"You're going to need to transfer to Starling Heights if you want a promotion, Ainsley. You need to move out of your apartment, away from all your friends, move out of the city to the boonies. Kiss all that culture outside your doorstep goodbye. Oh, hey, we meant to ask — are you all settled in? Built a little life yourself out there in the suburbs? Reconciled yourself to regional theater and concert clubs the size of your closet? Cool, cool . . . well, we need you to come back to Bridgeton. We hope 30 cents a mile will be enough compensation for your two-hour daily commute!"
"It's just for a week!" she had exclaimed, shoulders shaking in laughter at his dramatic monologue. "You are thebiggestbaby. Also, I’m pretty sure you get, like, a whole dollar a mile. Do you need to bring a milk crate of your emotional support limited-edition vinyls? Will that make it better?"
"It's an houroneway, Nanaya. That's with no traffic, and there isalwaystraffic in Bridgeton. Is my silver lining supposedto be that I can catch up on some podcasts during my ten plus wasted hours for the week? Well, great. Guess I'll be all caught up onBuried in the Backyardby Friday, risking life and limb to do so, with untold wear and tear on my only vehicle, which was not purchased with commuting in mind. Awesome."
She'd rolled her eyes, crossing the room to where he paced, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re so silly. Stay with me for the week. At my condo, in my bed. Take the train. No Bridgeton traffic required and you can still catch up onBuried in the Backyard. And then at the end of the week, you can be a big spender and use that big, thick dollar-a-mile stack you'll be earning and not spending to take me somewhere nice. See? Everybody wins."
The notion of a weeklong sleepover had brightened his mood, changing his mind entirely.
They got up together each day, shared breakfast in her small condo or else left early enough to stop at the coffee shop, before she would drop him off at the park-and-ride, timing it so that they arrived a few minutes before his train each morning. He would lean over the center console of her car, kissing her deeply before gifting her with one of his beaming smiles.
"Have a good day, dear. Pork chops tonight for dinner, I think. Make sure my dry martini is ready when I get home to put my feet up."
Each and every morning, she drove away laughing once he'd boarded his train, her heart feeling too big for her chest as she drove to her own office, her cheeks as pink as Silva's, giddy over the easy domesticity of the week.
They cooked together in the evenings, or else parked at the municipal lot on Main Street and walked hand-in-hand to one of Cambric Creek's many restaurants. She'd been on the phone with her mother at one point the previous evening, watching as he shouldered out of the bathroom with her laundry basket,starting a load of towels before she'd even hung up the phone. Her condo was too small for him, and he was constantly ducking under doorways and snorting to himself over the shallow rise of the cupboards, but he had slipped into her Monday through Friday routine without a blip, as easy and comfortable as if he had been there all along.
Ris wasn't sure if she was meant to like how happy it made her, but she couldn't deny that it made her very, very happy.
The gossips from accounting didn't stay long, taking their turns at the coffee machine and microwave and then trooping out together, braving the early autumn chill for a modicum more of privacy outside.
“Youdorealize I'm not even engaged yet, right?” Lurielle reminded her once they were alone again. "But thank you for including yourself in the bridal party. Saves me the awkward buildup of asking you."
At that, Ris rolled her eyes, flipping the magazine closed. "It's a foregone conclusion and one of us needs to start thinking about the planning. What's he waiting for, anyway? Do I need to have a conversation with the big guy tonight?"
Lurielle cackled, finishing off her sandwich. "Oh, I would love to see you try. You can be treated to a dissertation on the historical importance of a bridal fire, the size of it, how long it needs to burn, which ancestor is in charge of poking it or something. Ainsley can ask his barrage of questions and if we get bored, we can leave to go to the movies. Khash has his plan and I'm not allowed to ask about it. But if you want to try and get some details, have at it.”
Ris snorted. "As long as he's planning something, I guess. Better him than us. You know, we're probably the only two elves in town without a wedding binder. I’m kinda surprised your mom didn’t go way over the top with that.”
"Oh, she sure tried," Lurielle confirmed. "I have vague memories of her freaking out over floral arrangements and whether or not a sit-down dinner at the club would be considered passé by the time it was needed. I was still in primary school. And then my grandmother would tell her to stop being histrionic and that would send her even further into a tizzy.”
Ris wrinkled her nose, annoyed on her friend’s behalf. She and her own mother had made a halfhearted attempt when she was a teenager, but her parents never had the money for an elaborate budget, and it seemed as if everything involved in traditional Elvish matrimony cost a small fortune.
The prospective bride and groom were to barter with each other, setting terms for their marriage and division of assets before an engagement was even official. The families exchanged elaborate gifts, a sign that they approved of the marriage and the joining of their houses, and then the coup de grâce — the mothers of both the bride and groom gave each other’s children some ornate piece of jewelry to wear for the ceremony. Ris had never understood the significance of that tradition when she was a girl, but she did now. The mother’s seal of approval, the only one that mattered. After all, they would be the ones left to deal with each other.
All of that was in addition to the ceremony itself, a reception for friends and family, alcohol, food, more flowers than anyone could possibly ever need, all of the little details and entertainment that went into outdoing the last wedding one had attended. It was expensive and exhausting to even contemplate.
By the time she had left for university, Ris couldn't have cared less about planning for nuptials in some hazy, far-off future scenario, and her feelings hadn't changed much since then.
Lurielle only shrugged in response, seeming unconcerned. “I used to think they were planning my deb party. It wasn't until I was older that I realized she was planning my wedding. And bythen she was too wrapped up in all the ways I didn't match up to the picture in her head, so it never went very far. Can't pick out wedding dresses when you're putting your tween on a diet, you know?”
“I want to go back to three minutes ago when I hadn’t brought up your mom.”
“And yeah, you're right,” Lurielle went on, ignoring Ris. “I have no idea where to even start. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to need to call in a pro. Where is she, anyway?”
“Working from home,” Ris confirmed. For the past several months, Silva had been taking advantage of the company’s flexible hybrid work schedule, spending several days a week in Greenbridge Glen, in the apartment above the Plundered Pixie. “Although, not fromherhome, I’m guessing.”
“Well, she needs to get her ass back in the office. She is going to be our ringer. You know her family probably has a whole filing cabinet of reservations that were made when she was a baby. Can you imagine? We might actually look like we know what we’re doing. Because no offense, but between the two of us, we're as useless as a steering wheel on a mule.”
Ris blinked. Waited. Lurielle gathered up the remains of her lunch, blithely unaware of the blatant Khashism that had just unconsciously fallen out of her mouth. There was never a moment when the big orc didn’t have some syrupy bit of Southern wisdom to add to the conversation, and hearing it from Lurielle was the clearest sign that this marriage needed to happen posthaste. Ris snorted, nearly choking on her water as she began to laugh.
“You'retalkinglike him now. Holy shit, this is the most adorable thing in the world! Pretty soon you're going to be telling me not to go burying my bones in someone else's garden —"
"— when there's still pruning to do," Lurielle finished, nodding, brushing crumbs from her sweater. "Hey, it's good advice."
She was still bent over laughing when Lurielle's phone timer chimed, announcing the end of their break, and the stitch in her side lasted all the way to her desk, when she pulled out her phone.
Just a reminder that we are meeting Lurielle and Khash after work.
