It was a year to the day later, an anniversary worth remembering, worth celebrating. Which is why we chose it for our wedding day. Manny and I had been living in the west wing all that time, Benny and Matilda in the east. Life had rolled merrily along, my backpack emptied of all purloined items. They weren’t, after all, needed anymore.
Benny had starred in two off, off Broadway plays. As in off in the Hamptons—but it was a start. We’d even sent Dan Jackson, our Nebraska benefactor, a new wardrobe. Anonymously. Armani. The real kind, not the back of a trunk kind.
Whatever lies had been told by the staff, whatever subterfuge enacted, was forgiven. It’s what they did, after all, what they’d always done, to protect the family, to protect each other. According to Manny, who had eventually told me everything, he would’ve lost his job, his bank account, had he told me what he knew, had helped me more than he had. His sister would’ve lost it all, too. Even his father, who was in retirement, would’ve lost everything. They wanted for nothing by working for the d’Urbervilles, but if they should ever turn on them, they’d lose it all, them and their relatives, anyone who had worked for the estate. I’d also lost everything. How could I be angry at Manny for trying to avoid the same fate for him and his family?
Besides, look how it all turned out. I was getting married! We were getting married! FYI, the we also included Benny and Matilda. Benny and I shared everything, thus far; a wedding seemed the next logical step. Mostly logical, at any rate. Also, we were saving money by having a dual wedding. And, yes, we all had a laugh at that one, seeing as we could’ve afforded to marry all of nearby Manhattan.
“I wouldn’t have done this without you,” Benny said to me just before we walked down the aisle. I was with him in a side chamber. Manny was with Matilda in another side chamber. We were in a church that would’ve made the Vatican jealous. “In fact, there would be no this without you.”
I held his hand. “Funny, I was just thinking the exact same thing about you.” I looked down at my fingers entwined with his. He did the same. It never got old. I doubt it ever would. “I love you, Benny.”
He reached out and pulled me in, his arms wrapped around my waist, head on my chest. We were wearing vintage tuxes. They were on loan from the Smithsonian. Apparently, we had them on speed-dial. “I love you, too, Ted.” He released me. “But I’d rather not tempt fate; we’ve been fucking with it enough as it is.” He slapped my rump. “Now, let’s go get hitched.”
Our ring bearer was running around us, yapping up a storm, four rings in four cases strapped across his broad expanse of doggie back. Ted Junior was some rare breed of dog you could only buy in a small village in northern Estonia. He cost a small fortune. Of course, we had a large one. Duh, yet again.
I nodded. I smiled. “Yep, let’s get this show on the road.”
We walked to the chapel, stood outside of two massive doors, and stared inside. There were five hundred guests. We knew almost none of them save for three, plus the staff.
Giselle turned and waved at us. She’d been easy to find, to send the wedding invitation to. We knew her driving route. I knew what kind of truck she drove. The private investigator took all of two days to locate her. Ditto for Chuck, who was sitting by her side. Giselle gave us an artichoke bouquet as a wedding present; we gave her a dance studio. Chuck got a check that would ensure no more time on the road. I told him to go find a nice man with small hands.
Benny and I walked down the aisle together, Ted Junior behind us. People clapped. We cried. People cheered. We cried. Ted Junior barked at all the people clapping and cheering. We cried. We’d been through a lot to get to this place; a good cry was well-deserved. The hankies were insured, anyway. Mainly because they were over three-hundred-years old.
As to the third person we knew in the audience, that was Benny’s mom. She was living in a house we bought for her in the Hamptons. She was seeing our counselor three times a week. We sent Benny’s dad his motorcycle and a new helmet bin. It would be the last he’d ever hear from any of us again. As to the staff, they sat alongside Benny’s mom, right in front where they belonged, all of them waving happily our way, hooting the loudest of all those in attendance.
My parents sat in their framed photo on a small table, right next to where their son was about to get married. I didn’t cry when I saw them up there; instead, I smiled, big and wide and bright. I had brand new teeth, after all, Benny, too, so might as well show them off.
I said all along that I had no luck, except perhaps of the bad variety. I’d been wrong. I had, after all, that sliver of hope, and that’s all I ever really needed. Apart from Benny. And a penchant for sliding four to five fingers up rather fetching behinds.
We reached a few stairs. We climbed. We turned. We faced the audience of mostly strangers, plus the three people who got us to this point in our journey. Them and the dog, who had peed on the stairs and promptly fallen asleep at our feet. FYI, the cat, Benny the Second, was back at the mansion. We couldn’t train her to walk down an aisle or carry rings across her back. Guess money can’t buy everything. Mostly everything, though.
The wedding music started. Benny and I stared ahead as our bride and groom appeared. The Smithsonian had outdone themselves. They walked down the aisle holding hands. Benny and I turned to each other. “Well,” he said. “If they can do it…”
His was in mine before anyone could object. Anyone being the bride and groom, who were fast approaching. Matilda rolled her eyes. Manny shook his head but matched my smile with his own. The dog jumped up and wagged his tail. Our partners in life joined us before we four turned to the minister, all of us hand in hand in hand in hand.
Manny turned my way. We locked eyes. So much blue. So much beautiful blue. “Well,” he said, “at least you’re marrying well.”
I shrugged. “I was rich all along. Just not in money.”
“Money is better,” said Matilda.
“Yeah,” said Benny, “Much. Though maybe save that line for Hallmark. I think they’re somewhere behind us.”
“Sixth pew,” said Matilda. “On the right.”
We were married in two minutes flat. Four rings were exchanged. They were family heirlooms. Us, too, in a way.
I hugged Manny. I kissed Manny. I hugged Benny. I kissed Benny. I hugged Matilda last. “Well,” she said, “Looks like we’re cousins, at last. Took us long enough.”
We pressed in tightly together, the hullaballoo fading at the periphery. “Actually, we’re all cousins now,” said Benny, grinning his very best grin. “Looks like you finally got that family you’ve been wanting, Ted.”
“So schmaltzy, Benny,” I replied, a happy tear streaking down my cheek.
He shrugged and put one arm around me, the other around his bride. “Yeah, it’s what I do, Ted. It’s what I do.”
THE END