Jenna and Stuart met at the altar. Doug kissed Jenna’s cheek and gave her a squeeze and then leaned in to shake Stuart’s hand, then pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. There were sniffles in the church. Doug sat next to Pauline, who was wearing a rust-colored dress that made her look like a monk.
Reverend Marlowe raised his hands and in a commanding voice said, “Dearly beloved.”
Margot stood at Jenna’s side, she did not faint or falter, she did not throw up, she lifted Jenna’s veil and held her bouquet—and in between performing these duties, she sneaked surreptitious glances at Edge, who had put on his bifocals to read the program. Rosalie looked interested in the actual ceremony; her eyes wandered from Jenna to the groomsmen to the bridesmaids, then back to the groomsmen. Was she looking at Margot? Did she know who Margot was, beyond being Doug Carmichael’s daughter? Did she know that Margot and Edge had been lovers up until—well, until today, Margot supposed, although the last time she had been with Edge was eight days earlier, and the last time she had spoken with him was Monday night. Any way you sliced it, it was clear that Edge had been cheating on Margot with his paralegal Rosalie, although it couldn’t really be called cheating because Margot and Edge’s relationship had no official status.
Rosalie looked at the groomsmen again.
Beanie stood at the pulpit to do her reading. She was wearing a navy sailor dress with white piping—typical Beanie. People didn’t change, Margot knew this, and yet it constantly took her by surprise. People were who they were.
Beanie adjusted the microphone and cleared her throat. Margot was dying to sit down. The ceremony lasted twenty-five minutes start to finish. Margot was still an hour away from her first glass of wine.
Beanie started to read. “Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink. Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain…”
It was a beautiful poem, an appropriate choice; Margot had really adored it until this moment. Now, she defaulted to her philosophy of Love Dies. Or, in the case of her and Edge, whatever was between them had died before it became love. At least for Edge. Margot thought she felt love, but probably it belonged in another category. It was pointless obsession with a man who had never wanted her the way that she wanted him. Whatever the case, the fact was that looking at Edge sitting with Rosalie hurt. It hurt.
“I might be driven to sell your love for peace, or trade the memory of this night for food… It may well be. I do not think I would.”
A stifled cry came from the pews. Margot snapped from her own thoughts at the very moment that Pauline stood up. Pauline pressed a tissue to her nose and mouth, but another sob escaped. She rustled her way to the aisle, then executed a half run, half walk in her high heels until she was at the back of the church. This caused no small disruption. Everyone murmured and whispered, and when Kevin took the pulpit to read the lyrics to “Here, There and Everywhere,” nearly everyone was facing the back of the church, eyeing the door through which Pauline had disappeared.
Margot looked at her father. He was sitting with his eyes closed, no doubt wishing that he could rewind the last thirty seconds and make them go differently.
Margot thought, Dad, do something. But what was he to do? Chase after Pauline and miss his daughter’s wedding?
Margot saw motion to her left. Rhonda stepped off the altar and hurried down the aisle in the wake of her mother.
The Tonellis, Margot thought.
The church was really a-chatter now. But Kevin, never one to doubt his own importance, took the microphone.
“Here, making each day of the year,” he read. “Changing my life with a wave of her hand, nobody can deny that there’s something there.”
THE NOTEBOOK, PAGE 34
The Prenuptial Agreement
I’m not talking about a legal document. If you feel you need a pre-nup, or if Intelligent, Sensitive Groom-to-Be comes from billions of dollars and wants you to sign a pre-nup, consult your father. The kind of “pre-nup” I’m talking about are the agreements you make with Intelligent, Sensitive Groom-to-Be before you marry.
It basically all boils down to who, in the marriage, will be responsible for the following:
Trash
Emptying dishwasher
Mowing lawn
Laundry
You take two, he takes two. I suggest taking the lawn mowing. You’ll recall I mowed the lawn in the sunny middle of the afternoon wearing a bikini top with my headphones on, playing “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” as loud as it would go. Afterwards I always had an ice-cold beer and admired my perfect lines and the deep, green smell. Do not automatically gift that slice of heaven to your husband—enjoy it for yourself!