“So we don’t know where we’ll be or our schedules exactly.” Casey had no idea what kind of wedding they’d have. Neither her parents nor Jay’s had any extra money. Whatever bonus Jay had would go toward housing and tuition when he stopped work. Even so, they’d have to take out loans. Also, her parents wouldn’t attend anyway.
Sabine turned to Jay. “Casey said you were wait-listed at Columbia.”
Jay smiled. “Yes.”
Sabine raised an eyebrow at Isaac, and he nodded as a matter of course. He would make a call. As a trustee, he might be able to arrange for another interview. His son-in-law had needed calls, too. It would be easier to help Jay than his own son-in-law, which had seemed a bit pushy at the time.
They raised their glasses. Sabine drank hers quickly. She adored champagne. With her left hand, she brushed the hair away from her face. The gesture looked seductive. “Jay, have you met Casey’s parents?”
Sabine’s face was flushed from the alcohol. She appeared cheerful, but her gaze was unyielding. Jay had met her several times before at the apartment for dinners: Up until last year, Sabine had been Casey’s boss, but now she had power over his life as the trustee’s wife.
“Yes. I’ve met her mother,” he replied, half smiling.
“Leah Han,” Sabine said aloud in a kind of dreamy voice. “I went to school with her, you know.”
“Yes.” Jay nodded. “She looked very young.”
“She is young,” Sabine insisted, rapping the table softly with her fist. Leah was three years her junior. She, too, had married an older man. But Leah had married a Korean, and Sabine sensed that Joseph looked down on her for having married an American. “And so am I,” she said, giggling.
“Yes, of course. But her hair was gray,” Jay said.
Sabine laughed out loud, then caught herself by covering her mouth. Her hand grazed over her raven hair, cut and tinted by a celebrated stylist with a hidden shop on Charles Street.
“Leah grayed early,” Sabine said, her voice filling with sympathy. “Stress.”
Casey’s neck reddened. Jay was complimenting Sabine at her mother’s expense. A few days before, Casey had stopped by the store to have a cigarette with Sabine. There, she’d mentioned the engagement and Jay’s wait-list status at Columbia. Sabine had then asked her and Jay to come to dinner. She hated Jay suddenly. He had every right to feel hurt by her parents’ refusal to meet him, but it didn’t seem fair for him to display his resentment at the Gottesmans’ coral-lacquered dining room with its heavy silverware, the white ranunculus and lysianthus arranged in crystal globes. The fineness of the linen napkin on her lap brushed beneath her fingertips. Casey felt like a serf at the queen’s table.
Isaac saw Casey tuck her lower lip into her mouth. This was the face his children made before he went on a business trip when they were small. Disappointment looked exactly like that, he thought.
“Whenever I pass by your parents’ shop,” Isaac said, “I see your mother working on the sewing machine, and if she sees me, she waves hello.” He mimicked a shy wave. “Your mom is a very beautiful woman.”
Casey smiled at him, grateful for his kindness. “Everybody says that. My younger sister looks just like her. You’ve never met Tina. She’s studying to be a doctor.” She said this last part proudly.
Sabine reached across and touched Casey’s bare forearm. Her fingernails were oval shaped and buffed to a high sheen today.
“You could have the wedding here in the winter or spring or sooner in Nantucket if you want a summer wedding. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“But,” Casey replied, taking a breath. “That’s very generous of you . .” This was classic Sabine. Her gifts were legendary. Sabine did nothing that was less than triple-mint （Isaac’s term）， but Casey could not imagine incurring that kind of debt.
“I don’t have a daughter of my own, Casey,” Sabine said, her pretty fingers still holding on to Casey’s forearm. Jay glanced over at Isaac, but the comment did not seem to affect him in the least. No one mentioned Isaac’s children.
“How smart of you to marry young. I got lucky with Isaac. To have found him when I was thirty. But the people back home are right. Girls should marry early. You’re more flexible when you’re young.” She drank the last of her second glass of champagne and tried to pour another, but the bottle was empty.
Isaac spoke up. “It’d be wonderful for us to have your wedding at our house. It’d be fun for us to do it. I’m an old man with half a job. I could be your wedding planner.” He laughed.