Douglas had reached Casey’s table. He patted her shoulder gently, and she looked up. The other guests at the table offered their congratulations to the father of the bride. Douglas waved them away, entreating them to eat and dance a lot. “Look alive,” he joked. “Presbyterians need help from you kids to have a good time. Also, I speak as a physician: Dancing is good for your digestion and cardiovascular health.
“The minister would have my head, you see,” Douglas said as an explanation for why there was no booze. Church basement wedding receptions were traditionally dry, and though they were having it at a rented wedding hall as a concession to Ted—who’d wanted it at the much fancier New York Athletic Club or the Union Club, where he was a member, despite the fact that Manhattan parking would have been a prohibitive expense for the poorer Korean guests from Queens—the groom was not given a say regarding alcohol service to the largely Korean and conservative Christian crowd. After the honeymoon, Ted intended to have a smaller, private reception at the Union Club for his guests. “I’m very sorry about this. Believe me, I could’ve used a drink earlier today.” He winked. “But did you see the sparkling apple cider?” he chortled, pointing to the champagne flutes.
Helmut, a German investment banker who’d gone to HBS, piped up, “Oh, there is no alcohol here?” With a harrumph, he put down his napkin dramatically, pretending to get up to leave. The guests laughed at this, and Helmut’s wife yanked him down to his seat.
Douglas high-fived the kidder, then rested his hand on the back of Casey’s chair. “So this is Jay?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. The white American seated beside Casey was tall, with square shoulders and bright, unblinking eyes. It was striking how dark bits of color shimmered through his blue green irises. He had a pale, open brow. A genial smile flashed across Jay’s face at the mention of his name. He looked like a nice boy.
Jay held out his hand, and Douglas shook it warmly.
“How do you do, sir,” he said.
“And I understand you will be marrying soon,” Douglas said, trying to give off a kind of warm American heartiness. He was fond of Casey and wanted Jay to feel welcome.
“Yes, sir,” Jay replied.
Casey felt grateful for Dr. Shim’s kindness.
“Good, good. Marriage. . . marriage is a beautiful thing.” Douglas had a lot of thoughts about marriage, but today none made much sense to him. “Casey, have you had a chance to talk to your parents today?” he asked. “Your parents look wonderful.”
A small, tight smile formed across her lips. “Not yet. . . I will soon.”
“C’mon. I should try some of this fried lobster anyway. Ted chose the menu.” Douglas glanced at what the guests were eating. He shifted his feet toward the direction of his table. “Jay, you should come, too. Aren’t the Hans just the nicest people? Have you ever heard Casey’s mother sing? She’s like heaven.” He began to whistle “How Great Thou Art” to himself.
Casey opened her mouth to protest, but Jay got up and stood beside Douglas, who had already started to move away. Jay reached his left hand backward so Casey could take it, and she tried to catch up with his brisk steps.
Whatever small pleasure Joseph and Leah had felt at being seated at such a prominent table dissipated at the sight of Casey approaching them with Jay. Leah clasped her hands together on her lap. Elder Shim was talking to Jay, and he was smiling and nodding back. Casey concentrated soberly on her steps.
The table lit up, however, when Douglas appeared with the young people. The deaconesses brightened suddenly, the way women tend to when an attractive man enters the room. They wanted the bride’s father—a well-regarded and kind doctor with property—to finally sit down and chat with them. The men, not missing this, teased Douglas right away about the cost of the wedding. They took their shots.
“So, how much a head?” Elder Koh asked. He was a businessman with four daughters. This was essential information.
“Yobo.” Koh’s wife batted his arm. “You’re so tacky,” she said in English, and everyone laughed. Deaconess Sohn, Koh’s pretty Korean-American wife, had been born in the States—a Mt. Holyoke grad. You weren’t supposed to talk about money. Although she was curious, too.
Douglas wrinkled his brow in amusement. It would’ve been just as easy for them to ask the managers of the Coliseum about the price, but they wanted him to squirm a bit or exaggerate how he was stretched by such an expenditure. But in fact, Douglas could’ve easily afforded a wedding at the St. Regis for the same number.