Chapter 3

            Sunday Mass was enjoyable at St. Joseph’s as usual. In truth, Selena was the only confirmed Catholic among them. When she had joined the family, she had wanted to attend Christmas mass. In an attempt to make her feel welcomed and give her the feeling of having a real family, they had gone with her. It had turned into a weekly family event.

            They rode in the back of the limo as little Chris Jr. looked around at them in his car seat. His brother’s only son was over a year old now. He was the spitting image of Christopher - hair and all. Hudson men has had brown hair for at least a hundred years. Different varieties of brown, yes, but brown nonetheless.

            They pulled up to the Van Dyke mansion. Just like the Hudsons, the Van Dykes were blue bloods – from an old and wealthy lineage. Some of Catherine’s ancestors had come over on the Mayflower.

            The mansion and everything that was in it reeked of old money. The mansion had been built in the 1700s. Only Van Dykes have lived in it. Bruce’s family had always had money, but they didn’t have a real mansion until the Hudson mansion was built in 1979.

            The butler led them to the large sunroom. A long table with a white table cloth and white dishes with flowers around the rims was in the middle of the room.

            “Presenting the Hudsons,” the butler announced.

            Catherine walked to Bruce.  They exchanged a quick kiss.

            “Bruce,” Carlton Van Dyke said as approached him. “You’ve made me a very happy man. I can’t imagine a better man for my Catherine.”

            “Thank you, sir,” Bruce said.

            “Oh yes, and I can’t imagine any one more handsome either,” Victoria Van Dyke, Catherine’s mother, chimed.

            “Really?”  Trevor blurted out like he was offended.

            The Van Dykes chuckled.

            “Oh, Trevor, this wouldn’t be a family event without your wit,” Victoria said with a smile.

            “Of course it wouldn’t be,” Trevor said with a grin.

            Constance Van Dyke McNally walked to the end of the room and to another doorway at the side of the room. “Netty,” she called.

            A woman with thick white nurse shoes and a blue uniform with a white apron around her waist appeared. “Yes, Mrs. McNally?”

            “Please take Master Christopher to Nanny. She should be in the nursery with the girls,” Constance said.

            Selena’s blue eyes widened.

            “Oh, I assure you, Selena, Nanny Mary is the best. Impeccable references. She was nanny to the Olsen twins – while they filmed the original Full House. She’s looked after the twins since the day they were born,” Constance bragged.

            “The Full House thing is what sold her,” her husband, Steven McNally, said with a smile. 

            Selena smiled. “Well, of course.” She walked Chris over to Netty.

            Bruce knew deep down Selena minded like hell. She cherished her Sundays with little Chris. It was the only day of the week she could spend a full day with him.

            Thank you for not making a fuss, Selena.

            Netty took Chris away as he looked over his shoulder with a pout.

            Catherine’s other sisters, Caitlin, Chastity, and Chelsea welcomed the Hudsons. The only one married out of all of them was Constance, the eldest daughter. Chastity and Chelsea were only twenty and twins – not identical.

            “Shall we take our seats? Van Dykes on the far side of the table. Hudsons on this side,” Victoria said.

            There were place setting cards. Bruce was a bit surprised that he and Catherine weren’t going to sit next to each other.

            Victoria lifted a white bell and rang it. Two maids walked in.  One was pushing a white food cart. It looked like the first course was going to be a salad.

            Apparently, the Van Dyke clan went all out for weddings. Of course they talked about the engagement party and Victoria had taken the liberty to hire a wedding coordinator already. She would be at the house next week to see where to put everything for the party. With the second course, they glossed over the bachelor and bachelorette parties and bridal shower.  Bruce had thought a bachelorette party and a bridal shower were the same thing, but he quickly learned it wasn’t. A bridal shower was more like a proper ladies’ luncheon. A bachelorette party was when the women cut loose and act atrociously while they bar hopped. Trevor had said he would handle the bachelor party.  Bruce had cut him off at the knees, stating he didn’t want one.  What was the point? It’s not like he could get a lap dance. He was spoken for now.  However, Bruce didn’t mean to hurt Trevor’s feelings. Trevor looked like it had broken his heart when Bruce had said he didn’t want a bachelor party.

            The third course arrived. It was salmon with steamed vegetables. And with that, a new event was brought up. “Now, we need to discuss the bridesmaids’ and groomsmen’s luncheon,” Victoria announced.

            “The what?” Trevor repeated.  “What are those?”

            “Just formal lunches for the attendants of the wedding,” Chastity answered. “They are one of the events that take place on the wedding weekend.”

            “Wedding weekend?” Bruce, Trevor, and Christopher repeated.

            The whole weekend? Bruce wondered. What ever happened to a rehearsal dinner the night before and the actual wedding the next day and that be it?

            “Well, yes,” Caitlin confirmed. “When a member of our family gets married it’s a weekend event.”

            “This is your time to get broken in, Bruce,” Steven said across the table. “The Van Dykes have all sorts of . . . traditions.” He picked up his wine glass and tipped it over his mouth until he drained it.

            The butler who was standing at the side of the room walked over with a bottle wrapped in a cloth napkin to refill it.

            While Steven was getting a refill, Chelsea said, “It’s pretty straight forward. The groomsmen have a lunch somewhere and the bridesmaids have a lunch somewhere. It usually takes place on the afternoon the day before the wedding. In your case, Friday afternoon.”

            As they continued to talk about the events and where to have them, Trevor chimed in stating he wanted to plan the groomsmen luncheon. Then he looked down the row at Bruce.

            Before he could ask, Bruce said, “That’s fine.”

            Then the Van Dyke ladies talked about what was usual etiquette at these luncheons. Trevor just nodded and smiled when Victoria told him how a proper groomsmen lunch was conducted. On the inside, Bruce knew Trevor was cussing Victoria. One thing Trevor knew how to do and do well was plan a party catered to a bachelor. Then she had said that the groom and his family were expected to pay for the groomsmen luncheon.

Bruce couldn’t help but wonder what he had gotten himself into. How much of this do I and my family have to pay for?

Christopher had said earlier he wanted to pay for the engagement party as a pre-wedding gift to Bruce and Catherine.

I should have suggested we elope. Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Selena, Joanna, I would like to have you two as bridesmaids,” Catherine said.

What? Wait? Oh, no. The wedding party was going to be huge.

“Really?” Selena said with her thin dark eyebrows arched.

“Yes, we’ll be sisters after the marriage and like my blood sisters I want you – both of you by my side,” Catherine said sincerely.

“Goodness,” Joanna said softly. She was stunned.  She wasn’t expecting to be asked at all.

“Joanna, will that be a problem? When is the baby due?” Constance asked.

“Second week in April,” Joanna answered.

“Okay so six weeks to recover,” Constance mumbled. “Oh, you’ll be good to go by June.”

“I hope so,” Joanna said with uncertainty. She probably didn’t want to be bothered by a wedding so soon after the baby’s birth. New mothers wanted to spend as much time as they could with their new child – and Joanna had a career of her own as an assistant designer to Coco Blanchet.  “Because I would love to be a bridesmaid,” she concluded with a smile.

She really is a sweetheart.

“Wonderful,” Catherine said. “Bruce, who do you have in mind for the other groomsmen?”

Nobody. You sprung this on me. He had thought Catherine would just ask Constance and Caitlin to be bridesmaids and that would be it.

“I have some friends in mind, but I’m not sure yet,” Bruce said.

“Let us know soon. You have to schedule fittings for all of them and Robair’s is booked weeks in advance.”

“I take it I’ll need a new tux,” Bruce said flatly.

“Yes,” Chastity answered crisply.

The fourth course arrived – tomato basil soup. And with the fourth course a new event was brought up. “Now, we need to go over the welcome party,” Victoria said and flipped her notepad to a new page.

“The what?” Bruce, Selena, Christopher, and Trevor chimed.

“Basically, a welcome party is the event to kick off ‘the wedding weekend’,” Chelsea explained as she put her hands up to indicate quotes. “It’s a semi-formal cocktail party hosted by the couple or the parents of the couple. Everyone in the wedding party and on the guests’ list are invited, but emphasis is usually put on the out of town wedding guests. It’s a chance for the out of town guests to talk to the couple and mingle with the non-out of town guests.”

Am I paying for this crock of shit welcome party?

“Do you have any relatives coming from out of town?” Victoria asked

“No,” Christopher answered in a low tone as he stared at the Van Dyke women. Even he was starting to look glassy eyed.

Trevor, Bruce, Christopher and little Chris were the only blood living Hudsons left. They had a sixty-two year old cousin by marriage in Canada, but they hadn’t talked to or heard from her in ten years.

“All right,” Victoria said as she made notes. “We’ll host the welcome party here at the house. And it will be hosted by Carl and me so we’ll cover the cost of that.”

Thank, fucking, God.

“That’s fine,” Bruce said with a nod.

They chatted about the welcome party for a bit.

Then the fifth course arrived. It was grilled duck with baked potato and spinach. Bruce wasn’t sure if they were at the end of the lunch or not. The Van Dykes didn’t serve their meals the way most people did. They had served a salad at the beginning of the meal instead of the hors d’oerves first; and the soup in the middle of the courses instead of somewhere in the beginning. What he did know for sure was that when dessert came that was it.

Old man Van Dyke hadn’t said a word the entire time. He had been drinking red wine like a fish and ate in silence as the courses came. That’s when Bruce realized that Steven was doing the same thing, but with white wine.

Oh no, he thought with dread. Was this his future as a Van Dyke husband?

Well, at least we won’t be living here.  At the most I’ll have to put up with these meals only once a week.

Victoria flipped the page on her notepad. “Now, the rehearsal dinner,” she announced.

If she flips one more damn page, I’m going to snatch that thing out of her hand, Bruce thought with impatience.     

The afternoon just kept droning on. Even Bruce was starting to shift in his seat. With each course, the ladies brought up a new event.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Trevor said.

Bruce looked down the table to see Trevor looking at his phone.

Please let the house be on fire.  That’s the only excuse we can use to get out of here.

“Christopher, it’s Alan Hopkins in the Caribbean about the Virgin Island project. The text says he needs us to call him ASAP,” Trevor said.

“Do you mind if we use one of your rooms for a quick call?” Christopher asked as he stood. He acted like he had a cramp in his leg.

“No, but . . . it’s Sunday,” Victoria said.

“There businessmen like I am, darling,” Carlton slurred. “And as you know real businessmen don’t have days off. That’s how we are as rich as we are. You two can use my study. Walk straight out of here, keep straight through the main living room, and take a right.  It’s the second door on the right.”

“Thank you,” Trevor said as he stood.

“I’m coming, too,” Bruce said, trying not to sound desperate to leave.

“No, no, no,” Trevor said quickly. “This is your wedding being talked about. And this is the Virgin Islands, US. It doesn’t qualify as international business. You guys please continue. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“God’s speed, son,” Carlton slurred.

Christopher and Trevor were barely out the room before the Van Dyke women continued talking about the rehearsal dinner.

Did they just abandon me and their wives with this shit?

****

            Trevor and Christopher dipped inside Carlton Van Dyke’s study. Trevor closed the door and leaned his back against it like they were hiding from a serial killer.

            “I never thought I’d say this, but I hope Alan has a big emergency,” Christopher said with relief.

            “There is no emergency,” Trevor admitted and walked over to the mini bar.

            “What?”

            “I lied, Christopher. There isn’t an emergency in the Virgin Islands,” Trevor admitted as he picked up a crystal decanter filled with clear liquid.  He snatched the top off and smelled it. “Shit, I needed a break and don’t deny you didn’t either.”

            “I’m not,” Christopher said flatly.

            Trevor grabbed a glass and poured the liquid. He filled the glass up half way. “I rather have tequila at the moment, but this gin will have to do. Okay, I got an idea.”

            Christopher took a few steps toward him. “What is it?”

            Trevor pulled a pocket knife out of his pants pocket. He made the blade pop out. “You stab me in the leg, okay?” he began desperately. “Then all of us can leave and go to the hospital.  With any luck, they’ll think we’re crazier than them and make Catherine cancel this farce.”

            Christopher had half a mind to do it, but he thought better of it.  “I am not stabbing you in the leg just so we can leave, Trev.”

            “Well, damn it give me your pistol so I can go in there and shoot Joanna and then myself. We’ll be away from this dullfest of a luncheon and dancing happily ever after in the great beyond with our child,” Trevor said like he was about to crack. He took a long sip of the gin.

            “I’m letting you shoot anyone and I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I didn’t bring it,” Christopher said. The pistol Trevor was referring to was their great-grandfather’s. He gave it to their father on his death bed and their father gave it to Christopher.  He planned to give it to his son, Chris, in his twilight years.

            “Shit,” Trevor hissed with disappointment. “It wouldn’t be so bad if all of them didn’t talk in the same monotone voice. They’re only two steps away from sounding automated. The only one who has a hint of a personality is Chelsea and even she looks like she wants to kill herself with knife right at the table.”

            “I know,” Christopher said solemnly.

            “How long have we been here?” Trevor cried like they were being held hostage.

            Christopher looked at his watch. “Over an hour and a half.”

            “Jesus!” Trevor shouted.

            “Shh,” Christopher hushed quickly.  “Someone might hear you.”

            “How many courses we got left?”

            “I don’t know, but it can’t be many more. I think we got the main course now,” Christopher said.

“All right. We’ll just have to do what you didn’t want to do in the first place. We have to stop Bruce from marrying her.”

            “Like hell we are. This is what he wants. We are supporting him the way he supported us when we got married. We owe him that, damn it,” Christopher stated passionately.  “Don’t you say a fucking word.”

            “Christopher, this can’t go on. Not only will she bore the hell out of Bruce, she’ll kill us all before our time with dullness. And God forbid we have to do big family get-togethers with these people. And stopping this thing is best for Bruce. He’ll turn into a lush like Carlton and Steven in six months.”

            “Hell, we’re lushes already,” Christopher countered.

            “Our drinking is different from their drinking. They drink hoping to pass out and never open their eyes again. We drink to have fun and be sociable.”

            “Either way, we are not saying a word. Period.”

            “Ugh,” Trevor groaned like he was in pain.

            “Trevor, you say anything to him – even behind my back I’m taking you out of my will,” Christopher said sternly.

            Trevor rolled his eyes and took another long sip of his drink.

            “Give me some of that,” Christopher said with his hand out.  He needed a stiff shot himself.  The wine wasn’t doing it for him.

            “No, steal your own,” Trevor said as he hugged the glass to his frame.

            When they walked back to the living room, stating it was a false alarm, the sixth course had arrived and they were talking about the wedding. It was chucks of crab already cracked with a saucer of butter in the middle of the plate.

            Oh fuck, it’s not dessert, Christopher thought with profound disappointment.

            The Van Dyke women went on and on.

            As one maid was picking up the sixth course plates, another maid placed down dessert plates with chocolate cake.

            Okay, good, we’re almost there. Surely we can eat this course in peace at least. The wedding is the final event.

            Victoria flipped the page on her notepad. “The last item on the list is the honeymoon luncheon,” she announced.

            “The what!” Bruce bellowed

            Uh oh, he’s lost it.

            “Oh, good. You already know you’re paying for it,” Carlton slurred as he pointed at Bruce.

            “The hell is a –” Bruce began.

            “After your wedding night,” Chelsea began carefully. “You’ll return to both families to have a goodbye luncheon and then you can go off on your two week honeymoon.”

            “Just in case you haven’t figured it out,” Steven slurred as he stared at Bruce. “It is not only family tradition to go on a two week honeymoon, but it’s general etiquette that the groom pays for it – all.”

            Bruce’s mouth dropped open. 

“Two weeks? Where the hell do you all want him to take her?” Trevor asked with a tight smile. “Uruguay?”

Oh Jesus, don’t you lose it, too, Trevor.

The Van Dyke family chuckled.

“Oh, Trevor,” Victoria said with slight amusement.

            He wasn’t kidding, my dear.

Bruce sat up straight. “Catherine, we’re getting married in the beginning of summer. Summer and spring is The Hudson Group’s busiest time of year. You know that. I cannot be on vacation for two weeks. One week is pushing it as it is. And I’m surprised you’ll be able to leave the firm for two weeks.”

            “We’ll work why’ll we’re on vacation. That’s what we got laptops and cell phones for,” Catherine said like it was no problem at all.  “Oh, and don’t tell me where you’re planning to take me. The bride is supposed to be surprised concerning the honeymoon.”

            Bruce just looked at her and blinked a couple of times. “Of course,” he said evenly.

            He’s a better actor than I ever gave him credit for. I know he wants to shout at the top of his lungs right now.

            The damn lunch finally ended. Christopher thought they could finally go home. But, he was wrong.

            “It’s time to retire to the den for the traditional family champagne toasts,” Victoria said.

            Toasts? As in plural?

            The Hudsons were at the Van Dykes for another hour and a half because every single family member just had to toast the newly engaged couple. Carlton and Steven didn’t speed up the process with their drunken slurring and they kept remembering things they forgot to say the first, second, and third time they made a toast.

****

            Bruce and his family didn’t get back to the estate until after five o’clock. No one had said a word in the limo. Everyone was too exhausted - including him.

            William held the door open for them as they filed into the foyer. Everyone took their coats off and piled them into William’s waiting arms.

            “I need a nap,” Joanna stated solemnly.

            “Nap, hell, I’m ready for bed,” Trevor said with annoyance and exhaustion.

            Christopher held his son in his arms. He was starting to fuss.

            “Constance’s nanny said he didn’t nap while we were there,” Selena said as she reached up and rubbed her baby boy’s back.

            Joanna and Trevor started walking out of the foyer.

            “What time do you want dinner served?” William asked.

            “Fuck dinner, give it to the dogs,” Trevor sneered over his shoulder.

            “We don’t have dogs,” Christopher stated over his son’s little wails.

            “Yet,” Selena added. She was planning to get a dog when Chris got a little older.

            “Go out and buy some and give the dinner to them,” Trevor said as he and Joanna left the foyer.

            “What are we going to do?” Christopher asked. “If we put him down for a nap now, he’ll be up half the night.”

            “I know,” Selena said solemnly. “But what else can we do?”

            They started walking out of the foyer.

            “Maybe we put him to sleep for thirty minutes and then wake him,” Selena suggested as they were walking. “Hopefully, that will get him back on schedule.”

            “Let’s hope,” Christopher dragged out.

            They disappeared into the hall.

            For the first time in ages, Bruce felt like he owed his entire family an apology. He had no idea the lunch would go on like a twelve-hour work day. It had been over the top.

            Brides and their families become extreme when planning a wedding. It’ll be fine. Once we get past the wedding, everything will be fine – and normal again.

            “Master Bruce, do you want dinner tonight?” William asked.

            Bruce turned to the butler. “I’m . . . not hungry.” Under normal circumstances, Bruce was always hungry. “If I get hungry later, I’ll make myself something.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Bruce made the long walk to the den. He was going to watch TV for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure what he was going to watch since he didn’t watch TV that often.

****

            Beverly was at The N.Y. offices catching up on her email. The N.Y. was a two-year-old news website that put out a hard copy magazine every month. Some people called it a gossip rag. Whatever it was The N.Y. was the most popular online site in New York. The N.Y. was popular for not holding punches and printing anything about anybody newsworthy. Beverly had just made full-time employment. The pay was better than being a temp all over the city, but she still had to watch her pennies. New York was not a cheap city to live in.

            The N.Y. was not a cubicle hellhole. There were tables and office chairs in various places in the room.  Some writers sat in the floor or in beanbag chairs. The place was very loose. Writers were not tied to their desk for a certain amount of hours like at other newspapers. The job was more than perfect for Beverly. It was her dream job.

            “Balsom!” Isaiah Green, the assistant editor, yelled.

            “Yeah,” Beverly answered as she waved her hand in the air. She was sitting in a bean bag chair with her laptop in her lap.

            “Delivery for you. Came by carrier,” Isaiah said and handed her the white envelope.

            “Thanks,” Beverly said as she took it. The return address was the Hudson Estate. It looked like an invitation.

            Isaiah lingered as Beverly opened it.

We’re Engaged

Mr. and Mrs. Carlton T. Van Dyke invite you to share their joy as

they announce the engagement of their daughter

Catherine Alexis Van Dyke to

Bruce Belford Hudson

Join us for the black-tie celebration at

The Hudson Estate on March 10th at six o’clock

            “Ugh, god,” Beverly groaned with a frown. Bruce Hudson might be a handsome and physically impressive SOB, but he was still the asshole she hated the most – despite her occasional lust for him.

            “What is it?” Isaiah asked.

            Beverly glanced down at the thick red cardboard again. There was a message for her written by hand and in black ink.

Yes, you have to come. You don’t want Judy Budd scooping you on the biggest society social event of the season. You don’t have to talk to Bruce.

Selena.

 P.S. bring a date if you like.  If anything you and Mr. For Tonight can liven things up.

            “Damn,” Beverly said and rolled her eyes. Selena knew just what to say to get Beverly to do what she wanted. “My girlfriend has invited me to her brother-in-law’s engagement party.”

            “That’s bad?”

            “Yes, because I hate the bastard. That poor woman couldn’t find anyone else to marry?”

            “Then don’t go,” Isaiah said with a shrug.

            “Have to. It’s a society event. We need to stay competitive with The New York Times.”

            “You mean . . . your friend Selena Hudson invited you to this?” Isaiah was familiar with Selena – her name anyway. Beverly had mentioned her several times in the past when Isaiah had asked how she got certain information.  She had a friend who was now at the top of New York society. The scoop Selena had given her about Trevor Hudson and Joanna marrying was gold. The story got three million hits that month and the editor and publisher let Beverly have three pages in the magazine including pictures. 

            “Yep.”

            “Is this a surprise scoop or do you know what’s up this time?” Isaiah asked.

            “Engagement party. Catherine Van Dyke and Bruce Hudson.”

            “Bruce? Isn’t he the youngest brother who looks like he’s swol?”

            “Yeah, and he more than looks like it. He is.”

            Isaiah smiled. “And how do you know?”

            “I was temping as a cocktail waitress at the New York Country Club for a week. On my last day, I was working pool side and Mr. Swol walked out. He ordered a gin and juice. I wasn’t paying much attention when I was returning with his drink at first. Then I looked up to give him his order. That cossetted asshole had taken his shirt off and was lying on a lounger in swim trunks. I was so shocked by . . . by his gall I spilled the gin and juice on his chest.”

            Isaiah grinned, showing his one crocked tooth in the top right corner. “Taking his shirt off at poolside? What a selfish bastard.”

            “I know right?” Beverly agreed whole heartedly. “Before I could apologize, he started cussing me out – loudly. Everyone at the pool turned to look. Then he called me a clumsy idiot. Bruce made such a scene the manager had to come over and offer him a free lunch.  Then the manager sent me home early. I had only been there two hours. Mr. Swol Ass had cost me a whole day’s pay.” The temp jobs at the ritzy places in the city had paid the best. She had missed out on an extra seventy-five dollars that day and that wasn’t including tips.

            “That is fucked up,” Isaiah said. “I remember what it was like working odd jobs and depending on every dollar to pay the rent.”

            “So, do you want to be my Mr. For Tonight next Saturday?”

            Isaiah laughed. “I can’t believe I’m going to use this reference in regards to a woman, but here goes. Beverly, I don’t want to be a notch on your bed post.”

            Beverly grinned. “No offense, Green, but I have no plans or intentions of fucking you. I never fuck a co-worker unless it is extenuating circumstances.”

            “What? You don’t like black guys?” he asked and crossed his arms.

            “You know better,” Beverly said with twisted lips.

            “I do. I was just kidding,” Isaiah said with a smirk. “But, satisfy my curiosity. Why not?”

            “We work together. And you’re the assistant editor here. One fuck could compromise our working relationship.”

            “Okay. What would be extenuating circumstances?”

            “I don’t know. It depends if I’m overly horny, extremely bored, or . . . something else,” Beverly said nonchalantly. “But all you have to worry about is next Saturday night. And we are not fucking. So, do you want to be my date or not?”