Page 62 of Save the Date
“Shaz!” Jack called. “Down!” The dog ignored him.
“Poppy! Leave that squirrel alone,” Cara added. “I swear, it’s the same squirrel. He does this every day, just to torment poor Poppy.”
After a moment, the squirrel, bored with the contest, took off again, and the dogs, defeated, ambled over to the water bowl, where they took turns drinking, until the empty water bowl clanged loudly against the brick walkway.
“Just out of curiosity, why do you refer to the squirrel as a he? Did you see something I didn’t see?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Cara said crossly. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a man-hater. That’s why I think all marriages will inevitably fail, and why all annoying squirrels must be male.”
Jack laughed despite himself. “What was wrong with yesterday’s couple? Why are they doomed?”
“For one thing, the groom was unbelievably domineering. He had to have a say in every detail. He even picked out Emily’s gown.”
“That’s unusual?”
She stared at him as though he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead.
“Are you kidding? Yes, it’s unusual. There’s an old superstition that says it’s bad luck for a groom to see the bride’s dress before the wedding.”
“Or?”
“Or his testicles will turn black and fall off. I don’t know, Jack. I just know this guy was controlling and domineering, and it doesn’t bode well for the marriage.”
“I see. Anything else? So, he’s the only one at fault?”
“No, of course not. After all, Emily allows him to boss her around about all this stuff. When she gets fed up, she sulks and then cries. Buckets and buckets of tears.”
“Oooh.” Jack grimaced. “I hate a crier.”
“Me too!” she exclaimed. “But it’s an occupational hazard with my job. Now that I think of it, I’ve only done flowers for one wedding that that didn’t involve at least one tearfest or temper tantrum.”
“And that was?”
“Last Friday night’s wedding, as a matter of fact. Maya and Jared.”
He nodded. “I don’t know Jared that well. He only worked for us a year or so. But Maya’s always been pretty chill. So, how did you guys rate their chances?”
“Mmm. Bert and Maya have been best friends, forever. He gives them a hundred percent. Says he’s positive they’ll make it.”
Jack studied her face. “But you’re not so sure.”
“Shit happens. People change. What seems like a sure bet, suddenly turns into a sucker bet.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
Cara didn’t answer. She got up, turned on the hose, and refilled the water bowl. On the way back to the table, she paused to right a flowerpot one of the dogs had upended.
“Cara?” He said it gently.
25
Her glass was nearly empty. She stared down into it, wondering if she should make an excuse, get up, offer a refill, hope he’d forget the topic while she was away. Somehow, she doubted it. She hadn’t known Jack Finnerty long, but she could tell he was very focused when he wanted to be.
“Why do you want to know about my marriage?” she asked finally.
He stared, apparently taken aback. “Is it still painful to talk about?”
“It’s not my favorite topic, no. But I’m over him, as I told you before.”
