The Wedding Wish

wanting to offer their congratulations to Isabel. After a brief introduction, Trudy excused herself and made for the bar, where Kip stood pouring two glasses of wine.
    “That’s sweet of you, dear,” Trudy said, assuming one of them was for her. “But I haven’t even finished my first yet.”
    Without saying a word, Kip downed one, then set it on the table. “These are both for me.”
    “But what…?”
    He motioned with the second glass still in his hand, and Trudy’s gaze traveled across the room. “Oh my!” she said, her gaze falling on the picture. She stepped a little closer as Kip trailed her. “Is that Robert?”
    “In the flesh,” Kip answered dryly.
    Trudy nursed her wine and considered the portrait. “Well, well. He certainly has grown up.”
    “Trudy!” Kip scolded. “Watch yourself.”
    “I’m just saying—”
    “I know what you’re saying. He’s no longer Mr. Little Bitty from next door. He’s got the whole Oscar Mayer thing going on.”
    “Kip!”
    “I see you two found my painting,” Isabel said, approaching.
    Trudy shot Kip a warning look, telling him to hold his tongue.
    “Yes, dear,” Trudy said sweetly. “You did…mighty good work.”
    Isabel sighed at the portrait. “It helped that I had a mighty good model.”
    Kip’s temples pulsed so hard he feared his whole face might explode. “I just have one question.” Trudy stealthily pinched him, but he continued anyway. “Did he pose for the whole class, or was it a private sitting?”

    Two and a half hours later, Trudy and Kip exited the Smith Center. He plucked a hanky from his pocket to wipe his brow, not knowing how he’d lived through it. His only daughter was not only involved with some leech with a treacherous secret, she’d been painting nudie pictures of him too! Kip didn’t know how, but things seemed to have gone from bad to worse. In fact, he didn’t see how they could get any more abysmal. That was what he thought until he saw Robert stepping to the curb from a cab.
    Trudy tugged on his elbow, apparently having seen Robert as well. “I want you to remember yourself,” she said. “And think of your daughter. This is her night, sweetheart. We wouldn’t want to do anything to ruin it.”
    They descended the granite stairs and met Robert halfway as he ascended. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller,” he said with surprise.
    “It’s nice to see you, Robert,” Trudy said. “We didn’t think you could make it.”
    “Almost didn’t,” he said, a bit winded. “Got a last-minute flight back and had to hightail it here from the airport.”
    “Where were you again?” Kip asked, purposely oblivious.
    Robert’s gaze darted to the museum entrance, then settled on his again. “New York.”
    “We knew that, Kip,” Trudy said mildly. “Let’s move along.”
    But Kip stayed planted in place like a pillar. “And what, pray tell, were you doing in New York? Seeing someone? ” Trudy tugged at his arm as Robert blinked hard.
    “Sir, I can explain—”
    “So you weren’t seeing Susan?”
    “I’m sure she’s just a friend,” Trudy inserted.
    “No, ma’am, an attorney.”
    “Attorney?” Kip parroted. “What’s this? My artist daughter isn’t good enough for you?”
    “No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. Isabel is plenty good enough. Way too good for me, in fact.”
    Kip glared at him. “You’ve got that part right.”
    Robert steeled his nerves and barreled ahead. “The truth is I went there because I had to. I had something important to take care of. Get out of, I mean.”
    Trudy’s face creased with worry. “A previous engagement?”
    “No, ma’am.” He glanced at Kip and flinched as if anticipating a blow. “My marriage.”
    That was the last word he heard before Kip’s top blew off. The next thing Robert knew, Kip had tackled him to the steps and had corralled him by the collar.
    “Kip! What are you doing?” Trudy yelped.
    “What I should have done ages ago!” Kip hollered. He tugged Robert up toward him by his lapels. “You mean to tell me that all this time—the whole time you’ve been seeing Isabel—you were married to somebody else?”
    “Technically, yes, but—”
    “Were you or weren’t you, Robert?” Trudy asked in shock.
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller,” he said, his face beet red. “I apologize for lying to both of you. But it’s really not like you— Ow! ”
    Kip yanked him forward to spew out the words, “ You had the nerve to come into my house…? To deceive not just