Father of the Bride

Daryn

The Robinson's three-bedroom on the Upper East Side said it all. The dining room was expensive and sterile, dominated by an ungainly stainless steel and glass table. Of its four comfortless seats one was empty.

"It's your fault," Amanda said to Daryn.

"You right of course, Mother," Andrea nodded. "But that's water under the bridge."

"Filling my granddaughter's head with that 'true love' rubbish," Amanda spat.

"I only wanted our daughter to be happy—" Daryn shrugged.

"Happy?!?"

"Yes, Amanda. As in happily married."

Andrea patted her husband's hand and said, "That's an oxymoron, Daryn."

Amanda shook her head, baffled. "How could the girl dump her fiancé to go off with that—that—that—"

"Carnival artist," Andrea filled in.

"Paris has the makings of the perfect husband—virile, handsome and filthy rich. Not like your—your—"

"Daryn, Mother."

Again Amanda shook her head this time that her only daughter had married someone so obviously beneath her socially—and a weakling to boot—all fuzzy and squishy on the inside with nurturing and caring applesauce.

"Daryn is rich, Mother."

"What are we to do? All the arrangements are made for the wedding. All the invitations long gone. I can't possibly cancel a thing. I couldn't face the scandal–the laughter–the humiliation.

"No need to cancel anything yet, Mother. We do have four months after all. I'll just have to go collect Amelia–bring her back home and back to her senses."

"Andrea," Daryn said. "Maybe we shouldn't—"

"Quiet, Dear."

Daryn was quiet.

"I know she's somewhere in New Orleans. I'll find her." Andrea gathered her purse, making sure all her credit cards were properly packed. "While I'm gone you're boss...Mother."

"Boss." Amanda curled her lip into something like a smile, loving the feel of the word in her mouth.

"Keep the wedding on schedule by any means necessary."

"You can depend on me."

"You'll stay here naturally in the master bedroom."

"What about me?" Daryn grumbled.

"You? You'll sleep in Amelia's room, Darling." Andrea gave Daryn an antiseptic peck on his forehead. "And do try to stay out of Mother's way while I'm gone, won't you?"

"Yes, Dearest."