“You’re getting married?” Casey sighed. “With whom, may I ask?” She smiled as if Ella were a customer.
“Ted Kim.” Ella shrugged. “I don’t think you’d know him. He’s from Alaska.”
“Alaska?” Casey exclaimed.
“Uh-huh.” Ella nodded.
“And where did he go to school?” It was prying and vulgar to ask, but Casey couldn’t help herself.
“Harvard,” Ella said nervously. “I mean, he’s not our age. He finished business school a couple of years ago.”
“Where?” Casey said.
“Harvard.”
“Right.” Casey nodded. “How old is. . . ?”
“Thirty.”
“Of course.” It was no way to behave. Casey ordinarily prided herself on her manners.
Ella looked down at her sandals. “Everyone’s invited. Your parents, you. . . I mean. . . if you want to come. It’s at the church. You know, like the other weddings.”
“God almighty. You’re having it at the church. You are amazing, Ella.” Casey had vowed never to have the typical Korean church wedding with about five hundred guests who showed up without having been invited, the reception with a groaning buffet of Korean food served by a team of lady volunteers in the church basement, no alcohol in sight.
Ella heard Casey’s contempt and concealed her hurt feelings. She had come down the escalator and spotted Casey’s bruised face beneath the khaki beach hat and had taken it as a kind of sign. She had forced herself to see if Casey was all right and if there was something she could do for her. Ella bit her lower lip, trying to figure out how to leave, sensing Casey wanted her to go away.
Casey saw the pain she’d caused and felt crummy. She smiled. “Ella, I’m in a shitty mood. Nothing related to you. I’m sorry if I sounded like a bitch. Congratulations on your wedding. Really.”
“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m fine. You didn’t do anything,” Ella said.
“Well. . .” Casey glanced at her drugstore Timex. “I’m sure he’s wonderful. Ted, right? Lucky bastard. We should celebrate sometime. Do lunch. Something.” She felt sickened by her words. She despised lying.
Maud stood patiently watching this curious exchange between the two Asian women. At a pause, she asked Casey to spell out her name for the hold ticket.
“Never mind,” Casey said.
Maud didn’t understand.
“I want to take them. Here.” Casey opened her wallet and handed Maud her credit card.
Maud keyed in the SKU numbers for the clothes, then swiped the card.
The total was forty-three hundred plus change. The hotel room would be four hundred or so. She had managed to max out her first credit card in one day. Maud handed her the receipt, and Casey signed it. She was now a Wilma.
Ella made no move to leave Casey’s side. In all their years, they had never been alone in this way. She stared at Casey’s lost expression.
“Are you free now?” Ella asked. “For lunch?”
Casey checked the girl’s face, unable to believe Ella’s relentlessness.
She gave Ella a brief, discouraged nod, and without missing a beat, Ella asked her the question her father asked her whenever she met him at his office after work: “Tell me, what would you like to eat?”
Their steaks and creamed spinach arrived right away, and the girls ate quietly. Casey wasn’t hungry, but the idea of going to a dark steakhouse had made sense to her somehow. Thankfully, Ella didn’t pry about her face. She just kept smiling, and Casey felt bad for having such a rotten attitude. She asked about Ella’s work.
Ella was the associate development director of an all-boys’ private school on the Upper East Side, where she also lived. “I believe in education. So I can raise money for that. You know, for scholarships and the endowment,” Ella said, parroting her young boss, David Greene. “To help children who couldn’t otherwise—” She stopped herself, feeling stupid suddenly. No doubt Casey had been a scholarship student. David would have known not to say that. He was natural at talking to different kinds of people and always thoughtful about a person’s background. “Anyway. It’s a very pleasant job. I love going to the office. And I have a great boss. He’s a good friend, really.”
Casey observed Ella’s retreat. She wouldn’t take the rich girl’s philanthropic comments personally. After all, she had been the grateful recipient of Princeton’s largesse. Someone with these lofty ideals had passed the hat on her behalf. She and Jay had been the equivalents of amusing and tolerated peasants whose enrollment reflected the university’s noblesse oblige. She asked Ella about the wedding. The idea of marrying at the age of twenty-one seemed nutty to Casey.