Danielle Steel - Fine things

“I already told you that, Mom.” Bernie interrupted her.

“You told me you met in the store.” His mother remembered everything just as he knew she would. “But you never explained.”

Liz laughed nervously. “Actually, my daughter picked him up. She got lost, and Bernie found her and took her for a banana split while they looked for me.”

“You weren't looking for her?” Liz almost laughed again. His description had been accurate. He had warned her what it would be like. The Spanish Inquisition in a mink hat, he had said, and he was right, but she was prepared for it.

“Yes, I was. We met upstairs. And that was that. He sent her some bathing suits, I invited him to the beach … a chocolate teddy bear or two”—she and Bernie smiled at the memory—“and that was it. Love at first sight, I guess.” She looked blissfully at Bernie and Mrs. Fine smiled at her. Maybe she was all right. Maybe. It was too soon to tell. And of course, she wasn't Jewish.

“And you expect it to last?” She looked searchingly at Liz, as Bernie almost groaned at the rudeness of the question.

“I do, Mrs. Fine.” Liz saw his mother staring at her enormous engagement ring, and she was suddenly embarrassed. His mother's was a third the size of the one he had bought her, and his mother had registered that fact with a practiced eye, like an appraiser.

“Did my son buy you that?”

“Yes.” Liz' voice was soft. She was still embarrassed about it herself but it was so beautiful, and she was deeply grateful for it.

“You're a very lucky girl.”

“Yes, I am,” Liz agreed as Bernie blushed beneath the beard.

“I'm the lucky one.” His voice was gruff, but his eyes were gentle.

“I hope you are.” His mother stared at him pointedly, and then back at Liz as the Inquisition continued. “Bernie says you teach school.”

She nodded. “Yes, I do. I teach second grade.”

“Are you going to continue doing that now?” Bernie wanted to ask her what business it was of hers, but he knew his mother too well to even try and stop her. She was in all her glory, interrogating Liz, the future wife of her only son. Looking at Liz, so sweet and blond and young, he suddenly pitied her and reached out and squeezed her hand with a warm smile, telling her with his eyes how much he loved her. His father was looking at her too, and thought she looked like a lovely girl. But Ruth wasn't quite as sure. “You'll go on working afterwards?” She pressed on.

“Yes, I will. I finish at two o'clock, I'll be home when Bernie comes home at night, and all afternoon with Jane.” It was hard to find fault with that, and the maitre d' came to lead them to their table then. When they sat down, she questioned them about the wisdom of living together before their wedding. She didn't think it was good for Jane, she said primly, as Liz blushed. He had told her it was only for two days and she was somewhat mollified, but everything was cause for comment that night. Not that the night was so different from any other. Ruth Fine always made comment on anything she chose to.

“Christ, and she wonders why I hate seeing her,” he said to Liz afterwards. Even his father's efforts to make the evening go more smoothly hadn't appeased him.

“She can't help it, sweetheart. You're her only child.”

“That's the best argument I've heard for having twelve of them. She drives me nuts sometimes. No, make that all the time.” He looked less than amused and Liz smiled at him.

“She'll relax. Or at least I hope she will. Did I pass the test?”

“Brilliantly.” He reached over and slid a hand up her dress. “My father was drooling over your legs all night. Every time you moved, I saw him look down at them.”

“He's very sweet. And he's a very interesting man. He was explaining several complicated surgical techniques to me and I think I actually understood them. I had some very nice talks with him while you talked to your mother.”

“He loves talking about his work.” Bernie looked at her tenderly. But he was still annoyed at his mother. She had been such a pain in the ass all night, but she always was. She loved torturing him. And now she had Liz to torture too, and maybe even Jane. The very thought depressed him.

He poured himself a drink before they went to bed that night, and they sat in front of the fire, talking of their wedding plans. He was going to dress at a friend's the next day. And Liz would dress at the house with Jane, and Tracy was coming, and she would go to the temple with them. Bernie was picking his parents up separately in a limousine. Bill Robbins, Liz' architect friend with the house at Stinson Beach, was giving her away. They had been friends for years, and although they didn't see much of each other, he was a serious man, and she liked him. And he seemed the appropriate choice for that role in her wedding.

They were both feeling mellow and happy as they stared at the fire and talked.

“I still feel badly about leaving Jane for three weeks,” he confessed to her.

“Don't,” she said, laying her head back against him. “We have a right to it. We've hardly had any time alone.” She was right of course but he still remembered how sad Jane had looked earlier that night when she had objected to staying with Tracy.

“She's so little though …she's only five …what does she know from honeymoons?”

Liz smiled at him with a sigh. She was sorry to leave her too. She seldom had before. But this time she felt she had to for their sakes, and she had come to terms with that. She was comfortable about it now, but it pleased her that he was so concerned about how Jane felt. He was going to be a wonderful father. “You're a big softie, you know that. A giant marshmallow.” She loved that about him. He was the sweetest man in the world, and when Jane turned up in their bed again that night, he lifted her in gently so they wouldn't wake her mother up, and he cuddled her close to him. She was beginning to feel like his own child, and he was surprised himself at the love he had for her. They tiptoed out of bed the next day, brushed their teeth side by side, and made breakfast for Liz, and brought it to her on a tray with a rose in a vase that Bernie put there for her.

“Happy wedding day!” they intoned simultaneously, and she looked up with a sleepy smile.

“Happy wedding day, you guys …when did you get up?” She looked at Bernie, then at Jane, and suspected there was a conspiracy she didn't know about, but neither of them would confess and she sat up to eat the breakfast they had made.

Bernie disappeared after that, and went to his friend's to dress. The wedding was at noon, and they had plenty of time, as Liz carefully braided Jane's hair with thin white satin ribbons. She put on the beautiful white velvet dress they had chosen together at Wolffs, and Liz put a little crown of baby's breath in her hair. She wore little white socks, and brand-new black patent leather Mary Janes, and a navy blue wool coat Bernie had bought in Paris for her. She looked like a little angel as she stood at the door, waiting for Liz, who took her hand and walked outside to the waiting limousine Bernie had ordered for her. She wore a white satin Dior dress, with big bell sleeves and a skirt that stopped at her ankles, so one could see the equally exquisite Dior shoes. Everything she wore was the color of antique ivory, including the matching headpiece that held back her hair as it cascaded down her back like a young girl's. She looked incredible and Tracy looked at her with tears in her eyes.

“May you always be as happy as you are right now, Liz.” She brushed away her tears and smiled down at Jane. “Your mom sure looks good, doesn't she?”

“She does.” Jane gazed at her mother admiringly. She was the prettiest lady she had ever seen.