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Chapter 22 – Portents
Interlude: 25th Anniversary
Cindy:
Friday night was quiet. The media was camped out, but many of the lightweights had been run off.
Friday 11:39 PM ET-Davidspet: Oh my God. Remember that scene from Tuesday? They posted pictures at the club, along with some new rules. The rules are what you expect: more safety precautions and liability waivers. If it were not for the pictures, no one would have noticed. With them – you understand.
It was the girl. She had her legs spread all the way apart. I might be able to do that with my weight holding me down, like a cheerleader. She was doing it casually. Anyway, there was a long shot, getting all the bruises. Then there were detail shots from ankle to ankle. That scene was three nights ago and you can still count every stripe.
I said Tuesday that she did not draw blood. That was not quite true. I should have said the skin never parted. Some of the welts had oozed blood through the skin, particularly behind the knee. You couldn’t see much around the pussy. It was the lighting I think. Pity. All you could see was the stripe up to the butt plug and another just on the side.
Everyone was effected. David challenged one of the other masters to a duel – lashes on pussy. They tied me and Sarah side by side, chose identical floggers and took one full minute warming us up. Shit. Then it was a race. My biggest problem was holding on til the stroke fell. David is really good at this – unless you have someone like Cynthia.
Saturday 9:31 AM ET
David,
I know this is probably nothing, but Jason Porter showed up early for the wedding. They let him right in. Security here is very strict, so they knew him on sight. It may be nothing, since Justin Immons arrived an hour later. Porter was working for Immons before the catalog shoot and Immons is doing the wedding.
On the good side, I persuaded one of the local invitees to take me as his date. We will see what Immons has set up. Normally, after a success like the catalog, a country wedding would be a major come down. I could see him taking the job as a return of a favor, but still… This wedding may be the exception and Immons has exclusive rights.
Security report, Lars Gunter
Lars Gunter, age 26, was born and reared in western Germany, near both Belgium and The Netherlands. He claims to be from Wesphalia, which is the old style term for an area near the Rhur valley. It is now heavily industrial. Siemens is based in Berlin, but had important facilities just outside his home town. He grew up with the company.
The odd last name is a gift from a WW I soldier, who left a pregnancy but no last name. It must have been quite the scandal, since his great grandmother was one of the lesser von Kessels. She was not allowed to give her illegitimate son the family name, so he was christened with his father’s given name. The family professes Lutheran, but he is not known to be observant.
His grandfather served well in WW II, reaching the rank of Oberstleutnant (Lt. Colonel) and dying in the Italian Alps. His Father served the minimum time, also as an officer, but not advancing. The father is a music teacher and still living. Her Gunter’s own rank was Oberleutnant (1st Lieutenant). He had served the minimum plus two years.
He attended the University of Jena before going into service. On completion, he returned for graduate school, excelling in Mathematics and Economics. Siemens considers him one of their elite young men. A group of them are doing a tour, beginning in Berne before moving on to New York. Speculation suggests that they will move on to the Far East. His entry visa is dated six weeks ago.
There was nothing in the file to indicate a connection to Hanover or Dartmouth.
Chapter 23 – Dearly Beloved…
Interlude: 25th Anniversary
Cindy:
Mom was fashionably late – something to to with Aunt Francine’s hair. Everyone mentions the bobbing bridge, between the end of the dock and the houseboat, but no one fell in. The ceremony itself went off without a hitch.
Mom was radiant. The published images manages to capture some of it – Justin won awards for his photography – but you need to watch the video to really catch it. Mom never missed a step, even thought her eyes never left Dad.
Sean:
When the time came, I went to get dressed. I had had fittings while Sheila was on her trips to the city. I knew my traditional frock suit fit like a dream. All I had to do was put it on. There were still people to do my hair and nails, but you have to give Francine something. I was done in plenty of time. Naturally, the women were late. It gave me time to think about the morning.
Though she may not have recognized it at the time, Sheila had made a name for herself in the power structure. This is not to say that she was not well situated in the house. She had fit in more smoothly than I would have dared hope, had I stopped to think about her issues.
They make movies about the new person trying to fit in. Rebecca comes to mind. Parallels between myself and Max deWinter are non-trivial. Yet, in a bare week, Sheila was a functioning part of the household. She started well by impressing Gerald, then the Gilbert brothers. Nothing she had done was like that morning, after the package arrived.
Because of 9/11, people tend to forget Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber. Two of the guys I knew at business school had lost family to Kaczynski. Suspicious packages were taken very seriously at work. Our home security is just as paranoid, but lacked the equipment. We took what precautions were possible, then held our breath while we watched a live feed.
When it turned out to be a gag gift from Francine, everyone else heaved a sigh of relief. I started toward the door, only to be stopped by Sheila. I doubt she ever appreciated the impact of her hand on my arm. Not even Gerald gets in my way when my head is down. It didn’t hurt that she had already found the ideal solution – let Jo handle it.
The staff respected me. Sheila was fast becoming the Lady of the House. Jo was the brat with a mean streak. Where the joke was practical or verbal, everyone in the room had reason to tread lightly. They had since she was twelve. If you ever saw Private Benjamin, think of the RIT dye scene. Better yet, the dye bomb in Raising Arizona. Jo was ingenious, persistent and could not be bought. No one fucked with little sister.
It was that same little sister I saw coming down the hill, wearing a suit very much like Curtis’. There was a cadré of attendants, which concealed the bride, but Jo was out front. She looked in our direction and waved, then gave a thumbs up. They ran that picture as the cover shot of the Beacon’s special section. Whatever had happened, Jo was satisfied with that result. Under most circumstances, I would be dying to know, but I could not see Sheila. It was maddening.
Our plan had been to form up in the boathouse, but that was sunk. We men proceeded to the houseboat, which proved wise. The water was a bit choppy. This caused the walkway connecting the dock to the houseboat to bounce. I was glad to be across, but I knew it would slow the bridal party down. I drew on my Army training and waited attentively.
As the parade of ladies came down the hillside, the band had switched from ragtime to Bach. Everyone sensed the change in mood, but had to wait through two whole preludes. Eventually a face appeared in the gloom at the back of the houseboat. Jo and Francine led the way, then CC came to stand opposite Curtis. I held my breath as the music changed to Handel. A spotlight appeared, which illuminated Sheila in all her glory.
I hired Justin Immons to do a kinky catalog. My fiancée made friends and hired him to do my wedding. Normally, that sort of presumption would have heads rolling. Given that shot – which was on the cover of a bridal magazine, in t
he New York Times Magazine, distributed globally by United Press International and is in the lobby of our headquarters – I was willing to forgive a lot.
Sheila was breathtaking and all the world knew it.
Siobhan:
When the time came, Sheila helped me reel Francine in. My arms were tired and Francine was red as a beet. Sheila hugged Francine and thanked her for the earrings. I glanced at Christine, who gave me a wink. Some submissive. Still, she had a point. This was not about the two of us.
Minions were summoned to repair the damage. All things considered, we did well to arrive at the boathouse only fifteen minutes late. It could have been much worse. I almost lost my balance on the gangplank and Christine shuffled along sideways. Francine regained her good humor watching us. How can ten feet get so long?
We made it across and formed up with Sean and Curtis. Francine and I went out first, taking our places on the outside. Then Curtis and Christine formed up between us, followed by Sean, next to Curtis. All this time the band had been playing Bach’s Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring.
Then the band switched to A Trumpet Shall Sound, from Handel’s Messiah, as the spotlight found Sheila. I could not help but smile. The text for that aria talks of the dead rising and judgment, but also of transformation. The band had a fantastic trumpet player doing the solo part, so it was very effective as Sheila paced forward. As she turned toward Sean, the trumpet segued into Handel’s much shorter Fanfare. I have never been one of those girls that dotes on weddings. Watching Sheila and Sean made me wonder if there was something to it after all. Their commitment to each other radiated.
There was a short homily and then vows. When pastor Mueller presented them as man and wife, a cheer went up. I joined in. The recessional was from Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro. The whole event was perfect, until I had to go back across that bobbing board. I almost lost a lunch I never ate.
Francine:
I had to hand it to Siobhan and Christine. No one had ever ambushed me that thoroughly, though many tried. The simple physicality of picking me up was very good. Taking video of the whole event, while streaming it God knows where, was brilliant. What lifted it to genius was giving me the recording. They knew I would pore over it for years to come. Leave it to Sheila to top even that.
She was the perfect combination of warmth, comfort, steel resolve, remonstration and forgiveness. I had been so worried she would turn down my gift, I never let her thank me. The sharpest cuts are self-inflicted. Naturally, Sheila was the one that got everyone moving again. She had me summon minions, then orchestrated the procession to backstage.
I never considered the problem. Dressing rooms are already backstage, so actors never need to go in front of the public. Here, things were otherwise. Sheila had Christine grab some sort of afghan, which she used as a shawl. All my makeup people formed a circle around us, except for Siobhan, who led the way. If you ever wonder why there are so many pictures of her, that is one reason. Another was that she was quite striking in her suit. She supplied the diversion as we descended from the house to the boathouse.
Once there, it was all touch up. The afghan had damaged Sheila’s hair. Siobhan needed to be tucked in at the edges. There were several things, but it was all superficial. One final check of costume and makeup, then it was showtime. Enter farce, stage left.
The ceremony was staged on the party barge. Backstage was a boathouse. Running from the boathouse was a dock, with a screen to cover our movements. This much was thought out in advance. As always, complications arise where thinking leaves off. The end of the dock floated. The barge floated. Between the two was a ten to twelve foot catwalk, which danced. I had dealt with worse, many times. Christine and Siobhan had not. Sheila and I would have no problem, but Siobhan was not steady and Christine looked a little seasick. I did my best not to smile, but it made up for a lot that had happened in the house.
The stage itself was simple. My people had installed a rug and draped the background. The priest had only a simple lectern. Sean and Curtis were already standing to the right of the priest, as seen by the audience. Siobhan and I entered and moved to the outside positions. Christine came after, in a carefully measured step. As an instructor, I would have complemented her form to the class. Then the music changed.
Sean and Sheila had chosen the opening part of an orchestral piece, featuring a solo trumpet. This gave them a full half minute to position everyone. The lyric implications were ironic, but Sheila had signed off on it. I had to hand it to her camera guy. He hit her with the spot exactly as the trumpet hit the high note. Sheila’s timing, as always, was perfect, but the stage hands are not as reliable. They did their part. Together, it was an entrance to remember.
Once in place, the priest read his speech. It was overlong without slapstick in the background. Still, when it came to the exchange of rings, you had to be there. I love Hollywood, but live drama sells for a reason. The camera guy was good and Sheila worked the images. Nothing could capture what we saw from five feet away. Even Siobhan sniffed. Weddings have witnesses, with no irony implied. I count myself privileged to be signatory.
After that, we had more of the farce on the catwalk. Sean did better than Christine and his sister, but Curtis was even shakier. As always, trying not to laugh is as funny as the routine. I’m a professional, but it was difficult. I was able to hug them both, once they made it to solid ground. Who would have thought?
Chapter 24 – Accolades
Interlude: 25th Anniversary
Cindy:
At first, press coverage was very favorable. Nothing lasts, of course, but for a few days all was sunlight and Irish lace. Surely you have seen the picture. Dad has it, life size, in the main lobby. Mom claims she almost forgot the bouquet of silk flowers. Those are in the grandfather clock in the main hall. I used to go down and stare at them for hours. Nanny CC totally understood.
Saturday 9:18 PM ET
David,
Give it up. We are not going to find out if Sheila Schwartz is an image genius from this wedding. A moron could do premium work at this party and Immons is no moron. In fact, I like his style. He has a museum piece, glass plate camera for effect, and a forty year old Hasselblad for some of the ceremony shots, but everything is also covered digitally. He is using ambient light, but has reflectors to cover the dark spots and a spot reflector to cover the bride.
Speaking of the bride – damn Skippy. I hope my daughter looks like that when she ties the knot. She looked like something out of Celtic mythology. I understand she dances, which would explain her uncanny grace. Given bare competence, it would be impossible to take a bad shot of her. On a larger scale, you could shoot a full SD card on the activities and not get repetitive. Immons is using at least a dozen cameras that I can see.
My invite did not cover the ball, but I did get a peek inside. The same applies all over again, though the lighting will be trickier. Still, even an idiot could take a ream of shots and cherry pick. Whoever they hired to stage this event did one hell of a job.
Saturday 10:13 PM ET
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Saturday 11:23 PM ET
Gloria,
I just got home from the best wedding. You may know about it. There was a spot on the news about Amish carriages. They did it at a cousin’s business associate’s country house. You would have loved it. More to the point, there are things I think you could use for your own events.
The whole affair came across as quiltwork. There were professionals everywhere, but they had small, closely defined roles. The oversight came from a bunch of Dartmouth grad students, led by the groom’s sister. The bride wanted a lawn party and a formal dance, circa 1910. What they did was more like a county fair and Embassy Ball. I know that’s an impossible mix, but they brought it off.
It’s late or I would call. They made us check cell phones and cameras at the door. Give me a buzz first thing tomorrow. This will take at least an hour.
Rose.
Monday 7:47 AM ET
Good afternoon,
The Times requests a selection of images from the Schwartz/Richards wedding. Please send images that include the grounds and outdoor activities, in addition to those of the ceremony, reception and dance. We offer standard rates. For exclusive content, we will consider compensation on a case by case basis.
Rodney L. Johnson
Associate Editor
New York Times
Unique Bride – June edition, editor’s comments.
We at Unique Bride seek out the unusual. After a while, even the unusual falls into patterns. We may start thinking that we have seen at least one version of everything. Then a wedding comes along that teaches us some humility. Our cover story is one of those. Instead of the usual gallery of three or four unusual items, we had trouble keeping it to four pages of things we had never seen before. Our thanks to Sean Richards, Siobhan Richards, Sheila Schwartz-Richards and all the people that made this Unique Wedding happen.
Central New Jersey Beacon – Special section
People are married in our community every week. This is news and we report it. However, it is rare that we dedicate an entire section to the coverage. So it is worthwhile to explain why we do so here.
After the Independent School District and the Regional Medical Center, Richards Enterprises is our community’s largest employer …
Chapter 25 – Wooden Horses
Interlude: 25th Anniversary
Cindy:
Everyone admits the ceremony was forgettable. The minister read it straight out of an old hymnal. There were favorable comments about the music, but that is about it. What everyone talks about is the photo session on the merry-go-round. Uncle Lars says it was the first time he met Aunt Jo, which is silly. They met in the City earlier in the week. Aunt Jo still has the business card he gave her, but she doesn’t disagree with him.
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