11Before There Was Darkness Longlashes
Part Nineteen
"Jimmy, come on, we're late!" Christie called, exasperation filling her voice.
He opened the bathroom door just a fraction and peered out from behind it, a thick layer of shaving cream veiling the right side of his face. "Give me a couple of minutes, okay? I'll make it as fast as I can. Hey, is that what you're wearing?"
"Yes, why? Is it okay?" Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she smoothed the lace bodice of a rich chocolate silk blouse. Paired with a coordinating silk pencil skirt, tailor made for her slender figure, a delicate gold chain belt cinched around her tiny waist, she was the picture of elegance.
"It's better than that," he said, proudly. "You look beautiful. But, I'm afraid we're going to be a little mismatched today…in more ways than one."
She smiled. "Don't you worry about a thing, James Dunbar. I am not about to throw you to the wolves. Now, go," she pleaded, shooing him back into the bathroom and closing the door, "before Mother is up here, wondering what's keeping us. In case you haven't noticed, she's all about the schedule."
"Alright, alright, I'm going…"
The main house of the Southampton Country Club was a grand old dame, perched proudly on a grassy knoll, an interminable view of her picturesque surroundings, the charming seaside towns of eastern Long Island nestled at her feet. A palatial two-story structure, she was whitewashed to perfection, lustrous in spite of the gloom of the overcast skies. Gloss black shutters adorned the towering windows gracing her elegant facade,an expansive porte-cochere and broad stairs leading to a pair of solid oak doors welcoming members and guests alike to enter her opulent interior.
Leaning against the dark mahogany bar of the informal lounge, a cold Heineken in hand, Jim had never felt more out of place. Conversation floated around him, filling the air with the din of voices, thick as the spicy aroma wafting from the designated cigar bar to the right of the lounge. Stewart had begged his pardon on arrival and disappeared there, detouring briefly to collect his companion brandy. Quietly excusing herself from their company, Lillian was now surrounded by a circle of chic, well-dressed women at the opposite end of the room, leaving Christie and Jim to their own devices.
Weaving their way to a quiet corner of the crowded room had given occasion to meet many of the gathering throng, dear friends of the Sullivan family, Stewart and Lillian's age, people who had known Christie since birth, people Jim knew would soon be forgotten, if only for the overwhelming number of them. The small talk had been polite at best, his introduction acknowledged by a handshake or a brief nod of the head, congratulations offered with modest sincerity. Beyond that, though, they had not yet found themselves drawn into the fold of the social circles mingling around them; he preferred it that way.
An older woman, shrill of voice, her body perfectly plump and her snow-white hair perfectly coiffed, bustled across the room and threw her arms earnestly around Christie's neck. "Christine, darling, you look wonderful! More like that beautiful mother of yours each time I see you!"
"Mitzi, it's nice to see you," she managed, her voice muffled by the pudgy shoulder that seemed intent on smothering her.
"My, my, my, dear, city life seems to agree with you. Or," she said, gazing over Christie's shoulder at Jim, "is there something else we can credit this to?" She winked and Jim smiled, hoping what he felt on his face appeared sincere enough, waiting for yet another introduction to someone he knew he probably wouldn't remember half an hour from now.
"Jimmy, I'd like you to meet Mitzi Cromwell. Mitzi, this is my fiancé, Jim Dunbar."
He nodded and held out his hand. "Mrs. Cromwell," he said, politely.
"It's Mitzi, dear. Fiance, is it?" she said, taking his hand and sizing him up. "Then it is true. Erica mentioned something about that, but I had no idea she was actually serious. There are going to be a lot of broken hearts, Christine. You had those blue bloods lined up and waiting."
Christie smiled broadly and laid a possessive hand on Jim's shoulder. "My dance card's full, Mitzi. I found the one I've been looking for."
"Well, I must admit, he suits you, Christine. What is it they say? Opposites attract?" she tittered. "Guess that much is true." Waving at someone on the other side of the lounge, she declared, "Well, I must be off. It looks like Mrs. Hayden-Smith finally has our drinks. Good to see you again, my dear. Jim, we'll have to talk more at dinner." She sashayed away as quickly as she had arrived.
Jim allowed a heavy sigh to escape, and leaning against the bar, raised the beer and took a long, slow pull from the bottle. The collar of his shirt seemed inordinately tight, his tie hampering his ability to breathe, the gray wool jacket suddenly too warm. He reached up to tug at the knot around his neck.
"Hey, is everything alright?" Christie's hand found his back and gently rubbed his shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he responded, attempting to make it sound even a bit believable. "This is fun."
She squeezed his arm, reassuringly. "Jimmy, I'm sorry. I can't even begin to know what this must be like for you. But," she said, brightly, "you're doing great."
"He suits you, Christine," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, that's just Mitzi," she replied, her voice soothing. "You never know what you're going to get with Mrs. Cromwell. Please, try to take it all with a grain of salt, okay?"
He pulled her to him. "I'll try…." he said, meeting her in a quiet kiss.
"Alright, you two, enough of that, especially in such a public place." The voice was warm, the teasing undertone unmistakable. He turned to the voice and found himself face to face with another dark haired, blue-eyed beauty, slender, stylish, this one very much her father's daughter.
"Erica…" Christie said, wrapping her sister in an affectionate embrace. "I was beginning to wonder if we were ever going to lay eyes on you this weekend."
"What? And miss all this?" She responded, gesturing to the scene before them. "No way!" Turning her attention to Jim, she smiled and nudged her sister's arm. "And I certainly wouldn't miss that! Are you going to introduce me?"
"Of course. Jimmy, this is my sister, Erica. Erica, this is Jim."
He held out his hand, "Erica, it's nice to finally meet you."
"Oh, put that damned hand away and get over here," she said, drawing him into an enthusiastic hug. "So, you're the man who thinks he's going to make an honest woman out of my sister?"
"Erica…"
"Christie, I'm teasing. Obviously being engaged is agreeing with you. You look terrific. But," she purred, throwing a quick glance Jim's way, "I can see why. Very nice." He felt the slow burn of embarrassment creeping up from under his shirt collar.
"Oh, he does blush easily, doesn't he?" she teased. "You'll get used to us, Jim. If you plan on joining this family, you're going to have to."
"Speaking of that, where is Jake?" Christie asked, her eyes scanning the growing crowd. "I haven't seen him yet."
"No, and you won't now. He's with Daddy and Cy. I imagine they're talking business and money over one of those horribly smelly things they insist on smoking. You won't see any of them now until dinner, which, come to think of it, is probably just as well."
Christie shot her sister a disapproving glance. "I see that knack for tact hasn't escaped you. So, what's up with you and Jake? You've been spending a lot of time over there this weekend. Anything to tell?"
She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "God, Christie, what's to tell, really? He kept asking and I kept saying no." She glanced down at her left hand, a hint of regret in her voice. "I wasn't ready and, to tell you the truth, I don't think he was either. But he seems to have settled down now, his career is on track and I'm getting my life in order."
Turning her attention back to Jim, she added for his benefit, "If you ask any of them, Jim, they'll tell you I've been riding free for too many years now. I'm sure Daddy would have cut me off a long time ago if he didn't think it would affect that stellar reputation of his. Anyway, enough of that," she said excitedly, "come on, Chris, you're obviously happy and sure about what you want. So, when? Have you set a date yet or…found your maid of honor?"
"No, we haven't made any firm plans yet. The spring, sometime, I hope and of course I know who I want for my maid of honor, if she says yes."
Erica turned a finger to herself, "Me?" she mouthed. At Christie's confirmation, she threw her arms around her sister. "Yes, absolutely, yes! I'd love to. So, now that we have that settled, what about the rest?"
"We're not sure about anything yet," Jim said, tucking Christie's hand in his. "It's only been a couple of months. We've got time." .
"We've talked about it, a little, though. I think Jim would rather have a quiet, simple wedding in the City, and I'm leaning that way too. I was thinking of the Crystal Pavilion at Tavern on the Green. It's very special to me." She smiled and looked wistfully at Jim; he caught her glance and smiled back, remembering that first date, when the world and his place in it had finally seemed complete.
Erica snorted and shook her head. "Yeah, good luck with that! Are you kidding, Christine? You know Daddy. He's probably been dreaming of this day your entire life. There is no way you are going to get away with some small, quiet wedding and certainly not in the City."
Acutely aware of what his future sister-in-law was implying, Jim looked from Christie to Erica and back again. "And what about…" he hesitated, " and what about what Christie and I want?"
"You're joking, right? In case you haven't noticed yet, Jim, Daddy has a way of getting what he wants."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe he does," he said, clear conviction in his voice, "but not this time."
Stewart Sullivan stood at the head of table, a crystal wine glass substituting for the usual snifter. Taking his knife, he let it ping gently against the glass.
"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family, if you would grant me a minute of your time, please." At the quieting of the room, he continued. " I would like to propose a toast. This is a day for Thanksgiving, and as a man gifted with good friends, a good life, a good wife, " he said, saluting Lillian, "and two beautiful daughters, I have much to be thankful for." Taking a sip from the glass, he lowered it and grinned. "Mind you, much of that was my own doing, so I guess most of the thanks for that belong to me, right?" This observation was met by laughter and raised glasses.
Settling the guests with a wave of his hand, he continued, "Seriously, though, back to the business at hand. Our eldest daughter Erica has just returned from Paris, her master's degree finally in hand and it looks like she'll be joining the business world after all. It's been a long time coming! Believe me, Lily and I wondered if it was every going to happen, but we are so very proud of her. We always have been." Erica blew an animated kiss toward her father and raised her glass in salute.
"And, my other beautiful daughter, Christine is here this weekend too, ready to move into a new phase in her own life. For those of you who haven't heard yet, my baby is getting married. Now I know we were all hoping she was going to fall for one your boys, one of the fine young men I see in this room today. But, my little girl has always been very sure of what she wants, and it looks like what she wants is one of New York City's finest. So, on behalf of my beautiful wife and I, I would like to welcome him to the family. Looks like we're going to get that son after all! Christie, darling, if you and Jim would stand, please."
Christie smiled at her dad, and squeezed Jim's arm, a look of complete adoration on her face. Taking Jim's hand, she encouraged him to stand with her. As they raised their glasses, a warm round of applause and the clink of glasses echoed around them. " To Christie and Jim." Nodding their appreciation, they drank in toast, and sat again, the awkward moment over. Stewart remained standing.
"And I know Christie wouldn't mind if I said this, so, lastly, to our friends and family gathered here today, I am openly inviting all of you to help us share in the joy of that special day. By God, we're going to have ourselves a wedding." He toasted the room, quietly downed the contents of his glass and took his seat.
Glaring in Stewart's direction, Jim lifted the linen napkin from his lap and dropped it deliberately on his plate. Pushing his chair away from the table, he quietly excused himself and disappeared through the solid oak doors at the end of the grand hall, a defined purpose to his stride.
Alone with his thoughts, the din of the society crowd confined safely behind those doors, he breathed in the damp sea air and counted backward, tensing and untensing his fingers, trying to find some measure of calm; he didn't feel calm.
"Jimmy?" He hadn't heard her approach and he didn't turn to face her. "Are you okay?" she said, quietly. He thought he detected a measure of penitence in her voice and in the hesitant touch of her hand on his back.
"No, Christie, I am not okay. Of all the pompous, arrogant..." he said, trying to mask the fury in his voice. Pulling his hands briskly through his hair, he shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Christie, is that all these people have to think about? Plan their lives around? A society gathering, our wedding? What about what we want? Do we have a say in any of this or is Erica absolutely right?"
He whirled to face her; there was no disguising his anger. "Christie, I need to know right now, before we go any further here. This isn't my world, it never will be. Is it yours?"