Beautiful Day(102)

He horse-collared Nick because Nick was the offspring in closest proximity. Nick was already yanking at his bow tie as he talked to Finn. Finn looked as sulky as she had when she was six years old and she felt Jenna was hogging more than her share of the wading pool. Doug sensed there was something going on between his younger son and Finn, but he didn’t dare ask. He didn’t have room in his imagination for any more drama.

“Nick,” he said. “I need a favor.”

“What is it?” Nick said warily.

“Don’t take your tie off yet,” Doug said. “We have pictures.”

“Okay,” Nick said. He looked relieved, perhaps believing that not taking off his tie was the favor that was being asked of him.

“I’d like you to go get Pauline,” Doug said.

“What?” Nick said. “No way. No… way.”

Doug paused and reconsidered. Nick was exactly the wrong person to send after Pauline. Nick was a bull in an emotional china shop. He had no tact and very little patience. For all his conquests, Doug suspected that Nick actually knew very little about women. This was probably Doug’s fault, but he had felt that the best way to teach his boys about how to treat a woman was to lead by example. He had always treated Beth like a goddess. He couldn’t help it if Nick hadn’t been paying attention.

“Can you please find Pauline and tell her it’s time for photos, and her smiling presence is required?”

“I’ll go with you,” Finn said.

“No,” Doug said. “I think it would be best if Nick went alone.”

“She’s your wife,” Nick said. “You go.”

“I can’t,” Doug said. “I have the receiving line.”

“Crap,” Nick said. “Where is she?”

“At home,” Doug said. “You’ll have to hurry because we need you in pictures.”

“Jesus!” Nick said. If he were still fifteen, he might have told Doug to go stuff himself, and so it was a testament to his adulthood that Nick headed down the street without Finn. Doug had, maybe, done something right in raising him, after all.

Doug strode over to the receiving line and began to shake hands.

Hello, good to see you, yes, it was a beautiful ceremony, the church was built in 1902, the east and west windows are real Tiffany, my wife, Beth, loved those windows, yes, I’m very proud. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.

Abigail Pease, the photographer, was a no-nonsense go-getter who knew how to arrange a shot. Doug found her attractive, as well, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was flirting with him. She called him “Dougie,” a nickname he deplored, but when it came out of her mouth in her southern accent, it sounded playful and sexy. (The photographer at Kevin and Beanie’s wedding, so many years ago, had insisted on called Doug “Dad” and Beth “Mom,” which had driven them both nuts.)

Abigail had voluminous blond curls that cascaded down her back. She was lightly tanned but wore no makeup (and no wedding ring), and her rear end looked fabulous in her palazzo pants. Doug wondered if, say, a year from now, he would have the guts to ask Abigail Pease, or someone like her, out on a date.

“Dougie, baby, I need you over here with Jenna,” Abigail said.

Doug slid his arms tenderly around Jenna and gave his best smile.

“The two of you are gorgeous,” Abigail said. “Oh, my God, the camera is eating you up!”

Whatever he was paying this woman, he decided, it wasn’t enough.

He wondered how grossly inappropriate it was that he was lusting after the photographer while his wife was crying somewhere in a darkened room because Doug didn’t love her anymore.

Bridesmaids with Jenna. Jenna and Margot. Jenna and Kevin and Beanie and their three boys. Bridesmaids with Stuart. Jenna and all the kids, including Ellie in her funny hat. Jenna with just Brock and Ellie. Stuart with Ryan and H.W. Stuart with Ryan and H.W. and the half brother with the shellfish allergy. Stuart with his parents.

It was taking forever, despite Abigail’s impressive efficiency. Doug wanted a drink.

Finally Abigail turned to Doug and to Roger—Roger was so crucial to the proceedings that Doug wanted to suggest that Roger get in a photo or two—and said, “I can’t take any more pictures without Nick…” She checked her list. “And Pauline.”

“Pauline?” Doug said.

Abigail smiled at him. “Pauline is your wife.”

She seemed to be telling him this, not asking him, and Doug felt chastened.

“Yes.” He felt like he was confessing to something.

“Is she sick?” Abigail asked. “Not feeling well?”