“Dunno.” I shrug indifferently. I am concentrating on eating the popover as fast as I can so it won’t get away from me. “I don’t get the fuss of weddings, anyway. It’s just one day. Why spend so much time and effort on one day? From what I’ve heard, the bride and groom don’t remember anything about the day, anyway.”
“I am knowing someone who spent close to a hundred thousand on her wedding.” I almost drop my fork at this astounding information.
“How, what?” I am so amazed, I stutter. “What could you possibly buy that would add up to that much?”
“Ice sculptures in the punch, real flowers decorating every table, thousand dollar bridesmaid dresses. The bride’s dress was twenty thousand alone. Vera Wang, of course.” Vashti swirls her ice cream around, not eating any of it. “She is thinking to have the biggest event of the year. Two years later, she divorces the man because he is cheating on her. Her father is out a hundred grand, and she is out a husband.” She scoops up a bit of ice cream and licks it slowly.
“That’s insane.” I shovel in the rest of my dessert with deplorable haste. “Marriage is such a fallacy.”
“I know that Harry wanted Max back,” Vashti says calmly, as if she’s not importing big news. “He never wanted to separate from her in the first place, but felt he had to because his pride was hurting. He is not wanting to be the cuckolded husband.”
“How like a man,” I sigh in contentment. “It’s fine for him to mess around but not for her. The old double standard.” I make sure there are no remnants of the dessert on my plate before pushing it away.
“I have more,” Vashti offers, her eyes crinkling in amusement. “If you are still hungry.”
“I’m stuffed. It was just so good, I want more.” I pat my stomach and let loose with a small belch. It doesn’t faze Vashti. We retire to the living room with cups of fresh tea.
“Harry made a play for Max at the party.” Vashti continues our conversation as if we never stopped. “She laughed in his face.” I wince at the image of Max gloating over her hapless ex. If he were serious about wooing her back, he would be a prime candidate for Moira’s demise. Unfortunately, I don’t see how Max’s death fits in this particular scenario unless she threatened to go to the police with her knowledge, and Harry panicked. I frown. If I remember correctly, Max was going to confront a female. At least, I think that’s what Paris said. I decide to call him to make sure.