The vows now. Ann tried to focus. Through good and bad, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.
Ha! Ann thought. She had said those exact vows, and while she was now sitting next to the man she had said the vows to, and while she did love him very much—more, possibly, than she had loved him then—she had not known what the vows meant, or the many creative and awful ways they could be broken.
Stuart and Jenna exchanged rings—platinum band for Stuart, and platinum with diamonds for Jenna, but they could have been aluminum or plastic. Expensive rings did not guarantee a happy life together.
Ann decided she would ignore Helen in the receiving line. Helen would approach, and Ann would look right through her; she would stand like a statue, gazing over Helen’s scandalously bare shoulder. She would not speak or take Helen’s hand. The moment would be awkward for a second, until Helen understood that although Ann had invited Helen to the wedding, Ann despised the ground that Helen walked on.
It would be a small passive-aggressive triumph. It would be a mean-girl silent treatment victory derived straight from the sixth-grade lunchroom. Ann couldn’t wait. She promised herself she would not break down, she would not buckle, she would not speak to Helen or touch Helen or offer any other indication that Helen was alive.
The minister said, “We will now observe a moment of silence to remember the bride’s mother, Elizabeth Bailey Carmichael.”
The church hushed. Ann bowed her head and sent a message out to Beth Carmichael, wherever she might be. You raised a wonderful family, and a beautiful daughter. They clearly loved you very much. Good job, Beth.
The minister raised his hands and said, “Thank you.” He beamed at Stuart and Jenna. “By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Stuart held the side of Jenna’s head, and Stuart and Jenna kissed. The kiss, Ann thought, was very tender. People clapped, the pipe organ celebrated, and Stuart and Jenna faced the minister for the final blessing.
“Almost out of here,” Jim whispered.
Ann felt a sense of elation, and she congratulated herself on an appropriate emotion. Her son was married, and she felt happy.
Jenna and Stuart—now Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Graham, another Mrs. Graham, that was odd—processed out of the church, followed by Margot and Ryan, Jenna’s brother Nick and the sunburned bridesmaid whose skin looked sticky with aloe, and H.W. and Autumn—who, Ann admitted to herself, didn’t look half bad together. Chance processed out at the end alone because his partner, Pauline’s daughter, hadn’t returned. Ann and Jim were meant to leave next. Ann stepped out into the aisle, and as she turned to face the back of the church, she saw Helen—with that bloodcurdling scream of a dress—step into the aisle, take Chance’s arm, and process out of the church before Ann and Jim. Ann gripped Jim’s arm, blinking furiously. How dare Helen presume to process out of the church with the wedding party! How dare Helen presume to process out of the church in front of Ann! Ann wanted to yank Helen’s blond hair. She wanted to stop dead in the middle of the church and scream. Chance seemed unbothered by his mother’s presence; maybe he was relieved not to have to walk out of the church alone. The quandary of being unexpectedly unpartnered had been solved by his mother. But Ann didn’t care how Chance felt about it. Helen had crossed a line. She had inserted herself into the wedding party without qualm or hesitation, exactly the way she had inserted herself into Ann’s marriage years ago.
“Can you believe her?” Ann whispered to Jim.
Jim didn’t respond, and when Ann checked on him, his head was held high and dignified, the way it always was when he knew people were looking at him, most often when he was attending some political event with Ann. Ann had always been proud to have Jim beside her, although she’d wondered over the years if the power differential between them was the reason he’d strayed. Jim made far more money than Ann, but Ann had influence and prestige. She was the one people sought out, she was the one who was photographed and named in the newspaper. State Senator Ann Graham. Jim must have wearied of it.
They stepped out of the church into the bright, warm afternoon, and behind them someone rang the church bells. Ann and Jim followed Jenna and Stuart and the wedding party and Helen out to the front lawn, where the receiving line was to be held. Ann narrowed her eyes at Helen. Helen would not stand in the receiving line, would she? For the fifteenth time that weekend, Ann wished for a Quaalude.
Helen kissed Chance on the cheek and appeared to bid him farewell. Ann stepped closer so that she could hear what Helen was saying.