The matron of honor wore pastel-green tabard and tights and carried a smaller bouquet of green and brown cymbidia. She kept in step to the hesitation march thirty paces ahead of the bride, preceded her into the banquet hall toward the improvised altar.
Chief of Security O’Neil was the last one in, then posted himself in the archway at parade-rest and managed to watch events at the far end of the room while giving his attention to his rear. His features were serene but he was uneasy, alert. The big house was empty save for seventy-five to eighty people in this one room; all armor was up, every door, every real window was locked, hand-bolted, and dogged, and the night net of alarms switched on, and O’Neil had personally made sure of all this before releasing his guards to attend the wedding. But he trusted no gadgets and few people; he did not release himself from duty.
The bride approached the far end. Jake Salomon waited there, with Alec Train at his side. Facing down the aisle were the Reverend Hugo White and Judge McCampbell, matching in dignity. Shorty was wearing a black frock coat, white shirt, string tie, and carried his Book; the Judge was in judicial robes.
(Boss, doesn’t Jake look beautiful? But what is that getup?) (It’s a cutaway, dearest.) (It’s a museum piece.) (I suppose so. Jake probably hasn’t worn it in thirty, forty years—or perhaps rented it from a theatrical costumer. I feel certain Alec had to rent his. Doesn’t Father Hugo look grand!) (Must be his preachin’ clothes, Boss. Joe ought to paint him in this, even if he never gets the pix he wants.) (Good idea, Eunice; we’ll plant it with Gigi—and one thing may lead to another. I have hopes that seeing ‘The Three Graces’ will gentle him, too. As Hugo wants to pose…if he can convince himself that it’s not sinful. Eunice, my knees are shaking. I’m not sure I can do it!) (Om Mani Padme Hum, baby sister. We had one hell of time getting him off the dime; don’t go chicken now.) (Om Mani Padme Hum, Eunice—hold my hand, darling; don’t let me faint.)
Joan Eunice stopped in front of judge and preacher. Winifred took her bouquet from her, stepped back to one side. Alec Train moved Jake into place beside Joan Eunice, placed himself to balance Winifred. The music stopped. Hugo lifted his eyes and said, “Let us pray.” (Om Mani Padme Hum. You okay, twin?) (I’m all right now. Om Mani Padme Hum.)
When Hugo said, “Amen,” Joe Branca slid in from the side, shot his first picture. Thereafter he moved around like a Chinese stagehand, disturbing no one and never moving at a crucial moment—but getting his shots.
Hugo opened his Book, did not look at it. “We read today from the Book of Psalms. It says here:
“‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
“‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters.
“‘He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
“‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil................’”
He closed his Book. “Brothers and Sisters, the Lord saw that Adam was lonely in the Garden of Eden and He said it is not good for man to live alone. So He created Eve to live with Adam. And He said to Adam, My son, you take care of this woman, you hear Me? You treat her right all the time, just like I was watching you every minute. Because I am watching you, every minute and every second. You cherish her and protect her like I tell you and you’ll be too busy to get into anything wrongful, and she’ll be a comfort to you all the days of your life.”
He turned to Salomon. “Jacob Moshe, are you going to do that?”
“I will!”
The Reverend looked at the bride. “And the Lord said to Eve, My daughter, you got to cook for this man and wash his clothes and bring up his babies and not go running around when you should be home, and love him even when he’s tired and bad-tempered and not fit to speak to, because men are like that and you must take the bad with the good—you hear Me, Eve?
“Joan Eunice, are you going to do that?”
“Yes, Father Hugo.”
“Judge—”
“Jacob Moshe, does there exist any impediment under our laws and customs to you marrying this woman?”
“None.”
“Joan Eunice, is there any reason in law or in your heart why you cannot marry this man?”
“There is none, Your Honor.”
McCampbell spoke more loudly. “If any witness knows of any cause which would forbid me to bind these two in marriage, I command him to speak.” (Eunice, if anyone even clears his throat, I’ll—I’ll—) (You’ll keep quiet, Boss darling; that’s what you’ll do. Nobody here but our loving friends. Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme Hum……)
“Jacob Moshe, will you love, honor, and cherish her?”
“I will.”
“Joan Eunice, will you love, honor, and cherish him?”
“I will love, honor and obey him.” (Huh? Boss you demon, you haven’t the slightest intention of obeying!)
Salomon said, “Wait a moment! Judge, she switched the words! I don’t expect that and I won’t let her promise—”
“Order. You keep quiet, Jake; I’m not addressing you. Joan Eunice, is that what you wish to promise?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” (Eunice, stay out of this. I know what I’m doing.)
“I must advise you that such a promise is not legally binding under the civil marriage contract of this State but I must warn you, too, that it is not a promise which should be lightly made in these circumstances.”
“I know it, Your Honor.” (Boss, you’re out of your mind!) (Quite possibly. But it’s all right, sweetheart. Jake is going to give us exactly the orders we will be humbly pleased to obey. Haven’t I been right so far?) (Yes, but you keep scaring me. Suppose he tells us to keep our legs crossed? I’ve never been any good at that.) (He never will. Instead he’ll be magnanimously pleased to humor our little follies—since we’ve promised to obey him. Relax, sweetheart—this is precisely the way my darling Agnes handled me…when I was not anything like as wise and tolerant as Jake is.)
“Let me hear you state your intention again.”
“I, Joan Eunice, do solemnly promise to love, honor, and obey Jacob Moshe—and I will, Your Honor, even if he backs out and won’t marry me. He doesn’t have to marry me. I’d be perfectly happy just to—”
“Quiet, Joan Eunice. That’s enough. Reverend, this is getting out of hand; I’m going to wrap it up with the bare legalities and you can plaster them with anything else they need in your closing prayer. All right?”
“Yes, Judge. They don’t need much prayer; they’re ready.”
“I hope you’re right. Jake, you heard this stubborn little, uh, lady. Are you willing to marry her anyhow?”
“Yes.”
“Jacob Moshe, do you take Joan Eunice to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do!”
“Joan Eunice, do you take Jacob Moshe to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.”
“Uh, where’s the ring? Alec. Jake, take her left hand in your left. Now.”
“‘With this ring I thee wed.’”
“Under authority vested in me I pronounce you man and wife. Kiss her, Jake. Take it, Reverend.” (And you told me not to louse it up!) (I got us there, didn’t I? He’s ours. I mean, we’re his. Same thing.)
“Let us pray!”
26
On Luna, Kennedy Tunnel B, paralleling Kennedy Tunnel A between Luna City and the Apollo Industrial Complex, was completed and both tunnels were then made one-way, thereby quadrupling the potential traffic. The five- and ten-year projections caused the Commission to decide to go ahead at once with tunnels C and D. On the Hong Kong and New York Stock Exchanges Vacuum Industries, Ltd., Selenterprises, Pan Am, and Diana Transport all took sudden jumps against a generally sagging market. Mercury Newsletter (subsid of MercServ) sent destructaped messages by special couriers to their 7-star clients. Nine percent of these couriers failed to report back, which caused the managing director of MercServ to decide that a vacat
ion at Las-Vegas-in-the-Sky would be good for his health even though there was no proof that Internal Defense agents had detained the couriers or solved the “destruct” combo. A source close to the President denied that there was anything more than seasonal unrest in any city in the country and denounced “irresponsible rumormongers.” CBS’s “Today’s Day with Dave Daly” was replaced by a motion picture with an explanation of technical difficulties. “Today’s Day” resumed the next day without Daly, who was—it was announced—on sick leave to recover from extreme fatigue. Miss Molly Maguire, the hottest sensie star of the private film industry, claimed the title of first woman in history to give birth to a child during a sky dive. The babe was safely landed exactly as planned by the midwife team diving with her, the event was filmed in stereosound and -color from several angles, and the only casualty was a sprained ankle for Miss Maguire—she was able to hold a press conference thirty minutes after she landed.
Since plane flight had originated in, and sky dive had started over, Mexican soil, whereas the entire party except the plane had landed in Arizona, it was not clear what laws had been violated or whose, or what nationality the child was—as Miss Maguire’s citizenship was Pakistani, with legal permanent residence in the States. The party surrendered voluntarily to the nearest U.S. immigration officer and Miss Maguire apologized most prettily on videocast for having reentered the country of her choice so informally through an inadvertent error in navigation by her pilot, plus a sudden gust of wind. They were released with a warning but the films were impounded—uselessly, as they seemed to show that the child was born, about fifty-fifty, in both countries, but factors of angle and parallax and identification of ground markings—in those film sequences in which the ground showed at all—make it impossible to be certain. Grove Press bought an option on the films, then entered suit to have them released, in the interest of justice.
A notorious sex-change case married her attorney but the newsworthy couple managed to leave for their honeymoon before issuance of their license was noted—a famous scoopsnoop chased them to Canada, only to find that the couple he had traced down were a Dr. & Mrs. Garcia, members of the wedding but themselves of no news value. Mrs. Garcia smiled and let herself be photographed (she was quite photogenic) and was interviewed about the wedding; then the Garcias returned home.
Senator James “Jumping Joe” Jones of Arkansas charged that the drive to repeal the XXXIst Amendment permitting prayer in public schools was a plot by the Devil-inspired Pope of Rome and his servile followers. The rebuilding of the Oklahoma State House was halted by labor trouble drummed up (it was alleged) by the underground “Equal Rights for Whites” Action Committee. The contractor’s construction foreman said, “Any honk thinks he’s discriminated, he can take it to the hiring board and get a fair hearing. Trouble is these people they don’t want to work.”
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“Mr. and Mrs. MacKenzie” (Liberian passports) had the penthouse floor to themselves—three baths, four bedrooms, kitchen, dining room, bar-lounge, drawing room, lanai, garden, swimming pool, waterfall, fountain, garden bar-pantry, foyer, private lift, magnificent view of the yacht harbor, beaches, estuary, town, and mountains beyond.
But they were eccentric. Their rent included full hotel service but none of the hotel’s staff had been on that level since their arrival. They were not seen at the casinos, nor on the beaches, nor were they known to make use of other attractions of the resort. They sometimes had room-service meals, but the table cart went only as far as the lift; their servants took it up.
It was rumored among the hotel staff that Mrs. MacKenzie liked to do her own cooking, but no one really knew—no one had seen her (save possibly from a copter) and few knew him by sight. Their servants had three suites on a lower floor…but were willing to discuss anything but their employers.
She came from the garden into the lounge. He looked up from his book. “Yes, dear? Toc much sun? Or did that copter come back?”
“Neither. Copters don’t worry me; I just turn over on my tummy so that they can’t photograph my face. Jake darling, I want you to see something pretty.”
“Drag it in here, I’m lazy.”
“I can’t dearest; it’s down on the water. A boat of some odd sort, with the gayest, most colorful sails. You were in the Navy; you know about such things.”
“I was in the Navy one hitch fifty years back, so I’m an expert already.”
“Jacob, you always know everything. And it is pretty, and quite odd. Please, sir?”
“Your slightest wish, Madame.” He got up and offered her his arm.
They stopped at the seaward rail. “Now which one? All those boats have colored sails. I haven’t seen a suit of white sails since we got here—you’d think there was a law against it.”
“That one. Oh, dear, they’re putting down its sails. And it was so pretty a minute ago.”
“‘Dowsing her sails,’ Eunice. If I’m going to be your resident expert, let me expert. When you lower sails suddenly, you ‘dowse’ them. Which this laddie is doing because he’s standing in to anchor about—yes! There goes the hook. And a vessel is always ‘she,’ never ‘it.’ Boats and ships are female because they are beautiful, lovable, expensive—and unpredictable.”
“Jake, you’ve always been able to predict what I’m going to do even before I know myself.” (Twin, why tell a whopper like that? He knows better.) (He won’t argue it, hon.) “But what is it?”
“Oh. It’s a trimaran, a yacht with a triple hull. Can’t say that I agree that she’s pretty. A sloop with a triangular mains’l is my notion of beauty.”
“Does look sort of squarish now. But swooping in with all its—sorry!—‘her’ sails up, she was lovely.” (Twin, ask Jake if he thinks there is any way we could go on it?) (On ‘her,’ Eunice—not ‘it.’ Are you a sailor, hon?) (Never been on a boat in my life, Boss. But I’m getting an idea, maybe.) (Maybe I have the same idea. Are you thinking about that talk with Jake when he pointed out a farm would mean even more staff and less safety than our house?) (I don’t care who thought of it first, Boss—just make sure that Jake thinks of it first.) (I shall, dear—do you think I have to be told that a ship is ‘she’? Or can’t recognize a trimaran? The real question is: Do you get seasick? I used to—and it’s miserable. But the fact that we haven’t had the tiniest bit of morning sickness makes me think you might be immune to motion sickness.) (So ‘let’s operate and find out,’ as Roberto says.)
“Oh, trimarans have their points, Eunice. You get a lot of boat for your money. Roomy. And they are almost impossible to turn over—safer than most small vessels. I just wouldn’t award one a beauty prize.”
“Jake, do you think you could get us invited aboard that one? She looks interesting.”
“Oh, there’s some way to swing it. I might start by talking with the manager. But, Eunice, you can’t go aboard a private vessel with your features veiled; it would be rude. Your granddaughters did you no favor when they made you as recognizable as a video star.”
“Jacob, a veil doesn’t enter into it because I never want to meet anyone as ‘Mrs. MacKenzie.’ I’m Mrs. Jacob Moshe Salomon and proud of it—and that’s the way I must always be introduced. Jake, I doubt if our marriage is news any longer; it can’t matter much if I’m spotted.”
“I suppose not. The copters might swarm a mite closer fo
r a while and some would have pixsnoops aboard with telescopic lenses. But I doubt if even your granddaughters are anxious to take a shot at you. If the snoops fret you, wear pants to sunbathe, and in the pool.”
“The hell I will, it’s our pool, Jacob. Anyhow, briefies can’t conceal the fact that I’m pregnant, and the sooner that’s in the news the less it will interest anyone later. Let them sneak a pic, then you have Doctor Bob confirm it—and it stops being news. No huhu, dear; I learned years ago that you can’t ‘get away from it all’—you just have to cope. Is it possible, on a boat of that sort, to have a swimming pool?”
“Not one that size. But I’ve seen trimarans much bigger than that one. Could be done, I suppose, since a trimaran can have so much deck space for its tonnage—I’d have to ask a naval architect. Why the interest, Lively Legs? Do you want me to buy you a yacht?”
“I don’t know. But boats look like fun. Jake, I never had much fun in my life—my other life. I’m not sure how one goes about having fun—except that every day is a joy to me now. All that I’m sure of is that I want to do something utterly different this time. Not be a Hetty Green. And not the gay, mad whirl of ‘society’—kark! I’d rather turn whore. Would you like a yacht, Jake? Take me around the world and show me all those places you’ve seen and I never had time for?”
“You mean you didn’t take time.”
“Maybe it’s the same thing. I do know that, if a man acquires too much money, presently it owns him instead of his owning it. Jake, I’ve been to Europe, at least fifty times—yet I’ve never been inside the Louvre, never seen them change the Guard at Buckingham Palace. All I saw were hotels and boardrooms—and those are the same all over the globe. Would you care to repair my education, dearest? Show me Rio?—you say it’s the most beautiful city in the world. The Parthenon by moonlight? The Taj at dawn?”