Early Warning

Richie had thought that Loretta, Chance, Tia, and now Binky (also known as Beatrice) were in California for the winter. With a smile, Loretta handed him his boutonniere, a small, fragrant lavender rose. She presented Ivy with bouquet of gardenias and wore a gardenia in her hair. When their names were announced, they went before the officiant, said their vows, and signed their papers; Loretta took pictures with the camera that was in her bag. It wasn’t bad; Richie was almost feeling normal, almost feeling, well, positive, until they went back out onto the front steps of the building and saw twenty or thirty of their friends, shouting congratulations and throwing rice. Ivy pressed herself against him and said, “Oh God!” Richie saw at once that Lynne, Michael’s newest mistress, was in the group, next to a friend of Loretta’s from her cooking-class days. He gripped Ivy’s hand and walked her down the steps, and then there were hugs and congratulations, and they were swept over into Foley Square, where, it appeared, the reception was to take place. How Michael and Loretta had gotten all these phone numbers without Xeroxing Ivy’s Rolodex, Richie could not imagine, unless…He stared at Jeanine — she was smiling, she did not look guilty.

A table, a tablecloth, a cake, champagne, little sandwiches. Richie overheard Loretta telling the woman from her cooking class that she had just gotten in from the ranch three days before; she’d brought the nanny, the nurse, and all three children; they were camped out on top of one another at the place on Fifty-seventh. Michael had done most of the inviting, but of course he’d forgotten the flowers, even the cake — what did he think they were going to eat? She’d done all that. Well, she said, if she ever moved back to New York year-round, she had her eye on Park Avenue in the Sixties, which had a pastoral quality, didn’t you think? As she turned away, the cooking-class woman rolled her eyes. Ivy stood beside the cake, staring at it; it looked like white marble encrusted with carved architectural embellishments, two layers. Jewish weddings never had cake. Richie didn’t know whether this was true. Michael had not bothered to invite any parents. But, then, neither had Ivy. Michael popped the champagne — Moët & Chandon — and Jeanine went around with small plastic cups. When she came up to Richie, he said, “Were you in on this?”

Jeanine said, “Not till this morning. I got there first, and they were waiting. They asked me not to tell.”

“Ivy hates this.”

“Only because she didn’t arrange it,” said Jeanine.

Once everyone had their champagne, the toasts began, and Richie had to stand there smiling — with his arm around Ivy, sometimes gazing at her fondly — while shouts went up. Michael declared himself the best man, raised his glass, and said, “I’ve spent years looking out for my little brother here, making sure that he stayed out of trouble, or at least didn’t get caught, and, finally, here we are, I can pass him over to a better caretaker than I am, knowing he’s safe, or safe-ish — let’s say that!” Everyone laughed and took a sip. The biggest laugher was Lynne. Just for a moment, Loretta looked at her curiously; then she pulled her gaze away from Lynne and lifted her glass. She said, “I never had a sister or a brother, and as soon as I met Ivy, even before she delivered my boy Chance in a bathtub on the twelfth floor of some rat trap, I knew she was the one I wanted. I don’t know if this is their dream, but it is mine, and I’m glad it’s a dream come true!” Everyone shouted “Hurray!” and drank again.

It was time to cut the cake. To Lynne, who was now standing next to Michael, Loretta said, “Oh, excuse me,” her tone implying that maybe Lynne had strayed over from East Broadway. Lynne looked nothing like Loretta: she was compactly built, with short hair and glasses. Richie felt that he was reading Loretta’s mind: Maybe; no; not sexy; not possible. Ivy exclaimed, “It is a beautiful cake. I am so surprised, I’m sort of struck dumb!” and that distracted both Loretta and Lynne. Richie didn’t have to look at Michael to sense that he was thrilled out of his tree at the dangers he was courting. Loretta handed Ivy a silver knife tied with a white satin bow. She held the knife, and Richie held her hand, and they cut a piece out of the cake. They had been to enough weddings to know that now they had to feed each other. Richie’s hand was trembling, so Ivy had to cock her head a little to receive his offering. After everyone shouted and applauded and Ivy started cutting the cake, he heard Loretta say, “We’ve never met. I’m Loretta Langdon.” She was talking to Lynne. Behind them, off to their right, Michael was practically hugging himself with pleasure.