It Takes a Wedding to Make Us Say...

“You seem nervous,” Morgan said softly, swirling his glass so the ice cubes clinked amid the scotch.

Nicole sat fidgeting and worrying like the bride-to-be she was. The rehearsal dinner had been a quiet, formal, intimate prelude to tomorrow's activities. Dessert was given over to informal socializing. “I wish I could be calm like Dad. He seems like he'd fall asleep if he was any more relaxed.”

Morgan smiled. “Trust me. He was not so relaxed the hours previous to his wedding.”

“Really?” she said incredulously. “I don't remember him being a bundle of nerves. I always thought he took everything in stride.”

“He generally does, but he almost fainted a couple times that morning. On the other hand, your father is also very good at making everything look easy.”

“I can't believe my carefree days are over.”

“Marriage does not necessarily end them. I do not think Michael will ever completely grow up.”

“Well, that just makes me wish I was him.”

Morgan laughed. “I think one of him is plenty enough for me to handle. However, I see a lot of him in you. You are self-determined, intelligent, charming and dynamic. You are unmistakably his daughter.”

~~~~~

Margaret sat over her own wedding album, marveling that her husband's daughter was being married off a mere seven years into their own marriage. Michael sat next to her, nursing a coffee and cognac. “When did she grow up?” he asked the ceiling.

“Do you feel old?” she asked, chiding gently.

Michael shrugged. “Wasn't it just last week she was jumping on my bed in the morning? When she was running barefoot in the gardens, ripping her dress on the roses? When she outgrew girl's shoes? I'm going to miss my little angel.”

Margaret smiled knowingly. Michael reached for his wallet and pulled out an old photograph wrapped in tissue paper. The color had faded, but it showed Michael sitting on a threadbare couch bottlefeeding a toddler in his arms while a spry little girl climbed on his back and shoulder. His suit had been bought off the rack and his face, though smiling and amused, looked tired and drawn. It was a very precious picture to him.

“My goodness, you look so common in that picture!”

“I was. I gave up my entire life and moved into an apartment with Nicole, Krystie and their mother. Worked a part-time desk job. Lived hand-to-mouth for two years. The rent was eight hundred dollars a month and we could barely afford to eat. It was one of the stupidest and most educational things I ever did. I have many reasons to regret it, but I can't.”

~~~~~

Nadine felt overwhelmed by the grandeur and lost amid the crowd of important and influential people. Krystie was the only one there that had approached her so far. She felt the only reason Krystie was sociable was because her father had tasked her with buying her mother outfits for the events. Michael had spent the evening with his wife by his side. When he wasn't with her, he was flirting with his mistress. When his mistress outclassed her, Nadine wondered why she was even invited.

He eventually meandered her way. She tugged at his sleeve...

~~~~~

Morgan flipped open the jewel on his watch and ran his fingers over the watch's face. Michael had seemed oddly distracted this evening. Perhaps, he was worrying overmuch, but Michael also seemed to be avoiding him as well. Morgan snapped the jewel shut and picked up his ever full glass of scotch and walked carefully toward the back hall. With any luck, no one would notice him missing for a short while. His luck didn't hold out. Claire called out to him as he stepped away.

~~~~~

The Right Honourable Lord & Lady Michael Wallace

request the honour of your presence

at the marriage of his daughter

Nicole

to

Mr. Charles Arnault ...

“Why wasn't I included on the invitation?” Nadine asked.

“Because you weren't involved in planning the wedding,” Michael said. A mild drawl suggested he was drunk. He put aside the empty coffee cup and walked away in a deliberately slow pace. He knew he was drunk but was taking pains not to show it, Nadine realized. She followed him.

“You and Nicole have grown up so much. I wish I could say the same.”

Michael turned to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know you want to talk, but if you'll be patient, please. I have to go do something.”

He walked away to the grand staircase and found his way into the servant's tunnel underneath and relieved himself in a tiny stall that was rarely used anymore. He emerged and found Nadine standing outside the hidden door. “I can talk now,” he said, the consonents softly rounded by alcohol.

She commented on how Nicole had grown into a beautiful young woman. Michael nodded in agreement. He was uncharacteristically quiet. Suddenly, his head dipped down. He placed a hand over face. Nadine pressed close to him. He uncovered one eye to look at her. It was wet with tears. “Mike, is something wrong?”

Michael choked lightly on his emotions. “Yes, something's wrong. I'm not ready for my little girl to leave me.”

Nadine smiled then. So, he was human. She hugged him and wished she could have the days back when they were struggling together as a cohabiting couple. “Ah, Mikey, she'll be all right. You raised her.”

He pulled her into a bear hug. “You're the only person who's ever gotten away with calling me Mikey,” he giggled.

~~~~~

Krystie carefully removed the coffee and crème de menthe from Nicole's hand and steered her toward the grand staircase. “I think you've had enough for tonight. You need to be sober tomorrow morning,” she mused.

They were halfway up the first flight when Morgan started ascending on the bottom. “Where have you been?” Nicole yelled, voice quavering.

Morgan sped up to steady her, answering, “Freaking your ex-stepaunt out.” He seemed oddly gratified.

Krystie didn't want to know. “Have you noticed Dad around?”

“No, but I can sense he's close, down the guest wing.”

Michael lay insensate on a guest bed, mostly dressed. Nadine looked up at them and quickly pulled down the hem of her dress and tried to zip up the back. Morgan, who could smell that sex had occurred, even though there was no real physical evidence to be seen, merely commented to himself that this happens on the eve of every wedding they'd attended.