He was hard at work on the portrait of Boy, and moving full steam ahead for his April show. He wanted the portrait of Boy to be the most important piece in the show, but it wasn't for sale. He was planning to hang it in Sylvia's loft, and referred to it as a family portrait. In death, more than he had ever been in life, Boy was his brother. They had found each other at the eleventh hour, thanks to Boy.
“What about you two?” Adam teased him, since everyone else was getting married. “When are you going to tie the knot?”
“Never!” they both said in unison, and everybody laughed again.
“You should do it in Portofino next summer, where you met,” Charlie suggested.
“We're too old to get married,” Sylvia said convincingly. She had just turned fifty, three days after Gray turned fifty-one. “And we don't want babies.”
“That's what I thought too,” Adam said sheepishly, with a grin and a loving glance at Maggie. She'd been feeling better for the past few days.
“No wonder you got seasick on the boat,” Charlie said as he figured it out.
“Yeah, I guess,” Maggie said shyly. “I didn't know then.”
They were a congenial group and toasted each other liberally all evening. As usual, the men drank too much. And given the occasion, the women made no attempt to keep them in control. It was all in good fun. They drank an impressive amount of very fine French wine.
By the time they left each other at the end of the evening, plans were made, dates were set. Everyone had made note of the date of Charlie and Carole's wedding, Maggie had shared her due date, and they were all set for the Blue Moon on August first, as always. Life was sweet. And good times were ahead.
29
AFTER MUCH DEBATE, IN SPITE OF THE FACT THAT IT WAS Carole's second wedding, and Charlie's first, she acceded to her parents' wishes, and they got married at St. James. It was a small, elegant, and formal event. Charlie got married in white tie and tails. Carole asked Sylvia to be her matron of honor, and Maggie to be her bridesmaid. Carole wore a simple but elegant gown in the palest mauve, and lily of the valley in her hair. She carried a bouquet of white orchids and roses. She looked absolutely regal as she came down the aisle on her father's arm. Gray and Adam were Charlie's best men. After the ceremony, all two hundred guests attended the reception at the New York Yacht Club. The wedding was as traditional as possible, except for the flock of children from the center who came, with Tygue and a handful of volunteers to keep them in control. Gabby and Zorro were there, of course, and Carole had hired a group of fabulous gospel singers from Harlem. The dance band played until three A.M.
Carole had done the seating of all the tables herself, and even her parents looked as though they had a good time. Charlie danced with Mrs. Van Horn after he danced with the bride, and Carole danced with her father. Unlike most weddings, there wasn't an army of unwanted relatives there. In fact, other than her parents, there were none. They were surrounded by their friends.
Sylvia looked beautiful in a lilac gown that she and Carole had chosen together at Barney's. She carried lilacs and tiny white roses. It had been more challenging to find something for Maggie to wear. They had finally settled on an evening gown that was somewhere in color between Sylvia's lilac and Carole's pale mauve. It was lavender, and she carried lavender roses. By the day of the wedding, the dress was so tight she could hardly breathe. The baby was huge, but she looked beautiful anyway. She had youth and motherhood on her side, even though she looked like she could hardly move.
Carole said she had a fabulous time at her wedding, and she looked as though she did. She danced with Charlie, Adam, Gray, Tygue, some of her old friends, but most of the night with Charlie. Everyone agreed they had never seen a happier couple in their lives. They ate and danced and laughed all night.
The music was so good that even the Van Horns couldn't stay off the dance floor. Sylvia and Gray did a tango that put everyone else to shame. And Adam couldn't keep Maggie down. Every time he turned around, she was dancing with someone else, at arm's length of course. In order to keep track of her, he finally kept her on the dance floor with him. She never sat down. She was having a lot of fun. She danced and danced and danced. And when she finally sat down at the end of the evening, she told Adam she couldn't tell what hurt more, her back or her feet.
“I told you not to overdo it,” he scolded her.
“I'm fine.” She grinned at him. “The baby's not due for two weeks.”
“Don't count on it, if you keep dancing like that. I don't know how a woman who's eight and a half months pregnant can look sexy, but you do.” They were among the last to leave.
Carole had thrown her bouquet by then, straight at Sylvia, who caught it with a groan. Charlie and Carole were staying at her place that night, and leaving to meet the boat in Monte Carlo the next morning. They were taking the boat to Venice for a three-week honeymoon. She was nervous about leaving the center, but Tygue had agreed to run it while she was gone.
The last of the guests threw rose petals at the bridal couple as they got into the car and drove away, and Adam helped Maggie into their rented limousine. She couldn't get in and out of the Ferrari anymore.
She was yawning as they rode up in their elevator, and for once she was asleep before Adam. She had totally worn herself out, and looked like a small mountain as she lay beside him. He kissed her cheek and her stomach, and turned off the light. Cuddling these days was more of a challenge. He went right to sleep, thinking of his friend's wedding, and was in a deep sleep two hours later, at five o'clock in the morning, when Maggie poked him.
“…Mmm… what?”
“I'm having the baby,” she whispered to him, in a voice that was slightly panicked. He was too tired to wake up. Like everyone else at the wedding, he had enjoyed the unlimited torrent of great wine. “Adam… sweetheart… wake up….” She tried to sit up in bed butwas having too many contractions. She poked him again with one hand. She was holding her enormous belly with the other.
“Ssshhhh… I'm sleeping…go back to sleep …” he said, and turned over. She tried to take his advice, but she could hardly breathe. It was getting scary and it was happening so fast.
It was nearly six when she not only poked him but shook him, and by then she was having to pant through the pains. Nothing was working. It hurt too much.
“Adam… you have to wake up …” She couldn't get out of bed, and she tried to move him, but he blew her a kiss and slept on.
It was six-thirty when she finally pounded on him and shouted his name. That time he woke up, with a start.
“What? What?” He picked up his head and set it back down on the pillow just as fast. “Oh shit … my head …” And then he looked at her. Her face was contorted in pain. And headache or not, he woke up. Fast. “Are you okay?”
“No… I'm not….” She was crying by then, and shecould hardly talk. “I'm having the baby, Adam, and I'm scared.” By the time she finished her sentence, she was having a contraction again. The pains were running right into each other and never stopped.
“Okay. Give me a minute. I'll get up. Don't be scared. Everything's fine.” He knew he had to get out of bed and put on his pants, but his head felt like cement.
“It's not fine… I'm having the baby… now!”
“Now?” He sat bolt upright and looked at her.