Jackie and Me(76)

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a big J. Or two J s, wouldn’t that be darling?”

Once again, Janet Auchincloss closed her eyes. Once

again, the telepathic message flashed between her and her

daughter.

Your future.

“Oh, I don’t mean in the church, of course. Archbishop

Cushing wouldn’t stand for that. No, I was thinking somewhere outside—in the parking lot, maybe. You know, it would almost be an act of charity for all those photographers. Give ’em something to snap while they’re standing

around!”

Mrs. Auchincloss’s eyes blinked open. Hughdie gave his

hearing aid a slight twist.



JACKIE & ME

269

“Photographers?” he said.

“Why, yes,” said Mrs. Kennedy.

“In the plural,” he said.

“Oh, sure.”

“Isn’t that excessive?”

It was the first sign that Mrs. Auchincloss had underes—

timated her opposition, for in the next instant, almost by

prearrangement, Mrs. Kennedy fell as silent as clay, and Mr.

Kennedy, interlacing his fingers, leaned forward.

“I, uh, I suppose you all appreciate that your daughter is

marrying a public figure.”

“Define appreciate,” said Mrs. Auchincloss.

“What I mean is these particular nuptials will have news

value quite outside our small little circle. Hey, America’s not going to let its number-one bachelor get dragged to the altar without getting a look at the girl who drug him there. So photographers, of course.”

“The still kind,” suggested Hughdie.

“To begin with. But, of course, we couldn’t keep away

the newsreels, not if we tried, and Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the television.”

There were no television sets in all of Hammersmith

Farm, not even for the groundskeepers.

“I mean, you can’t keep them away,” said Mr. Kennedy.

“They damn well find you, I don’t care who you are. And of course, we should be prepared for a fair number of spectators.”

“In the church?” asked Hughdie.

“No, right outside.”

270





LOUIS BAYARD


“What number is a fair number?”

“I dunno, a thousand? Two at most.”

“At what will they be spectating?”

“Uh, your daughter and our son.”

“For what purpose?”

“They’re fans, Hugh. If I may use the common parlance.”

“I didn’t suppose Jackie had fans.”

“She does now.”

“And they’re allowed just to show up like that?”

Silence gathered over the white linen.

“Say now,” said Mr. Kennedy, leaning farther in. “I’m

glad we’re having this conversation because you should

know what’s about to descend.”

“Or what’s not,” said Mrs. Auchincloss.

“The wear on the lawn,” suggested Hughdie.

With a flap of his hand, Mr. Kennedy said, “Seed it again

next spring.”

“Disturbance to the livestock.”

“Give ’em earmuffs.”

More silence, as Mrs. Auchincloss took the tiniest draft

from her martini. Like any good combatant, she was recalibrating. She had come in with the hope of scotching the whole business before luncheon was over, and she was wary even of imagining how the wedding would play, for that would give it too much the imprint of a real thing. Now, having been

forced to picture Hammersmith cows with muffs, she began

to wonder if the real thing might do the trick after all.

“Tell me, Mr. Kennedy. Just how many guests are you

envisioning at this putative affair?”



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271

“Well, I sure don’t blame you for asking. My feeling is

that if we’re very strict about the guest list, we can cap it at a thousand.”

“A thousand? That seems better suited to an MGM

backlot.”

“Maybe so.”

“We could enroll everyone in the Screen Actors Guild.”

“Ha! I could arrange that.”

“Of course, the expense of hosting all these extras would be perfectly exorbitant.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ve been running the numbers

through my head, and I think you could bring it home for

half a million.”

Hughdie’s mouth didn’t quite form itself around the

number, but his soul did. “Gad,” he whispered, a retreat

that spurred his wife in the next breath to charge forward.

To declare, in effect, the line past which the Auchincloss

family would not cross.

“I’m afraid that we couldn’t possibly countenance such a

grotesque spectacle.”

Nobody spoke for a second or two. Then Mr. Kennedy

unexpectedly flashed the same smile he had flashed coming

off his plane.

“Well now,” he said. “I like me a woman who speaks her