The Fifth Part of Chapter 7: A Turn

Mary pointed out the time to her mother.

“Really? Then I’d better get going! Oh, where’s Hyram?”

“He’s over there,” said Mary, who had noticed Hyram, glass of wine in hand, talking to a shortish black woman and her husband.

“Good,” and she walked over.

“Hyram,”

“Oh, Margaret! I was just talking to Clarissa’s neighbours,”

“I’m Eunice,”

“Mario.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Eunice. Hyram, we have to go soon.”

“This wedding was really nice; too bad about the cake, though.”

“Yeah, I think that was poor planning on James’s part; I have seen much better weddings than this one. Better organised, I mean; who would want to be in an artificially cold room on such a beautiful day?”

“I think it was very lucky for Jim to have booked such a good ballroom,” said Mario.

“Oh, here, let’s exchange phone numbers,” said Eunice, handing Margaret her cell phone. Margaret obliged her, and returned the gesture. Margaret and Hyram promptly left; at this rate, they would be lucky to make it back home after midnight, if they were not lucky, two in the morning.

“I think I could have planned a better wedding,” Said Margaret.

“I think it was decent,” replied her husband, matching her long strides with his own.

“Surely you noticed the wedding cake; whose idea was it to place the thing under bright lights, when they knew full well it was butter cream?”

“It still tasted good,”

“Then there was the inscription; the whole thing looked like a rush job. I think those ugly blobs were supposed to be flowers, but I couldn’t tell.” Given that the icing was a pale brown, it also reminded her of something most unsavoury, and that cost her part of her appetite for dinner, which for a wedding was unmemorable; she had already forgotten what it was.

“The duck was delicious,” said Hyram.

“So that’s what it was,”

“You’re not impressed by duck? Seriously? Perfectly done duck, with tender meat and crisp skin?”

“Now that I know, I’ll be sure to make it some time.” Margaret, however, had no real intention of looking for anything exotic like duck at the local grocery store; she preferred conventional fare such as chicken, pork or beef. The conversation continued in this fashion until they entered the car, Margaret saying that she would drive to Kingston, after which Hyram would take over.

“Fair enough,” he said in reaction to the arrangement. They left the party, just before the dancing was to start.

James, meanwhile, was leading Clarissa on the dance floor; they would have the first dance, and some sentimental, soppy music was playing. This was, perhaps, the best day of his life, and the week preceding the wedding was the best week of his life. Granted, it was also one of the busiest, but it was a happy kind of occupation; the past week, when he was simultaneously working and preparing for the wedding, hiring people to cook the food, ordering the cake, buying the decorations and then putting the decorations up gave him a joyous feeling; it was the sense of accomplishment. He was feeling at peace as he guided her around the dance floor formed from tables pushed aside; others joined in, starting with Clarissa’s brother and sister, and their husband and wife, Alice joining them after she crossed the hall. At the same time, Sean was wandering around the hall, saying hello to everybody, and most people thought he was cute.

“Oh, look at the adorable little boy,” said Patricia to Ryan as he walked by, grinning. She wanted a grandchild like that, and was full of happiness and hope for her son’s future, which was looking brighter every day.

“He has chocolate all over his hands, did you notice? I think he’s been wiping them on his pants, too.” Ryan also noticed a brown streak on one of the tablecloths that looked suspiciously like Sean had used them as a napkin. “What a rascal,”

Sean approached David and Pia, and became excited when he saw that Pia was carrying a baby.

“Do you think we should dance, Davey?”

“Sure. Oh look, there’s that little boy Clarissa’s mother was terrorising,”

“He looks so nice,”

“Hello,” said Sean.

“Hello,” said Pia. Jason woke up in Pia’s arms.

“Who’s dat?”

“This is Jason,”

“Hi,” Sean waved his hands, and Pia saw that they were messy with a brown substance, likely from the pudding they had for dessert; it looked like Sean had abandoned his spoon and treated the pudding as finger food.

Back on the dance floor, more people joined James and Clarissa, and James noticed only Clarissa and her prettiness; it seemed as if he were floating in a cloudy haze, as he directed more of his senses to his wife, and away from his surroundings. Tomorrow would be a very happy day at work, he thought. Indeed, the rest of his life would be happy and cheerful, and stress as a mental condition was banished from his mind for the evening. Life, at this moment, was munificent for him: there was an abundance of food, friends surrounded him, and he had a loving wife. What more could he ask for? He then drifted back into an increased awareness of his surroundings; in front of him was Clarissa, beaming at him; over her left shoulder he could see David with Pia, Ryan with Patricia beside them, and over her right shoulder, he could see Jacob with Alice, Courtney with Kevin, while Maurice was talking to someone he thought he recognised from the meeting where he and Clarissa met. His attention went elsewhere again; he was thinking of the honeymoon and the plans he had made; they were going to Newfoundland, as Clarissa, like him, liked the advertising campaign portraying the province as an idyllic place, with wonderful people and rugged, untamed geography. Most of the details had been dealt with early on: they would be leaving the next Friday, and their car rental was similarly over with; they made a deal to pick it up in St. John’s and drop it off in Halifax; there just remained hotels outside of the capital; they had little structure to their honeymoon off the Avalon peninsula, and James had said that they would simply show up at whatever hotel and look for vacancies.

“You know, I think I should retire in three years,” said Ryan to Patricia

“Sounds good.”

“We’ve both earned the right to relax,”

“Mmhm,”

Ryan looked over his right shoulder at Maurice, and thought he recognised the person Maurice was talking to; it was the sprightly director-general who was Clarissa’s boss, but that was not how Ryan knew him, as they had met in 1985 when Ryan was lecturing in Guelph and the director-general was a student there.

“James,” Clarissa called her husband back into the present.

“Hm?”

“I’m so happy right now,”

“So am I,”

“I love you,”

“I love you too,”

James was sure the music drowned out their voices, but he didn’t care about that now. While dancing, one only had to enjoy the present; worrying about the future, preparing for the inevitable, saving money and things like that were not to be concerned with while one was dancing, and anyways, it would be bad manners to burden one’s mind with cares while with a dance partner. The rest of the night passed in a similar way, and at the end, just after 10:15, James and Clarissa returned home with their five overnight guests, James and Clarissa with Mary and Andrew, while the younger Varrettes accompanied Mario and Eunice on their way home.

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The Fourth Part of Chapter 7: A Turn

After dinner, Kevin was talking to Margaret, who, despite harbouring lingering feelings of dislike for her new son-in-law left over from their first encounter, was feeling happy. For a wedding organised in a month, it was a success, she thought. It was true that they had had a bit of luck with reserving a space for the reception; a manufacturer of seat coverings for cars was going to hold their annual shareholder’s meeting in the banquet hall that she and the wedding party were in, but they had went bankrupt as a sort of domino effect brought about by the restructuring of the automotive industry, as Clarissa told her. Should I feel sorry for those workers? Maybe. On the other hand, they should have thought ahead; they should have seen that certain carmakers’ poor management, and they should have thought of a contingency plan. That may be selfish, she thought, but so what? Humans are a fundamentally selfish species, which was the fundamental cause of the parts makers’ bankruptcy; what was their name again? Oh yes, Inxton Car Seats was their name. They should have diversified, she thought as she sipped a cocktail.

“You’re the mother of the bride?”

“Yes,”

“I’m Kevin; I live in the neighbourhood,”

“That’s nice,”

“Yes, it’s a lovely neighbourhood.”

“I don’t really know the city that much; I last came here four years ago when Clarissa was moving in,”

Kevin asked, “What do you think of James?”

“James?”

“You know, your son-in-law,”

“I think she’s getting off on the wrong foot marrying an economist. Clarissa has always bored me to no end going on and on about the IS/LM model or something or other as it applies to the current situation, and I could not understand a word of it, and was quite bored just a minute in. Having someone else like that in the family will be simply painful.”

“I’m also an economist, you know. I’m personally a worshipper of Keynes, and what he said about the relationship between the savings rate and overall economic performance is highly relevant to understanding the causes of the recession. Did you know that the United States had a negative savings rate until two years ago? Saving is also tied to investment; they are essentially two sides of the same coin, and now, due to its low savings rate previously, its recovery has been sluggish.”

Dear God, thought Margaret, you lost me at Keynes. Is there anyone interesting with whom to talk? Unless she was mistaken, she had thought that economists supposed to have a caustic and self-deprecating sense of humour. Was there some sort of process of self-selection so that only boring people study economics?

“How many of you people are there at this party?”

“I’ve counted at least fifty on the guest list.”

“I mean economists,”

“Twenty, maybe,”

Maybe I should find someone to talk to other than an economist, and not as boring as porridge, thought Margaret.

“Pardon?” Margaret had in fact voiced that aloud; these unintentional windows into one's thoughts were occurrences happened to her friends rather frequently. Clarissa, on the other hand, seemed not to have these lapses.

“And what did you study when you were in university?”

“English,”

“Why are English majors such judgmental assholes?”

Margaret thought that was rude of him, and went towards the punch bowl, which was on the same table as the wedding cake, which had once looked tall and grand, but was now much smaller, as should happen to all good cakes. Margaret took some punch, had a sip, and noticed that it had gone flat because it was standing out for too long.

Andrew was talking to his wife.

“Do you know why the logo of that publishing house looks like a tit?”

“I think it was poor design, but you’ll have to ask mom.”

“Hey Margaret,”

Margaret was glad of the excuse to go and chat with her son-in-law.

“We were just wondering about the Twaddle and Twankfors’ logo,” Andrew held up Margaret’s wedding gift, which was a book published by her aforementioned firm.

Margaret was much less glad. “We thought that it would add some class and panache to T & T, but instead it looked like an elaborate mistake. The chief graphics designer resigned over it,”

“Would you call it a blunder?”

“More like a fiasco,” said Margaret. “Practically everyone calls us ‘Teats’. Thank goodness there’s a new logo on the way. It will be a bell tower,”

“A bell tower? Are you sure nobody will mistake it for a large–”

Margaret’s eyes widened in horror at the thought of his suggestion. “You mean people will mistake it for something worse?” She cursed loudly. Unfortunately for her, Sean was hiding underneath the white tablecloth and had looked in all the boxes hidden there. He exited his hiding place.

“Mommy, if grandma says ‘shit’, can I say it too?” Alice was not standing nearby; rather, she was at the other end of the room, discussing interest rates with David and Pia, who were both nodding in interest. Jacob, on the other hand, was ten feet away, drinking wine.

“No, Sean, that’s not okay. Don’t ever let me hear you say that again.”

“Where’s mommy?”

“She’s around. Now be a good little boy,”

Considering that weddings were chiefly adult affairs, this was difficult for Sean to do.

“Hey mom, Sean was right by you when you said that. And why don’t you change the logo to a house? That can’t be misconstrued as anything phallic,”

“Thanks, Jacob; I’ll call a meeting on that. We really need a better graphic design team,” She would rather not reveal that she was the one who had suggested the bell tower; that would provoke all sorts of awkward questions about her secretly dirty mind. Still, Jacob was right; it was better not to have a logo that could be mistaken for a body part.

While Jacob and Margaret were discussing possible and necessary changes to Twaddle and Twankfors’s logo, Sean was getting into mischief again; just before the dinner, he had been busy taking dollops of icing off the cake with his finger; he, being a very bright boy, knew enough to make it unnoticeable, and was never caught. Margaret had come close, but her back was turned, admonishing James for what she thought were oversights in wedding planning. By now, half an hour after the dinner, Sean had a dirty mouth from all the food, because he would squirm out of the way when Alice tried to wipe his mouth with a cloth. This being after dinner, Sean was exploring the wedding gifts, which were on the other side of the table, and he was picking the more interesting, as in shiny, items up; he had got hold of an ornamental vase with a small bulb and a very long stem when Mary noticed and chivvied him away from the pile; Sean had the vase in an awkward position––it was held at an angle, and she feared that it might break; she wondered who could have given such a preposterous gift.

Now that Sean’s raid has moved, we must nag him constantly, she thought, or rather, muttered; the words “Now raid moved, nag,” were audible. She then brought Sean’s latest misbehaviour to his father’s attention, and he took it in stride; he was well used to Sean’s misbehaviour, which had started nine months previously, when he first learned how to walk; on that day, he was so joyous, he knocked over a lampshade and clapped as the lamp’s ornamental glass flute shattered on the floor. Because of that incident, Jacob had been careful to place any breakables well out of Sean’s reach.

“Thank goodness we’re staying at James’s place for the night; I don’t know how I would have kept him entertained otherwise,” he said. The case was the same for Clarissa’s older sister; given that James and Clarissa were only two people, and given that the house had plenty of room, there was enough space in the house for Clarissa’s siblings, in-laws and nephew to sleep over. Margaret, on the other hand, would need to leave soon if she and Hyram wished to arrive home at any sort of decent time, they would have to leave shortly; it was nearly seven o’clock, which meant that, given a six hour trip, they would be home at one in the morning, leaving just enough sleep for both of them to get to work tired on Monday. Jacob, Alice and Andrew, however, had taken Monday off; Mary had no worries about such obligations, as she was a teacher and this was summer.

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The Third Part of Chapter 7: A Turn

The service ended, and Margaret carried Sean from the pew. While doing so, she noted with consternation a puddle on the pew; why hadn’t he told her he needed to go to the washroom? The obvious answer that he knew no better came to her immediately; she had pondered that out of frustration. Alice and Jacob should get him back into diapers, she thought; they were evidently overconfident in trusting him to have enough control over his own body functions, a skill he had not learned, unlike speech, which he had learned. She looked hurriedly for the bathroom, found it, and brought back a large amount of toilet paper for the mess.

She told Alice and Jacob later. “Why wasn’t he wearing a diaper?” she asked.

“We were out, and Sean was just starting to get potty trained,”

“Well, I think it’s a bit too early for that,” said Margaret.

After the wedding party had left the church, the reception was to follow in the Riverside Convention Centre down the street. James and Clarissa, he in his tuxedo and she having lost the veil, were walking together in the middle of the group.

“Mom was real big on virtues when I was growing up,” she was saying.

“How do you mean?”

“She was always telling me to be virtuous, especially chaste; I never understood it, especially as Mary and Jacob didn’t get that sort of treatment.”

“Perhaps she was trying to protect her youngest child.”

“She’s also much more religious than Mary or Jacob; she tried to instil a sense of religion into us––she’s a strong catholic, much more so than dad––and always made us go to church until we were eleven; after that, she told us to make our minds up.”

“And?”

“I found Mass and all that rather onerous, so I stopped going. I was constantly chaste, though; I wonder why she was so concerned about chastity; I never had any boyfriends before you,”

“That’s interesting. I had several girlfriends; there was Ellen, Jane, Wilma, Olivia, and a parade of girls through my university days.”

“Do you call them?”

“No; I heard from most of them that they’re married, and Wilma turned out to have a preference for women,”

They continued to the convention centre, where there was a large dinner all the guests waiting, and an elaborate wedding cake. The food had not arrived, but he could see the cake was there; it was something of a disappointment. What he had seen in the photograph was a cake with several layers, elaborately decorated with graceful whorls, red and white roses, all with butter cream frosting, as noted on the photograph’s caption. It was sitting under a bright light, and that accounted for some of the disappointment: the butter had softened and the icing was starting to run; he could see a yellow pool like a moat surrounding the cake, and that could only be melted butter, and hopefully was, barring some disaster related to another yellow liquid. That was not the worst of it, though; the cake looked like someone who on their first day on the job with no prior training, artistic flair, or the fine motor skills needed to reproduce what was in the photo, had decorated it. The bride and groom figures perched on the top of the cake were also awry; the bride figure was leaning as if drunk and the groom had toppled, and was now horizontal in the rich cream icing. There had also been something of a mix-up; there was supposed to be a date written in icing on the side of the second tier, August 15th; it read October 15th instead. James thought it was some possible mistake of the evidently air headed decorator thinking of their own birthday or anniversary rather than the wedding.

Clarissa had ordered enough roast duck for dinner to feed all fifty guests, in addition to salad, James’s favourite bread, chocolate mousse, and plenty of champagne for dessert, in addition to the non-alcoholic punches, club soda, and sprite. The guests sat at seven round tables, with seven to some tables, and eight to others. Clarissa and James were beside each other, while Ryan and Patricia were together, opposite beside Margaret and Hyram; also at that table were Katherine and Karim. The dinner had not yet arrived, so James was talking about what he knew best to Ryan.

Ryan said, “So, I heard people talking about how the labour market was inefficient at work on Friday,”

“They would be right: it is inefficient,”

“I’m no economist myself, I took political science,”

“You’ve told me many times, dad,”

“Anyways, what is meant by efficiency?”

“It means an efficient market,”

“And?” asked Margaret.

“It’s essentially the economist’s version of utopia,”

“That explains quite a lot,” said Hyram. “I hear it all the time from Clarie, Jacob and Alice.”

“Efficient markets means there’s perfect competition, meaning there are many buyers and sellers in the market,”

“But that’s the case for the labour market: there are many employers, and many workers,”

“The thing is, though,” said Karim, “that wages are sticky, and there are unions setting price floors and minimum wages, and all that sort of thing; there are also externalities, and there are just so many things that the labour market doesn’t take into account, such as, for instance, each time an employer hires someone, they must pay for training, while they won’t reap all the benefits,”

“Sticky wages also mean that more people will be unemployed,”

“I take it that this is a situation that is much desired, though never achieved,”

“Oh yeah, there’s always something,”

Katherine paid perfunctory attention to the conversation about the labour market, and idly listened to the people at the next table over. She heard a very masculine voice behind her. “I jog once a week, Tuesdays and Fridays are core days, while on Mondays and Wednesdays I work my chest,”

She glanced backwards and saw a broad-shouldered man talking to the woman seated beside him while drinking champagne. She also saw that Sean, Jacob and Alice were at the same table, and they seemed to be feigning interest about the man’s monologue about his workout routine. She had seen this same man in the ceremony, and thought he looked handsome. After ten minutes, food arrived, and talk died down as people ate the duck, which was on the buffet table already sliced, with the organs off to one side, and the stuffing, composed of celery, carrots and beans piled in a separate bowl.

The man then asked, “So, your name is Sandra? How is it being so close to power?”

The question was directed at a slightly plump woman who looked to be about Clarissa’s age. “Not so good,” came the reply. “They’re not so nice up close; Meach is an asshole,”

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The Second Part of Chapter 7: A Turn

The meeting with Hyram went slightly better; James was checking on the food at the buffet, which consisted of chips, cocktail shrimp, some cheese and crackers, and cheetos, which was not exactly a classy thing to have at a wedding, but James, who was fond of cheetos, insisted on having them anyways. “Eyes on the prize, I see,” said someone who was standing to his left.

“Yes, I was just checking to see if my favourite sugary treats were being served. I also like potato chips,” he said gesturing to the bowl full sour cream and onion-flavoured chips. Then he actually looked at who was speaking: he was a white-haired, portly figure, slightly taller than James was, and impeccably dressed.

“My name’s Hyram; I’m Clarissa’s father.” He said, matter-of-factly. “I quite like the Nanaimo bars, myself.” He gestured to the square treats arranged on a large platter in a square pattern.

“Well, keep your eyes on the prize, and I mean my daughter, not the candy,” he said. Hyram reflected: James seemed quite a lot like himself, and that bothered him; he preferred that Clarissa marry a man other than one like himself; she deserved better. She deserved someone better looking. I guess they married for all of the engaging conversations they had together, he thought. They must have many such conversations; they are both economists, after all. Hyram, on the other hand, went purely for appearances, and married Margaret, although, he acknowledged to himself, he had help in that.


It was the big moment, the sum of what James had been preparing for since he had met Clarissa in that room in February; they were about to become a legal union, husband and wife. Like at his first date, he was feeling nervous, and his heartbeat was quickening. He watched Clarissa approach with Hyram, who looked quite handsome in a crisp white tuxedo. The whole affair was rushed and they had dispensed with rehearsals and didn’t have any flower girls or ring-bearers, as Alice thought that Sean was far too young, an opinion to which Margaret, who called him a rugrat, agreed; they had managed by some miracle and a lot of dedicated work to have three bridesmaids, and the best man, Kevin, rather than several of each, as Eunice had pointedly told him and Clarissa in mid-July. Now, the groom’s men, Jacob, Andrew, and Kevin, looked elegant in rented tuxedos, except for Kevin, who had his own closely fitting tux.

Clarissa strode slowly and ceremoniously up the aisle, approaching the altar. On the way, however, her foot caught the front of her dress, and she tripped. This was what James had been dreading; it was a small mishap like this that set him on edge; all of a sudden he was nervous; he wished time would go faster, for right now, each passing second seemed like an eternity.
Hyram cursed under his breath. Something always goes wrong, he thought, as he helped her to her feet; perhaps the overlong wedding dress was not such a good idea; the train was long and, in his eyes, was a waste of perfectly good fabric. He had no idea why Margaret, who had picked out the dress, had not opted for a more sensible and cheaper option that was more form fitting and evidently incorporated a lot less material. He looked at Margaret, and she had not noticed; she was sobbing quietly into her handkerchief, as was Patricia, who was sitting beside her.
She regained her posture with Hyram’s aid, and together they walked to the altar, where the priest stood waiting.

“Clarissa Varrette, do you accept James Miller as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“James Miller, do you accept Clarissa Varrette as your lawfully wedded wife?”

There were many thoughts coursing through James’s mind at that moment: he was concerned mainly with how good married life was going to be; they were going to have two beautiful children, and they would have engaging debates about their shared passion, the economy, around the dinner table that night. He also reflected on the moment he first laid eyes on her at the consultation meeting in February, and everything that led up to this moment. Now, he thought, life was perfect.

“I do.”

“You may kiss the bride,”

James and Clarissa kissed, and the chapel behind them erupted into applause.

Margaret thought of Clarissa: she looks so glowing, so pretty. James looks decent as well. She thought hopefully of the married life they would have together: they would have children; they would have a beautiful house (they already did), and two nice cars in the driveway, just as everyone should. She just hoped the marriage would not go off the rails, as happened to Mary’s previous marriage: Ian, her ex-husband had been too possessive; it was his house, his car, his clothing, even his blankets. This over-possessive attitude was in evidence in the way he introduced Mary: “Hi, I’m Ian, and this is my wife, Mary.” Needless to say, it was an unhealthy relationship, and she would be altogether unsurprised had he started referring to her pregnancy with an expression like “she’s carrying my child,” refusing to acknowledge the fact that the child was in her body. This was conjecture, however: they split before they could get down to business.

Ryan held up a camera and took a picture. They look so beautiful together, he thought. They are so elegant and poised; I hope they have a great life together, he thought, admiring the picture he took.

Hyram thought that the wedding was quite a spectacle; my baby looks so pretty with her hair curled that way. Hyram was also feeling distracted and detached from the whole thing as if he were watching television; he often felt this way about schmaltzy and sentimental events such as weddings, and this wedding had all the usual schmaltz and then some: there was the bride in a flowing gown (I wonder how much I paid for that), the groom, tall and handsome, the bridesmaids all doe-eyed, and who could forget the happy priest saying the blessing. Hyram used to like weddings, but after having attended those of all his friends and relatives, he was beginning to find them rather dull: when one attends one wedding, one might as well have attended every wedding in the world. He was beginning to zone out, and his mind drifted to the intrigue that was playing out on Parliament hill. The gossip columns and junk news sites, as he liked to think of them, were all abuzz with the information––which one might also call infotainment––that Prime Minister Meach was cheating on his wife with a local prostitute, while his wife was cheating on him with an actor. This was completely irrelevant, but at the same time, it revealed a wide disparity between Meach and his wife in their tastes; Cathaline had taste, while Meach did not. There was also talk of an election; the opposition was deeply unhappy with the Prime Minister’s tax and fiscal policies disproportionately favouring Quebec and the unloved automotive industry, and they had a keen sense of his vulnerability, because polls were showing his growing unpopularity, insofar as one could rely on polls. Cam Duff, on the other hand, had an exceedingly pleasant demeanour and was exuded confidence and charisma with every step, though this was not a view shared by all of his friends; moreover, he had a good policy package in Hyram’s opinion.

Eunice was applauding and cheering Clarissa and James on. She remembered her own wedding with Mario four years previously. It was a day in July, though it was very much like today. They had been married in a field, and they barbecued a dozen ducks for the party afterwards. Clarissa was a close friend, and James had become a close friend after his move to McLeod Street had brought him into their lives. James also looked handsome in a tuxedo that suited his slightly portly figure.

Patricia was in ecstasy, and through her applause and tears, she was admiring her son and his beautiful new wife, but also had a motherly attitude. I hope he takes care of himself, she thought; he is gaining weight, and while he doesn’t look fat right now, his future kids might think of him as “fatty daddy”. The notion of her being a grandmother filled her heart with hope and a desire to see that the marriage be a success.

Alice, while a bridesmaid, had her mind on her son, who was sitting next to Margaret; she could see that he was fidgeting and squirming, which led her to hope that he wasn’t about to wet his pants.

Margaret, meanwhile, had become distracted from the wedding by Sean.

“What?”

“I’m sleepy,”

“So go to sleep,”

“I can’t; my butt hurts,”

Margaret rolled her eyes; at least he didn’t say “ass”. “I’m sure the service will be over shortly, and then you may leave the pews for a comfy chair or something,” she hissed under her breath.

“But that’s when I wanna play,”

“You said you were sleepy,”

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The First Part of Chapter 7: A Turn

It was the day of the dress fittings, a Friday, and James and Clarissa had taken the day off work to travel to Toronto in order to oversee the fittings, making sure everything went well. It would also be the first time that James and Katherine would be seeing Clarissa’s family, and both of them were interested in this. They met at the store at one in the afternoon, and upon seeing her brother and sister, Clarissa smiled brightly. “Jacob and Mary! It’s so nice to see you both,”

“It’s nice to see you too, Clarie,” said Jacob.

James observed Clarissa’s siblings. He thought they all looked quite handsome; they seemed to be a very tall family, for Alice was his height, and everyone else was taller than he was. Clarissa’s brother and sister were both taller than she was, and therefore taller than him, and shared her good looks, which attracted very handsome spouses. They were also very kind people, paying Clarissa and James many compliments on getting together, their good fortune, and everything else.

Alice thought James was a happy man, and the expressions of such happiness were not limited to just his smile; it was in his every movement. Perhaps it was the effect of being with someone as pretty as Clarissa is. Her sister-in-law, Mary, thought very much the same thing, and to her it was very clear that his happy personality had attracted Clarissa, as well as the fact that they were both economists. Things went off without a hitch, and the party, Clarissa’s two siblings, their spouses, the couple, and Katherine went to Margaret’s house, which they found empty. Jacob had a key, though, and went inside after having ordered a takeout dinner from Swiss Chalet.

Like Alice, Jacob considered James to be a buoyant and exuberant person, and had the aura of a sprightly individual, which would be very good for his younger sister. In all cases, he hoped that it would turn out differently from his older sister’s disastrous marriage to Ian; she was now happily living with her software programmer, Andrew.

“That was fun; it was really nice to see you and your dazzling whites,” said Mary, referring to her sister.

“That went well,” said Alice.

“Things are coming along quite nicely,” said Clarissa. “Jim and I will take those back home for storage until the big day,”

“By the way, are you staying overnight?”

“I guess we’ll have to. It’s rather too late to be travelling five hours on the highway.”

“Perhaps I should have packed pyjamas,” said James.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Clarissa. “Mom won’t need to know that we slept without clothes.” Katherine smiled at this.

“Clarissa, you’re making me excited; you wouldn’t want me to get distracted from my chicken, would you?”

“Of course not, darling.”

“Are your parents enjoying the cottage?”

Jacob answered, “Yes, very much. Now that they’re at the stage of their careers where
they are both winding down, they can spend a lot more time there. It’s become a lot cosier now that they’re spending more time there. It also helps that they both like Balsam Lake and all their neighbours. I think the presence of our baby Sean there would modify it. He can be a nightmare at times, that Sean. Right now, he’s probably refusing to let mom put his diapers on. There was one time last year when I was holding a cocktail party with some friends from university. It was after eight, and we had put him to bed. At nine or so, he came down, naked, as he had figured out how to remove his diapers, and screamed, ‘mommy, I need to go peepee!’”

“I bet your friends are still talking about that episode,”

“Oh yeah, they mention it all the time.”

“That’s nice to hear about your mom. My mom and dad have a small cabin west of Perth. It’s not that nice, though: too many mosquitoes.”

The rest of dinner passed without note, and everyone save James, Clarissa and Katherine soon left, as Clarissa’s siblings lived in Toronto and Kitchener and had less than an hour to drive, while James, Clarissa and Katherine would be up all night driving home, which was thankfully not the case.

“Here’s the key so you can lock up after you leave. Give it back at the wedding, okay?”

“Sure thing, Jacob, thanks,”

After Jacob and Alice, who were the last to leave, pulled out of the driveway, James unbuttoned his shirt as he walked upstairs, and Clarissa followed, as they got down to business. Katherine, meanwhile, slept on the pull-out couch in the basement.


The final week before the wedding was understandably hectic, as someone had to purchase the flowers, someone else must prepare the food, and last minute arrangements for who would be staying where needed to be sorted out. Clarissa had ordered the flowers, which were roses, and cheap to get at that time of year; she also ordered the food, while James commissioned the wedding cake, which was to be a butter cream––he liked rich desserts––decorated with elaborate whorls, icing flowers, and inscribed with the date of the wedding; the hardest part of it all was the cake’s size, the fact that it was summer, and that it was to be a butter cream, which meant the icing would be unstable and prone to melt in the summer heat or under a strong halogen light. The key to making it all go would be timing; it would have to be ready right at dinner, the hall would need to be appropriately air-conditioned, and that the icing was to go on the cake just two hours before serving meant the icing had to be spread swiftly and carefully, which entailed a good decorator of high skill. Given that the cake was usually the centrepiece of any wedding, it was crucial that this go well. There was also the issue of guests: who were they to invite had been the subject of much discussion between James and Clarissa, and it was fortunate that they had agreed on an answer shortly after Canada Day: fifty guests, their mutual friends, some neighbours, plus their immediate families, and their bosses.

On the morning of the wedding, James was adjusting his bow tie and had just put on his jacket when Margaret met him. Had James lived in Toronto, he would have met her sooner, but this was not the case; he was unshaven and struggling with his tie when they met, rather than some more fortuitous meeting. His first impression of his future mother-in-law was of a very imposing woman, and her tall stature certainly helped that impression along; she was wearing ballet flats, and stood a head and a half taller than himself; he estimated her height to be six feet and three inches. Her dress also helped: her clothing had a decidedly masculine edge, with a black velvet blazer, trousers, and a starched white shirt. She had a white silk puff in her breast pocket, and an elaborate beaded necklace in the shape of a necktie set off the whole ensemble.

“So, you’re the man who is to marry my daughter. Congratulations,” said Margaret, extending her hand. James thought she sounded like Clarissa, except her voice was slightly lower, and had an air of authority, also helped by her stature.

“Thank you, um…”

“Margaret,” They shook hands.

“Have you met Hyram, my husband? Somehow, I feel like there’s so much to do; I came here from Toronto, and of course, I didn’t do much in the planning, so I would very much like to help with any small details. Is the punch good? You’re all rehearsed? Everything’s ship-shape?”

“Yes, I don’t think we really need that much help; the planning went surprisingly smoothly, this being the height of wedding season and all.”

“That’s good, and you don’t need to worry about me for tonight,”

“Very well,”

“Clarie called, concerned about whether I should be driving home late, but don’t worry I’ll manage,”

“Thanks,”

He seems decent enough, thought Margaret. I wish he were clean-shaven; that would certainly improve things. I also prefer men who spare the cologne, she thought.

“Pardon?”

“Uh, nothing,” said Margaret.

This conversation seems to be getting awkward, thought James; we haven’t hugged yet, and that was the first thing that dad did when he saw Clarissa.

“Well, perhaps I shouldn’t be bothering you anymore. You’ll see me at the wedding; I’ll be the one crying in the pews.”

Well, this is awkward, thought James. She seems just a bit standoffish; I hope this won’t reflect our future relationship; I wouldn’t want to have a stereotypical mother-in-law.

If this is to be my son-in-law, I am underwhelmed, thought Margaret. He’s overweight; a tuxedo is not going to hide that, and she could see evidence in the larger-than-normal waistline, the fleshy cheeks, and the curve of his chin where it came down to his neck; that ought to be a sharp angle. I would be expecting someone with my daughter’s good looks––there’s no denying it, she is pretty––to find someone rather more imposing. Instead, I see someone who only comes up to my shoulders. Maybe she’s attracted to inner beauty, now that she’s getting married. To Margaret, inner beauty meant that the two would always agree.

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