Neanderthal Marries Human: A Smarter Romance (Knitting in the City) (46 page)

His gaze was impossibly kind as he said,
“Then, daughter dear, call me Dad.”

I burst into a new bout of tears. This made him laugh. He brought me forward and hugged me again. He let
me hug him for a long time. He even hugged like I thought a dad would hug, all soothing and wise and a little awkward because he was so big; like he didn’t want to crush me with his ginormous Boston police detective arms, so he held me carefully.

“
All right, that’s enough,” he said at length, setting me away again. “That crazy woman in there will be back any minute, and I have something for you.”

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands and sniffed.
“You don’t have to give me anything.”

He reached for the bag he
’d brought and took out a small wooden box. The outside was carved with what looked like Celtic symbols.

“
I want to,” he said, handing the box to me.

I twisted my mouth to the side and gingerly opened the little treasure box. Inside was a
yellow-gold Claddagh ring. I gasped, my eyes lifting to his.

He wasn
’t exactly smiling, as his mouth was flat. But when I saw the crinkling around his eyes, I knew that for him, this was probably a smile.

“
It was my mother’s ring, and her mother’s before that. Quinn should have used it when he proposed, that’s the order of things, the tradition in my family. I’m not asking you to replace your engagement ring. I’d just like it if you wore it and carried on the tradition when the time comes, with your son.”

“
Of course.” My chin wobbled.

His smile was plainly visible as he said,
“Don’t cry.”

I shook my head.
“I’m not crying. I just have something in my eye.”

“
That’s the spirit.”

“
Darling!” The woman in black poked her head out of the door. “Everything is ready, and I’m bursting to get started! Tell your daddy-in-law to wait here. We need an audience for our fashion show.”

I nodded, plucked the ring from
its home, and slid it onto my right hand middle finger. It fit perfectly.

I whispered to him,
“You don’t have to stay. This will be boring for you.”

Desmond shifted
on his feet, glanced at the door, then studied me for a short moment. Abruptly, he turned and sat in a nearby chair. “Nah, I’ll stay until after lunch.” He swallowed, and I noted he looked resigned. “What am I going to do instead? All I had planned was a pastrami sandwich.”

I gave him a closed
-lipped smile and tried not to cry or laugh at how uncomfortable he looked. But I decided to accept this gift he was offering me. I crossed to the room service menu and plucked it from the table.

“
Here.” I handed him the folder. “We’ll multi-task. Order two pastrami sandwiches.”

**
*

Desmond stayed and
helped me pick out my wedding dress.

To his credit, and perhaps even our mutual astonishment, he was a tough critic and
voiced his opinion when I came out in each of the seven options. Of course, his opinion was curt, blunt, and less than ten words. This was glorious for me, because where I would have been polite, he spoke up and insulted some of the more ridiculous elements of the gowns.

Ramona, the woman in the black suit, pretended to be offended, but I could tell she was enjoying the challenge.

I’d read several articles in wedding magazines about the phenomenon experienced by brides when they found
The Dress.
It was like angels singing, they said. A dress that might look unremarkable on a hanger would be put on the bride-to-be and the clouds would part, the heavens would open, and little cherubs would sprinkle magical rose petals from their place in the sky.

I thought this was ludicrous wedding propaganda. Weddings were big business
; billions of dollars a year were spent trying to create a fairy tale day in a consumer-driven world. The perfect dress didn’t exist. It was a myth, like Bigfoot or string theory—which everyone but wackos knows is more of a philosophy than a science.

That was, I thought it was a myth
until I tried on the fifth dress.

The heavens opened, the sky parted,
and the cherubs must’ve gotten rose petals in my eyes because I had trouble believing the reflection in the mirror was me. It was the perfect dress.

My suspicion was confirmed when I walked out of the room and Desmond glanced up from his cell phone, poised to insult with as few words as possible whatever travesty Ramona had put me in now.

Instead, he did a double take, started, stared, his eyebrows meeting his hairline. Then he whistled, but not a catcall. He whistled a single note, low and long.

“
Whoa.”

Ramona grinned.
“Yes. Well said, you beastly man.” Then she turned to me. “We have two more to try on, but this one I think will be it.”

Then she pushed me back into the room and we tried on the other two dresses while I gazed longingly at my number five.

When all was decided and number five was the winner, Desmond ordered lunch for three.

To me it tasted like
maybe the best pastrami sandwich in the entire world, but this impression might have been caused by the lingering scent of magical rose petals.

Desmond and I
drove to the restaurant together. We swung by home to pick up Katherine on the way.

A funny kind of standoff occurred
when Stan tried to insist that I should drive with him.

Desmond didn
’t respond with words. Instead, he just stared at Stan for a beat, reached for my arm, and said, “Let’s go.”

On the way over
, I called my dad for the fourth time that day because he hadn’t yet contacted me. Each time I’d called before the phone had gone to voicemail. I hoped this meant he was on a plane. He knew about the dinner, and he’d said that he would come. But he never sent me his flight information so I had no idea when he was getting in.

This time my dad
picked up his phone just as we were pulling into the parking lot.

“
Hello?”

I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hi, Dad. It’s Janie.”

“
Hi.”

“
We’re just pulling into the restaurant.”

“
Okay.”

I waited for a second then asked,
“Where are you?”

“
I’m at the airport.”

“
Was your flight delayed?”

“
No. It was ten minutes early. I’m getting my bag. I checked it because I don’t like having to lift it into the overhead bin. The charged me $25. Will you be able to reimburse the cost?”

“
Yes, no problem.”

“
Do you need a receipt?”

“
No. No, just tell me how much you need.”

“
Okay. When can you give me the money?”

I swallowed, tried not to sigh again, and kept my eyes lowered so I wouldn
’t have to meet Katherine and Desmond’s eyes. “How about tonight at dinner?”

“
Sure. I’m hungry anyway. Where?”

“
You know, the dinner. We’re having a dinner tonight so you can meet everyone.”

He paused,
and I thought I heard him exhale. He sounded irritated when he spoke. “I’d forgotten about that. Is that celebrity guy going to be there?”

“
Nico? Yes, he’ll be….”

“
Then I’ll be there. Text me the address. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“
Okay.” I gritted my teeth and tried to concentrate on suppressing the heated blush of embarrassment creeping its way up my neck. My eye caught on the hard plastic nob of the car radio. I started thinking about early plastics, tried to pronounce
polyoxybenzylmethylenglycolanhydride
in my brain. It helped.

“
Fine. See you later.” Then he hung up.

I held the phone to my ear for just two more seconds before I pulled it away and placed it in my purse.

I really hated cellphones.

“
Everything okay?” Katherine asked. She’d twisted in her seat and was giving me a small, sideways smile.

“
Yeah.” I nodded. “He’s just running a little late. We should go in and order.”

She nodded.
“That’s too bad.”

I shrugged,
and the volcano of trivial information spewed forth before I realized I was talking. “Early plastics were created by accident. A scientist by the name of Dr. Baekland was trying to find an alternative for shellac—which at the time was made from the excretion of lac bugs.”

Katherine
frowned at me, and my eyes moved to the rear view mirror where Desmond was watching our discussion.

“
Bakelite was the first synthetic thermosetting plastic ever made. It was referred to as the material of a thousand uses. I have no citation for that claim, but I did read it in a textbook, and it seems likely that they would refer to it as such. Because it was nonconductive and heat resistant, they manufactured everything from kitchenware to electrical insulators, and radio and telephone casings out of it.”

He studied me
in the mirror.

I continued speaking my thoughts as they
tumbled through my brain. “It must be nice to be a plastic—being nonconductive. Some people talk about being cold like ice or numb as ice, but ice is conductive, and it can melt. True numbness is being a synthetic thermosetting plastic…and it’s so useful.”

They stared at me as I bit my lip to keep from talking. I wasn
’t making any sense. I glanced down at my lap then lifted my chin to apologize.

But Desmond had turned in his seat, and he said as my gaze met his
, “I think we have an old clock made out of Bakelite. Don’t we, Katherine?”

She nodded, glancing between us.
“Yes, I think so. I have buttons, too. They might be celluloid, though.”

“
We should get inside, Janie.” Desmond glanced at his watch. “On the way you can tell me what the difference is between celluloid and Bakelite.”

***

We had reservations
at a neighborhood pub. Katherine had reserved the entire back room. She said this was so we could have privacy and a measure of quiet. Part of me wondered if it had to do with Nico Moretti being there—AKA Elizabeth’s new husband—more than the other reasons.

Paparazzi and fanfare had been following them
everywhere they went, especially since their quick elopement in Vegas. Elizabeth was hoping to keep their presence in Boston a secret, but I wasn’t sure how successful this plan would be.

Dan and Quinn were already there when we arrived. They were both drinking Guinness draft
, and Quinn was glowering across the table at his friend.

“
Hey.” I smiled at both of them, hugging Dan first then moving into Quinn’s arms. “We’re not late, are we?”

Dan piped in,
“Nope. Right on time.”

I studied Quinn as he
slid his eyes back to Dan. I guessed this was because Dan had prevented Quinn from coming back to the hotel room this afternoon by feigning inexperience with the layout of Boston’s streets. I would have to thank Dan for his help; I imagined it must’ve been difficult.

The door leading
to our private room was open, and I guessed that Elizabeth and Nico had arrived if the hubbub of activity taking place at the front of the restaurant was any indication.

Qui
nn pulled me to a corner of the room as his parents took their seats and Dan moved to help Elizabeth and Nico find their way through the crowd that had abruptly gathered.

“
Hey,” Quinn said, leaning forward and giving me a kiss. Then he kissed me again. When he pulled away, his eyes were still closed and his jaw was tight. “I’m looking forward to meeting your dad, but I can’t wait to get back to the hotel and spend some time alone with you.”

I glanced down at Quinn
’s tie and tore my top lip through my teeth before responding. “About that…um….”

I knew he
’d opened his eyes because I felt his gaze on me. “About what?”

“
My dad’s running a little late, but he said he’d be here in a few hours.”

“
Oh. Traffic?”

I shook my head.
“No, his flight just landed.”

“
Oh. Delayed?”

“
No…it was on time.”

“
Did he not know about the dinner?”