Chapter 17 Paltrowed
Chapter17 Paltrowed
The Mother of the Groom
A short time later, after a property tour from Ming and a recital of the guest house amenities from Win, Abigail, now refreshed
and minus the extra layers of clothing, accepted a glass of wine and tucked into the cheese plate on the patio overlooking
the garden with a sliver of a view of the ocean in the distance. She was hungry and tired from travel, but started to unwind
as she watched her daughter backstroke in the lap pool. Maybe this would be a relaxing weekend, getting to know Alexa and
her life here. Why was she so stressed? She thought of Bernadette’s advice: None of this is on you, Mother of the Groom . This should be fun, after all. Lean in, Abby. That’s what she called herself when she resorted to personal pep talks.
Alexa seemed so much less intimidating on her home turf in linen pants and her hair up in a ponytail. She had been terrifying at the engagement party with the British lord on her arm and the mayor checking her out. Alexa was off the swagger charts and guests afterward mentioned how much she looked like Anjelica Huston and what great genes Chase’s baby would inherit. Abigail wanted to snap back that the other half of Penny’s genes were a mystery but held her tongue.
Today, on this sunny day in this sunny place, Alexa looked approachable, accepting. She didn’t look worried that the bride
had abandoned them, so why should Abigail worry? The decision-making was on the mother of the bride. All Abigail had to do
was find a casual spot for the rehearsal dinner and pray that the wedding venue didn’t need a tent.
The local sauvignon blanc and the warm breezes were doing all the right things to Abigail’s mood. By the second glass, she
had convinced herself that it was easier with Penny out of the picture. No bride drama. Just mature women making mature decisions.
Alexa returned to the patio with a carafe of water and more wine. “A gentle reminder to hydrate. It’s dry here, even if it’s
not blazing hot. I’m always telling my clients to drink more water when we travel.” She set a glass of ice water in front
of Abigail.
“Thank you,” Abigail responded. “Do you live in this same area?”
“No. I’m not a golfer,” Alexa explained, even though they both knew that the subtext was more about money than golf. But Alexa,
unlike Abigail, wasn’t embarrassed to talk finances. “Thirty-five years ago, when I decided to settle here, I had enough savings
to buy a condo and a travel business, thanks to my film production job. I found a renovated place in a lovely old building
near the beach. The older woman moving out loved traveling to Greece and sold it to me under market.”
“The Greeks must have a word for that!” Abigail said.
“Yes, moira. Fate, destiny. It’s small, but Penny and I don’t need much space. Over the years, I thought about selling the condo and buying a bigger house, but the prices got more and more out of reach. And truly, we travel so much, it didn’t seem worth the headache. I didn’t anticipate the summer rental market. I could have made a fortune renting the place out all summer and paid for the rest of the year.”
“Who knew?” Abigail said, remaining unconvinced that there was really a rental market here. Didn’t the rich people in California
already live on the beach?
“I met a couple from New York who rent here now because he said the Hamptons was too noisy with all the hedge trimmers and
helicopters,” Alexa said.
“Imagine.” And Abigail couldn’t because the truth was she’d never been to the Hamptons. When you lived on the water in Connecticut,
why travel to be on the water on Long Island?
“When I bought here, Montecito was a small, sleepy town. Filled with real people, who had lived here for generations or wanted
to build that kind of life for their family. But once the town got Paltrowed, as they say, the values changed, both the real
estate values and other values. But, where I live, not much has changed. I know my neighbors. We watch out for each other
and share herbs from our gardens and citrus from our trees. My street remains simple, like the town used to be. I walk to
Butterfly Beach, where I swim or watch the sunset. It’s lovely. Small, but lovely.”
“It must remind you of home,” Abigail said, trying for the first time to break through the polite professional exterior of
Alexa Diamandis to get to something personal.
“Yes, the best parts of Patmos. The blue water, the blue sky, the beauty. The heat that comes from the ground up into your
bones. The fragrance in the air. It’s why I stayed here all those years ago when I could have moved to Los Angeles. Montecito
represents both the familiar and the possibilities. Still.”
Abigail nodded. She was comfortable with the familiar, but not so much with the possibilities.
Ming joined them, dressed for another activity beyond lounging at home. She was headed to the clubhouse for Thursday Night Bingo. She poured a short glass of wine and lifted her glass in a toast. “We’re so glad to meet you, Abigail! And to welcome you to town. On behalf of the Merry Widows, we want you to know how much we love Penny and we know that you’ll love having her in your family. We can’t wait to meet Chase. Cheers to them both.”
Abigail lifted her glass. She was struck by the graciousness of both these women. Alexa had to be nice to her, but Ming was
a revelation. She had to admit to herself that she thought polished manners ceased to exist west of the Mississippi. She expected
this part of the world to be a lot more casual, bohemian, on the verge of uncouth. The kind of place where wine was served
in jelly jars and everyone stood around in the kitchen eating food with their hands. But that was not the case at all. These
women lived up to her exacting standards: a cocktail napkin for every glass.
“Now that I’m here, I’m looking forward to the weekend. Thank you for hosting Sarah and me. It’s very generous of you. When
Penny invited us, I didn’t understand the burden in terms of hotels. And tomorrow night, another friend of yours has invited
us to dinner? Very kind.”
Penny had sent a minute-by-minute schedule for Friday and Saturday, most of which was wedding related, but there were a few
slots for meals. Friday night was dinner at Toots’s house, which sounded intriguing. “This is a treat for me. Don’t tell my
husband that this is really a vacation!” Abigail confessed. The more she divulged, the more relaxed she felt.
“I’m off,” Sarah announced loudly. During the conversation she had slipped out of the pool and into the guest wing, and now
wore the raspberry sheath dress from the engagement party. Her wet hair was wrapped up in a bun and she wore silver hoop earrings.
A swipe of lip gloss and mascara highlighted her features. Her young skin was tan and dewy. She looked, Abigail thought, quite
pretty.
“Where are you off to?” Ming asked with delight.
“My brother’s friend Lloyd is coming to pick me up and show me the town. Will he be able to get past the gate? I didn’t know about the gate when we set this up.”
“I’ll ring down. What’s his full name?” Ming asked.
“Lloyd Chandra.”
“And is this a date?” Ming asked playfully.
“No. He was my brother’s roommate at Fordham. I’ve only met him once, at Thanksgiving years ago. But he’s a scientist and
works at UCSB now. Chase connected us. We’ve been texting back and forth for a few weeks. He’s the best man at the wedding.”
Again, Abigail was surprised that her children had any contact with each other outside of her sphere of influence. And that
Sarah was ditching her without warning. But she was shocked that Lloyd was the best man. Chase hadn’t mentioned him in years.
She blurted out, “He’s the best man? I had no idea.”
Sarah shook her head. “Gotta keep up, Mom.”
Abigail made eye contact with Alexa, who gave her a sympathetic smile. “Well, as the mother of the groom, I’m finding it’s
hard to keep up and stay out of the way at the same time.”
“He and Chase talk all the time. Lloyd’s in New York a bunch for work. He’s raising money for some kind of startup for his
research. We mainly talk about, you know, music and Game of Thrones . We’re both into that.” Abigail realized she had no follow-up question to the revelation that her daughter could keep up
a conversation about Game of Thrones for weeks with anyone. Sarah had never mentioned that TV show to her.
Ming made a quick call to the gatehouse and then turned back to Sarah. “That color looks lovely on you, my dear. Wait here.
I have something for you.”
As she left, Alexa explained, “She’s a giver. And an over-shopper. So take whatever she gives you or else the offers won’t
stop! Shh, don’t tell her I said that.”
Ming returned with a raspberry and gold wrap that looked beau tiful with Sarah’s dress. “I bought this in Hong Kong. It can get chilly here at night. No humidity. The gold sets off your lovely skin. It’s not my color at all. Please, keep it.” Abigail watched as Ming wrapped her daughter in the fabric and watched her bloom under its cover.
“This is gorgeous,” Sarah said, studying her reflection in the window as she ran her hands over the smooth silk and gold embroidery.
Her usual fabric choice was fleece. “Thank you so much.”
“Truly my pleasure to give it to someone who appreciates it,” Ming said, studying her guest. She smoothed her hand over Sarah’s
shoulder and down her arm in a warm gesture. “Young skin. Treasure it.”
Just then Win escorted a handsome young man onto the patio. Abigail was stunned. “Lloyd?” she sputtered.
“Lloyd!” Sarah shouted.
The Lloyd who had spent his first college Thanksgiving in Fair Harbor was a tall, skinny kid with terrible skin and long hair.
This Lloyd Chandra looked like he’d been treated to the male makeover that maturity and money bring—thicker, fitter, and a
decent haircut. He seemed energetic, comfortable in his surroundings. He rushed to give Sarah a thorough hug, as if it had
been a long time coming. Sarah blushed deeply. Abigail couldn’t take her eyes off the young couple who had materialized out
of nothing right in front of her.
As if sensing her shock, Lloyd pulled himself away from his friend’s sister and strode over to Abigail with an outstretched
hand. “Hello, Mrs.Blakeman. It’s great to see you again.”
“Please, call me Abigail. What a pleasure to see you again.” Now Abigail understood Chase’s choice. And her daughter’s. A
scientist and entrepreneur with that handsome face! He looked like a movie star with his dark sunglasses, expensive T-shirt,
and linen shorts. He’d certainly be a star in Aunt B’s write-up of the wedding. Next to Chase, of course.
Introductions were made all around with chitchat and a drill-down by Ming, ever the wealth management expert, on his financial status. “You run a lab at UCSB? And do you share in all the IP that comes out of the lab?” Her inquisition took place less than five minutes into his visit, and he held up well. Yes to both questions, and his field of expertise was diabetes research, specifically bioidentical insulin. The startup would be the beginnings of monetization of his research. Ming told him that she’d like to hear more about his work one day, ending by saying, “I know people. And they know people.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch,” Lloyd said. Then he turned to Sarah with a gleam in his eye. “Shall we get going? We have to
make it to the sunset spot. And then the best tacos in town.”
“East Beach?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, how did you know?” Lloyd gasped, as if he had no idea that Yelp existed. He was now putty in Sarah’s hand. “You’re going
to love it here.”
“I already do,” Sarah said without any guile.
“Here,” Ming said, handing Sarah a parking pass. “Show this to the gate attendant when you come back in tonight. If you come
back in tonight.” Both Sarah and Lloyd blushed. And so did Abigail.
***
“What am I smelling? Jasmine?”
“Yes, it’s night-blooming jasmine season. Intoxicating, yes?” Alexa asked.
Abigail agreed, although maybe because she was slightly intoxicated. The third glass of wine had gotten to her and she had
had to speak slowly not to slur in front of Alexa. Ming was off at the clubhouse and Sarah had gone galivanting. It was the
MOB and the MOG and a diminished cheese platter. Basically, two complete strangers and only the salami left between them.
She tried and failed to stifle a yawn. “I apologize. Air travel is exhausting these days. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Lots of water and audiobooks,” Alexa answered. “Might I sug gest an early night? I know you’re three hours ahead and you must be tired. We could go out to dinner if you wish, but there are salads and meals in your guest kitchen in case you want to stay in.”
Abigail thought two things: She wants to go home, and I will be asleep in ten minutes . Both of which were fine. “I think it’s an early night for me. Thank you for everything. You’ve gone above and beyond, especially
with all the gifts in our room. Very thoughtful.”
“We have an early start in the a.m. Our first site visit is at nine in the morning at a women’s club here in town. It’s nice
on the outside, but a little run-down on the inside. Penny said it’s available and affordable, so we’ll start there. Then
a private home that I don’t think will work at all, but Penny wants us to see it. And finally, the winery in the afternoon.
Fingers crossed on the winery, the best choice by far.”
Abigail nodded. See, she thought, I’m in charge of nothing.
“And the wedding coordinator will pick us up here. I’ll text you when we’re on our way.”
First the car from the airport and now a wedding coordinator. Chase had mentioned one during the car conversation, but Abigail
hadn’t absorbed the information. She was too annoyed to ask follow-up questions. But this was a point of connection for the
two mothers. “Tell me about the wedding coordinator.” Abigail managed the short sentence without mishap.
“She’s a sorority sister of Penny’s who is trying to break into the business. She does corporate events but wants to transition
to weddings. So, we’re her first official client. But Penny said we must have one so we will have one.” For the first time,
weariness with the bride crept into Alexa’s tone.
The wine emboldened Abigail. “Bet you’re glad you never had a wedding.”
Alexa chuckled and answered without hesitation. “Every. Single. Day.”
From the Desktop of Dearly Beloveds and Betrotheds
Your Aunt B’s Guide to Wedding Venues
Dear B & Bs...
Let’s face it, the second the word “venue” comes out of your mouth, the price tag for the event you’re planning goes up fifty
percent. Everyday events, like birthday parties or graduation celebrations, don’t need a venue. They need houses or restaurants
or public parks with good picnic tables. But a wedding needs a venue these days, with extras that vary from a temporary greenhouse-inspired
wedding chapel to an outdoor kitchen run off a generator, so let’s look at your options and my opinions.
The Bride’s Home
Sure, the venue is free—until you need to replace the entire electrical system to accommodate the caterer’s request or re-landscape
the backyard to match the Bride’s color scheme. Still, there is a lot to be said for a home wedding. Hosting a wedding where
the bride grew up provides a warm, personal backdrop and a welcome understated tone. The size of the home dictates the number
of guests in a way that is helpful to whoever is paying for the wedding. Most of us don’t have houses that can accommodate
two hundred and fifty guests. But we can tent the backyard for one hundred family and friends. (My favorite-size wedding.)
If you can swing this, I love a home wedding. And bonus, after the guests have gone, your house will be in its best shape
in years.
Somebody Else’s Home
An increasingly popular venue choice: a spectacular rental house that can accommodate large events in a desirable des tination. Like your home, only much, much better. I’ve covered rental home weddings in Cape Cod, Jackson Hole, and Austin as well as other trendy locations. Costs vary, but don’t expect bargains and do expect to secure at least a year in advance for some choice locations. Bonus, family can stay in the rental house. Don’t think of it as a cost savings, because these places can rent for fifty thousand plus for the weekend. But at least there’s someplace to stash Grandma or other guests who might not be as mobile. Said with love always.
Country Clubs/Private Clubs
A venerable standby for a reason: The experienced event staff makes the wedding a plug-and-play situation. The menu choices
are limited to what the kitchen offers. The best table layout is already established. The staff knows how to get guests in,
served, dancing, and out in a well-regulated manner. Personalization limited to table decor, flowers, and first-dance song,
but it will be a smooth, lovely, expensive event. Note: Many private clubs have a no-jeans policy. Make sure your vendors
and guests are aware of it. I’ve witnessed the FOB lend the wedding photographer a suit minutes before the ceremony.
Local Hotels or Destination Resorts
Like private clubs, hotels and resorts in the wedding biz know how to get the job done. They churn and burn big weddings, and some do it very, very well. At a top-notch hotel, you can feel like your event is unique, thanks to planning pros who know the best way to execute every aspect of the day, from the best spot for a “first look” photo to where to stage the sparkler gauntlet. Again, limited possibilities for personalization but endless possibilities to spend lots of money. Passed drinks before the ceremony! Specialty cocktails in the receiving line! Martini bars! Pre-ceremony coffee cart! Midnight burger bar after a full dinner and dancing! Late-night s’mores by the firepit as an after-party! Cha-CHING, cha-CHING. Still, happy guests and a short trip back to their rooms for the parents of the bride and groom.
Museums, Libraries, Concert Halls, and Other Prestigious Locations
This is rarefied air here. And your Aunt B knows that while all her readers have impeccable taste, they do not all have impossibly
large bank balances. No shame in not having the budget for a six-figure venue fee. Yes, I said six figures and a seat on the
board to get married at the Met or the Art Institute or the Huntington. Let’s face it, if you are in the million-dollar-wedding
category, you stopped reading this column when I mentioned the tired martini bar in the above paragraph.
Wineries
Hit-or-miss location for me. Some of the loveliest weddings I’ve ever been to have occurred at stunning vineyards with a rustic
elegant feel in Paso Robles, upstate New York, and the Willamette Valley in Oregon. Also, some of the hottest/wettest/coldest/smokiest
weddings I’ve ever attended have been at vineyards, which are subject to the elements in a way that hotel or home ceremonies
are not. On a perfect day, it’s a perfect place. But beware the weather and the fire season and make a Plan B. (And a Plan
Bee because someone will get stung. I guarantee it.) Ditto this for farms, ranches, and orchards. So much dust.