“Of course not.”
“We have a great deal to discuss,” her mother said with satisfaction. “I brought a notebook so we will not lose track of our ideas. Have you ordered?”
“I was waiting for you. Mother . . .”
“Here.” Julia pulled a full-size spiral notebook out of her very large purse and slid it across to Lily, along with a pen. “You take notes. I’ve lost my reading glasses again, I’m afraid.”
They were probably right there in her purse, but her mother hated being seen wearing them. “Okay. Mother, I want to thank you. I’ve been difficult, I know, but I . . . You didn’t approve of my relationship with Rule at first, but you changed your mind. You’re throwing yourself into arranging our wedding. I want to thank you for that.”
“I still do not approve of you and Rule Turner. He is a good man, I suppose, but a poor choice for you. He isn’t even Chinese.”
Lily jerked as if she’d been slapped. “But—”
“Lily.” Her mother looked fond, but impatient. Pretty much the expression she’d worn when Lily was five and spilled her milk twice in a row. “I don’t have to agree with your choices to support you.”
“Oh. Then the wedding . . . You’re doing that to support me, even if you don’t agree with my choice of husband?”
“Really, Lily, what do you think a wedding is for?”
Since that was the question she’d been asking herself—and a few others—she was briefly speechless. “Tell me what you think marriage is for. No, really. I want to know.” Her parents had a good marriage. Lily didn’t understand it, but they truly did. “For raising children?” she hazarded.
“That’s important, of course, but women have raised children without marriage for thousands of years. Marriage,” she said firmly, “and especially the ceremony which announces it, the wedding . . . That is how we say to the world, ‘These two are now a family, and with this joining our families are joined, too. And you had damned well better respect that.’”
“You . . . That . . . You never say damn.” Warmth flowed over Lily. Yes. Yes, that was exactly why she was marrying Rule. All of the other reasons were true, too, but this was why the mate bond and living together weren’t the same as marriage. “Thank you, Mother,” she said, reaching across to squeeze her mother’s hand. “That makes perfect sense.”
Julia Yu looked surprised and gratified. “You haven’t said that to me often,” she observed dryly. “Now, in your situation . . . Ah, Sandra.” Julia Yu looked up at the server who’d just arrived, smiling. “Lily will have the orange chicken. I believe I want the moo shoo pork today.”
Lily opened her mouth to tell her mother not to order for her . . . and closed it again. Why fuss? She really did like the orange chicken.
“In your case,” Julia went on after the server departed, “with your marriage being so—so potentially controversial, it is extremely important that we put a good face on the ceremony. Everyone must see that your family is behind you completely in this marriage.”
Even if they weren’t, not completely. But for the first time, Lily saw that this mattered to her mother. What it meant to her.
Love. It was all about Julia Yu’s love and concern for her daughter—maybe not arriving in the form Lily kept looking for. And maybe it arrived with some overly controlling strings attached, too. But love just the same.
“Okay,” she said meekly. And as they talked, she made notes.
They’d finished their meals by the time they reached the big decision: the Dress. Her mother was talking about various designers, some bridal magazine article she’d read, and where they might go to look at various styles.
An idea flashed into Lily’s head. It felt right. “Mother, I’ve been thinking,” she said, though she hadn’t, not until this moment. “Oh—sorry, I interrupted. But I think I’d like Chinese style, not a—a princess gown or a ball gown or any of that.”
Her mother stopped talking. She tipped her head to one side, her eyes narrowing. Slowly she nodded. “Yes, that might work. Some of your generation are doing this, you know, using Chinese touches in their weddings. You are not an ordinary American bride, are you? You are Chinese American. And you are not marrying an ordinary American man. But nothing off the rack,” she added in quick warning. “Nothing cheap.”
“Of course not. Though with my budget, it can’t be too—”
“Lily!” Julia was horrified. “You are not going to deny me and your father the chance to buy your wedding dress!”
Oh. “Thank you, then.”
“Now, how Chinese do you want this dress to be? Do you want a chi pao?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to look at some dresses, but . . . yes, a chi pao sounds right. In silk, maybe white or ivory, with embroidery in matching thread. Something subtle.”
“Embroidery? What kind?”
“A dragon.” Lily smiled. That felt perfectly, absolutely right. “I’d like a beautiful Chinese dragon on my wedding dress.”
[end]