Abigail’s decisions. It didn’t hurt that money was not a consideration. Even so, Abigail made sure that, except for the rustic opulence of the actual location, the wedding itself would not be over-the-top. No caviar service at the reception, no specially made designer dress. Also, no DJ who might play Ed Sheeran. She found an interesting band that specialized in covers of 1960s French pop.
Bruce had several friends coming to the wedding, but very little family, just his father, plus his father’s sister and her family. Bruce’s mother was alive, but they were estranged. “She knows I’m getting married, but, honestly, weddings are not her thing. Marriage was not her thing,” he said. Both of Abigail’s parents came from fairly large families and there was going to be a glut of cousins coming from near and far. Despite their circumstances, Lawrence and Amelia Baskin remained excited for the wedding, looking forward to seeing extended family, probably looking forward to a weekend that would take their minds off the failure of both their theater and their marriage.
Abigail was keeping her job at Bonespar Press but cutting her hours in half, figuring that she and Bruce didn’t need the money, and that she could use the extra time to start real work on her novel. It was a psychological thriller about twin girls being raised in a rotting brownstone in the city, their parents both artists who refused to leave the house. Of the twins, one wants to stay in the house forever, and one wants to leave. That was all Abigail had so far, definitely not enough to mention it to any of her friends, including Bruce. But she’d written the first ninety or so pages, and didn’t hate it, and now she just wanted to see where the story would take her.
She’d also negotiated with Bonespar Press for two months’ unpaid leave that began a week before the wedding. She had spent two days training the temp employee who would be covering for her while she was gone, and then she’d gone out for celebratory drinks with her coworkers on the last day before her leave. They’d gone to Abigail’s favorite East Village bar, and it was there that she ran into her ex Ben Perez, who came in at midnight by himself. For one brief moment Abigail thought that he had come there to confront her, but then she saw the surprise on his face and she realized that it was just coincidence. They said hello; he was drunk and kept telling her that he’d just been out with a bunch of writer friends and he was stopping in for one last drink before heading home. Abigail bought him a bourbon sour and told him she was getting married. “Yeah, I know all about it,” he said. “I run into your friends all the time.”
“Who do you run into?”
“Kyra, for one. She said you’re marrying a gazillionaire, and that she thinks you’re doing it just for the money.”
“She said that?”
“Something like that.”
It had occurred to Abigail that when you marry someone so conspicuously wealthy people are going to talk, but, still, hearing that Kyra had said something so catty made her chest hurt.
“I’m not marrying him because he’s rich,” she said, instantly annoyed that she was defending herself to Ben.
“I didn’t say it. She did.”
Her work friends were beginning to put on coats and settle up bills, and Abigail, who didn’t want to get stuck rehashing things with Ben at the bar, left with them. The next day she almost called Kyra to confront her, but called Bruce instead. She thought he might worry a little that she’d run into her ex-boyfriend of six years the night before, but he didn’t seem fazed.
“I’m sure Kyra’s not the only one who’s made a comment,” Bruce said. “People are strange about money. You’ll probably lose at least one friend after we get married, someone who just won’t be able to handle it. I did when I got rich. The way I figure it is that they weren’t great friends to begin with.”
“Okay, thanks,” she said, feeling better.
After the talk with Bruce she stopped worrying about Kyra, and about what her other friends might think about Bruce. She had other things to deal with, mostly the logistics of who was staying at the Blue Barn Inn, which had only twenty-five rooms, and who was staying at the bed-and-breakfast half a mile away, and whether they should offer some sort of shuttle service