Eugenia Meets her Doom...Groom
By Dana Sherman
Disclaimer: Remember WENN and the characters contained therein are owned by Rupert Holmes, Howard Meltzer productions, and (unfortunately), AMC. This particular story is entirely my fault.
Italics denotes thoughts.
May 12, 1942
Eugenia had tried on six wedding gowns and was beginning to feel like Goldilocks after she ate the porridge, sat in the chairs, and slept in the beds at the three bear's house. One wedding gown was too small. She could hardly get it zipped. Another was too large. She felt as if she were walking around in a huge satin tent.
The prices were not to be believed. At a salary of thirty-five dollars per week, Eugenia made more than many other middle-aged women she knew, but it seemed that weddings were designed for millionaires. The average price she had been quoted for a gown was seventy-five dollars. That was two weeks salary, she mused, for a dress that she would wear once in her life. Still, she couldn't imagine not marrying in a real wedding gown. White satin, with lace sleeves and a train as well. Heaven knows, Eugenia thought, she deserved it. She waited long enough for her wedding day. She was going to have the wedding of her dreams. If her bank account didn't like it, she decided, her bank account could go hang!
There it was! The most beautiful wedding dress she'd ever seen in her life. Well, maybe the ones in the movies were more beautiful, but Eugenia knew she couldn't go completely off the deep end. This dress would do for her own personal dream gown. Would it ever! It was not quite white, more a creamy beige color, with long puffed sleeves and tiny satin buttons all the way up the back. Best of all, it was exactly her size. She stared at it longingly in the shop window, as she had done for the past three days. The price tag stood out flagrantly, as if mocking her. Ninety dollars. If the price tag had said nine thousand dollars, she would be about as close to getting it as she was now.
That was just the dress. Then there was the cake, the food, the music. There was simply no way. It couldn't be done. How do other brides do it?, she wondered, but she already knew how. Other brides had doting daddies to pay for it all. Other brides were eighteen or nineteen year olds who never worked a day in their lives. Other brides weren't forty-five-year-old women, with parents long gone to heaven, with no money beyond the salary of an organist at a small radio station. No, the wedding of her dreams was not to be.
Her mind was made up. The dress had to be hers. With this dress, her wedding would at least look like the wedding of her dreams. Without it, it would never be the same. She purposefully walked into the shop. The bells jingled behind her. She set her jaw. No matter what the expense, her mind was made up.
The dress was hung up in the closet, and a guilty Eugenia finished her dinner and tried to work out the financial necessities in her mind. The ceremony would be at the Baptist church where she often played the organ. That would be free at least. She had known the preacher for years now. He told her he wouldn't dream of charging her for the service.
The reception was another story entirely. There was no way she could fit all the guests into her little apartment and also no way she could afford to rent a hall. Even if Mr. Foley paid for half of it, as he kindly offered, it would hardly be enough for the whole thing. Not for a rented hall, catered food, flowers, music and everything else that went along with a wedding. There was only one thing to do. Eugenia decided she would handle the problem as everyone at WENN handled all their problems. She would ask Betty Roberts what to do.
"Gosh Eugenia," Betty said apologetically the next morning, "I wish I could help, but if you can't fit all those guests into your apartment, I certainly can't fit them into mine. It's fine with me if you want to have the reception here in the Green Room, but really, it's not all that fancy, and everyone will be running in and out of the studio all day."
"Wedding or no wedding," Eugenia laughed, "WENN still has its programming".
Betty nodded sadly. "I wish I could help"
"Help," came a new voice at the office door, "is on the way." The two women turned around to see Hilary Booth standing in the doorway. She looked perfect, as always. Her dark red velvet dress with matching hat and gloves showed no glimmer of wartime economy or sacrifice.
"If you have an idea for Eugenia," Betty told her, "we're all ears. I've run out of ideas".
"Eugenia can use my house for her reception," Hilary stated magnanimously. "It's certainly large enough, even though it's not as large as it was when Jeffrey was gone."
"I'm so glad you two are back together again as you should be" Eugenia beamed. "Things just wouldn't seem right for Mr. Foley and me if everyone wasn't happy too." She stopped suddenly, "Oh Betty, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"Oh, Eugenia, I'm not unhappy. Things are going pretty well, considering...well, everything." She involuntarily glanced at a photograph of Victor. A sudden feeling of loneliness and worry overcame her. She was used to worrying and wondering about Victor. She did it for months on end when he was in Berlin. Now at least, she could share her concern with the others. Victor was back in danger once again. The United States Army decided that Victor was more valuable to them in London than in Pittsburgh, so it was to London he went. Perhaps WENN followed the orders of Betty Roberts, but the Pentagon did not. To his credit, Scott hadn't crowed or boasted. He shook Victor's hand and honestly and sincerely wished him well.
Betty was back where she started, trying as best she could to ignore Scott's charm and deny her feelings for him, while worrying about Victor, who was off in a foreign land doing the work that truly gave him greatness, using his communication skills and love of radio to help defeat the enemies of freedom and democracy.
"Well, enough of this gloomy talk," Betty suddenly said, putting on a smile. "We have a wedding to plan".
June 30, 1942
"Miss Eugenia Bremer," Hilary intoned after perhaps two or three gin and tonics at O'Malleys, "you have been nominated for membership in the Pittsburgh Society of Silly Married Women, of which I, Hilary Booth, am of course, the President, Vice President, and Only Member. Do you accept this great honor?"
"I do," Eugenia answered with mock seriousness.
"Remember those two words," Betty chimed in. "You'll need them next week". She took another sip of her 3nd Pina Colada and started to giggle. "I just noticed something. My drink is the same color as Gertie's hair." She doubled over laughing.
"Well, if you had a martini it wouldn't be," Gertie responded, lifting her drink of choice.
"Martinis are clear, Gertie," Maple chimed in. "Hey, clear hair, there's a thought. Look bald when you're really not". This set Betty, who had begun to control her giggles, into another fit of laughter.
"So, as an official Silly Woman, what is our first order of business", Eugenia asked Hilary. She was indulging in some champagne herself. Having had half a glass of it with Desmond Quist, she had found she rather liked the taste of champagne. Not to mention how the bubbles tickled her nose.
"The first order of business was to get drunk, Eugenia" Hilary told her. "We are well on the way to accomplishing that goal. We are up to the second order of business, and that is..."
"Presents!" shouted Maple, lifting her glass in one hand and a large blue box in the other. "Did you think that we were going to let you get married without opening a bunch of silly things you don't need? Of course not!" The entire group of women burst into loud applause, gaining stares and smiles from the group of regulars, mostly men, who gathered around the bar to listen to the radio.
"Hey", Betty suddenly lifted her head from the table where she let it drop. "Why is that radio not playing WENN? We want WENN!"
"Betty, the radio is not playing WENN because it's one in the morning and what WENN is playing right now is static," Hilary told her with the pained patience of one attempting to discuss quantum physics with a five year old. "We've been off the air for an hour".
Betty looked forlorn for a few seconds but then brightened up. "Well then," she declared, "we're wasting precious time. We have to be back on the air in six hours. It's time for Eugenia to open her gifts". With that, Betty placed a box wrapped in green tissue paper in front of Eugenia. Hilary and Gertie also placed their own gifts in front of the bride to be.
"Oh, how pretty" Eugenia smiled as she picked up the box Betty had given her. "I wonder what it could be?" She delicately pulled the ribbon and unwrapped the gift. "It's charming, Betty," she told her friend, "but what is it?"
"It's a blender", Betty told her. "They are the newest rage and terribly important for the young bride to have. I read about them in a magazine. You put all your ingredients in there and press that button and you get a milkshake or an eggnog or whatever you want. It also chops your onions and mixes your cake batter or something like that. I forget. Your kitchen is simply not complete without one. Well, that's what the magazine said anyway"
Eugenia smiled at her friend. "Betty", she told her, "it is a wonderful gift. Very thoughtful to give a working woman like myself who has so little time to cook properly." Privately she hoped the thing came with an instruction booklet, as she couldn't make heads or tails of it.
"From me to you, Eugenia", said Hilary. She handed over a large flat box with a light blue ribbon. "It's a summer dress and hat for your honeymoon trip". Eugenia took the lid off the box and gazed at the gift with appreciation. It was a simple dress in a beautiful robin's egg blue, with a wide brimmed hat that would be perfect for the sunshine of the summer days in the Pennsylvania Poconos, where she and Mr. Foley were planning to take a week's vacation after the wedding.
"Why Hilary, it's simply exquisite", Eugenia beamed at her. "I always knew you had wonderful taste, but this just goes to prove it. You always look so beautiful, but then you're so pretty you look good in anything you put on. I don't think I've ever had so pretty a dress in my life".
"Mine's frying pans", Gertie told her, handing her a heavy package hastily wrapped in tissue paper. "So you can cook wonderful meals for Mr. Foley and he won't have to eat dinner at the Buttery every night, which as far as I'm concerned is a fate no man deserves".
"Yes Eugenia," chimed in Hilary, "and once you are finished cooking with them, they make an excellent weapon for your first fight. I always believed a good frying pan is worth a thousand words." This time Maple joined Betty in the fit of giggles.
"Well, that leaves me", Maple told Eugenia, handing her a gift wrapped in rather garish pink and gold paper. "I'm sure glad you got your daytime slot back so I could get to know you. You're a swell lady".
The gift turned out to be a hot pink satin and lace nightgown. Eugenia blushed red just to see it, Hilary and Gertie raised their eyebrows archly, and Betty looked at it with the shock she had learned as a well-brought up-midwestern girl, but almost enviously as well. Maple began to look uncomfortable. Had she done something terribly wrong? She only wanted to give Eugenia something pretty for her honeymoon. Now it seemed she had made a terrible mistake. A fo pah, she once heard Victor call it. Eugenia looked up from the garment and saw her friend's unhappy eyes. She smiled at Maple.
"Maple, that is without a doubt the most beautiful nightgown I've ever seen in my life. I could wear that to a party and it would look like an evening gown." Maple brightened up and beamed at Eugenia, at once becoming her old self again.
"Thanks, Eugenia. It's for your honeymoon. You can use it to entice Mr. Foley into doing your every bidding." The bride to be smiled at her friends as Hilary lifted her glass.
"To the future Mrs. Foley", she declared, raising her glass and taking a sip. The others followed suit in the toast.
"Oh, thank you all so much for this party. I'm so happy I don't want another thing", Eugenia said. "I have never had such wonderful friends anywhere as I have here."
July 6th, 1942
The crowd at What Ales You had never been known as quiet and sedate and the four men at the corner booth were doing absolutely nothing to change its reputation. They were all on at least their second yards of ale, and from the loud laughter and continual toasts, it was clear that there was something going on that was, at least from their perspectives, worth celebrating.
"To Victor Comstock, who is out there somewhere, fighting for democracy", Scott intoned with as much solemnity as a man on his second yard of beer can muster.
"To Mr. Foley, who is about to enter into a dictatorship," responded Jeff, lifting his glass over his head. The rest of the company burst out laughing. Mr. Foley raised his eyebrows but said nothing in response to this teasing.
"Mr. Foley", Mackie began his speech in a noble toastmasters voice, albeit a slightly slurred one. "I would like to give you some very useful advice on the married state, but being an bachelor, I'm afraid all I can do is tell you how to avoid it".
"Hear Hear!", Scott exclaimed, taking another quaff from his beer mug. "Jeff, as resident married man here. Why don't you tell Mr. Foley some of the joys and pleasures of marriage?"
Jeff looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well", he began, "if you take a woman to a hotel room, the house detective doesn't bang on the door and tell you to get her out of there if you are married to her. That's always helpful". Mr. Foley listened intently to these words of wisdom. As the only married man he knew well, it seemed that Jeff's perspective on marriage was probably very valuable.
"Anyway, Mr. Foley", Jeff continued, enjoying playing the authority on this matter. "There are three important things you have to know about marriage. First of all, never refer to your wife as Mrs. Singer. It's Miss Booth. Second of all, never ridicule her performance in 'The Rivals'. And third, if you really want to have a happy marriage, you must never be caught flirting with a blonde tart who says she's an actress whenever the police pull her in for questioning." Mr. Foley nodded intently, immediately deciding to remember this valuable information for future reference. He did so want to make Eugenia happy, and Jeff's advice seemed easy enough to follow. He doubted he would want to call her Mrs. Singer anyway.
"Jeff", Scott asked, "what is the best thing about being married?" He had often heard men tell him the worst thing, but no one had ever told him the best.
"The best thing about being married", Jeff told him after a long pause, "is having someone to tell you when you are wearing one blue sock and one black sock. Either that, or it is having someone who will fall asleep curled up in the big soft chair waiting for you when you are working late. Or maybe it is hearing someone sing to the radio in the kitchen at six thirty in the morning while you are in the bathroom brushing your teeth. It's definitely one of those, but I'm not sure which." Scott said nothing but he nodded and looked thoughtful.
"It's probably the third" he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "I wouldn't mind hearing Betty sing at six thirty in the morning." He stood up, lifted his glass and toasted his friend. "To Mr. Foley and his bride to be, Eugenia Bremer. May they have nothing but health, happiness, and a future filled with nothing but joy, happiness, and most especially, peace.
"Now that is one toast," said Mackie, "that I can drink to most heartily." Mr. Foley tried to thank them, but he was so overcome with emotion he succeeded only in choking on his beer. All of the men took turns slapping him on the back until he fell out of his chair.
July 14th, 1942
The Baptist Church of Greater Pittsburgh was decorated in orange blossoms and roses, a gift from grateful parishioners expressing their appreciation of Eugenia's wonderful organ playing for so many years.
The crowd was not very large, but it included all of the people whom Eugenia had counted as friends for so many years. In honor of her wedding, Scott ordered that a football game be broadcast and asked Enid and Gus to handle spinning records for a couple of hours while the rest of the cast attended the festivities. The rest of the guests included several members of the congregation as well as many current and past piano students.
Eugenia stood in the anteroom, knowing that she should be nervous, but she also knew that she felt nothing but happiness. At the age of forty-five, she was finally marrying a man she truly loved. A man who had shown her nothing but respect, kindness and true love, long after most men would have considered her too old to be considered as a wife. Mr. Foley never made her feel like an old maid or a leftover in life. He made her feel wanted and cherished. She would take her place by his side for the rest of her life. She had never been so sure of anything before.
Her groom paced the floor of the small chapel nervously. He wanted to be married, but did women have to make such a to-do about it. How often did he had he worn a tuxedo in his life? Once actually, when he had been at the wedding of his brother Blair. He had felt almost elegant then. Now he felt a little silly. Everyone in the room was staring at him. Both his parents were there, as was Blair, who was regaling the guests with bombastic patriotic stories about how the hearing aid plant had been turned over to war production. Mr. Foley smiled pleasantly when friends and family congratulated him or told him how good he looked but he really wasn't in the mood for talking. He felt nervous and foolish. He would really rather have just gone down to the registry office and not bothered with the whole wedding thing at all.
The music started and the guests stopped mingling and took their seats. Mr Foley and his best man, Jeff Singer, stood at the front of the church, facing the minister. Mr. Foley couldn't help thinking, with a touch of envy, that Jeff looked far better in a tux than he did.
Then the door to the back of the church opened. Maple and Hilary walked up the aisle together, carrying small bouquets of blossoms wrapped in pink ribbon. The two woman had never gotten along terribly well, but now, in their mutual happiness for Eugenia, they turned to each other and grinned. Betty, who had been chosen after much consideration and agonizing by Eugenia, to be the maid of honor, wore a pastel yellow gown with a matching lace hat. Her bouquet of flowers was a deeper yellow gathering of roses. Scott turned from his seat in the third row to look at the bridal party coming down the aisle and felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw her. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She was a more beautiful bridesmaid than most women were as brides. He had to marry this paragon. He had to at least make her know how much he loved her. He was seized by a sudden urge to throw himself at her feet and beg for her hand in marriage.
He turned purposefully to stare at Mr. Foley, who was shifting back and forth from one foot to the other, and tried to keep his mind off how beautiful Betty looked in yellow chiffon. It was, after all, women who were supposed to cry at weddings.
Mr. Foley's eyes nearly popped out of his head when his bride entered the room. Walking down the aisle on the arm of Mr. Eldridge, who himself looked quite dapper in his dress suit, Eugenia was exquisitely lovely. Mr. Foley had always known and had long ago accepted that Eugenia was not the type who was classically or traditionally beautiful, but she was beautiful to him. She was kind and warm and sweet. She listened when he talked and talked about the kinds of things he wanted to listen to. She was right to insist on this wedding. Just the sight of her walking up the aisle, with orange blossoms in her arms and tears in her eyes, convinced him of that.
Eugenia took her place at the front of the church by her groom. They both faced the minister, who intoned the traditional words.
"We are gathered here in the sight of God to witness the joining of this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."
THE END
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