Young Jane Young(23)

“Elegant and rustic. Let me think. Chandeliers and white tablecloths in a barn. Or, considering it’s going to be December, mason jars with red-and-white gingham ribbons and baby’s breath and pine boughs and burlap tablecloths in a crisp hotel ballroom setting. Twinkly white Christmas lights strung across the dance floor and place cards written on tiny chalkboards. Tulle canopies and white linen napkins. BBQ and pies. A crackling fire. Yes, I see it.” And I literally had seen it. Everyone wanted elegant and rustic lately.

“It sounds so beautiful,” she said.

The bells on my door jingled, and Ruby came in, dumping her backpack on the floor. “This is my assistant,” I told Franny.

Ruby shook Franny’s hand.

“I’m Franny,” Franny said. “You look pretty young to be an assistant.”

“Kind of you to say, but I’m fifty-three years old,” Ruby said.

“She’s very well preserved. Franny wants a wedding that’s elegant and rustic,” I told Ruby.

“You should have an ice cream truck,” Ruby said. “Mom did a shabby chic one with an ice cream truck. Everyone loves an ice cream truck.”

“You’re not supposed to call me Mom at the office,” I said. “You’re supposed to call me Boss.”

“Everyone went out to the parking lot,” Ruby continued, “and they could pick any ice cream they wanted for free. It was pretty much the best thing.”

“It was great, but Franny’s wedding is in December,” I told Ruby.

“True,” Franny said. “But it sounds so fun. Couldn’t we do it in December? It’s not like everyone stops eating ice cream just because it’s December. And it’s almost more fun to have an ice cream truck in December. Like, shouldn’t we embrace the cold?”

That night, I got a call from Wes letting me know that he didn’t “get” the ice cream truck thing. “I think it looks like foolishness,” he said. “These people I’m inviting, some of them may have to vote for me someday and some of them might even have to donate to my campaign, and I don’t want them thinking that I’m the guy who had an ice cream truck at a winter wedding.”

“Fine,” I said. “No ice cream truck.”

“I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but it seems… feckless.”

“Feckless,” I said. “That seems strong.”

“Feckless,” he said. “Not considered and the product of a disorderly brain. I love Franny, but she can get ideas.”

Yes, I thought, she has a brain and those do peskily tend to make ideas. “You obviously have strong feelings about this,” I said. “Honestly, it was only at the brainstorming stage, Wes. We hadn’t rented the truck or anything.”

“Well, the thing is,” Wes said, “would you mind telling Franny that you aren’t able to get an ice cream truck in winter? Because she has her heart set on it now. She thinks it’s whimsical, I don’t know.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to tell her you don’t like it yourself? I mean, she liked it, yes, but I don’t think it was that big a deal to her. She likes a lot of things. She’s a very positive person.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think you should do it. If I do it, I’m the guy who is taking the fun out of the wedding. If you do it, it’s just a fact: the wedding planner can’t get an ice cream truck in December.”

“But I probably can get an ice cream truck,” I said.

“Well, sure, but Franny doesn’t know that,” Wes said.

“Actually, I’m not comfortable lying to your fiancée,” I said. “I try never to lie to my couples. And it seems silly to me for either of us to lie over something as inconsequential as an ice cream truck.”

“Since it’s silly, why does it matter? And it’s not really lying. You’re executing the wishes of the person who is paying for your services,” Wes said. “I believe in you, Jane.”

I thought about telling this weenie that he could take his business elsewhere, but I did not. I didn’t mention it before but my bookish and lovely Ruby had been having trouble with bullies at her elementary school. I had done all of the things you are supposed to do when your child is being bullied. I had met with school administrators. I had called other parents. I had monitored her online activity. I had enrolled Ruby in a variety of purportedly self-esteem-boosting activities – gymnastics! Girl Scouts! I had talked to Ruby extensively about strategies for dealing with unpleasant people. Nothing had worked. I was thinking of transferring her to private school, but that cost money. Money meant you didn’t have the luxury of liking everyone you worked with.

“Jane,” he said, “do we have an agreement?”

“Fine,” I said, thinking that I would never vote for this man and, if he ever ran for anything, I would actively campaign against him. This marriage was doomed.

I did not lie to Franny. I told her that I had thought about it, and the logistics of the ice cream truck would be too difficult in winter. And really, they would have been. The checking and rechecking of coats alone. It would have been a nightmare.





FIVE





T

hat’s fine,” Franny said. “It was just a whim. I had another thought I wanted to run by you. I know we had mostly settled on mason jars and cabbage roses, and I could not love that more. But I was wondering if you knew anything about orchids.”