Page 22 of Fathers of the Bride
“You know, on your way home you should have Kelly run you through the car wash on Santa Monica. Without the car.”
“Yes, I know, I’m disgusting. Thank you for pointing it out.”
That made me feel a little bad. I down shifted, asking, “Have you talked to Kelly much about Avery?”
“Not exactly. He’s usually right there.”
“It sounds like there’s really quite a lot of money.”
“Yes, I’ve picked up on that. Marrying rich, that doesn’t seem like our Kelly.”
“No, it doesn’t. But she says he’s promised to give the money away someday.”
“That sounds like our Kelly.”
“And he doesn’t want a prenup.”
Miles thought about that for a moment. “Well, apparently she’s better at picking husbands than I am.”
“You could have done worse.”
“That’s true. I believe Jeffrey Dahmer was single when we met.”
Comparing me to a serial killer and a cannibal. That was incredibly offensive. I fake-smiled at him and said, “Youarea rotten egg,” right before I ran off to join my daughter.
7
Miles Kettering-Lane
An unmitigated disaster,a calamity, a catastrophe, a kerfuffle, a debacle, there was simply no other way to describe the afternoon.
Not that it started that way. In fact, things got off to a relatively good start. Avery was driving us out Sunset in Kelly’s Volvo. I swear, the next time she turns her back I’m having it detailed. And the suspension replaced.
Anyway, in the interest of getting to know him, I asked my future son-in-law, “Don’t you have a car, Avery?”
“Um, yes. I do.”
“What do you have?” It was L.A., after all. I realize people in other parts of the countryneverask what you drive. Pity them.
“I have an S-Class Cabriolet.”
“Ah, I love my G-Class.”
“People with Mercedes always talk like they’re in a cult,” my daughter said.
Avery sighed and said, “I’m selling it after the wedding.”
“We’re getting a Tesla. Model 3,” Kelly said, a bit too proudly.
Avery glanced at Kelly and then said into the rearview mirror. “The performance package. Zero to sixty in three point five seconds. That’s actually faster than my S-class.”
“Is it?”
I thought it an interesting exchange. Avery had found a way to give Kelly what she wanted—an environmentally friendly car—while at the same time pleasing himself. I have to say, that seemed encouraging. Maybe he was the right boy for her. Maybe. I don’t know. The jury was still out on that.
The Lincoln-Collinses’ homes were two minimalist two-story boxes with cut-outs and tiny walkways between them. Facing PCH was a strip of driveway and three garage doors per house. We pulled into the driveway of the house on the left and then into the garage.
From the garage, we found ourselves in a decent-sized courtyard with tortuous landscaping and about a million pebbles. Avery’s parents and stepparents rushed out to greet us. One of the women smiled at me for the briefest moment before squealing, “I’m Patricia Collins-Lincoln. My friends call me Pudge.”
