Giant Men and Violent Women

Really? That's Odd

ASHLEY

I smell her before I see her. So, before I open the office door, I turn around before she can say a word.

"How did you do that?" Presley Ann asks, stopping in front of me.

"I'm good," I tell her.

We stand in front of Pop's closed office door—her with her arms crossed, me with my arms loaded with dessert plates. The smell of firewood seeps out from under the door, the same way it used to when this office belonged to Chap. I don't think I've properly mourned for my great-grandfather. But it's not like I've had the time. Date, then Louisiana, then Presley Ann, then New Hampshire's independence had my mind occupied. Now, I'm thinking about the bell-ringing. Shortly, something else will come up, and on and on, it'll go. I'm not sure that I've come to terms with the fact that, once everything has settled down and gone to its new and proper place, Chap still won't be here. And, still, there's no time to think about that. There's too much work to be done. Thank God for the work. The work is what helps.

"My phone won't work," Presley Ann says.

"No?" I say to her. "That's odd."

She smirks at me. We exchange a brief moment of silence that feels a lot like expectation. She and I are marrying tomorrow, and after the cake tasting and the photographs and the porcelain picking and the women down in the kitchen, making such a big deal over it all, there's a level of expectation that we both have. All of those things have made this exciting. I believe we both feel like we have something to look forward to tomorrow.

"You're gonna drop those." She points to the five dessert plates I'm juggling on my hands and arms, each loaded with miniature rectangles of cake.

"I think you forget that I was all-state in high school and the starting cornerback on Harvard's football team. Each Saturday, I kept a piece of pigskin from two-hundred-pound men who, if they could, would kill me over it. I believe I can hold on to a few Kate Spade plates."

"Yeah, I still can't believe I'm marrying a football player."

"Do I detect snobbery?"

"Do you guys know what you're doing in there?" she asks abruptly. She points to Pop's office where her mother is now seated with my father and The Governor.

"Are you afraid?" I ask.

"This is just going further than I thought it would."

"You didn't think New Hampshire was sincere."

"Actually, I didn't. I thought the president would apologize, and New Hampshire would rescind its secession. I see now that both sides are playing hardball, and I might actually have to marry you tomorrow."

"Did you have this epiphany after you were on the phone with your boyfriend and the line went dead or before?"

She smiles at me. "Jealous over Jewels?"

"Perhaps." I give her a shrug. "I'm not sure if you'd be this leery on marrying him if he asked you."

"There's a big difference between you two."

"I'm going to resist stating the obvious."

"You're pretending to like me, but with him, there is no pretending. I know what to expect because I know what I'm getting."

"Presley Ann, Cupid's shot me," I say with all the sincerity that I can muster. "Listen, I'm not naturally a man who goes around, giving declarations of love. I know Jewels can play that part well, but he's a politician. Empty promises are a part of his game. What I can tell you is that you'll be safe with me, you'll never go hungry, I'll never humiliate you, and you'll always come first—above anyone and anything else. I'm an attorney. I've been trained to pick up on emotions, though I might not readily express mine. But I'll be committed to us."