“Probably not.” He held out his elbow, and Alice wove her arm through his as they headed toward the courthouse. To outsiders they probably looked like a couple, mismatched as they were, Alice a half foot taller in her high heels. This was why she didn’t date shorter men. They made her feel lankier, more awkward, merely by existing at her side. Not that she and Duncan were on a date.
As soon as they stepped down the stairs to the sunken garden behind the courthouse, Alice sensed the eyes on her, heads tilting covertly, mouths whispering. At this point, everyone seemed to know someone who had made a call to the love scribe. While Alice had expected attention, she wasn’t prepared for it to start so quickly. She tightened her grip on Duncan. It was only four in the afternoon, but the autumnal days had grown shorter and the sky was already darkening with the suggestion of sunset. Alice hoped she wouldn’t be so obvious once the night arrived.
“You okay?”
“Everyone’s looking at me,” she whispered.
“I’m pretty sure they’re looking at me,” he said, deadpan, so that it took Alice a moment to realize he was joking.
The string quartet began to play, signaling that the ceremony was about to commence. Alice was relieved; it would take a celebrity much bigger than her to distract the crowd from the procession of groomsmen and bridesmaids. The groom emerged, flanked by his parents, his complexion bronzed with too much makeup. Coco followed, her train requiring four people to help it down the aisle. By the end of their vows, which they’d written themselves, both bride and groom were crying as well as several attendees. Duncan’s eyes glistened, which made Alice’s eyes well, something she wouldn’t have expected. When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife by the powers vested in him by the internet, everyone hooted as Tomas dipped Coco and kissed her. There were a million cynical thoughts Alice could have had about this marriage, the same ones she’d had at the many comparably over-the-top weddings she’d worked where she hadn’t known the bride or groom. Those weddings always seemed like a charade, all the fanfare, the couple overcompensating to drown out their doubt. She realized she’d been wrong about those weddings. What she’d considered a spectacle was in fact a spectacular celebration. While no one else could understand the contours of the couple’s love, the couple invited the people in their lives to share in a night of celebration that mirrored what it felt like for them to be together. Alice was glad she’d decided to attend.
Alice and Duncan followed the attendees toward the reception. “That was a—”
“A lot,” Duncan finished her sentence. “Oh yeah. But I bet they’ll have a raw bar.”
A raw bar indeed, as well as a cascading cheese table, a top-shelf bar, trays of hors d’oeuvres, which Alice was relieved to see were not being delivered by her colleagues, if she could continue to call them that. She hadn’t picked up a shift in weeks. It would have embarrassed her to see them here, on the other side, even though everyone went to weddings, even caterer waiters.
Duncan suggested they divide and conquer, ushering her to the bar while he waited in line for oysters and cherrystone clams. The line at the bar was shorter, and Alice had ordered two gin and tonics before Duncan was anywhere close to the towers of oysters. As she waited for their drinks, a man sidled up to her. She held her breath, waiting for him to ask in that starstruck voice if she was the love scribe. On the rare occasions when strangers worked up the nerve to approach her, they all used the same voice, like they were inquiring if she was the tooth fairy.
“Hey there,” he said, leaning against the bar with false nonchalance. “Here alone?”
He was tall and thin with stubble shadowing his jawline. His suit was obviously tailored, and he’d paired it with Converse sneakers now crossed at the ankles. There were so many conclusions Alice could draw from his appearance, not the least of which was that normally he’d be just the type she’d take home from a wedding. She could see each step that would lead to his apartment, her coy smile to suggest she was available followed by some benign conversation about how they each knew the couple, a toast to Coco and Tomas, then a series of toasts that kept them drinking swiftly until they were dancing, hands all over each other, when at last he would ask if she wanted to get out of there, as though this had been his plan, not hers, all along.
Alice glanced over at Duncan. His back was to her, talking to two women in line behind him. They giggled at varying intervals, as if the end of one’s laugh prompted the other to begin. To Alice’s surprise, Duncan laughed too, so engaged in their conversation that he didn’t notice the line ahead of him speeding up.
When she returned her attention to the man at the bar, he was watching her. It all felt so predictable, not safe so much as disappointing. She held two gin and tonics up to him and headed across the grass toward Duncan, stopping at a distance as he continued to chat with the pretty women in line. This was not a date, she chided herself.
“Alice?”
Alice turned to see a woman smiling at her. She was of median height and build with symmetrical eyes, clear skin. Pretty, generically so.
“Carrie,” Alice said, thankful she could recall the name. Carrie was one of Oh, Alice’s first three clients once she’d officially become an S Corp. When they met, Alice had been surprised at how average Carrie was. In Alice’s mind this observation was not an insult; most people were by definition average. To Alice, Carrie looked like the kind of person who would have no trouble finding someone as completely average as she was. But looks lied all the time. There were as many reasons that people did not find love as there were reasons they did. For Carrie, it had just never happened. She’d dated a lot in her twenties when she wasn’t looking for anything serious. Then, when she was ready for something lasting, everyone around her had partnered already. Her mom told her she just needed to wait a few years until everyone was divorced, except she didn’t want to wait, didn’t want to be someone’s seconds. It was a rare case where Alice agreed with Carrie’s assessment of her own situation. She’d simply been unlucky. Luck was something Alice could bring her.
Carrie stood on tiptoes to give Alice a hug. “It’s so good to see you. How do you know Coco?” Her eyes widened. “You’re responsible for this, aren’t you?”
Alice shrugged.
“I should have guessed. Someone that perfect for Coco, I should have realized it could only come from you.”
A sturdy dark-haired man approached them, handing Carrie a glass of white wine. As she took it, she said, “Thanks, babe.” He enveloped her, kissing her temple. “Alice, this is my boyfriend, Cal.”
“Alice?TheAlice?” he asked. When Carrie nodded, his arm fell from her shoulders and he reached over to enclose Alice in a bear hug.
“Cal,” Carrie said, tugging at him. “You’re suffocating her.”
He let go, apologizing. “I forget my own strength when I’m excited. I can’t believe I’m meeting Alice Meadows in the flesh.”
“Cal thought you were a myth.”
“Like the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus,” Cal laughed.
“Just flesh and blood,” Alice said, and they both laughed a little too heartily. Alice glanced over at Duncan, who was still holding court in the raw bar line. “It’s Cal?” Alice asked. She remembered Carrie telling her about someone she’d met when she visited the wind caves to do some soul-searching after reading Alice’s story. Toward the end of the trail, up to the highest caves, the path faded, and a man named—Alice was certain—Emiliano had shown her the way. The metaphor was too obvious to ignore.
“Oh yeah,” Carrie said, interpreting the confused look on Alice’s face, “I told you about Emiliano. He was sweet and all, but as soon as we went on a date that didn’t involve hiking boots, it was clear we had nothing in common. Then—” she batted Cal’s chest territorially “—Cal was our waiter at the one meal we tried to have together. If I hadn’t gone out with Emiliano, I never would have met my Cal.”
Alice watched them embrace before Carrie added, “It’s so funny to see you. We were just talking about you yesterday. Cal’s sister was complaining that she’s having such a hard time meeting someone, so I suggested you.”
Alice wanted to ask why. Clearly her story for Carrie hadn’t worked if she was now with someone other than Emiliano. That was how her gift functioned, the client read the tale Alice had prepared, then, like all those pilgrims who had followed the hummingbird, they looked to their right or left and found love. It was immediate, direct. It wasn’t one degree of separation, the waiter at a failed date. But the expression on Carrie’s face, the way she clung to Cal, made it apparent that she wanted Alice’s story to have brought her to Cal. The question was, why? Why did she need to regard their union as the result of a story? It suggested to Alice that Carrie still lacked the confidence to believe she, on her own, was worthy of love. And if she didn’t feel worthy of real love, only one that was magic, what had Alice really given her?
