Cakewalk Page 6

  “Your parents, Ramelle, have always been small-minded. You’re better off without them. And if you aren’t, I am. They worship a fractured bourgeois world, with its deceiving comfort and sameness. Families can lift you up or ruin you. One has to determine how to handle them. For whatever reason, we Chalfontes can usually come to an accord—even Carlotta.”

  “She takes a great deal of work.”

  “And prayer.” Celeste burst out laughing. “Hers and mine.”

  “In all the years I’ve known you, you never discussed marriage other than your parents’ sending you to England. Did you ever think of it?”

  “I became the man I always wanted to marry.”

  The angelic voice of Olivia Goldoni, dressed in a simple choir robe, filled St. Paul’s Episcopal Church.

  Rejoice, all ye believers,

  And let your lights appear!

  The evening is advancing

  And darker night is near.

  The Bridegroom is arising,

  And soon He will draw nigh

  Up! Pray and watch, and wrestle.

  At midnight comes the cry!

  The watchers on the mountain

  And proclaim the Bridegroom near;

  Go meet Him as He cometh,

  With hallelujahs clear.

  The marriage-feast is waiting,

  The gates wide open stand;

  Up, up, ye heirs of glory;

  The Bridegroom is at hand!

  On cue, as Olivia sang the next two choruses of Laurentius Laurenti’s hymn from 1700, Curtis and his best man, Keith Goldschmidt, walked from the side of the church to their places before the altar.

  Keith, another movie producer, had gotten in two nights ago. Although Curtis had wanted a small affair, of course he invited his true best friend, to the delight of the ladies, especially Fannie Jump Creighton. Keith was a Yankee with a strident accent to match. He bristled with the energy of a film producer and glowed with his California tan.

  Waiting in the back, Cora opened the side door of the vestibule a crack. The two bridesmaids listened. Ramelle’s college roommate, who had unknowingly arrived on the same train as Keith, fussed over Ramelle’s bouquet of white and pink roses. Lovely and simple, they matched her bridal gown, also white with a diagonal slash of palest pink from her left shoulder down to the hem which touched the floor. Ramelle had decided against a train, beautiful but a royal pain.

  Celeste had been happy to concede the slot of maid of honor to Helene Hartsfield. If she had to be the one standing right next to Ramelle as she was wed, Celeste would somewhat feel like her father, giving her away.

  At the last minute, over protests from his wife, Carlotta, Herbert finally found his balls and offered to act as Ramelle’s father. He walked her down the aisle when the traditional bridal music played. Trailing behind her in perfect step were Helene, then Celeste.

  The invitees allowed themselves a shiver of delight at seeing Celeste, stunning as always, even in her lover’s bridal train.

  Stirling and Carlotta sat next to one another in the front right pew. Juts and Louise sat in the front left pew. The church pews were packed with friends, neighbors, those who worked for Celeste, those who attended grade school with her and beyond as well as those who grew up with Stirling, Carlotta, Spotts, and Curtis.

  Olivia Goldoni sat with the rest of the choir.

  The Episcopal service, clear, concise, satisfied everyone, but most especially the bride and the groom. They looked very much in love and were.

  After the ceremony, they walked down the aisle, arm in arm, Curtis smiling so large it looked like his face might crack. Behind them Keith walked with Helene. Celeste, head high, smiling, walked with Herbert. Outside, those who couldn’t fit into the church threw rice and confetti. As it was cold, people hurried to their cars or horse and buggies to go to the Chalfonte home.

  Once there, somehow they all crammed in. As the newlyweds greeted everyone and accepted their good wishes, Cora, Louise, and Juts as well as Francis, the chauffeur, hung up coats and guided people to food and drink or to a chair if a bit overwhelmed or elderly.

  Louise played the grand piano until Bonnie Chalmers, the St. Paul organist, arrived to take over. The two covered for one another, so each could eat and drink.

  Celeste had hired the best caterer from Baltimore, Harbor Lights. People had been working for weeks on the menu. She’d instructed the caterer to make extra food and set it aside for as she put it, “my people,” as they wouldn’t be able to eat anything at the party.

  Finished with the receiving line, Celeste whispered into Ramelle’s ear, “Honey, you need to toss your bouquet.” Then she told her brother, “Take her up to the balcony. I’ll announce the toss. The ballroom will be packed since half of Runnymede wants to be the next bride.”

  Curtis helped Ramelle up the back stairway. Even without a train, her dress demanded attention. The balcony, small enough for a modest orchestra, looked over the ballroom’s gleaming wood floor.

  Celeste rang a triangle. “The bride will throw her bouquet.”

  Squeals among the young followed this, but everyone did go in. Those married women stood along the walls to allow the unmarried the center of the ballroom.

  “Is everybody ready?” Ramelle called out.

  “Yes,” came the enthusiastic reply.

  Helene, on her toes, readied to spring and with one graceful motion, Ramelle flung her exquisite bouquet toward her roommate. Had it been a tennis ball, the throw would have hit its target, but the flowers took a different trajectory. As it fell a bit short, a young arm shot up.

  Everyone screamed in delight as Louise clasped the bouquet to her breast. “I can’t believe it!”

  The crowd laughed as they moved to other rooms. Juts, next to her big sister, remarked, “Good that you caught them. I don’t want to get married.”

  “They were too beautiful to let fall on the floor,” Louise stated. “Everything is so beautiful. Everyone is so beautiful.”

  Louise left the ballroom, for she knew one of her tasks was to attend to Celeste’s sister, Carlotta Van Dusen. Paul, who had accompanied her to the wedding at her request, grinned. “You should have beautiful flowers every day. You really should.”

  She tilted her head upward a bit. “I’d be happy to have them once a month and I pressed the pink roses you gave me between the pages of the dictionary. So I do have flowers from you whenever I want them.”

  He wanted to put his arm around her waist and guide her through the crowd. He knew she had a duty, but for whatever reason Paul was half afraid to touch Louise. He’d held women before. He’d kissed them. She was different.

  “Paul, you know some of the people here. Miss Chalfonte wants me to do things for her sister, my headmistress when I was in school. I think I told you I went to Immaculata Academy. I’m going to put these flowers in the big refrigerator in the kitchen. You know, if all else fails, that Knute is here and the Ansons.”

  “You go on. I can take care of myself.”

  Louise put away her prize, searched, and found Carlotta in the dining room, hovering over the potent punch.

  “Would you care for some, Mrs. Van Dusen? The caterer said it’s mostly champagne with a little something extra.” Louise held the silver ladle in her right hand. “The new law says people can’t sell, make, or transport liquor. Doesn’t say you can’t drink it. At least, that’s what he said.”

  “A small glass, dear,” said Carlotta. “Have you kept up with your reading?” She truly liked Louise.

  “I have. I read Ben-Hur. I mean, along with my Bible readings,” she replied.

  “A wonderful book. I wish there were more books like that. So much of what is published today is vulgar. Exceedingly vulgar.” Carlotta sighed and looked around. “Ah, a vacant chair. I need to sit down a moment.”

  Louise walked her to the chair.

  Patting the chair beside her, also vacant, Carlotta said, “Sit with me for a moment. Herbert is off talking busine
ss with Stirling. How they can find ball bearings and tractors thrilling, I don’t know. Herbert bought a truck dealership. I told him, Herbert, horses have been pulling goods for thousands of years. Who is going to spend the money on a truck or tractor? Well, he won’t listen. Husbands.” She uttered this word with finality then sipped a little of the very pleasing punch. “I wasn’t going to come to the wedding and you know the real reason, Louise. You are a good Catholic and we don’t go into other churches. Ours is the one true church but as you see, I relented, as did you.”

  “How could we hurt people’s feelings?” Louise kept her voice even.

  “Yes. Yes. And truly, Ramelle is a sweet person if dreadfully misguided, misguided by my own younger sister, no less. Now this. I hope my baby brother knows what he’s doing.”

  Nodding, Louise said, “It was a beautiful wedding and Celeste looked so happy as she walked down the aisle with Herbert. He loves you, Mrs. Van Dusen, as do we all.”

  Carlotta glowed. “Well, thank you and yes, I know he does but Louise, a truck dealership. What goes on in men’s minds?”

  “I don’t know, Mrs. Van Dusen.” And she didn’t. “You made so many people happy coming today. It was a great sacrifice but you did it.”

  “I had recourse to Our Lady in my perplexity. She always counsels forgiveness and love. And remember, Louise, it is she who intercedes with her Son. People forget that Christ can be”—she searched for the word—“determined. After all, He threw the moneychangers off the steps of the Temple. But Our Lady softens His heart when needs be, and she softened mine.” A radiant look crossed Carlotta’s face. “I’m forty-seven now, Louise. I know that doesn’t mean much to someone as young as you, but the years fly by, disappear. The one thing I want more than anything in the world is to see the Blessed Virgin Mother. I can endure all things through her and I can do all things through her.”

  “Yes.” Louise didn’t know what else to say.

  —

  Fannie Jump Creighton, in the parlor, fire blazing, didn’t have that problem.

  She leaned toward Keith. “All those beautiful women. What a temptation.”

  He blushed slightly. “Curtis once said to me, ‘Beauty is as beauty does.’ I’ve found that to be excellent advice.”

  “Humor me.” She smiled. Though a bit overweight, she was good-looking. “How do you sort through such pulchritude? How do you know who to choose for a part?”

  “Ah.” He laughed. “If I had a ready answer for that, I’d be the richest man in Hollywood.”

  Her eyebrows arched upward. “As it is, you aren’t poor.”

  He laughed. “Well, no. The truth is, Mrs. Creighton—”

  She interrupted. “Please call me Fannie.”

  “Fannie. The truth is, the camera loves some people. You can take two women or two men, equally dazzling in the flesh, but the camera adores one and not the other.”

  “How curious.”

  “Curious and maddening.” He nodded. “What if the camera loves the one without a snippet of talent?”

  At this, they both laughed.

  Celeste, chatting briefly with the Rhodes family, noticed her old friend chatting with Keith and thought she’d seduce that man before eight tonight. Old, young, rich, poor, Fannie could get the pants off a man with such finesse one could only watch in admiration.

  After the pleasantries, Celeste moved on to Flavius Cadwalder and his wife, two people she genuinely liked, sitting in the huge living room with the fire roaring.

  Out of earshot, Lottie Rhodes whispered to her mother, “Cool as a cuke.”

  Delilah—Big Dimps—tilted her head to one side. “Celeste always was, always will be.”

  Dimps Jr. said, “How about Louise catching the bouquet?”

  Lottie grumbled. “Who cares? No one is going to marry her. She started a riot at the Capitol.”

  “Lottie, don’t you start.” Big Dimps grabbed her elbow. “Both of you. Smile. Look happy. This house is filled with men with money. Let them see how vivacious and pretty you are. Do you hear me?”

  Lottie, sour, shot back. “If you’re so smart about money, Momma, why did you marry Dad?”

  “That’s why I have hopes for you. Why I’m trying to put your feet on the right path. And first of all, I didn’t know your father was, shall we say, not a hardworking man. All I ever saw when we were keeping company was the beautiful house, which he did inherit, thank God. Unfortunately, that’s all he inherited. Now put a smile on those faces.” She stopped a moment. “And pay special attention to Mrs. Thatcher.” She called out, “Fairy, oh Fairy, how lovely you look. You could have been one of the bridesmaids.”

  Fairy smiled. She was a fragile creature, almost porcelain-like. “I had a bit of fun watching Celeste as a bridesmaid. She looked utterly sensational. Can you imagine what it was like to go from grade school to Smith with her? Well, then with Fannie, too, who voices opinions more freely than is expedient.”

  “You look lovely,” Delilah praised her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Might I ask you to introduce my girls if there are any interesting young or even not so young men here?”

  Fairy knew exactly what Delilah was asking. She didn’t much like the Rhodes girls, nicely built and attractive as they were. But Fairy also knew, if Delilah kept pushing the girls, one or both of them would rebel, and that would be worse than parading them in front of suitable men. Suitable didn’t always mean boring.

  “Of course, Delilah. Lottie, Dimps Jr., come along.”

  Watching Fairy trot the girls around, Juts considered putting a plate of tidbits on Dimps Jr.’s bosom, so each time she lifted those glorious appendages to a new set of eyes, one could reach down and pick up something to eat. She looked for Louise to tell her this idea, found her in deep conversation with her former headmistress, and returned to circulating among the guests to see if anyone needed anything.

  Celeste sheparded Olivia Goldoni around and found she liked her. The two started discussing music between introductions then moved on to painting, literature, the ballet, and horses. How wonderful that Olivia followed the races, both flat and steeplechase.

  She left Olivia with the bridegroom and Keith for a moment.

  On her way to the punch bowl, Stirling reached out. “Twinks, thank you.” He appreciated her attention to Olivia.

  She turned. “She’s ravishing, Stirling, utterly lovely and highly intelligent.”

  He accepted this with a quiet smile, looking down into his glass of straight scotch. “Life’s a funny thing, isn’t it?”

  “Today is proof.” She smiled back.

  Wrapping his arm around his sister’s waist, Stirling bent down (tall though she was, he was taller) and whispered in her ear. “I’m proud of you. I don’t know if I could have done the same if it were me.”

  “You would, Stirling, you would. You always do the right thing.” She slipped her arm around his waist, and for a moment they stood tightly together. “The world is changing. I guess we change with it or it passes us by.”

  “That’s a sobering thought.” He knocked back his scotch and they both laughed.

  In the dining room, Celeste first noticed the enormous silver punch bowl being refilled by the caterer, then spotted her sister sitting with Louise.

  Thinking that Louise had done double duty, she sat down without filling a glass for herself. She’d had one glass. That was enough.

  “Louise, how good to see you with my sister. Carlotta, it’s been such a long time since we had time together.” Celeste looked at Louise and winked.

  “Mrs. Van Dusen, I’m going to check and see if my mother needs me.”

  “Of course, dear.” Carlotta then turned to Celeste. “Lovely young woman. My best musical talent.”

  “Runs in the family. They can play anything by ear.”

  “Remarkable.” A long pause followed this. “I do hope that Curtis and Ramelle will bring up the baby in the Church.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they
will,” Celeste airily responded. “The question is which church.”

  Glaring for a moment, Carlotta nodded. “You know to which I refer.”

  “I do. But it’s not your decision nor mine.”

  Draping one leg over the other, Carlotta, just this side of tiddly, said in a hushed voice, “Did he ever tell you what happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How he came to, how he is now in the position by which he will become a father.”

  Celeste stifled a laugh. “I expect the way every man finds himself in that position.”

  “He knew of your arrangement.” She stumbled over arrangement.

  “Yes, he did.”

  The elder sister leaned even closer to the younger. “Is it not a form of deception?”

  “Carlotta, when I found Ramelle, you declared, ‘If only a good man would find her and save her from this life of sin.’ Now you have what you wanted.”

  Flopping back in her chair, Carlotta mumbled, “Perhaps. Perhaps.”

  “They’re happy. He’s a Chalfonte. He’s doing the right thing.”

  “Of course he is! He’s a Chalfonte.” Carlotta repeated Celeste’s sentiment.

  “You’ve never said I was doing the right thing,” Celeste snapped back.

  “That’s entirely different, Celeste, and you know it. Now that they are man and wife, now that she will return to California with him, might you find a presentable gentleman? You always had scads of beaux.”

  “As did you.”

  Carlotta smiled, thinking of their youth. “We did, didn’t we?”

  “Would you like another glass?”

  Waving her hand, “No, no. I fear I’m becoming indiscreet.”

  “Well, we are sisters. We should tell the truth to one another.”

  “I just couldn’t. I just couldn’t and still do not understand such a relationship, but I concede, yours was one of stability and affection.”

  “Yes.”

  “Celeste, we’re getting older. I’m forty-seven, Stirling will be fifty next year, and you’re forty-three. You’re free now. Don’t dally.”

  “Oh, Carlotta, no one is free. And Ramelle will be here half the year.”

  “But it won’t be the same.”