Page 41 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)
“You are young, my dear, and you have been privileged to lead a fairly uneventful life.” Nessa’s mouth opened in protest, and Mame responded, “Oh, I know, your parents divorced, difficult for any child. But every adult in your life prioritized your adjustment. In the scheme of things, you have little to complain about. You’re a wonderful person, Nessa, and I am proud of you, but you are a grown-up now with your own life and this is really not about you. ”
It was hard to say who looked more astonished, Nessa or Ranney.
Mame wasn’t one to mince words, a trait that had grown stronger as she grew older.
But her criticisms were usually focused more on style than substance.
The length of a skirt, a shade of nail polish, a trending haircut: These were considered fair game and, truth be told, the three of them all enjoyed the discussions.
Before Nessa met Matt–whom Mame adored–an occasional comment might be made on one or another of Nessa’s boyfriends, but Mame was wise and never went too far with this. She trusted Nessa’s judgment.
Also, Nessa was the apple of her eye. Mother/daughter relationships are famously fraught; a granddaughter is a different situation entirely.
With no power struggles to play out and nothing to rebel against, everyone can relax.
Ranney did sometimes feel a little left out, but she knew the value of the bond to both her mother and her daughter.
Nor was she blind to the benefits to herself; when parental conflicts did arise, Mame was an excellent mediator.
And of course, when Nessa was with her grandmother, Ranney’s time was her own.
However, in almost thirty years now, Ranney had never once heard Mame directly scold Nessa.
“Your mother spent her best years raising you, basically as a single mother, and she did an exceptional job. Now you are an adult and about to have a husband of your own, and her nest is empty. She is entitled to enjoy herself.”
It was gratifying to be defended, no question about it, but… ‘best years’? Spent?
In her momentary confusion over how to feel about this summation, Ranney’s eyes caught Nessa’s.
Twenty-some years of living together had produced a shared sense of humor, and when their eyes met, they lost it.
Sputtering, gasping, bent-over-at-waist laughter ensued, as much a release of days of tension as anything Mame had actually said.
“What… what in the world do you two find so funny?” Mame was nonplussed. “This is a very serious conversation! What–?”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” Standing, Nessa leaned over her mother and wrapped her in a hug. “I mean, I’m still upset that you didn’t tell me what was going on, but you’re not old. I was being mean.”
“Thank you, honey.” Ranney felt tears prickle behind her eyes. “I feel about a hundred right now.”
Mame and Charlene snorted in unison.
“Oh, Lord,” Charlene said under her breath, "Don’t even go there.”
“But, the thing is,” Nessa pursued, “now what?”
“Charlene, don’t we have some cold roast chicken in the fridge?”
“Not what I meant, Mamie. I’m talking about the future, not hors d’oeuvres.
I mean, you married him, right?” She looked at Ranney as she spoke.
“Now what? Are you moving in together? Is he going to be my… stepfather? Like, wear fleece vests and New Balance sneakers and carve the turkey at Thanksgiving? I’ve already seen him in his underwear. ”
Mame raised her hands as if to ward off this bit of information; for her part, Charlene reached for the wine bottle, adding a generous splash to her glass.
“That wasn’t what it sounds like!” Ranney said quickly. “And it was a towel, not underwear!”
“As if that’s an improvement,” Mame muttered.
“I–I don’t really know what’s going to happen. Not much, I guess. We’ll just be married until he gets his citizenship. And his award, I hope. Then we’ll dissolve it, get an annulment or something. Do they still have those?”
“Not for Jews,” Mame answered, but it hadn’t been a serious question. "And what do you mean, dissolve it?"
“You didn’t talk about this ahead of time? Like, pre-nups and, I don’t know, future children?” Nessa pursued.
Ranney gave this the dismissive frown it deserved, and Mame shot Nessa a warning look.
“What is it that you’re upset about, exactly?” Ranney asked. “None of this affects your life at all. If you and I didn’t work together–if we hadn’t been on the same business trip–you wouldn’t even know about it.”
“But I was there and I do know, and… you’re my mother! It’s always been the two of us, all my life–a team–and we talked about things, and everything made sense!"
"Yes, but -- "
" You got married and didn't even tell me!”
It was Nessa’s turn to break down. Dropping back down into her seat, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed so quietly, Ranney thought her own heart might break.
No mother wants to see her child in such distress, much less to be the cause of it.
Eight years old or eighteen or twenty-eight, it made no difference.
In fact, it was probably harder now because problems generally couldn’t be solved with an ice cream and a hug.
“Nessa. Sweetie. I guess this isn’t going to make sense either, but… it just felt right. It felt like the right thing to do, and it didn’t feel like I was taking some big risk, and… I wanted to. I did this because I wanted it. I wanted Tom, he wanted me, and that needs to be enough of a reason.”
Silence.
The room felt like the biggest balloon filled with nothing but silence.
And it felt good, Ranney's because I wanted it a manifesto of freedom.
Mame cleared her throat. “As I understand this, you are now legally married to a British architect living in Boston who is some years your junior and a member of the royal family. I’ve read those articles about romantic scam artists, but they don’t usually appear in person, do they?
They just want you to send money. Apparently Nessa has met this man.
I think I need to do the same. Invite him over. ”
“Invite him..?” Mame might as well have been speaking Urdu. Ranney couldn’t make sense of it for a moment.
“Let’s say dinner on Thursday; that’s a neutral night. Charlene, we should serve something Bostonian. How about your lobster bisque?”
“With the little red potatoes,” Charlene mused. “And rolls, and a green salad. For dessert–apple galette?”
“Perfect.”
“Wait a minute! You don’t–this was not an elopement situation where you haven’t met the groom yet but he’s going to be your new son-in-law!
This is a total marriage of convenience–or inconvenience, as it turns out–that is going to end the minute he wins the Saltzman.
But you can never say that to anyone, of course!
” Ranney looked anxiously over her shoulder as if there might be an immigration agent standing there with a recording device.
“It didn’t look quite that transactional in your hotel suite,” Nessa said pointedly. “The candles? The champagne glasses?”
“What were you doing in their hotel suite?” Mame asked.
“Everyone was very worried about where they were,” Nessa answered defensively.
“You don’t seem to understand this situation, Mamie.
Maybe when we have dinner on Thursday and you actually meet this guy, you’ll see what I’ve been trying to tell you.
What time did you say? Matt has a committee meeting on Thursdays, so we might be a little late. ”
“I think it will just be the three of us, darling. I can’t ask Charlene to put on a big dinner party.”
Charlene blinked, her face impassive. There was no way she was choosing a side.
“But–”
“I haven’t even invited him yet!” Ranney interjected. “He’s probably busy! And what am I supposed to say, anyway? Please come over and meet my mother? Like tenth grade?”
“Seems about right,” Nessa muttered, but Mame silenced her with a look.
“Tenth graders do not elope to Las Vegas. It’s not unreasonable to expect him to meet your family. In fact, I think it’s only good manners.”
“I’ll ask,” Ranney said grudgingly. “But no promises.”
“Why stop now? Love, honor, sickness, health, forsaking others–what’s one more promise?”
Once again Nessa turned to leave, and this time, no one stopped her.
Mame looked at Ranney, a kind, loving, soft gaze that made Ranney's eyes pinprick. "You said you wanted to marry him. You wanted him. You made what you want a first choice. My dear, you put everyone else first. How can I not meet this man? He must be extraordinary!"
And with that, Ranney found herself standing alone as her family migrated to the kitchen, wondering how her mother had just finagled a dinner party.
With the newlyweds.