Chapter 19: WASP, Paper, Scissors

Daria stood outlined by dusk, the old green jacket a comforting sight to Jane as she observed her girlfriend in profile: chin tilted to the evening's first fireworks, hair down, and hands in faded jean pockets. Not wanting to break her reverie, Jane approached slowly over meticulously groomed grass, rockets whistling and banging overhead as she focused on keeping their glasses of champagne upright. She made her way safely through a posh sea of designer clothing to Daria and delivered her drink.

"Damn, Daria, everybody is dressed up. I'm sorry Trent didn't warn us."

"Considering his oh-so-chic Baphomet on Holiday t-shirt, I'm guessing he wasn't too concerned about it either." She smirked and gave her companion a playful nudge.

"I saw a fucking cravat on the way over here," Jane replied darkly, taking a sip of her champagne.

A brilliant white flash and gut-resounding boom heralded the appearance of Trent and Tom, both mercifully free of ostentatious neckwear. Tom had invited Jane and Daria to join his family at Lawndale's Sedimentary Rock Country Club and Links for a Fourth of July party a little over a week ago. When he'd called, they had been celebrating two years of dating with a candle-lit dinner and a deep discussion about moving in together. Upon hearing that Helen, Jake, and at least one Lane parent would be in attendance, they decided it would be a good time to share the cohabitation news. With Jane returning to art school in the fall, Daria's ever-pragmatic mother would hopefully see it as a sensible move. They were still waiting for their parents to arrive at the Fourth of July celebration when Trent and Tom halted in front of them with hors d'oeuvres in hand.

Trent was the first to speak. "Hey, Janey. Hey, Daria. We found the snacks—they've got tartlets and crudité. Did you have some?"

As they shook their heads in the negative, Tom added, "They're down by the boathouse. By the way, Jane, have you seen either of your parents yet?"

She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. "Well, my dad is still in New Mexico. But my mom said she can only work on her Angry Planets installation while the evening shadows are at their longest, so she should be here soon." She paused, then asked suspiciously, "Any special reason you're on the lookout?"

Trent cocked an eyebrow at Tom, who raised his hands in a defensive gesture and laughed. "What? Your sister is gong to find out soon, anyway."

Just then, Helen Morgendorffer's voice trilled out over the night air. "Giirr-rrlls!" They turned to see her approaching with a smiling, tropical shirt-wearing Jake in tow. When the round-robin hugging was finished, they embarked on the business of catching up. Quinn was still working as a dental hygienist, and apparently she was dating someone new that her parents hadn't gotten the chance to meet yet. (Jane feigned surprise and concentrated on keeping her expression unreadable because, as Daria also knew, Quinn's dental office was where Jane got her teeth cleaned. They had a pretty good idea who the new beau was—he was not only one of the dentists Quinn worked for, but he was also married). Meanwhile, Trent had picked up a few more students for private guitar lessons and his husband was working on his dissertation. Jake's marketing consultation business was weathering another rough patch—"You couldn't sell a smoothie to a fruit bat in this economy!"—and Helen continued to crush skulls at record pace in the field of corporate law.

Soon the conversation turned to Jane and Daria's fledgling satirical website, The Poison Parfait. Jake was still trying to wrap his head around it. "So, Daria, you write funny stories…that aren't true…and Jane makes art?" Then, with a puzzled look, "About them?"

Daria smiled at her father's interpretation. "Pretty much, Dad. We've only gotten a handful of views so far, but people love Jane's work."

"Ha!" The raven-haired artist shot back. "It's the writing."

Jane suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, turned, and was immediately enveloped in her mother's patchouli-scented hug. By the time Amanda Lane had embraced her way around the circle, bracelets jangling all the way, Kay and Angier Sloane had quietly appeared beside their son wearing matching uncomfortable smiles and clothing intended for the deck of a yacht no less than 80 feet long. They bestowed air kisses in the vicinity of Trent and Tom's cheeks and then said their polite "hellos" to the group.

After several moments of squirmingly awkward silence, Angier gestured toward the boathouse with what appeared to be a tumbler of scotch and suggested in his calm, cultured voice, "The fireworks do reflect beautifully on the water. Should we make our way over?" The group gratefully agreed to the short walk and temporary distraction from the Serfs at Versailles situation in which they found themselves. Jane mused on Angier's glass of scotch, recalling bits of Tom Trivia from the days when she'd dated him. Surely it's from his distillery. Well, the one he co-owns with his brother—like some kind of peasant. She smirked and slowed to match Daria's pace at the back of the group.

As they fell in step, Daria stealthily took her hand and leaned in to murmur in her ear. "Do you think they're taking us to a field that needs tilling?"

Jane gave an amused snort and squeezed her hand. "Let's hope not. These are my Date Night cargo pants."

Then they crested a small hill to the accompaniment of a popping, crackling gold aerial display and beheld a scene that temporarily silenced their snark. Down the grassy slope lay a stunning tableau beneath the full July moon. High-top tables dotted the shoreline beside the boathouse, their white linen tablecloths drifting in the slow breeze as candles in hurricane glass burned brightly above. Closer yet to the water, white blankets gleamed under the moonlight, several of them having been commandeered by young families. As they got closer, Jane spotted bow-tied waiters with silver trays of hors d'oeuvres among the well-dressed guests and picked up mingled conversation and laughter beneath the distant boom of fireworks. Then she slowed her pace. "Wait a minute. All those blankets on the shoreline…"

There was a flash of mirth in Daria's eyes. "They match."

With a magnificent eyeroll from Jane, they were on their way toward the three Official Sedimentary Rock Country Club and Links Grass Covers selected by their families. As she settled in cross-legged near the lapping water, Jane saw Tom squeeze Trent's hand and give him a reassuring smile. An exploding pink aerial display revealed Trent's unmistakably nervous expression. On an adjacent blanket, Kay and Angier were sitting somewhat stiffly with their drinks next to a thoroughly relaxed Amanda. Helen and Jake occupied the blanket directly behind them, which Jake was furiously brushing free of ants while his wife sipped red wine.

It was then that six people who looked like they should really be in an executive board room safely away from trees and grass called out to Kay and Angier. As they approached, clearly meaning to catch up on the state of their summer homes and stock portfolios, the Sloanes got to their feet and the rest of the group was obliged to do so as well. Jane observed the upper-class pageantry unfolding with interest. These people really seemed to like Tom, if all the claps on the back and age-inappropriate hair tussles were any indication.

When the group suddenly fell quiet, momentarily awed by a particularly brilliant succession of exploding shells in every color of the rainbow, Jane saw Tom turn to face the group and throw back the rest of his gin and tonic. Trent silently put a hand on his back. As the whizzes and bangs grew further apart, Tom smiled hesitantly and began, "Well, everyone, I'd like to share some good news. Some of you already know that Trent and I have been talking about…starting a family." Jane noted plenty of raised eyebrows and sidelong glances among the Caviar Contingent as Amanda smiled encouragingly and Jake nibbled at his chicken satay. The elder Sloanes wore unreadable expressions and seemed to have stopped breathing.

When Tom opened his mouth to continue, he was interrupted by an audible scoff from a strangely smooth-faced, silver-haired statesman type. Tom's brows gathered like summer storm clouds, and then he remarked in an impressively mild fashion, "Howard. You seem surprised."

"I'm sorry Thomas, I may have misunderstood. I thought this young man…" he gestured toward Tom's husband with his empty rocks glass.

Standing up straighter, said husband supplied his name with a calm gaze. "Trent."

The statesman went on, a bit agitated now. "Yes, Trent. I was under the impression Trent was your…roommate." He shrugged his shoulders and darted a glance at Kay and Angier.

Tom looked wordlessly at his mother and father. Kay looked into her martini for support and, finding none, began with flushed cheeks, "Well, Tom, you know we rarely see Howard…"

Tom gave an exasperated snort. "Mom. You saw him at the regatta in May."

After a few moments of stunned silence, Trent squeezed Tom's shoulder and stepped forward. "As my—" he looked coolly at Kay and Angier "—husband was saying, we've been thinking of starting a family. We thought you all would be happy to know we're trying to get on an adoption waiting list."

In the anxious shifting of expensive suit jackets and handbags that immediately followed, it became clear Tom had made a grave miscalculation regarding the level of acceptance among his WASP-y family members and their friends. Jane suspected that Trent had never labored under such an illusion. Mercifully, Amanda chose just this moment to unleash the full power of her fairly woo-woo belief system on the group. "Everyone!" The whiz of a rocket, and then her face was shining beneath a silver cascade. "Join hands and invoke the goddess. Hestia, Teweret, Danu—really any family-oriented goddess will do." She giggled (at which point Jane began to wonder if her evening art session had been chemically enhanced).

Jane watched as a smiling Jake took Helen's hesitant hand and the rest of the group followed suit, creating a circle that was equal parts confusion and discomfort with just a dash of goofy goodwill. Flanked by Tom and Trent on one side and a heavily cologned investment banker type on the other, Daria and Jane exchanged a concerned glance before turning their attention to the definitely-high Amanda. She began, "Join me at the sacred fountain of life, where the pregnant goddess eats figs and plump babies frolic…frolic in the…" Her eyes glazed over for a moment. "Dirt. May the goddess heap blessings as full as her swollen breasts upon Trent and Tom, who deserve all that is good in life."

There was a bewildered pause until the parents-to-be broke the circle with grateful exclamations and rushed to embrace Amanda. This was the perfect time for the Committee of Upper Crusters to slip away quietly, and that's exactly what they did. Daria and Jane squeezed each other's hands tightly as they prepared to deliver their congratulations. Their own news could wait a little longer.