'But I won’t loan you money.'
'What?'
Mr. Trump repeated, 'I won’t loan you money. Sure, we’re chipping in on the wedding but you’re responsible for paying the bills, am I clear?'
'Did Ashley suggest that we-or I-might need-'
'You strike me as the dependable type. I know you aren’t ever going to go runnin’ around on my daughter and I know you’ll change a crap-filled diaper when little ones start crawling around. I know your dad, too. He’s a good guy even if he’s from the boonies.'
Benjamin Trump meant the rural areas of northeast Pennsylvania as opposed to the neighborhoods, such as Mr. Trump’s, that served as suburbs for the little city of Wilkes-Barre.
Rich tried to slip a word in.
'I will do whatever I can for Ashley.'
'But I’m looking at you and thinking here’s the guy who’s going to marry my daughter, he’s got a college degree-okay, community college degree-and he’s selling Chevys. Now that isn’t going to feed the bull dog.'
'Bull dog?'
Benjamin Trump cast his stern brown eyes at Richard.
'Are you following me, Dick?'
'Um…no.'
'You need to find some ambition.'
'Ambition? Sir?'
'You need to brush up that resume, get yourself full of piss and vinegar and go out there knocking on doors. When I was your age, I was helping my dad in the family business. I took that little business and grew it into the fourth largest fence company in Luzerne County. You walk around this valley and you’ll see Trump fences that me and my dad built thirty years ago. That’s because I had the ambition to make something that lasts.'
Rich swallowed hard.
'I think Ashley-your daughter-and I are building something that lasts.'
'Don’t throw that stuff around me, Dick. I’m not some goofy woman wonderin’ if the fruit cup gets served before the salad.'
'No, Sir.'
'I’m talking about you providing for your family. I’m talking about you providing for my daughter and little Benjamin and little Carol Anne. You’re gunna have mouths to feed and vacations to the Jersey shore to pay for. What are the chances that selling Chevys is going to get that all done?'
The front door of the house creaked open. Richard nearly cried tears of joy. Mother and daughter drifted onto the porch.
Benjamin Trump acknowledged, 'Ashley, Carol Anne.'
'Hello,' Carol Anne Trump spoke.
'Hi, Mrs., Trump,' Rich answered politely but his attention belonged to Ashley.
She wore long dark hair and watched the world through green eyes that could penetrate any heart. Her figure fit oh-so-wonderfully into faded blue jeans and a yellow halter-top. All her proportions had been measured with care by nature and cultivated into a stunning young beauty who had attracted a legion of admirers over the years.
Those penetrating green eyes narrowed to a scowl. Her naturally soft voice hardened with a question that sounded more an accusation.
'Running late?'
'Give the boy a break,' Mr. Trump winked at Rich. 'He was with a customer.'
– He pulled his hand from Ashley’s leg and rubbed his eyes.
The couple sat at the kitchen table under a solitary cone of light. A constant, electronic buzz came from the hard-working refrigerator but otherwise the room remained silent, as it had for over three hours of reception planning.
Ashley’s seating assignment maneuvers had grown in complexity with each passing minute, rising to a level best appreciated by chess masters and Generals. Richard, conversely, played a spectator’s role with occasional mumbles of ‘sounds good,’ ‘doesn’t matter to me’ and ‘why are most of my relatives at the back of the hall?’
His energy waned. Ashley’s energy waned too, but determination and focus hid her fatigue.
'I think that about does it,' she whispered and nodded slowly in approval, as if convinced she had reached the final solution. Such had been her expression the night before and the night before that. By tomorrow, he knew, she would find a hole in her strategy and the slips of paper representing guests and tables would march again.
Her thoughts found new focus and she asked, 'Oh, how do you want to be introduced?'
'Wouldn’t it be Mister and Misses Stone?'
Her shoulders slumped and a tired sigh slipped from her lips.
'I was thinking I’d like my full name to be used. You know, Ashley Elizabeth.'
Richard tried to understand, 'So the DJ will introduce us as Mr. Richard Trevor Stone and his wife Ashley Eliza-'
She shook her head ‘no’.
'More like, Ashley Elizabeth and Richard Stone…'
'Richard Trevor Stone.'
'No, no, no,' she insisted. 'That doesn’t sound right.'
'But that’s my name. Richard Trevor Stone. I know you might have forgotten since you forgot to put it on the invitations.'
She blinked fast, bit her lip, and sniffled.
'Now that’s not fair. I honestly forgot. I don’t know why you’re so upset. I’m under a lot of pressure doing all this by myself.'
Richard closed his eyes and placed an arm around her shoulders. She stopped babbling and slumped into his hug.
'You’re not doing this by yourself. We’re doing this together. It’s just that my middle name is important to me. And it’s important to my dad. My grandpa-'
'I know, I know. He fought at Normandy. War hero. I know.'
'It’s a lot better than ‘Dick’, don’t you think?'
'Well…' she led.
He tickled her ribs. She giggled to the point of outright laughing, something she had not done in days.
'So,' Richard restarted the conversation after she thwarted his tickles, 'we get introduced and then all the other couples walk in.'
Ashley fidgeted; squirmed even.
'What? What is it?'
She answered too nonchalantly, 'I figured we’d just have the DJ introduce us and let the rest of the wedding party seat themselves. That will make things move faster.'
His eyes narrowed. The groom-to-be aired the real reason why she suggested such an untraditional change to an otherwise traditional wedding: 'You don’t want people to see Dante walking with your sister.'
She shuddered in feigned shock.
'No, no that’s not it.'
'Then your parents don’t want their daughter walking with him.'
'Well, I mean, um, don’t you think he’d be, well, uncomfortable?'
'No, I don’t. And he’s my best man. And he’s my best friend. And I don’t care if some people in your family don’t want to see a black guy walking with a white girl in a wedding. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe your sister cares so why should anyone else?'
'She doesn’t care. I was just thinking…'
'Don’t, Ashley. I’m not asking for much in all this,' he swept his hand above the seating chart, 'but I’m not going to screw over Dante just because you’ve got bigots in your family.'
Ashley squeezed her eyes shut and her soft skin blushed with embarrassment.
