Page 68 of Husband of the Year
“Very nice,” Sarah says, tilting her head down and peering over her glasses. “And if we need a complementary flower, delphinium are pretty.” She holds up her notebook and reveals a photo of a blue flowerin a field. Unlike Sheldon’s live one, the flower in the picture is erect and full of life.
“Love.” Sheldon holds his pitiful petal next to Sarah’s photo. “What do you think?” Sheldon asks.
Before I can speak, Theo, with a full mouth, mumbles, “I like blue.”
“Yes, my cream puff, I know you love blue, but I need to know what Marvin prefers.”
Theo’s eyes narrow at Sheldon’s term of endearment, his expression turning into a mix of annoyance and amusement. These two could not be any cuter if they tried.
“Oh, yeah, blue flowers. These are both beautiful, but it’s actually blue roses.” I open my mouth and grin, showing all my teeth.
“Blue roses?” Sarah asks. “What kind of mishigas is this? There’s no such thing as a blue rose. Yellow, white, orange, even green. Red, of course, but blue? Not a thing.”
“We’d have to buy white,” Sheldon says. “And then have them dyed blue. It’s totally possible. There’s a guy in Kennebunk who did it for one of the Kennedys’ weddings a few years ago.”
“Hmmm, that would work,” Sarah says. “It’s a little unusual.” She shrugs.
“Strange or not.” Sheldon writes something in his planner. “We want the grooms to be happy. And we’ll say… unique.”
“What does Olan want?” Theo wipes a smidge of cream cheese from his face and then picks up Sheldon’s half bagel and takes a bite.
Sarah and Sheldon both look at me, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t think Olan cares. He’d probably be fine with carnations.”
Sarah and Sheldon share a synchronized gasp, their astonishment echoing through the seating area.
Sheldon clutches his shirt near the collar, careful to avoid the glittered lettering.
“As if.”
“No carnations,” I say. “Noted.”
“Let me call the guy in Kennebunk and see what we can do.” Another page flip, and more scribbling.
“Holy cow, this pastrami lox—I’m plotzing. I’m going to buy some to bring home with us, sweetie.” Mom taps my arm and heads for the counter.
“Told ya!” Theo shouts after her.
“I love your mom,” Sheldon says softly. I’m fairly certain Sarah can hear him from the counter ten feet away, but she’s engrossed in conversation with the poor mensch helping her.
“Yeah, she’s a hoot,” I say. “Listen, I know she has lots of ideas, and I appreciate you acting interested, but you don’t have to…”
“Marvin, no.” Sheldon flips open his planner and points to a printed page. “She’s got wonderful concepts. Look at the drink list she sent me. We need to pick a signature drink for your cocktail—sorry, mocktail hour. All these drinks feature blue Curacao syrup, adding both flavor and vibrant color, without any alcohol. We’ll have a mixing and tasting party at our place. I’ll make the drinks and Theo will make hors d’oeuvres.”
“I’ll do what?” Hearing his name, Theo looks up from his phone.
“Noshes, for a mocktail tasting party, baby. The drinks will be sweet.”
“Got it,” Theo says, returning to his phone with new enthusiasm.
“Don’t worry, Marvin, it will be fun. And relax, your mom is fantastic. She’s just… overly enthusiastic. Better than not interested at all.”
Sheldon’s lips curl downward and I’m reminded of his family situation. It’s just him and his twin sister. Theo’s parents have taken them all in, but he has no contact with the rest of his family. I should be more grateful for my mom’s interference. For God’s sake, she flew to Maine (yes, unannounced, but still) because she wanted to help.
“I got half a pound.” Sarah returns, holding up her prize, a packagecrisply wrapped in white butcher paper stamped with illustrated red salmon. “And I was right.” She sits and leans toward the center of the table and lowers her voice. “The owner is Jewish. Bernie Stein. You went to preschool together. Do you remember Ada and Joel Stein? From Brooklyn. Those are his parents. Such a nice boy.”
I don’t remember Bernie. Preschool. Or the Steins, but I’m not telling her that.
