Free Food for Millionaires (17 page)

“Would it be okay with your mother? To have it here or in Nantucket?” Isaac asked Jay.

“She’d love it,” he replied automatically. “Are you sure?”

Sabine and Isaac said in unison, “Of course.”

“Really?” Jay asked like a child at the prospect of getting a much wanted gift.

“We can have up to two hundred people,” Sabine said, recalling their last trustees’ dinner. The new caterer had done a very nice job, she thought. If it was a winter wedding in a large church, Casey could get a cathedral-length veil because she was tall enough. “And we can clear the room for dancing. Or we can have it at the club.” She felt cheery at the idea of a party with lots of young people. Then she yawned, sleepy and happy at once.

“If it’s a summer wedding, you can serve lobster.” Sabine put her left elbow on the table and rested her cheek on her hand.

It wasn’t that Casey was ungrateful. Sabine was offering her something she’d never had. Sabine and Isaac had married in Maui with no one in their respective families to witness the ceremony. Her parents had disowned her for marrying someone who wasn’t Korean. They had called Isaac garbage because he was the leftover of two women. Her mother and father returned every letter and gift Sabine sent them. Then her mother died, and less than a year later, her father died. They never saw Sabine’s exclusive department store in Chelsea or any of her beautiful homes. Sabine had told Casey once, “I made that store for them. No one loved clothes like my mother. And my father was handsome like a movie star. He wore the most beautiful neckties.”

Sabine fluttered her eyelids. “We had two hundred people here. Right, sweetie?” Isaac nodded at her indulgently, like a father.

“I don’t know two hundred people,” Casey replied, and Jay shot her a look.

She ignored him and drank the coffee served in the paper-thin porcelain demitasse cup. Sabine was falling asleep. Every morning she woke up at four-thirty, and at ten in the evening it was already an hour past her bedtime.

“You must be tired,” Casey said, covering Sabine’s soft, pretty hands with her own large, mannish one.

“I’m okay,” Sabine said. Her mouth made a small O even as she suppressed her yawn.

“I better put my wife to bed,” Isaac said. “You kids think about the wedding. The offer is good,” he said. He laughed at himself because it had sounded like deal talk.

Everyone said good-bye in the foyer. Sabine leaned in on Isaac, and he wrapped his heavy arm around her small shoulders. She was melancholy about them leaving, and Isaac hoped Casey would let them give her the wedding. A project would cheer up his wife. Sabine loved to give big parties.

The night had been warm, so there were no coats to retrieve from the closet. Casey put on the spring hat that she’d blocked herself. She’d trimmed it with pale pink silk peonies, but no one remarked on it. Sabine was standing up but snoring quietly. Casey and Jay thanked them for the dinner. And the offer. For everything. She kissed Isaac on both cheeks. The penthouse elevator that opened into their apartment came right away, and Casey and Jay stepped in. She caught Isaac’s wink good-bye. He looked older than she remembered—and kindly, like someone’s virile grandfather.

They were alone, and Jay slid his large hands under her linen tunic and held her waist. She let him do this, feeling nothing warm in his touch. “Can you believe they’d throw us a wedding? In that palace?” His voice was rich with pleasure and excitement. “Wow,” he remarked to himself. “They’re so nice.”

“Yes, they’re incredible,” Casey said. “So generous.” She pulled herself away from him as the polished brass doors opened to the lobby.

“And Isaac might help me,” Jay said. Again, sounding happy and lucky.

In the street, he kept chatting, and Casey nodded, looking straight ahead. She didn’t want to ruin his good feelings. But the thought that had persisted throughout the evening was: I have parents of my own.

15
DEFAULT

C
ASEY AND ELLA WAITED IN THE ROCOCO-STYLE
bridal suite at the Coliseum, an upscale Korean wedding hall in Flushing. The photographer had just left them to find Ted for his before-the-ceremony shots, but the divorcée makeup lady had decided to stay for the ceremony and reception—after all, the bride’s doctor father had asked so nicely. She was changing into her guest clothes from her work clothes in the attached bathroom. Ella sat very still on a gilded bench, her full profile resembling a fine marble carving—oval head veiled, lush silk skirts draped over her slim legs. On bended knee, Casey smoothed out the back of Ella’s gown. She alone made up the whole of Ella’s bridal party, leaving her to wonder again how a girl who went to an all-girls’ high school and college could care so little about her own wedding and have only one girlfriend to call upon for her important day. The rationale Casey had come up with was that Ted’s fierce monopoly and control over Ella’s time in combination with the girl’s unwavering shyness had built a kind of fortress around her.

In half an hour, Ella would marry Ted. Yet up through today, Casey often forgot that she herself was engaged. The date was not yet set. Jay had wanted to accept the Gottesmans’ offer to give them a wedding in Manhattan almost immediately, but Casey continued to temporize. He didn’t know this, but she was waiting for a sign.

Ever since she was twelve or thirteen, Casey had gotten, for lack of a better word, pictures in her head. They came every day. Some mornings it was like a slide show; on others, an allusive out-of-focus shot. They were more like clues for a scavenger hunt than previews for a feature film, because Casey rarely knew what they meant or how to interpret them. For example, the year before she took her specialized public high school entrance exams, she received a clear series of images of the interior of a school building. It wasn’t until the second day of her freshman year at Stuyvesant High School that she realized she already knew the entire layout of the dilapidated building on the Lower East Side, because she’d seen it in her mind. Casey never told anyone about this, because it was crazy and spooky. Once in college when she was stoned, she’d almost told Virginia but decided against it. This weird picture thing also affected insignificant aspects of her life—a pair of dark green lace-up boots with stacked heels would bubble up from nowhere, then a few months later, she’d see them in a shop. Had she conjured them up? she had to wonder. Her pictures often actualized themselves, so Casey anticipated them privately, even though she nearly always just threw up her hands at them, baffled as ever. As of yet, a picture of law school had not popped forth. It wasn’t as though Casey were hoping for an icon of the scales of justice—a stack of casebooks would’ve sufficed. And now, as she straightened out Ella’s train, Casey had no picture of herself in a white gown or image of Jay in formal dress standing beside her. As irrational as this was, she planned to set a date and speak to Sabine about the wedding when some image ultimately presented itself. There was time. Thankfully, this was Ella’s day.

Ella was a beautiful girl. Who would dispute this? But as a bride, she stopped your heart. Beneath the long gossamer veil, her white skin shimmered like the inside of an abalone shell. Earlier, the photographer hadn’t been able to stop snapping his camera. He left only after shooting three rolls, when one was customary. The fit of Ella’s dress—sleeveless, modern U-collar, hand-sewn out of six long panels of heavy ivory silk with no suggestion of ornament or lace—was devastating. Even the irritated saleswoman at Bayard’s had ultimately conceded on the winner. Casey had chosen a simple gown with the finest sewing precisely because the spare, almost severe design would not detract attention from Ella’s ideal face and frame. Regardless of her own abundant feelings of inadequacy, it never failed to please Casey to see a woman at the height of her beauty. The sublime, Casey felt, deserved its due.

There was a knock, and the girls heard Dr. Shim’s voice. “Honey, it’s Daddy.”

“It’s kinda early.” Casey glanced at the wall clock. She’d removed her Timex at the apartment because it clashed with her flame-colored bridesmaid dress.

“Come in, Daddy,” Ella shouted, her voice happy and singsongy.

The door opened slowly. Douglas stood at the threshold, unable to speak at the sight of his daughter. Today, it was his job to give her away. Could any man be worthy of such a good child? After Soyeon died, Ella had made his life sustainable. His infant daughter’s requirements: warming her bottles, changing her diapers, putting her down for the night—these had made him rise from his bed each morning. And each day he’d been able to go to work with the thought of her face and smile to return home to. Every year thereafter, his daughter had grown even lovelier than her appealing mother, who’d never lost her hold on his heart. Douglas looked away.

“Oh, Daddy, please don’t make me cry.” Ella’s eyes filled with concern. She had never loved her father more than now. “We just finished with makeup.” She pointed to the bathroom.

Douglas shook his head rapidly, like a wet dog shaking water off his fur. He had to snap out of it, to shed his sadness. Ella was marrying the man she loved. He was supposed to feel happy for her. It wasn’t a loss, he chided himself. It was her gain—what she wanted. He creased his brow, pretending to look stern—this used to make Ella giggle as a girl.

Ella crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

They laughed together. Douglas felt his chin quiver again and closed his eyes.

Casey gave Ella’s skirts a final brush and rose to her full height. They looked so comfortable in each other’s company. She wanted the father and daughter to have a moment, but she had to march before the bride and couldn’t leave the room. Besides, Ella and Douglas wouldn’t have let her go anyway.

Douglas touched the edge of Ella’s veil, then let go.

“Should. . . uhm?” Casey asked.

“No. It’s not time yet. How are you, girls?”

The girls smiled at the kind doctor, whose heart was obviously grieving. Like a set of twins, they shrugged their bare shoulders and pretty arms helplessly, unable to say much of anything because if they did, they too might burst into tears.

Douglas looked down at the carpet to give himself and the girls a second to collect themselves. He tried to chuckle, remembering to feel joy at just being Ella’s father. He turned to Casey.

“Well, Miss Casey Han, you look like Miss Korea. And how are you feeling today?”

“Excellent. I am excellent, Dr. Shim. And how are you?” she said brightly. “May I get you something? To drink or eat?” She pointed to the platters of sushi and fresh fruit on the other side of the room that could’ve easily fed ten people. On the bridal refreshment table, there were bottles of soda for as many.

He shook his head no. Dr. Shim clearly wanted to say something to his daughter, but Casey didn’t know how to give them their privacy. The makeup lady was still fussing in the bathroom.

“You know, I think I’m hungry,” Casey said, moving toward the refreshment table and away from them.

Douglas moved closer to Ella. “Waaaa. . . ,” he uttered in astonishment.

“Daddy, I told you, don’t you make me cry.”

“Oh-kay,” he said in English. “You look good,” he said, his hand on his hip, as if he were complimenting a nurse who’d just had her hair done at the beauty shop.

“Thank you,” Ella replied quietly.

On the other side of the room, Casey placed a few pieces of sushi on a plate and poured herself a glass of seltzer. Someone had left a British
Vogue
on the windowsill, and she sat on the Louis XIV–style sofa to flip through it.

“You don’t have to marry him,” Douglas blurted out. He hadn’t meant to say this. The words had left him without his permission.

“Daddy!”

“You can change your mind. Or take more time. You can wait. If he loves you—”

Ella realized he wasn’t kidding. “Why are you saying this?”

Casey turned the page: She stopped herself from glancing up.

“Your father doesn’t want to give you away.”

“Oh, Daddy.”

Douglas whistled the “Wedding March,” messing up the first bar immediately. He felt crazy. “I think I got the last-minute jitters that you were supposed to get. I’m sorry, Ella.”

“Nothing is changing.” Ella looked afraid.

Douglas shook his head, dismissing her assurances. “You love him, right?”

Ella nodded and glanced in Casey’s direction. Her friend was reading a magazine and eating sushi. “Everybody must be waiting,” she said tentatively.

“That’s oh-kay. You can still change your mind,” Douglas persisted, wanting to offer her an out, guessing that she was worried about the guests or what they might say. But it didn’t matter anymore what anyone said.

“That’s not what I meant, Daddy. Why are you saying this now? Why?”

Douglas made a face because he had no clear reason except that Ted was not as nice as his daughter. He’d imagined a kinder man, a less ambitious man. Someone who’d make Ella his priority.

“Oh, my Ella. I wish you so much happiness. What can I do to guarantee that he will make you happy? What wouldn’t I do to guarantee such a thing?” Douglas was not a violent man, but he thought if Ted ever diminished Ella in any way, he’d want to hurt him.

“Oh, Daddy, please don’t worry. Ted is a good person. He does love me. And I admire him so much. Don’t you think I’ve become more confident since I’ve been with him?” Why this aspect sprang up in her mind as a reason to marry wasn’t clear. There were so many other things she liked about Ted, loved about him, but mainly, Ella looked up to him as someone who’d overcome difficulties. She wanted to be like that, too. “He’s made me more bold. Don’t you think?” she asked, her eyes crinkling in the corners—the way they did when she wasn’t sure of herself.

Douglas nodded, wanting to give her this quality that she had wanted so much. Courage. Even as a girl, Ella had wanted courage, and he had told her as often as possible that she was brave and good. Ted had merely taught her to speak up. That was only one kind of bravery. From Ted, she’d learned to verbalize more and to not put herself down so much. She’d even learned how to ask for Casey’s friendship. But couldn’t those things have just come with time? Douglas wondered. Couldn’t she have learned those things without Ted? Why did Ella credit him with so much of what she had done?

Ella reached for his hand, and Douglas took hold of it.

“Oh-kay. Oh-kay. Daddy is so sad that he’s losing you. You are my angel, Ella. You are my angel.”

“Oh, Daddy, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just getting married. Really, Daddy. Nothing will change. I’ll always love you best,” she said. “Just don’t tell Ted, okay?” She laughed, wiping her cheek with her free hand.

Douglas opened his arms wide to embrace his daughter. He felt like a selfish old man.

From her seat, Casey took another sip of her seltzer. A water bead of condensation from her glass splashed onto the open magazine. She heard the electric organ playing. There was a knock—it was time. She got up to tell the makeup lady, who was still in the bathroom. Douglas let go of his daughter and went to the door.

The ceremony itself was brief enough, with only two sacred readings and one Shakespeare sonnet. After the photographer snapped the last group shot, the wedding party progressed to the banquet room. The cocktail hour had ended, but many of the guests remained camped near the raw bar, tucking away what seemed like a limitless supply of jumbo shrimp. It took some effort on the part of the wedding hall manager to corral the guests to their seats. When everyone finally sat down, the manager signaled the deejay. An artificial drumroll played from a noise sound track. The deejay shouted into the microphone as if they were at a Knicks game, “And I give you Mr. and Mrs. Ted Kim!”

The manager nudged Ella and Ted into the hall. There were four hundred guests seated in round tables of ten, eating their first course of lobster tempura. Someone tapped his champagne flute with a spoon, and others followed along. Ted kissed Ella on the mouth, and she reddened immediately. The guests whooped in delight. Glasses clinked all around them. Ted kissed Ella until her neck was scarlet.

By this time, Casey was sitting with Jay at a table near the dance floor. Their table was made up mostly of Ted’s friends from Harvard Business School. The HBS men were attractive alpha types and their dates well-turned-out wives or prize girlfriends. She didn’t know if any of the women had gone to HBS. From knowing what Ted thought of girls who achieved “too much,” she didn’t expect much female business school representation at the wedding. She knew many of the older Koreans in the room—those she’d grown up with from church—but there were surprisingly few in number from their Sunday school days. Walter Chin, another HBS grad, the one who’d helped her get the job, was seated at the other HBS table. Casey and Walter had talked during the cocktail hour, but Walter was occupied, utterly smitten by his gorgeous date—a petite Greek lawyer from Philadelphia. Penny was divorced, was older than Walter by at least ten years, and had full custody of two teenage daughters—her gleaned bio had surprised Jay and impressed Casey. At their table, Jay tried talking to the men, but the HBS guys were older and not interested in chatting with some scrub analyst a couple of years out of college. As usual, Jay was also sleep-deprived, and he wanted the wedding to be over. The women were talking to one another about their kids and schools. Nothing could be more boring to Jay.

Across the parquet dance floor, Leah and Joseph were seated at Dr. Shim’s table, where everyone was an elder or a deaconess. Joseph didn’t know why he was seated at such a table of honor: The only explanation he could foresee was that his daughter was the bridesmaid. A few tables over, Casey was seated next to a tall white boy whose arm was draped over her chair. Joseph looked away. Though he liked his own table, it made him feel poor. The other elders were
boojahs
. To his right sat Elder Koh, who owned a ten-thousand-square-foot deli behind Penn Station, employing eighty-five people to keep it going. To his left sat Elder Kong, who owned seven commercial buildings in the Bronx and a shopping mall, as well as a multilevel parking lot in Brooklyn. It was Elder Kong who’d told Joseph to buy the three-story brick commercial building in Edgewater, New Jersey. On his advice, Joseph had used every cent of his retirement savings to buy that building, which had a pizza parlor on the first floor, a dentist’s office and accountant’s office on the other two floors. The rent just covered the vast mortgage, but Elder Kong had assured Joseph that when he retired in five or ten years, the asset would’ve appreciated and hopefully the rental income could supplement his Social Security checks. Elder Kong, called Midas, was a thoughtful counselor to his friends. He believed that all Koreans should be more successful in this strange country and contribute to its growth. The empty chair at the table belonged to Dr. Shim, who hadn’t sat down because he was busy greeting the wedding guests.