Page 37 of Fathers of the Bride

“Well, of course for Kelly. That’s the only reason we could possibly have a truce.”

I suppose the truce explained the dinner—all my favorites by the way—and the lovely wine. Speaking of which, my glass was empty. I held it out while Miles poured me a scant half glass.

“When did you become so miserly?”

“Your daughter thinks you drink too much.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I took a sip, a very tiny sip, and set the glass down. I knew what he was doing. He’d thrown down a gauntlet. Kelly said I drank too much. Now I had to prove that wasn’t true. Very annoying.

“And, speaking of Kelly,” Miles said. “I have news.”

“What kind of news? She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“Oh God, no,” he said, shaking his head. “In order to get the backyard wedding she wants, Kelly has agreed to let the Lincoln-Collinses throw an engagement party.”

“Why did she tell you and not me?”

“Oh, well, she didn’t actually tell me. She told Avery the other night while I was semiconscious in the backseat.”

“So, you haven’t actually been told.”

“You’re not listening. The important thing is… Kelly is going to have the wedding she wants in the backyard.”

“Okay, well, great.”

This raised a lot of questions, like: When would she tell us? What if she didn’t tell us? Why didn’t she talk to usbeforeshe made the deal?

Miles leaned forward and put his deepest fear into words, “What if the engagement party is nicer than the wedding?”

“Miles, you know it’s not going to be.”

“But they have so much money.”

“And what did you always say onThe Happy Home? Money does not equal taste.”

“Of course I said that. Most of my audience was poor. Honestly, I’m not sure I ever meant it.”

“Miles, the important thing is to make Kelly happy. We shouldn’t consider what other people think,” I said, though I couldn’t possibly believe that. My entire career was about what other people think. Was Miles right to be worried? Was this going to be a disaster?

He said, “Thank you. You’re right. I just needed some reassurance. Well—I’ve made a little spinach and walnut salad. I’ll just go get it.”

He left and I poured myself another glass of wine. A decent glass.Oh my God. The Lincoln-Collins clan was going to have a gigantic, elegant engagement party and we were going to end up totally humiliated. Miles would stop speaking to me. Again. Raj would probably dump me. Professionallyandpersonally.

Not that that would be the end of the world. He’d picked yet another fight about Miles before he went to his trainer. I made the mistake of pointing out that I was still married to Miles—just to communicate that I would occasionally have to see him—and that I wasn’t married to him—meaning Raj. That did not go over. Then I pointed out that he didn’t even believe in marriage and therefore shouldn’t be acting like a jealous husband—which was an even less popular remark.

Miles was back with the salads. I bit the bullet and said, “This might be a good time to tell you. I’m looking into an equity loan on the house so that we have money for the wedding.”

“Oh. We don’t have the cash in the company account?”

“That would be a very, very small wedding.”

He sat down and took a bite of the salad. So did I. It was lovely. Raj’s idea of eating at home was calling for delivery. Usually preceded by an attempt to get it for free.

“Well, the wedding can’t betoosmall,” Miles said.

I agreed with him.

Then he said, “So I guess we’ll sell the house after the wedding and pay off the equity loan and the mortgage. Is that the idea?”