Chapter 16 The Appalling Call
Chapter16 The Appalling Call
The Mother of the Groom
“What do you mean she’s not coming? It’s her wedding. She needs to pick the venue, not us,” Abigail said, putting the call
on speakerphone so Sarah could hear Chase, too. “We’re on our way to the airport. Your father’s driving us. And now she’s
going to cancel?”
Chase’s voice came through loud and clear, even though the car was so old it didn’t even have a wireless connection. “Mom,
it’s work and it’s important to her. And it’s important to us. This is a big opportunity and she doesn’t want to blow it.”
“And your wedding isn’t a big opportunity?” Abigail snapped back, more annoyed now than ever that the couple couldn’t be persuaded
to have the wedding in Fair Harbor instead of this California nonsense. She knew having the wedding in the groom’s hometown
instead of the bride’s was not traditional, but she was hoping the smashing success of the engagement party and the press
coverage would make them see the light. Why not an easy, elegant East Coast event? What could be more traditional than that?
But no, Penny would not be swayed and now this mess ! She’s the one insisting on California and now we have pick the soulless venue from a list without her , Abigail seethed. “I’m not sure I understand Penny’s priorities.”
Chase was silent on the other end of the phone for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he answered his mother as if she
were an annoying journalist who’d asked the same question five times hoping for a different response. “Mom, Penny and I both
prioritize work. I’m in public service, that means it’s likely she will be the primary breadwinner in our family. We are partners
in this enterprise, equal partners. So, if she needs to work this weekend, she needs to work this weekend. I’m working, too,
as a matter of fact. Headed out to Long Island for a planning session with the mayor. Work is important to both of us.”
The Blakemans let that statement settle. There was that implication again that his parents had not only chosen a different
path, but the incorrect path. George turned to his wife and could see she was starting to build up a head of steam. He gave
her a one-handed “settle down” gesture.
They’d had this conversation before when Chase or Sarah had made comments about how they’d never be able to buy a house because
their parents’ generation had sucked up all the wealth. But, their children boasted, they were going to change the paradigm!
They believed themselves to be so much smarter than their parents, as if all the opportunities they thought they deserved
for their own children would be delivered in a beautifully wrapped package, thanks to their deliberate, enlightened choices
to share household chores with their spouses and buy their kids nongendered toys.
But Abigail and George, being older, wiser, and much less convinced about the New World Order, knew that the hard choices about money and parenthood and doing work you believed in versus work that made a decent living were right around the corner for their kids, not decades away. Economic reality came at you fast and it was exhausting. What seemed like a good idea at thirty was a terrible reality at forty and an unsustainable trap at fifty. But the couple held their tongues because they believed there was a time and a place for a conversation like this and it was not while stuck in traffic on the Whitestone Bridge.
George extended an olive branch. “We believe in work, too, son. What can we do to be helpful?”
This trip was Penny’s idea , Abigail mouthed at George. It was costing them a small fortune in airfare, fresh hair highlights, a few new wardrobe items,
and one Hydrafacial because she needed to look her best when she met the Merry Widows, whom she’d heard so much about. She’d
even been suspicious about the offer to stay at Ming’s house, until she looked at the hotel situation in Montecito and realized
that the only available rooms were the ones she could never afford. When the offer to stay with Ming was extended, Abigail
was relieved and then paranoid. Did Alexa suspect that their financial situation was so dire?
Now Chase was insinuating that Penny needed to work because he had no family money. That was what he was implying, wasn’t
it? And what was it with this new generation of men and their “equal partnership” stance? The minute Penny gave birth, the
scale would tip in one direction for the next eighteen years. He’d flee public service for a private company paycheck minutes
after the baby arrived. Did he know the cost of day care?
Chase ticked off his notes like he was debriefing an advance team. “Penny has sent you all the details on the venues for the
wedding and the rehearsal dinner and the schedule for the site visits. Madison the wedding planner will pick you up on Saturday
morning. Of course Penny has looped in her own mother so you’re not in charge of anything, but just another set of eyes. Also,
she wanted me to make sure and let you know that because our family is hosting the rehearsal dinner, anywhere you choose is
fine with her.”
Abigail rolled her eyes and muted the phone so she could say to George, “I don’t believe that ‘anywhere we choose’ is fine
with her.”
Wisely, he didn’t respond. She unmuted.
Chase continued, “And, Sarah, can you take lots of photos and videos and get those to her ASAP? Doesn’t need to be real time, but she can go over those on her flight on Monday. And their regular driver will pick you up at LAX, so you don’t have to worry about a rental car. Sarah, she’ll text you the details on the pickup.”
Again with the cars! And why was Sarah in charge of everything all of a sudden? Didn’t Penny trust her? Abigail was beyond
annoyed. Why were they even getting on the plane? Sarah could see her mother’s face and waved a cautionary finger at her,
before answering her brother. “Sounds great, Chase. I’m happy to do that. Also, I contacted Lloyd so I’ll see him at some
point. Tell Penny to have a good work trip. Don’t worry about Montecito! Mom and I will represent. No problem.” Sarah stared
hard at her mother, indicating that she should talk next. And be nice.
“Yes, tell Penny not to worry. We’re looking forward to being as helpful as possible. Safe travels to her. She should text
us if she thinks of anything else,” Abigail cooed with conviction, more to assuage Sarah than Chase.
“Thanks, Mom. I mean it. I really appreciate you doing this for us.”
That simple sentiment soothed Abigail. She so rarely got thanks from her family. Strangers at the grocery store, clients at
the senior center, even former Silliman parents she might bump into at church all said thank you to her for some small gesture
she afforded them. But her own family, especially Chase, rarely acknowledged her in that way. “Of course, Chase. Happy to
help.”
“We’re pulling into JFK, son. We’ll sign off now. Your mother and your sister are all set. Safe travels to Penny,” George
closed and ended the call. He turned to his wife and said in a faux-sympathetic tone, “You almost lost it, but you hung on.”
What do you know about hanging on? Abigail wanted to burst out in admonition but held her tongue. George breezed through the world despite their circumstances, while she could barely sleep at night, worried about their finances and their future. How could he not see the bind they were in? He wasn’t going three thousand miles to go look at second-tier clubs and barbecue joints for the rehearsal dinner they couldn’t afford. But she didn’t like to fight in front of the children, even if the child in question was twenty-seven. So instead, she answered, “Chase is a very supportive partner. I hope Penny returns the favor.”
She stared out the window at the airport signs. “We’re at Terminal Six, George. Oh, and Sarah, who is Lloyd?”
***
Abigail Blakeman was a proud daughter of New England. She believed in clapboard white houses, pewter over silver, mashed root
vegetables on Thanksgiving, and all that was Colonial. But even she had to admit that Montecito was drop-dead gorgeous. She
hadn’t been all that impressed with what Southern California had to offer on the drive from the airport until the full expanse
of the Pacific Ocean came into view about ninety minutes up Highway 101 at the curve at Rincon Beach. The stunning scale and
scope of the California coast became clear. She took in the huge waves, the wide beach, and dozens, maybe hundreds, of surfers
dotting the water. It almost took her breath away. Almost.
The last half hour of the trip took them past houses pitched out over the ocean or climbing up mountainsides. They drove past polo fields and beach clubs and citrus groves. As they wove their way through the streets of the town itself, she admired charming cottages, low-slung midcentury moderns, and Mediterranean estates peeking out behind high walls and long crushed-granite drives. The village shops looked inviting, chic, authentic. And the flowers and the foliage! It was like being in another world, maybe even another millennium, ancient and unexpected. From birds-of-paradise to sage bushes bigger than a car. The olive trees! The lemons! The enormous prickly pears! Roses and bougainvillea everywhere. She wanted to remain unimpressed but couldn’t.
In her only previous trip to California, more than two decades ago, Abigail had stayed in downtown San Diego for work and
found it appalling. Everything about it seemed engineered for naval ships and conferences. She barely left the hotel because
she had no real need. Who needed to explore a town filled with Fuddruckers? But this part of the Golden State seemed to live
up to the hype, even though she would never admit she was the type to care about hype. One look at a stone-capped stucco wall
overhung by brilliant pink bougainvillea and Abigail was sold. She wanted to move right in with the royalty, the celebrities,
the barons of business and Hollywood. If the Old Guard would have her.
“How beautiful,” she said to no one in particular.
“The most beautiful,” Ricky answered with conviction.
Sarah had spent the bulk of the two-hour drive entertaining herself with fun facts about Montecito that she gleaned from her
phone. How she could look at that tiny screen and be in a car at the same time perplexed Abigail. She could get car sick changing
the radio. But not Sarah, who stayed glued to her device, shouting out facts periodically. The town of Montecito is an unincorporated area in Santa Barbara County. It’s not exactly part of the city of Santa Barbara,
but the two towns share resources like schools. It’s home to ten thousand or so people, from billionaires to immigrants, retirees
to ranchers, royals to movie stars. Dogs are pampered, horses are welcome, and beware the coyotes. The area has survived drought,
fires, and a terrible mud and rain event in 2018 that killed dozens. The ocean is on one side, the mountains on the other.
But everyone agrees, there’s no place better.
Sarah continued to shout out the facts, now at a more rapid pace: There is a nearby zoo and botanical gardens! The Mission was founded about the same time as the American Revolution! Julia
Child was a treasured resident! The details got smaller and smaller as the car got closer and closer. Best tacos are at East Beach! Lotusland is open to the public! Full Moon Soundbath! Finally, as the Lexus pulled through the gates of Nottingham Forest, an elite enclave for golfers and the people who loved
them, Sarah announced, “Wow, the Zestimate on the house we’re going to is almost six million dollars!”
As the car turned onto the final street, Abigail marveled at the number. “Six million dollars! Does it even have a view of
the ocean? It has a view of... a cul-de-sac.”
But she knew she’d take Ming’s house in a second over any golf course–adjacent condo that she and George could afford in South
Carolina.
Sarah buzzed down the car window and stuck her head out to feel the breeze, then popped back in to declare, “This place is
awesome.”
When the car pulled up to Ming’s house, Sarah’s head was back out the window, taking in the exquisite surroundings of Nottingham
Forest. Abigail collected herself before exiting the black Lexus sedan and urged Sarah to do the same. “First impressions,
dear.”
Sarah popped out of the car, jumped up and down to loosen her limbs and take in a deep breath of the rosemary and lavender–tinged
air, the scent of the Mediterranean that defined the Montecito landscape. Abigail got out more slowly and smoothed her clothes,
also breathing deeply as she took in her surroundings. Ming’s garden was a masterpiece of native plants, thanks to a talented
designer and her team of landscapers. As a gardener, Abigail approved. But as the mother of the groom, she had one thought:
I can’t compete.
***
Alexa signaled to Ricky to bring the luggage up to the front of the house. She waited to greet her guests until Ricky said goodbye. It was a habit she formed over the years, thanks to her professional experience. Let the settling happen first, she told her trip leaders. Don’t try to communicate with clients who are worried about their luggage. Wait until they are focused on you and your message, she would advise.
“Welcome to Montecito,” Alexa announced to the visitors and then gave them each a hug. Abigail was in an all-navy ensemble
including a raincoat and a pashmina, as if she were going to the Pacific Northwest in November, not a California beach town
in the summer. Sarah looked like she had to get to practice immediately upon arrival, in sweats, slides, and shades. They
were an odd mother-daughter pairing. She couldn’t see any of Abigail in Sarah and vice versa. While Alexa despised the “mini-me”
comparisons she and Penny were subject to, she was grateful that her DNA won out over the sperm donor’s, as crass as that
sounded. But Abigail and Sarah seemed to share no physical attributes or personality traits at all. Abigail was petite, fair-skinned,
and operated at high levels of self-awareness that veered into social anxiety. Sarah was solid and athletic, with tanned skin,
streaky brown hair, and a loud voice. Maybe as she got to know the mother and daughter better, she’d find the overlap between
the two of them.
Alexa put on her tour guide voice and fake smile because the next seventy-two hours were all on her. “We’re going to have
a busy weekend, aren’t we? It’s a shame about Penny’s work, but we’ll carry on in her absence,” Alexa announced like a loyal
mother. She was not going to question her daughter’s decision in front of the Blakemans, even though she questioned it plenty
in private. “Let’s get you settled and then we’ll make plans. I hope Ricky drove safely and didn’t talk too much. Sometimes
I tell him I have a migraine coming on so he’ll be quiet. Win, the house manager, will bring your luggage to the guest wing.
Please, come in, I’ll introduce you to your host, Ming.”
“This house is amazing,” Sarah said.
“How lovely to have so much help,” Abigail observed.