37. Walter
Walter
THE DAY OF THE PRESCOTT-SCHAFER WEDDING
MARQUAY, France—The rising sun painted the ancient stone of the castle walls in soft pastels as Fiona Prescott married Robin Schafer in an enchanted French garden.
That was how Walter might start the story—if he were writing it.
Set the scene, transition into a few tantalizing details about the clothes (“the bride was resplendent in her favorite nightgown”) and styling (“a crown of wildflowers, still wet with dew, picked by Ms. Prescott and her sister”).
In the next paragraph, he’d jump back in time to Robbie and Fiona’s first meeting, followed by the obligatory mention of her famous father, so-and-so of Prescott Industries, and their upper-crust zip codes and educational achievements.
But Walter wasn’t reporting on this wedding, and neither was Hildy. They had both agreed to cover the other “wedding” instead, keeping this one hidden from the world.
He looked to his right, where Hildy was standing with a bottle of champagne dangling from one hand, lit from behind by the warm light of dawn.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She brought the bottle to her lips before offering it to him. “About the bubbles? Breakfast of champions.”
“About the Prescott-Schafer wedding.” He took a judicious sip. It wasn’t the time to overindulge. Walter needed his mind and his body to be fully alert if the rest of the morning was going to play out the way he hoped.
“Magnificent,” Hildy said without hesitation. “Wedding of the year.”
“Is it everything you imagined?”
She smiled, and his heart lurched in his chest. “It’s more.”
“Is this the kind of wedding you’d want?” In all their previous run-ins, Walter had never dared to ask. Now it seemed vitally important for him to know.
“Oh no, I’d need a much bigger castle than this. With a helipad.” Hildy pressed her lips together in a vain attempt not to laugh.
“You never thought about it?” He kept his tone light, even though he was burning with curiosity. “As many weddings as we’ve been to, you must have opinions.”
“I always have opinions, Walter. It doesn’t mean I keep a scrapbook under my bed with ‘My Dream Wedding, by Hildy’ spelled out in fuzzy stickers on the cover.”
“That just tells me you’re too embarrassed to share. Is it a theme wedding? Are there costumes?”
“If I ever get married—and that’s a big if—the wedding will depend on the person. It’s not like I’m plunking some rando into my puppet theater. Insert Spouse Here.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
She paused with the neck of the bottle halfway to her mouth. “Are you doing that agreeable thing again?”
“No, Hildy. I’m just plain agreeing with you.”
“Oh.”
“I know. Someone should alert the media.”
She fished her phone out of her pocket. “Note to self: On this date at way-too-early o’clock, Walter Burns finally acknowledged my superior reasoning skills.”
He was tempted to give her more reasons to gloat, just so she’d keep looking at him like that, but he needed to build his case in a semiorganized fashion.
Hildy liked a plan. Or at least, she liked her plans.
Walter would have to hope she could appreciate one that happened to be about and for her, even if she wasn’t doing the scheming.
Maybe it would be a nice change of pace, like when someone made a humble home-cooked meal for a professional chef.
Fiona and Robbie came scampering over from their labyrinth walk, hand in hand and glowing with happiness. Their bare feet were speckled with grass.
“I love my secret wedding,” Fiona informed them, not for the first time.
“Secret time, secret place.” Robbie shook his hips to a beat only he could hear.
“Secret vows.” His bride touched her lips before pressing her hand to her heart, as though tucking away the words only she and Robbie had heard before Maude used her hastily obtained online credentials to pronounce them husband and wife.
“And I don’t even have to be sad it’s over, because I’m having a whole other wedding. ”
“Bonus wedding!” Hildy held up her free hand for a high five.
“With all the pretty horses,” Robbie chimed in, spinning his bride.
“I’m going to be sitting there getting my hair done, and while everyone messes with me, I’ll be hiding the best, biggest secret.” Fiona turned to Robbie, taking his other hand like they were about to play ring-around-the-rosy.
“We got mar-ried,” she chanted.
Robbie quickly joined in, breaking off only to throw a hopeful look at Walter. “Do you have any maracas?”
He shook his head. Procuring predawn croissants and champagne and transportation and sneaking the bride and groom out of the hotel—especially on top of Walter’s other preparations—had exhausted his resourcefulness.
They watched Fiona and Robbie waltz across the grass.
Maude and her Frenchman had already wandered off, ostensibly to look at an interesting shrub, but they weren’t fooling anyone.
Walter wondered if Hildy had noticed they were the last two people who hadn’t paired off.
When he snuck a glance, she was raising the champagne bottle to her lips.
“Oops,” she said. “Last sip.”
“That’s okay. I was done.”
“I wasn’t worried about that. You don’t know the French rule about finishing a bottle?”
“I must have missed that day at finishing school.”
“I’ll give you a hint, Man of the People. It’s like catching the bouquet.” She raised the bottle, squinting at the green glass. “Might be a couple of drops left. I should give this to Maude, so she can be the next one headed down the aisle.”
Walter plucked the bottle from her hands, upending it into his mouth. The barest hint of sweetness hit his tongue.
“Problem solved,” he announced, setting the bottle on the grass.
She blinked at him. “Okay, then. Let me know where to send your gift.”
“I will.” He offered her his hand. “Can I have this dance?”
“There’s no music.”
“I’ll hum.” He kicked off his shoes. “I hear dancing barefoot in the grass is something everyone should experience at least once.”
“Maybe I do it all the time. I could be the scourge of golf courses everywhere.”
“But you’ve never danced with me.” He let a hint of challenge creep into the words.
“Fine.” She tossed her hair, a gesture he recognized as Hildy’s version of cracking her knuckles. “If you insist.”
When she stepped into his space, he was tempted to forget about dancing and pull her closer, but he suspected this conversation would go better if they were in motion.
The physical side of their relationship had always been less thorny than the talking part, which was borderline ironic for two people who made their living from words.
Walter spun her in the direction of the forest, humming under his breath. It took Hildy a few bars to recognize the tune.
“I guess it is a Whole New World for those two.” She looked over her shoulder at the distant forms of Fiona and Robbie, waltzing toward the castle. “I didn’t realize you were such a sap.”
“I’m feeling optimistic.”
Hildy squinted up at him, as if she sensed a hidden meaning. “About marriage? Or your career?”
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, dodging the question.
“Don’t hurt yourself.” She winked at him, and Walter sent up a silent wish that Hildy would hold on to that playful energy a little longer.
“It’s about what you said—that we’ve done too much damage to each other. I disagree.”
“Of course you do,” she huffed, as if that proved her point.
“You didn’t make my life worse, Hildy.”
“That’s empirically incorrect.”
His hand flexed against her lower back, drawing her closer. “What do you think my life would have looked like if I hadn’t met you?”
“You would have won the fellowship! Just for starters.”
Walter shook his head. “How? If you weren’t my partner, I would never have done a wedding story.
And I definitely wouldn’t have had the confidence to start my own group.
Without you, I would have been the fourth name on a mediocre article about a traffic stop or a zoning violation.
Maybe I would have come away thinking I wasn’t cut out for journalism. I could be an accountant right now.”
She frowned like he’d been holding out on her. “Are you good at math?”
“It’s a hypothetical, Hildy. I’m trying to say that I wouldn’t be who I am or have a job that lets me travel the world and eat cake for a living if I’d never met you.
So you can tell yourself it was all a mistake, but the way I see it is that you made me feel like I could do anything.
When I thought you didn’t give a shit, it hurt, yes.
It also fired me up. Competing with you, trying to get your attention?
That pushed me more than anything. And every time our paths crossed, that was a day I felt fully alive. Everything else was filler.”
He watched expressions play over her face like clouds racing across the sky on a windy day: surprise chased by doubt, a flicker of fear, and what might have been a trace of hope.
“I don’t think anger is the real reason we’ve been circling each other all these years,” he said, pressing his advantage. “Do you want to know my theory?”
“You may as well tell me.” She tried to sound pouty, but Walter wasn’t fooled. He could feel the tension in her body.
“Because we both know we haven’t gotten the full story.” They had reached the edge of the woods, the trees offering the illusion of privacy. Walter stopped moving but didn’t let go.
“All this time, we’ve been chasing the truth,” he said.
“Which is what?”
“I don’t know exactly. I need your help to figure that out. But I can tell you right now that you didn’t ruin my life. And I definitely wouldn’t have been better off without you.” Just the thought of a life without Hildy made him shudder.
“What are you saying?” she asked in a small voice.
“I want to try something different—if you’re game.”
“Like what?”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Right now?”
“It’s a wedding. People always kiss at weddings.”
“If you’re the bride and groom.”
“That seems so limiting.” He let go of her hand to gently draw his thumb along her cheekbone. “You need a reason? Kiss me because you want to. And it’s been too long. And I’ve probably been in love with you for ten years.”
She rose onto her tiptoes, holding on to his shoulders. “Probably?”
“I’m trying not to scare—”
She cut off the rest of his sentence with her lips.
The next time his conscious brain surfaced, Hildy’s dress was pushed up around her hips and he had backed her against a tree. It took Walter several breaths to remind himself that ravishing Hildy in the woods was not the plan. The first time they slept together was not going to involve bark burn.
He eased back a step, gesturing between them. “You can’t tell me there’s nothing there.” Walter reached into his pocket and pulled out a note. He’d spritzed it with his cologne for the full effect.
“What is this?” she asked warily.
“An invitation.” Walter felt as if he’d handed her his heart instead of a folded square of paper. “The ball is in your court.”