After only a few weeks of dating, Boyz invited her to Sunday dinner at his parents’ house. Darcy was nervous about that. She knew it was a significant occasion.
The Szwedas’ house was a jaw-droppingly stupendous mansion in Belmont. Boyz’s mother did not serve the dinner. They had a butler who served the food the cook had prepared. These were realms of wealth she’d never seen before, and she had lived much of her life on Nantucket, where a simple one-bedroom cottage might sell for a million dollars.
The sisters met her at the door. The oldest sibling, Irena, was restrained. The younger sister, Lena, bubbled with excitement.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” she said, taking both of Darcy’s hands. As she drew her into the living room, she continued, “Our family is so boring—all we talk about is real estate—and Boyz said you’re a librarian and I’m a huge reader! I’m a sophomore at Wellesley and I adore literature. But chemistry is my favorite subject, isn’t that weird?”
“Lena, let Darcy sit down,” Dita, the mother, said, laughing.
“All right, I will, but first I have to tell Darcy a secret.” Whispering in Darcy’s ear, she said, “Boyz said he thinks you’re the one!”
Darcy blushed and smiled and squeezed Lena’s hand. She didn’t dare look at Boyz.
Mr. Szweda rose from his chair by the fireplace and made a kind of half bow to her. “It’s nice to see you again, Darcy.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
She sat near Boyz—but not touching!—on the sofa.
“Would you like a cocktail?” Mrs. Szweda asked.
Darcy paused.
“Say no!” Lena told her. “Unless you like drinking pints of straight gin.”
Irena added kindly, “I’m drinking champagne.”
“Oh, champagne, please,” Darcy said, relieved.
The conversation at first was general chitchat about the weather, recent movies, and the Bijoux and other favorite restaurants in the area. At the dinner table, the Szwedas asked her about how she came to work at Bijoux. Darcy told them she was finishing a master’s degree in library science at Simmons and needed to work to pay her rent.
“Ah, a master’s degree in library science,” Mrs. Szweda said, shooting her husband a cryptic look.
When she said Nantucket was her home—she didn’t go into detail about her absent parents—both parents brightened.
“We’ve never been to Nantucket,” Mr. Szweda said. “I hear it’s trending now. Real estate is off-the-charts expensive.”
“Dearest,” Dita cooed, patting her husband’s hand, “it’s not always about the price of real estate.” Turning to Darcy she continued: “We haven’t gone there, because we’re always up at our house at Lake George in the summer. People can be such creatures of habit, can’t they?”
Chatty Lena chimed in, “Maybe Darcy would like to come up to Lake George this summer.”
Dita gently ignored her daughter. “So you want to be a librarian, Darcy. When did you decide on this career track?”
“I love books, and I love people,” Darcy answered simply. “I like bringing the two together.”
“Ah.” Dita clapped her hands lightly. “Now we have something in common. Makary and I, and really our entire family, love houses and people. We enjoy bringing houses and people together. That’s why our real estate business is flourishing.”
Elegant Irena spoke up. “A wall of books does give color and a sense of warmth to a room.”
“Yes,” Darcy agreed. “I suppose it does.”
“You should go with Boyz sometime when he lists a house,” Lena suggested. “He gets some of the most fabulous homes!”
Driving home, Darcy said wistfully, “Your family is so close, so devoted.”
Boyz sighed. “That’s true. Not always a good thing, you know.”
“Really? Why?”
He made a flicking motion with his hand, as if dismissing the subject. “I often feel that everything I do has to please my father.”
Darcy nodded. “I can understand that.”
“But tonight isn’t about my family,” Boyz said. He parked in front of Darcy’s apartment. Reaching over, he took Darcy’s hand. “It’s about you and me.”
Darcy’s feelings rocketed.
Boyz looked into her eyes. “Darcy, I knew the moment I saw you we would be good together.” He cleared his throat, as if it were difficult to speak. “I don’t mean to rush you or frighten you, but I think I’m in love with you. We haven’t known each other long, and yet somehow I feel I know you, and you know me.”
No man had ever spoken to Darcy that way before, with such candor, making himself vulnerable. This exotic, sophisticated man loved her? Believed she knew him? She flushed with pleasure. She felt glamorous and interesting and powerful. At last, she felt wanted.
They married that summer. It was an odd, lopsided wedding, with most of those in attendance members of the Szweda family. Darcy was grateful that Boyz’s family didn’t shriek in horror when they learned that neither of Darcy’s parents would attend. Darcy did invite them. They were both busy. Of course they were. For the entire month of July. Her best friends from Simmons had already moved to different states, leaving her roommate, Rachael, and the waitstaff of Bijoux to be present on Darcy’s side.
The sweet if slightly bizarre venue for the event was on the Cape, in the small chapel in the Sea View Community at the far end of the building. By then, Penny’s aging body had been so afflicted by the Lyme disease that she was taking several medications for the pain, and still having trouble doing the simplest tasks. But her mind was as sharp as ever, and she’d insisted on ordering the flowers for the chapel and the reception—white Casablanca lilies in masses everywhere.
Darcy wore a plain white ballerina-length dress and the family pearls, Penny’s wedding present. She wore a plain fingertip veil on her cap of brown hair. Everyone told her she looked like Audrey Hepburn. Two male friends from Bijoux escorted Penny, resplendent in turquoise chiffon and her grandmother’s diamond earrings, to the front row. Chase, Darcy’s favorite waiter, walked her down the aisle and gave her away. The retirement home minister performed the ceremony, with only the Szweda family and Boyz’s best friend, Tucker, on the groom’s side; a perfect and courteous balance to Darcy’s small showing. After they said “I do” and kissed, Darcy noticed a crowd of Sea View residents peering in the door. All of them were smiling. When the newlyweds adjourned to the small party room, they invited the other people in for cake and champagne.
The newlyweds honeymooned in Paris—of course. They strolled hand in hand through the Luxembourg Gardens, sighed with amazement in the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay, kissed at the top of the Eiffel Tower. They dined on a boat touring the Seine. They gasped at the Moulin Rouge. They toured Notre-Dame and shopped at Hermès and Le Bon Marché and Galeries Lafayette and brilliant boutiques tucked in along the Champs-élysées. They ate and drank far too much and slept until noon every day. It was a dream honeymoon.