Friday, October 25

"Ah, the man of the hour and his lovely fiancée!" Mr. Lott boomed, standing with his arms spread open wide. Mrs. Lott sat quietly beside his seat on the cream sofa, a smile on her lips. Her blue eyes matched perfectly the blue and white oriental-patterned wallpaper adorning the walls, and her off-white dress was the same colour as the perfectly coordinated sofa set. Richard wondered whether Mr. Lott considered her a piece of the furniture as well.

Pennilyn laughed. "Oh, Daddy. You'd think you'd still remember your daughter's name," she said, finally free of sickness and glowing in her pretty pale way. Richard gave her a tight smile and helped her take off her heavy coat, handing it to the maid. After the end of class, Richard had driven a long and tiresomely lonely journey to New York to pick Lynnie up for dinner with his future parents-in-law. Though her parents were nice enough, however, Richard felt like doing anything else at the moment. In fact, the whole week had been full of days where all he wanted to do was sleep. He chalked it up to a week of taxing classes.

Mr. Lott, a tall and heavyset man with a magnificent mustache, didn't look related to his daughter in the least; Lynnie took greatly after her thin, white mother. Mr. Lott's dominance of the household was obvious, and highly expressed; as they sat for pre-dinner drinks his loud voice was beginning to grate on Richard's nerves.

"So, tell me Richard," Mr. Lott said, leaning comfortably back in his seat. "Evelyn and I were thinking of setting the date for the engagement party – November first alright with you?"

Richard choked a little on his drink. "Sunday the first," he said incredulously. "That's… early. Barely more than a week from now."

"Well, we thought the date might be a bit of an issue, but when it comes to these things earlier really is better," Mr. Lott said calmly. He leaned forward. "It's imperative you announce these things. When Evelyn and I were married, we waited three days after I proposed before having the engagement party. Marriage is serious business, and the earlier the announcement the sooner you can enjoy your marriage."

Ignoring the fact he really couldn't see any obvious benefits to having the engagement announced, Richard reluctantly nodded. "I suppose I could just… get the word out," Richard muttered.

"Good boy," Mr. Lott said, a content smile written over his face and sounding rather more as if he were addressing a dog than his future son-in-law.

"Oh, Lynnie, darling, we must buy you a dress," Mrs. Lott suddenly piped up after her good half hour of silence. "I was thinking a lovely green – you do so look good in green. Oh, or white! I saw a lovely white dress in a Macy's catalogue the other day. Cheap and probably of terrible quality but the cut was lovely and we could probably get something of much finer fabric sent express from Paris…"

Lynnie indulged her mother as Richard leaned back numbly on the sofa, Mr. Lott chattering on about people and places and invitations. He really shouldn't have been surprised that it was all happening so soon, but very suddenly Richard felt utterly overwhelmed.

Sitting for a moment, his head pounding with what seemed to be the onset of a headache, Richard stood to the surprise of the Lotts and politely excused himself, navigating, with the help of a maid, to fresh air. As he stood on the dark terrace lined with heavily perfumed flowers and matted with ivy, Richard took several deep breaths.

He did not have cold feet. He could not have cold feet. This whole marriage thing had been his idea. He was happy about this marriage thing.

But now there was a no doubt extravagant and excessive engagement party in the works, complete with dresses from Paris and gilt invitations and hundreds of guests and soon there would be a wedding with a frothy white cake and a huge cathedral and a honeymoon and God, maybe one day babies, and Richard felt like violently throwing up.

Before he did, cool hands encircled his waist and gently turned him so he faced his dimly lit fiancée's smiling face. "Hi," she said softly. "Are you alright?"

He said nothing, only scrutinized her features, blue eyes and soft nose and barely flushed face. Her white-gold hair was slightly out of place and he silently shifted the offending strand back to its place, the right place, and she was Pennilyn, safe and sweet and everything he ever set out to expect of her. He leaned down and kissed her desperately, hoping for some hint of that spark that would reassure him of this whole mess, but she pushed him away, still smiling. "Let's have none of that where my parents might see us," she said.

He allowed a small smile. The unease in his belly returned and she quietly laughed at the expression on his face. "Daddy's in a bit of a hurry to get this whole party off the ground. It surprised me too. But the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we'll get a break from it all."

Richard nodded silently, attempting to convince himself of it as well. She noticed his discomfort and gently stroked his cheek with those cool fingers, murmuring, "we'll get through this dinner and get you some good sleep and I'm sure everything will make much more sense once you get some rest in you. Now, let's get back to my parents before the maids make up stories about what we're doing out here…"

Richard allowed Pennilyn to lead him back inside, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her that there was more than the party bothering him. All of a sudden, everything down to the tips of her pale fingers felt painfully wrong.

...

Monday, October 28

"Yes, Stephen," Richard repeated slowly. "Yes, a party. No – well, yes, but you aren't supposed to know that already – no… no… then next time don't believe Robert… of course not! … Very well, thank you. Have a good evening."

Richard hung up the phone and collapsed back on to the chesterfield, viciously rubbing at his temples. Lynnie had been wrong. The past three days hadn't lessened any of his stress, only building on to an unsteady foundation a whirlwind of names and phone calls. Thank God the menu was the women's job.

It was really his fault, though; Mrs. Lott would have happily managed the guestlist had Richard not realized that his mother-in-law-to-be's ideal party would be full of batty old women cooing over his suit and tie, something that he was considerably much too grouchy for. Of course, once he came to that immediate realization, he offered to take the task off her hands. Better to present his engagement to people he cared about than women his grandmother's age - and so the whirlwind of phone calls and check marks had begun that weekend. Richard had since called the entire list of friends that Lynnie had made, her various aunts and uncles and cousins, his parents (who were overwhelmed with delight) and family and, just beginning now, his friends. It was enough to drive him crazy. Moreover, every single guest had commented on it being an engagement party. Richard didn't understand why the whole thing was necessary if everyone already knew what the point was.

He sighed to himself and reached for his list again just as Robert unlocked the door, quietly edging his way into the room and looking very much like a lost puppy. Richard looked up, irritable. "What's wrong with you?" he asked impatiently.

Robert scuffed the floor with a toe. He fiddled with the button on his jacket and hesitantly opened his mouth. More significantly, he closed it again.

Richard felt like stabbing him violently in the head. It hadn't been a good day, and his roommate's strange mood wasn't exactly making it easier to deal with. "Well?" he prompted again.

"You've been making phone calls," Robert said uncertainly. "To people."

"Yes, and?"

"I – well – I was just wondering – I mean - I am invited to the engagement party, aren't I?" Robert finally blurted, looking mortified. "I understand if - if you'd rather I weren't there, but -"

In an instant, Richard's annoyances fell away and he laughed, loud and painful, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. This was far too much. He was going to get married to Lynnie, and there would be a massively over-the-top party, and his roommate and best friend of three years thought he wouldn't be invited and all of a sudden all of this had become very, very funny.

Robert watched him, bemused. "What'd I say?" he muttered. He scratched his nose as he watched his friend fall to pieces in front of him. "Hey!"

Richard attempted to compose himself, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and sighing. It felt, he told himself, good to laugh after a stressful few days. Finally, the chuckles subsided, and he shook his head in amusement. "Robert, why wouldn't you be invited?" he asked with a grin. "Did you really think I wouldn't invite you just because I didn't call you? We live together, you idiot."

A smile worked its way over Robert's face, one that soon erupted into a grin. "Oh, good," he babbled, "I was just worried, thought maybe, you know, because of Saturday and the, uh, you know, nudity…"

Richard rolled his eyes. Over the years of his friend's predisposition towards wildness, he'd gotten used to everything Robert could possibly throw at him. Figuratively, that is.

"Anyway, great!" Robert said cheerfully. "Perfect. And, you know, is there a room for maybe a plus one?"

"You know I'd let you bring whoever you want," Richard replied, leaning back into the comfort of the chesterfield. "Just make sure Hope's more… fully clothed this time. I think Mrs. Lott might have an aneurysm if she saw her in that blue dress she wore to the party."

Eyes wide, Robert sunk down next to Richard. "Wasn't it a work of art?" he asked wistfully, scrunching up his eyes as if blotting out the world would once again reveal the wondrous image of her breasts in the blue dress. Richard rolled his eyes.

"I'm telling you, Dick, I really think I'm on to something with Hope," Robert finally said once he was done mentally disrobing his girlfriend. "She's funny and gorgeous and I think she might actually be perfect. You should have informed me about this whole love thing sooner. I would've dropped the easy drunken college girls and gone straight to the real deal. Maybe then I'd be having an engagement party too."

"Why does everyone know that already?" Richard mumbled.

Ignoring him, Robert sighed a blissful sigh. "I always wondered how you could stick around with Pennilyn for so long without getting bored, but I think I get it now," he said dreamily. "As soon as I see Hope, it's like I've run a marathon and my heart wants to explode."

Richard was beginning to feel supremely uncomfortable. "Don't write poetry," he commented weakly, "You'd be terrible." Disregarding the fact that Robert sounded like a lovesick child, his dramatic ramblings were beginning to annoy Richard for some inexplicable reason.

Robert sighed again. "Don't you feel the same way?" he asked, eyelids drooping. "As if the world depended on making her happy. My God, Richard, it's an amazing feeling."

"Are you drunk?" Richard asked suspiciously.

"Maybe a little. Had some beer. Bit of vodka. Fancy scotch. Cannabis? Yeah. Tried this new cannabis thing. Mmmm..."

"That explains things, you're never usually this maudlin," Richard said, irritated once again. "I can't believe how far gone you are, and it's not even six yet. I'm bringing you to your room."

By the time Richard managed to hoist Robert on to his bed, he was fast asleep, and Richard left him there curled up with shoes still on. Though he managed to shake his friend's arms off from around his neck, he couldn't quite manage to shake off the guilty gut-sick feeling that was beginning to plague him, again. And, most of all, he couldn't shake off his friend's intoxicated words.

It means nothing, Richard told himself as he returned to the phone. My relationship with Pennilyn is completely different than… whatever it is Robert has with Hope. But, as he began to dial yet another number, his mind settled uncomfortably on the fact that he'd never really felt as hopelessly enamoured by his fiancée as Robert did with Hope.

...

Sunday, November 1

"Mother was thinking St. Patrick's, in the city, but it really isn't something we've thought about yet," Pennilyn was chirping to her cousin's wife's aunt. "We're planning to enjoy the engagement while we can and take the planning as it comes, you know."

Richard sighed inwardly as the old bat went on about cathedrals and churches and stellar florists. The engagement party had turned out even more obscene than he had expected. Mr. Lott had filled the massive hotel ballroom they had rented with hundreds of people more than Richard had certainly contacted. He wasn't even sure if many of them had any idea what was going on. The crystal chandeliers dangling from the high ceilings were perfectly matched to the ice sculptures that Mr. Lott had commissioned, elegant animals made of slowly dripping ice. Everything was lined with gilt and shone like mother-of-pearl; there was a small orchestra seated in one corner. Richard really had no reason to be so upset about the ridiculous staging of the engagement party but it all seemed so… unnecessary.

Of course, Mrs. Lott's beloved seating arrangement had set him far apart from any of his friends so Richard sat next to his fiancée, fidgeting with his fork. Another thing was that the catering was ridiculous, offering miniscule portions of gourmet recipes that barely satisfied his hunger. Not to mention the heavily perfumed centerpieces made him want to sneeze…

If Richard had decided to be a little more introspective he probably would have realized that by this point he was searching for points of irritation about the whole affair. Even so, he'd woken in the morning to get into an uncomfortably stiff black suit and driven all the way up to New York from Yale; upon arrival at the ballroom, he'd been forced to endure a lengthy and very boring conversation with Mr. Lott. The day had not been well, and if his evening continued to feature more old women showing too much skin, he was pretty sure that wasn't going to turn out well either.

Finally, the woman bid Pennilyn goodbye and Richard's fiancée looked at him quizzically. "You're not happy," she stated under her breath in his ear, hands smoothing down the skirt of her white cocktail dress.

Richard hesitated, now playing with his napkin. "No," he answered honestly. "Let's walk around a little bit. I haven't seen Robert all evening and I know he was dying to come."

Lynnie nodded and, relieved, Richard sprung up from his seat and helped her to her feet. Finally able to enjoy the room's open spaces, he was grateful for the opportunity to stretch his legs a little. His spirits lifted more when they crossed paths with just the person he was looking to find.

"Robert!" Penny said over the smoothly orchestrated Vivaldi in the background. "How lovely it is to see you again!"

Robert smiled at her, dapper in a three-piece grey suit and carefully balancing three drinks in his hands. "Pennilyn, always a pleasure," he said, winking salaciously. She let out an uncomfortable laugh, which made his grin even larger. "And, well, Richard, I guess it's sort of decent to see you. I'd love to stay and talk but these drinks are cold as ice and I really don't think my hands can take it any more. Come back to my table with me, all the boys are with me and I bet they'd love to see the lovebirds."

Lynnie's hand, laced through Richard's arm, gave him a gentle squeeze. "We'd love to," she replied with a smile. Robert led them through the mass of people, occasionally stopping every once in a while for someone who wished to offer their congratulations, and eventually they stopped in the far corner at a huge and rather raucous table filled with, Richard was glad to see, his friends.

"The lucky couple!" John Dorsey bellowed from the very inside edge of the table, face red and undoubtedly already drunk, as he tended to be. Pennilyn flushed prettily, probably partly from his intoxicated manner and partly from the less than serious leer he sent her way. Richard stifled a laugh. Her embarrassment was sweet, if comical.

"Pennilyn, I don't think I've introduced you to my girlfriend," Robert interrupted proudly as he handed Hope one of the drinks. "I'd like you to meet Hope Archer…"

Larry Freeman reached over the table to shake Richard's hand, congratulating him, and Richard felt four or five various other hands patting him on the back and shoulders. It was overwhelming, and though Richard was glad his friends were so congratulatory, he also felt slightly out of place. He was so preoccupied with exchanging greetings with Kenneth Davies, whom he had last seen over two months ago, that he didn't notice the girl who took her place next to Hope until he turned to retrieve Pennilyn from Robert's lovey-dovey ramblings.

"Richard," Emily said calmly. "Congratulations on your engagement."

He was suddenly more than a little flustered as he gazed down at her, auburn locks in those same perfect waves, but this time dressed in a rich purple princess-cut dress accented with a black sash at the waist, diamonds gleaming at her throat. She looked positively royal. He didn't say a word, stunned at the mere sight of her until Pennilyn gently touched his elbow and he looked back at her smiling face.

"Er, Lynnie, this is Emily Archer," he said awkwardly. "Emily is Hope's younger sister."

Emily mirrored Pennilyn's genuine smile as she reached out to shake the other girl's hand. "It's very nice to meet you," Emily said. "You make a lovely couple." Richard's stomach flip-flopped.

"Thank you so much for coming," Lynnie replied cheerfully. "It's so nice to meet Richard's friends."

Tuning out of the conversation, Richard closed his eyes for a moment. He felt as if he might be sick, a recurring sensation in the past few weeks that immensely discomforted him. He was Richard Gilmore, and he did not get silly bouts of sickness like a pregnant woman.

But this situation was making him highly uncomfortable and a small part of him at the back of his head knew exactly why. He pushed the thought away, wishing fervently that it would lock itself in a dark chest and never come out. Meanwhile, Emily and Pennilyn were holding the most superficial of simple conversations, chatting idly about college and hair salons. That treacherous part of his brain marveled at how easily they could talk when he was so unsettled by their meeting.

"…Don't you think, Richard?" Pennilyn said, turning to look at him expectantly. He vaguely nodded, not paying attention to the conversation at hand. Pennilyn's expression changed to one of questioning confusion but she turned back to Emily and continued to chatter away.

Richard rubbed his eyes with one hand and told himself to concentrate. His eyes slipped on to Emily and before he knew it he was absorbing every quirk of her movement, thirsty for every delicate crook of a finger, every slight shake of her head and the ridiculously attractive way she tilted back her head of thick hair to laugh. She was so beautiful and yet so different from Pennilyn – where Pennilyn was willowy and pale, Emily's pale skin was offset by her thick dark hair and petite figure. There was something about the look in her eyes and the curve of her lips that made Richard's stomach tremble in an odd way, something foreign and provocative that made him want to claim her as his.

Suddenly she glanced up at him, and he felt his stomach drop to the floor. The look on her face was undecipherable.

Pennilyn then glanced at him as well and he tore his eyes away from Emily to attend to the blonde who was his fiancée. "I – I hate to interrupt but perhaps we should find my parents?" he stuttered. Pennilyn gave him a questioning stare but turned and smiled sweetly to the people at the table, saying a graceful goodbye, and Richard moved her mechanically back through the crowd to his parents, grateful for the mind-numbing experience to come of his mother fawning over Pennilyn's every movement.

Emily sat back down next to her sister, who directed a knowing glance at her. "Nice girl, isn't she?" Hope said quietly, eyes bright. Emily sniffed and pulled her chair in.

"You could have told me what this party was for before dragging me to it," she replied curtly. "Whoever planned this thing did a terrible job. Far too many people on not enough tables."

Hope laughed and took a sip of her champagne, knowing her sister too well to let her go with that statement. Emily glared. "I know exactly what you're up to," she said coldly.

Emily took a sip of her own champagne as her sister waited expectantly on her words, and finally she set her glass down. "She was a perfectly nice girl," Emily continued, fussing with her silverware. "Pretty. I can see why Richard would be attracted to her."

"Is that all?" Hope asked, raising her eyebrows. Emily glared at her again, perfectly aligning two of the spoons.

A few seconds later she turned back to her blonde sister, annoyance written all over her face. "So dull," she spat. "My goodness, how he stays awake around her is anyone's guess. Such a terrible conversationalist…"