Chapter 60
They arrived at the reception with a flourish, Jamie already glad to have slipped into some white satin flats. I did it the moment we finished taking the photos. Jamie couldn’t wait to feel her soles again. If only the reception were outdoors! Sweet grass beneath her feet!
Instead, they were at the community center in the hills.
For most of her life, Jamie associated “community center” with metal folding chairs and paper streamers.
Except that those centers hadn’t been in the hills.
Here, it was like a mini-country club, but without the rules and expectations.
The who’s-who could rent a cute manor to host parties and even small business affairs.
There was a ballroom that accommodated the hundreds of guests filing in.
A separate room for the cocktail hour? Bonus.
Jamie and Etta stood in front of their banquet table, greeting their guests as they came by.
It was three, with rays of afternoon sunlight bathing the ballroom and illuminating Jamie’s dress in a publicly pleasing way.
Naturally, many asked her who designed it, and she was happy to drop the name Bonita Bocelli… which nobody knew, of course.
Raul dipped in to do Jamie’s hair for the reception: the classic updo that would stay out of the way while she dined and danced with her wife. Etta admitted she fancied this even more than the loose hair. “You look very refined,” she told her.
“You think so?” They had a lull in guests, although plenty made their way toward them. I think I legit shook a prince’s hand. Prince of Liechtenstein? Somewhere? “I’ve always wanted to look refined.”
Etta leaned in closer, breath hot on the ear. “I can’t wait to take it down for you later.”
Jamie couldn’t help but giggle. “And this dress?”
“I’ll be delicate, I promise.”
“I’m sure you will be.”
Nothing pleased Jamie more than to sit at the table and finally take her weight off her aching feet.
I am so ready for Hawaii. They were leaving the next day, and it couldn’t come soon enough at this point.
Even though her dress was still tight around her waist, she ordered the most carb-infested, dairy-laden thing she could find on the menu and started drinking Italian wine with it.
Can’t wait to spill it all over my dress. Luckily, that didn’t happen.
It wouldn’t be a wedding reception without speeches, and that’s what the newlyweds were treated to as they enjoyed their meal.
Etta’s friend from Yale went first, admitting that he didn’t know Jamie very well, but that any woman who managed to tie down Etta Coleman was a special one, indeed.
Everyone did their best not to look at Adele, who sat on the other side of Etta, wearing the original dress she was slated to wear that day before her last-minute change into a suit.
She had another drink before anyone else.
When it was her turn to give a speech, Adele stood up, cleared her throat… and promptly tried to pass the mic to someone else.
“No, you don’t.” Jamie slapped her hand in front of Etta to get Adele’s attention.
“Well, what is there to say?” Adele said, the flux in her voice betraying her anxiety.
“Etta and I go a long way back. Some of you even know that we used to date while we were at Yale. People were really surprised when we went into business together… and I’m sure they’re even more shocked to see me standing here now. ”
She said all of this in Jamie’s direction, as if to declare, “See? I know what you think.”
“I haven’t known Jamie for very long, either, but I’ve come to know a bright young woman who knows exactly what she wants and what obstacles may stand in her way.
That’s a compliment, truly. She is also incredibly tenacious, because anyone who has ever dated Etta knows what a broody handful she can be. ”
“Hey, now…”
“Shush.”
Nobody had a lot to say about actually knowing Jamie until they got to her parents – who offered to give another fertility demonstration, but were quickly removed from the open floor – and the few friends she had.
Monique was asked to say a few things, and the core of her speech was, “Etta needs a woman like her, and she needs a woman like Etta. Trust me, I’m a professional matchmaker. I know these things.”
By the time the speeches ended, Jamie had finished her food and let it sit.
There’s still the cake! A lovely monster sitting pretty on a table along the far side of the wall.
There were so many flowers on it that most people thought Jamie chose it…
but in reality, Etta insisted on more flowers.
Jamie had married one of the biggest softies in the world, and nobody but her knew it.
Just in case she needed to burn some calories, the live jazz band began playing, and Etta extended a hand to her new wife.
“You know how this goes,” she said, pretending to be so put out by having to dance with her. “Nobody else is allowed to dance until we get it on out there… and these people are dying to get down and funky.”
This was not a crowd that would do the Macarena, the Funky Chicken, or even a damn Conga Line, but they would all turn their heads when the new wives first took to the floor and slow-danced to a jazz rendition of Savage Garden’s “I Knew I Loved You.” Etta had rolled her eyes when Jamie announced the choice weeks back, but now Etta’s eyes were focused on hers.
They went from holding a respectable pose to Jamie sinking against her chest in about two seconds.
Screw propriety! It was her wedding day, and Jamie wanted to be cute with her wife. My wife! What a wild idea!
The floor slowly filled up with other couples.
Jamie didn’t pay them any mind. She looked up, into Etta’s eyes, smiling at the way she looked at her.
It wasn’t until her father barreled through a few minutes later, demanding a dance with his daughter while Luna sashayed away with Etta, that Jamie considered the world beyond them.
Her dress didn’t let her do a lot of dancing, but Jamie was content to relax and watch her wedding unfold.
Many people came by to privately congratulate her, including a teary Francesca Blake, who declared her, “As beautiful as my daughter on her wedding day.” She then extended an invitation to Jamie to attend a garden party when she returned from her honeymoon, and asked if the newly minted Mrs. Coleman had any plans to host her first soiree before August.
They cut the cake, foregoing smearing icing on each other’s faces to instead feed each other a piece. It was while they ate at the banquet table that a frantic June appeared, asking, “Have either one of you seen my dates? I think they might be brawling out back!”
“What?”
“What?”
“Shit,” June hissed. “Do not tell Monique, okay? Happy wedding!” She hurried off, cursing as she ran to the backyard of the small, rented manor.
Both Etta and Jamie watched after her. “I am so telling Monique,” Etta said.
“Definitely.”
They barely had time to share a smile of mischief before Eve marched up to the banquet table… and went straight for Natasha.
“You’re killing me,” she hissed across the table, making the poor girl lean back in her seat with a startled squeal. “What are we even arguing about? I so did not flirt with that boring-ass girl… on purpose. I swear!”
“Brother,” Jamie mumbled, turning back toward Etta. “Should you or I stop this drama right now? I don’t want it at our wedding. Apparently, there’s a fist fight going on, anyway.” More than one security person raced out the back door.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Etta mused. “If we must have drama, I’d rather it be this.”
“Of course you would. You practically invite it into your office, last I heard.”
Adele peered out from Etta’s left side. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Oh. Them.”
Natasha gripped her wineglass, eyes boring into Eve’s fragile visage. Jamie smacked Seena’s shoulder and gestured to the cat fight about to break out. “Do something!”
Seena jumped up and slammed a hand onto Natasha’s shoulder.
“Hey! Let’s go have a dance! We’ve got these pretty purple dresses on, and it would be the perfect opportunity to attract some bigshots…
” Seena had only danced with her brother so far.
Not exactly the image she wanted to project to the eligible bachelors in the room.
Natasha was more than happy to bail on the banquet table if it meant getting away from the woman bothering her.
Before Jamie could automatically judge the young Warner woman, however, Eve grunted in sheer frustration and marched off in the other direction.
Perhaps she went to take her negative energy out on the fist fight.
(Was that still going on? Jamie thought she heard June yelling at someone now…)
“Amanda,” Etta said, flagging down her personal assistant as she walked by in a flirty green dress. “When you get the chance, can you find me the number of the magazine photographer’s boss? I need to know who I have to pay to keep the drama out of the press.”
Somehow, they managed to avoid much more drama while the wedding gradually wound down.
It was half past six when Jamie noticed more and more guests coming by to bid them early adieus, whether because they needed to travel early or work emergencies called.
These may not have been people Jamie readily recognized, but she extended her grateful candor to every one of them, and dreaded the moment Jenny came up behind her and said, “It’s almost six, lovebirds.
We’re supposed to start clearing people out by seven, so you know what that means. ”
Etta had a smile of relief when she said, “You mean I finally get some alone time with my bride? What a tragedy.”