The Matchmaker's Gift(17)
After reading through the week-old announcements, Abby took the current day’s paper from her bag. Diane had taught her early on about the way that news could predict their future clients. How many times had a divorce followed a bankruptcy? How many times had a big promotion led to an engagement ring? Business, politics, real estate, art—all of it was driven by the passions of important people, which meant all of it was worthwhile news to Abby and her boss.
She flipped the pages and sucked in a breath when her eyes landed on a piece about Prince Charles. A documentary had aired on the BBC the day before, in which the prince finally admitted to having an affair. He and Diana had been living apart for years, but despite their separation and the prince’s admission, the article provided no new information regarding the possibility of divorce. Abby was sure every divorce lawyer in America was devouring the story, eager for clues.
The royal wedding had taken place when Abby was still a girl—a short eight months after Sara moved to New York. Hours before the sunrise on that day in July, Abby’s grandmother woke her granddaughters to watch the spectacle on television. Abby wanted to go back to sleep, but Hannah had begged her to get up. Hannah wore a plastic tiara from the drugstore and had made paper crowns for her grandmother and older sister. Together, the three of them watched Diana’s carriage make its way through the city of London. They listened to reporters recite a litany of statistics: two million spectators lining the streets, Diana’s dress embroidered with ten thousand pearls, thirty-five hundred lucky people filling the pews of St. Paul’s. Hannah was shocked by the number of guests, but Sara was far less impressed.
“It’s a lot of people,” Sara admitted. “You know, I was at a wedding once with over two thousand.”
“Two thousand people! Was the groom’s mother a queen?” Hannah asked.
“No, but the father of the bride was a big shot. They called him the Pickle King of New York.”
Their grandmother went on to describe the affair—the carriages in the streets, the gaping crowds. “Everyone wanted to see the bride then, too. Not everyone was lucky enough to get a seat in the synagogue.”
“I thought your family was poor,” Abby said. “How did you get invited to a wedding like that?”
Sara smiled playfully and winked at the girls. “Who do you think made the match?” she said.
As the bus came to the stop closest to her apartment, Abby folded her newspaper and gathered up her things. She tried to remember what else her grandmother had said about the wedding of the Pickle King’s daughter, but the only other detail she recalled from that morning was the way her grandmother frowned when Charles and Diana said their vows.
“Such a shame,” Sara muttered under her breath.
“What’s a shame, Grandma?” Abby asked.
“That they should go to so much trouble and so much expense, all for a couple that isn’t in love. Look at them. Those two will never make each other happy.”
The severity of the words caught Abby off guard, but it was Hannah who was most affected by them. “Grandma!” she shouted. “That’s a terrible thing to say! The wedding isn’t even over, and you’re ruining it! He’s a prince and she’s a princess! They have to live happily ever after!”
When Sara didn’t answer, Hannah began to cry. Hot, angry tears streaked down her cheeks. She pounded the sofa cushions with her fists. “You’re ruining it, Grandma! You’re ruining the wedding! Take back what you said. Take it back right now!”
The shouting woke Abby’s mother, who came running into the living room. She had told them the night before not to wake her. She wasn’t about to lose sleep over someone else’s marriage.
“Seriously, Ma? You wake her up at four thirty in the morning and then traumatize her? After everything she’s already been through this year?”
Sara apologized after that, though Abby sensed how conflicted she was. Her grandmother drew Hannah up onto her lap, rubbed her back, and stroked her hair. “Shhh, mameleh,” Sara said. “I’m sorry. I take it back, sweetheart. I take it back.”
But even as Sara repeated the words, Abby knew her grandmother did not believe them. Sara had sensed something in the couple—something missing, something off. From that day on, Sara was convinced the royal marriage would not last.
* * *
At home in her apartment, Abby’s answering machine was waiting for her. The first message was from Will, and the second from her mother.
Hey Abby, it’s Will. So … is it too soon for me to call? Anyway, I had a really nice time yesterday, and I was calling to see if you’re free on Saturday. I know it’s the Fourth of July weekend and everything. You’re probably going away. But on the off chance you’re going to be around, I was thinking maybe we could do something. So … I guess that’s it. Hope to hear from you soon.
Hi honey, it’s me. I hope you’re okay. I know Uncle Ed sent those boxes up from Florida, but I found another box for you in Grandma’s apartment. She wrote your name on it, but there isn’t much inside—only two old notebooks. It was in the coat closet behind her suitcase. I don’t think they’re important, so you can get them anytime. Remember, I leave tomorrow from JFK. I’m supposed to land in San Francisco at three, and your sister is picking me up at the airport. I’m going to miss you, sweetheart. Love you. I’ll call you when I land.