turned my body, to at least block him out. “Sure,” I said.

Ben glanced across the country club lawn, where the dance floor, set up under a white tent, was packed with people. “I wondered if you might want to d—”

Just then, there was a burst of loud laughter from the table behind us, followed by the clinking of glasses. But I’d gotten the idea.

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m not allowed to when I’m working.”

Ben looked confused. “Like, at all?”

“Well, no.” I looked at my mom and William, now discussing the forks. “Because we’re part of the staff, it’s frowned upon.”

“So you can’t go out, even after it’s over?”

Now I was perplexed. Ambrose, however, had not missed anything. “He asked you if you wanted to do something,” he said, leaning into my ear. “I think you misheard?”

I felt my face get red, along with a sudden surge of fury that he was even part of this exchange. “I’m so sorry,” I said to Ben, shaking my head. “I thought . . . I thought you asked me to dance.”

“Oh,” he said. For some reason he looked at Ambrose. Maybe he thought he might have to interpret this, as well? “No. But I can. I mean, I will. I just thought because you were working—”

“That’s what I meant,” I said, stepping over his words. “I mean, when I said that. Clients can’t totally forbid me to be social. Yet, anyway.”

At this, he smiled, and it occurred to me, distantly, that this would be the kind of meet-cute story someone in another situation might tell, years later, part of a beginning. “Good. Because I was beginning to wonder if this was a slave labor sort of situation.”