IAR 37-A
After the service, Emily watched with particular interest as Miranda and Andy had left the room with Father Michael and, dear as the man was, the Englishwoman hoped he wouldn’t succumb to the desire to bestow some well-meaning last minute marital advice. Surely he’d realize a couple comprised of such a risibly dissimilar marital first-timer and third-timer could be trusted to make a brilliant success or spectacular failure of it without his assistance.
Emily allotted herself a few minutes’ sense of beleaguered accomplishment. Miranda and Andy had made it through the ceremony. Marriage accomplished but this brief respite was only the halftime before the second half of the match-the reception. Two of the guests had been given their red cards. Although Patricia and Father Michael’s dog, St. Roch, had been model wedding guests, Emily heaved a sigh of relief as they were despatched to their luxury kennels afterward. She trusted Patricia to slumber but St. Roch was an exemplar of his breed with a glint in his eye suggesting he might herd people if cattle were withheld for the rest of the evening. She smirked as she imagined the animal herding the only person in the wedding party she’d once considered bovine.
Emily watched the activity in the room, the product of countless sleepless nights. She blessed the planning, people and money it required to make the utterly gruelling seem effortless. This was a Runway lesson. The more ephemeral and utterly natural a photo looked, the more blood, gore and tears produced it. Just so. In a matter of minutes, a long dining table had appeared and was already gorgeously appointed. Place settings, flowers, everything. The room was perfect, she noted with grim satisfaction, just as she’d known it would be. The moose’s head was beside the point.
***
After a long discussion with the owners of the inn, Emily knew it was a problem too big to text, both literally and figuratively. She’d called Andy and described the location’s many perfections but left that detail of the main hall until last.
There had been a long silence before Andy repeated. “A moose’s head in the sense of the actual head of a moose?”
“It’s times like these I’m blinded by your intelligence.”
Andy ignored this as she thought. In terms of privacy, location, accommodation and décor, the place sounded perfect. Better than perfect, to be honest. “Would you say it’s a focus-puller, Em? I mean, once we were in the room and having the reception, would we even notice it?”
Andy could hear Emily rolling her eyes before the woman answered coolly and precisely, “I wouldn’t know. Has anyone in the wedding party ruined lives over the aglets in a pair of shoes not picking up a specific colour in a scarf? If not, I can’t imagine anyone in the wedding party kicking up at the sight of a moose’s head large enough to comfortably hold even the largest of your wedding guests in its antlers whilst overseeing the festivities with its enormous brown glass eyes, can you?”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“You’re right. If you accept it as New England lodge mounted-moose-head kitsch, I would imagine one could move past it emotionally but you cannot not see it. Well, I mean of course you might not have noticed it if I hadn’t mentioned it but anyone else would.”
”I just ignored that. Could the Andersons take it down while we’re there?”
“I asked that question and as much as they want this booking, they declined the request. Evidently they’d never burned with desire to have a mounted moose head but Mr. Anderson unfortunately ran into this moose and killed it with his truck during a heavy snowstorm. I believe they initially mounted his head as an act of propitiation but, from what they said, it sounds as if it’s become a sort of totem for them, if having named it is any indication.”
“They’ve named it?”
“Yes. Its name is Charles.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place? I’ll talk to Miranda. She’ll be fine.”
***
And she had been. Miranda had seen immediately that Andy was delighted with the inn on their brief inspection trip to Vermont. The tour of the inn began and ended in the main hall. Miranda slowly walked the length and breadth of the room without expression. As she passed the moose’s head, she acknowledged it, or him, by saying, “Charles,” with an almost imperceptible nod before she went to the windows to inspect the view before agreeing they had a venue.
***
When Andy had reported this, Emily had rolled her eyes. She blinked out of that memory and blinked into the sight of the frankly surreal wedding cake looming on its own table, then to the moderately sized dance floor that had materialized at the other end of the room.
When Emily had asked about music, Miranda had made the decision against a live band without looking up from the proofs of the month’s color block, “Any band worth having would outnumber the guests.” Therefore, Lily’s DJ friend, Paco, had been shanghaied for his services and he’d fielded a set list from Andy and Miranda. He’d been surprised that Miranda’s list was more eclectic and definitely more raucous than any songs on her much younger fiancée’s list. Andy had evidently thought so herself because she’d called to caution him on erring toward taste and common sense.
Miranda had evidently suspected this because she’d called him later to specifically request certain songs while assuring him she knew he’d make wonderful decisions about the rest of the evening’s music. Lily’s initial description of Miranda completely jelled with the way the woman implicitly ordered him to be wonderful in a voice so cool it was a bit chilling. He was pretty chill himself, though, so he replied, “I’ll play your first dance and your must-haves but now that I have a feel for what you like, the rest of the night I’ll be riffing off the room. I don’t do set set-lists.”
There was a long pause before the reply, “Very well. I never cavil with an artist.”
Lily had laughed out loud when he’d repeated the conversation to her. “Please. All that woman does is cavil with artists.”
***
Actually, Lily would have been surprised. Although Andy had told her that she and Emily were planning the wedding, Lily hadn’t believed it for a moment. The only detail that Miranda had kept for herself was the photographer and after reflection, she’d booked Rushkin Beaubien, a young up and comer known primarily for his landscape photography.
He wasn’t an obvious choice at all, Andy thought, as they looked over his portfolio. So much so that she thought some more, and finally concluded, “He’s great but I think you just like his name.”
Miranda flipped a page. “It is improbable, even for a Frenchman. But that’s not the reason. If he can make trees look as interesting as they actually are, he’ll be perfect.”
“You know, Caroline wanted to do the job.”
Miranda flipped another page, “I do know that and she knows why that can’t happen but I will have her working beforehand.”
“Really? How?”
“Establishing shots of the venue. Interiors, exteriors. I’ve also commissioned a series of black and white portraits to be taken of us and of each of the guests seated with Charles.”
Andy’s eyebrows shot upward. “Moose head Charles?”
Miranda nodded as she continued to peruse the portfolio. “The only stipulation for the photos is that no adult touch Charles and that no one in any way alter his appearance.”
Andy digested this before saying, “I’m sorry if I’m being obtuse but Charles is on the wall. How’s anyone going to be seated with him?”
Miranda took a deep breath and turned her attention to her fiancée, “I suppose one could PhotoShop them in. Or? One could place a chair on a scaffold, have a subject sit in the chair next to Charles and the photographer could shoot from another scaffold.”
Andy blinked twice. Two scaffolds, ladders, a chair, moose head and photography equipment. “Okay. And you want a picture of your wedding guests with a moose’s head…because?”
Miranda pursed her lips. “I’m giving you and Emily free and happy hands to do as you please with this wedding. Is accommodating me in the photographic aspect of the occasion a bridge too far? Am I asking for the moon?”
“No, Miranda. Of course not.”
Miranda lifted an eyebrow at the younger woman’s tone, “Don’t second assistant me, Andrea. If you and Emily chose a venue with a moose’s head prominently on display, I see no reason why Caroline can’t make use of it.”
Andy looked at the expression in Miranda’s eyes. “You just like the idea of it, don’t you?”
Miranda’s lips rose slightly as she replied, “As much as you apparently enjoy capricious motivations to my choices. I’m interested only because I believe it will serve as a character study. Very few photographic subjects are completely unaffected by their surroundings. The majority consciously, unconsciously or self-consciously present a face they imagine grounds them or justifies the situation in which they find themselves. What expression do you think Magdalena will imagine best dignifies being seated next to a moose’s head? Or your mother?”
Andy snorted. “Or Emily?”
Seeing the mirth flash in Miranda’s eyes was the equivalent of hearing a sharp, loud bark of laughter for Andy.
“You’re sort of mean, Miranda.”
“Un petit peu but I’ll enjoy the pictures as much as Caroline will enjoy taking them.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ll look like you with a moose. I’ll look like a doofus.”
Miranda kissed Andy on the cheek, “On the contrary, I’m certain that you and Charles will look like bosom friends. And before you take umbrage, you should take that as a compliment.”
Andy snorted before she smiled, knowing full well that compliments from Miranda came in every colour under the sun, some of which only the woman herself could identify.
***
It didn’t take as long as Emily imagined for the brides and their priest to reappear. Father Michael remained standing as the guests took their seats.
He smiled at them as they quieted and turned to him, “I have celebrated weddings of every size imaginable and I’ll admit I prefer smaller ceremonies. Larger weddings tend to feel less like love and more like a corporate acquisition and merger.”
Miranda said quietly but completely audibly, “Hear, hear.”
The guests smiled again and Father Michael nodded at her. “Exactly. Miranda and Andy, it is an extremely encouraging thing for a priest to see two people marry in the presence of their most loving and devoted friends and family. Through the years, as you look back upon this day, remember these people are not only guests. You should look to them, as you do today, as a source of support and emotional sustenance throughout the years of your married life. Therefore, it is only right that they share in this, your first meal as a married couple.”
He smiled brightly at them before lowering his head, “Let us pray. We thank you, Father, for this meal and for the presence of all gathered to share it. May the memory of this happy occasion forever bless their spirits as this food blesses our bodies. Amen.”
The guests murmured, “Amen.”
***
The wedding dinner was as odd and extravagant as any of them had ever seen or tasted. Andy would never have chosen anyone but Scotty Peace for the menu and the euphoric gleam in his eyes after she’d given him carte blanche had slightly alarmed her. He’d promised art for the eyes and for the palate and he’d delivered. Although the meal was comprised of a dizzying number of tiny courses, the result wasn’t an overfeeding. The courses varied from simplicity itself to dishes so artistically Byzantine in presentation that the guests were puzzled by how to approach them much less eat them.
The only person completely nonplussed was Miranda, a fact surprising no one. Neither did she pretend she knew the etiquette for eating delicious food from other dimensions of space-time. After watching the woman assail a dish with a soupspoon and butter knife, Andy and the other guests abandoned any semblance of table etiquette and smiled and laughed together as they launched their own attacks with whatever implement seemed most reasonable. Andy gave up wondering what she was eating after two successive courses came to the table in different coloured flames followed by a course Miranda breathlessly yet correctly identified as including escargot foam. The wine pairing left the adults much more than cheerfully indulging their chef while the sheer novelty of the food inebriated the children.
As the meal drew to an end, the wait staff delivered flutes of champagne to each of the guests, including the children.
Caroline placed her flute on the table and stood with a piece of paper in one hand. Watching the blush immediately suffusing her face, the other guests were charmed and amused enough to say a collective, “Awww,” as they clapped. The girl rolled her eyes before saying, “Thank you but right about now you can cut that out.”
Everyone laughed and, taking a deep breath, she ran one hand through her hair. “Okay. We really didn’t know when we accepted Andy’s invitation to stand for her at this wedding that it meant standing up to make a speech. If we’d known that…” she wrinkled her nose at Andy, “we probably would have done it anyway but we just want you to know she completely suckered us into this speech thing.”
Andy blew her a mocking kiss and Caroline smiled but said, “Whatever, Andy.” Everyone chuckled as she continued, “Anyway, Cassidy and I worked on this together but it’s going to be my speaking for both of us. So yeah, I drew the short straw.”
Everyone laughed as she scanned her piece of paper one last time before placing it on the table. “By the way, they didn’t tell us this but we know we’re going first because Emily’s really the best man-for obvious reasons.”
Caroline smirked. “No offense, Emily…” she hesitated, “Mom.”
Miranda and Emily both rather eerily raised one eyebrow at the same time, which delighted the rest of the table.
“Alright. We read the format for this and some sample speeches on the internet and it said we’re supposed to say something about how we met and our friendship and stuff but none of the instructions said anything about what if you were kids talking about a friend who’s not a kid marrying your mom who’s really not a kid.”
Through the ensuing laughter, everyone heard Miranda say one cool, commanding word, “Speech?”
Caroline grinned at Cassidy and then at the other guests, “Did you know Mom’s an editor?”
Through the ensuing laughter, Caroline continued, “We didn’t meet Andy the first time we saw her bt we do remember that first time. She was Mom’s newest second assistant and we saw her first time delivering the book. She didn’t know what table to put it on and now that we know her, she was really being an Andy about it. Anyway, she caught us watching her from upstairs but she didn’t say anything. She just sort of begged us for help with her big brown eyes. Sorry about this, Andy, but she looked just like a really pretty but really dumb deer.”
Andy shook her head as Nigel and Emily led the laughter.
Caroline’s smile widened, “See Andy? Everybody thinks you look like a deer…and I’m getting a look from Mom now so-anyway, we treated Andy the way we always used to treat assistants. We completely pranked her and got her in trouble with Mom.”
Everyone at the table laughed again as even the thought of that mortifying night made Andy blush scarlet.
Caroline’s eyes twinkled at this. “It’s probably funny to you guys now and it was funny to us then. But it wasn’t funny for Andy at all and I can promise we would have been a lot nicer if we’d known one day she’d be in charge of our chores.”
Andy lifted her champagne to Caroline, “Karma bites, kid.”
Caroline lifted her champagne flute in response and said, “Like a snake.” She took the liberty given by the occasion to enjoy a swallow rather than a sip before continuing. “So, we did talk to Andy sometimes when she worked at Runway but we didn’t really get to know her before she quit. We knew right away when she quit because Mom was furious and kept being furious about it. As in seriously furious about it. That maybe should have given us a clue.”
Miranda interjected, “Or given me one.”
Caroline touched her nose, then pointed at Miranda. “Remember you said it, Mom. I didn’t. Anyway, we didn’t know Andy enough to miss her but we missed her doing our homework and special projects because she was really great at it. And yeah, Cassidy and I know that made us jerks back then.”
Caroline took a deep breath. “The next time we saw Andy was at the hospital after Mom was shot the first time. Then we just kept seeing her because Mom kept seeing her. It really didn’t take us very long to-” she made air quotes “get why Mom was seeing her but it took us and especially me a little longer to understand why. It was a lot to get used to that Andy was half Mom’s age and she was a girl but we both agree the weirdest part was that she’s a Midwesterner.”
The Sachs family burst into laughter and Caroline beamed at them. “You guys can laugh but it was a lot to get used to. We’re New Yorkers and she’s so not. She’s polite and gentle and optimistic and honest and honestly thinks most people are really good at heart. Oh-and we don’t know if we can blame this on the Midwest but she also has no taste in fashion. Or photography. Or painting. Actually any visual art.”
“That’s all me, Car-not my geography.”
“Thought so, Andy.”
She really smiled at Andy as she continued, “All of us who knew Mom before Andy know exactly why it was pretty much the best thing ever that she fell in love with her. We’re happy and really grateful that she did-for herself most of all but for us, too. Thank you, Andy. We love you. Now, if you’ll all raise your glasses. To Andy!”
Everyone cheered Andy’s name before they sipped their champagne but Andy leapt to her feet to hug and kiss Caroline. The young girl dutifully accepted Andy’s affection with mock outrage but true exasperation, to the delight of the other guests and especially Miranda.
After a few moments, Emily stood and said, “Caroline, Cassidy-you two are the souls of discretion. There’s so much more that could be said about Andy.”
Emily simpered at Andy before focusing on the woman next to her, “Unfortunately, that’s not my happy task this evening. If I, too, start at the beginning, I knew of Miranda long before I met her. Of course I did. With the notable exception of her wife, most people do know of Miranda before they meet her. At that time, working for Runway and for Miranda was the pinnacle of wish fulfilment for me and I was miserably happy to be ensconced in my position as first assistant. I was happy, that is, until the fateful day Andy Sachs walked into Runway.”
Emily took a heftier swallow of champagne than Caroline had. “I fully prepared to be flippant in this speech but I’ve found I can’t be. Unless you work at Runway, you could never fully understand how planning a wedding for Miranda Priestly might engender a certain esprit de corps in its planners I’d imagine only surpassed by entrenched soldiers on the Western front during the Great War.”
She looked at the guests. “Right. That was flippant and hyperbolic but nonetheless true. Andy and I have fought so hard together to make this day and evening everything it’s turning out to be that I find myself feeling an uncharacteristic fondness toward her.”
She gave Andy a sharp glance, “That’s not to say I don’t see the offenses she regularly commits against taste, her complete lack of visual common sense or her nonsensical condescension toward fashion journalism. What I am saying is that I can see beyond these things that matter very much to me to the things that matter more to Miranda. One would think, having made it so obviously my mission in life, that I’d know what truly matters to Miranda. Of course, Miranda would have thought she knew that, too, before she met Andy.”
Emily let everyone digest that remark as she took a sip of her champagne. “It was my duty, per Miranda, to work with Andy to create her perfect wedding day. Naturally I gird my loins for an unprecedented aesthetic assault but comically enough, Andy’s idea of a perfect wedding day meant giving Miranda her perfect wedding day. The irony wasn’t lost on either of us that we were, therefore and yet again, yoked together on a mission to please Miranda.”
Emily placed her glass on the table, and made a sweeping gesture with both hands. “Look around you. This is the result. This is Miranda’s perfect wedding day. Naturally, it’s visually stunning but think about the meal we just enjoyed. It was like eating a particularly capricious version of Cirque du Soleil-sheer madness. And you’ve seen the cake. Andy specifically asked the baker for a cake skyscraper and it was her express intent that it look like the architectural love child of mad King Ludwig and Tim Burton.” Emily lifted one eyebrow at Andy. “Something nearly too insane, scary and beautiful to eat.” Andy quite predictably blushed and Emily’s smirk was triumphant, “Andy loves that cake. Miranda loves it, too.”
“In fact, I’m certain that Miranda adored the lunacy of dinner. Miranda’s delighted we have a guest dog and moose head. This is what Andy taught me in the trenches of wedding planning. I should have known it and perhaps I did but didn’t have words for it. Miranda is deeply gratified by the interjection of the improbable. I won’t presume to say why but I will say I know it’s not for kitschy reasons. Look at us all. I’m an improbable best man, you’re an improbable lot of wedding guests and nothing on Earth could be more improbable than Andy.”
She lifted her glass from the table, “I happen to agree with the primacy Miranda confers upon her aesthetic sensibility. The matters of Runway matter deeply to her as they matter to me. That said, I’m honoured to have been the one she chose to stand at this celebration of what matters much more to her than that-love and family and friends.”
She raised the glass and smiled, “Enough. Miranda and Andy, we wish you the joyful marriage your improbably complimentary souls deserve.”
Everyone cheered as they all raised their glasses but Miranda stood to hug and kiss Emily, who dutifully accepted Miranda’s affection with entirely unfeigned horror, to the delight of the other guests and especially Andy.
***
It was a simple, sweet and short first dance. Miranda and Andy had chosen Norah Jones’ rendition of The Nearness of You. After Andy had danced with her father, Paco picked up the tempo. The adults and children took turns dancing with each other. Within thirty minutes, they were dancing en masse and all of the women had shed their heels except for Magdalena, who took her lack of height seriously and was impressively unimpeded by them. Father Michael sat out but clapped along with the music.
After an hour, Miranda gave Paco a signal and, within a few songs, he’d mixed in Jump by Kris Kross. The kids immediately and gleefully jumped up and down and the adults gamely joined in. Miranda sang along and jumped with real gusto. Three quarters of the way through the song, Paco mixed in House of Pain’s Jump Around and Miranda shouted “That’s my jam!” loud enough for everyone to hear above the din of the music. Although hampered by the hilarity of this announcement, everyone eagerly danced and jumped along with her. As they jumped past each other, Emily mouthed the question, “Her jam?” to Andy, who whooped with laughter. Miranda sang laughed until tears were streaming down her face as she sang and danced. Magdalena and John, who were jumping together, saw this and smiled at each other. It was the rarest of sightings-Miranda transported by joy.
***
After two delightfully gruelling hours on the dance floor punctuated by a few slower numbers, much champagne and the serving of the cake skyscraper, Emily pulled Miranda aside privately. Even as she did so, she wondered what wizardry made it possible for a woman twice her age to merely glow becomingly in the perfection of her Herrera dress after eating approximately 80 courses of food, drinking copious glasses of wine, chasing it all down with an immodest piece of cake and dancing with startling vigor. She looked Miranda over once more before she spoke and felt a shocking wave of reverence break over her. My God, what the woman’s mascara had been through! And look at it-dry as a bone!
“Yes, Emily?”
“Oh. Right. Far be it from me to say, but I think-“
“I love that expression.”
“What?”
“Far be it from me to say-you’re saying it’s not your place to say something but you’re about to say it anyway.” Miranda stepped closer and whispered, “Just so you know, no one who says that ever thinks it’s not their place to say what they’re going to. Saying ‘far be it from me’ is the verbal appetizer for a main course of words the person wants you to eat.”
Emily blinked twice at this analogy and concluded, “You’re drunk.”
“Not in the least. As the children say-I’m just sayin’. Please forgive my interruption. Far be it from me to keep you from your subject.”
Emily wasn’t drunk either but she was fortified enough to pinch the bridge of her nose as she gave Miranda a withering look, “Fine. You’re right. I feel fully justified in saying you’re overstaying your welcome at your reception, Miranda. I’m thrilled you’re enjoying yourselves but it’s customary for the newlyweds to sooner rather than later push off for their connubial…” she lowered her voice and hissed, “bliss so that the guests and the caterers can finally, finally relax.”
Miranda’s mouth twitched at the expression on Emily’s face. “And by guests and caterers, you mean you, don’t you?”
Emily thought for one second before settling for nodding curtly.
Laughter danced in Miranda’s eyes, although her face was implacable. “My, my. I suppose I had better clear out if you’re reduced to choosing your words.”
“Oh, Miranda. I choose silence at least once per hour with you, sometimes more than once per minute.”
“I know that, Emily. Everyone does that with me. It’s terrifically entertaining to watch people so often and so visibly choosing not to speak. It makes what they do say so interesting.”
Emily nodded again. It was slightly insulting because Miranda was serious but it was amusing because she was also teasing. Amusing but not funny. Fair enough. Miranda was always claw-sy when she’d had an emotional day, for better or worse.
As if she’d read her mind and Emily wouldn’t have been surprised if she could, Miranda said, “I apologize. You know better than anyone I don’t enjoy being the center of attention when I have no decisions to make. Being rude was my inelegant segue into thanking you for your speech.”
Emily immediately blushed to the roots of her hair. “Right. Well. You’re welcome. Don’t mention it.”
Miranda smiled, “I know you mean that literally but I will mention it. Thank you for saying what you did and thank you for not saying what you didn’t. You showed me exactly as much warmth and understanding as I could publicly tolerate. I may seem oblivious to it, but I do see you always err on the side of protecting me and not just from bullets. I won’t embarrass you by saying anything more than I chose you to be my best man because you really are the best.” She leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on Emily’s rosy cheek before saying, “Per your orders, I’ll collect Andrea and start the goodnights.”
Emily cursed her complexion as she nodded. “Good. I’m sure you’ll be surprised to know your cabin will be in a perfect state of readiness when you get there. It’s almost like magic if you know the right people.”
Miranda smoothed a non-existent wrinkle on her dress, “Knowing the right people is all the magic one needs, Emily. Of course, being the right person is the best magic of all."
"Right. Well you'd know."
READ 37-B