The banquet dinner was attended by several hundred dignitaries, including the Vice President . . . yes, him . . . and several notables from national and state government. I was in awe. If Miss Rawlings my civic teacher could only see me now! I'd never been exposed to a small town mayor and here were movers and shakers I'd seen only on the nightly news.
The award was, as Thatcher Wright described, indeed prestigious. I swelled with pride as I sat next to my husband at the head table while speaker after speaker extolled his virtues and described the worthy accomplishments of Paul and his firm. All his fellow workers and spouses reveled in the praise while Paul looked uncomfortable as he meticulously dissected an olive from an undrunk martini.
Thatcher Wright had called our hotel in the morning, nervous as a tick, to make sure his boss was prepared. Paul just laughed. To him, the entire affair was no more than an inconvenience. As he put it, he'd much preferred being back in his hotel bed with me or home in Summerside with his family. His mandatory acceptance speech was brief and delivered without notes. It received tumultuous applauds.
Later, I told him he'd earned another award from me. 'Adaptability Champion,' I said causing him to smile. "I dragged you away from all this sumptuous stuff. You hob-knobbed with Vice Presidents and now it's soccer moms."
"Don't say I didn't tell you I could adapt," he retorted. "Admit it. You didn't believe I could give up all those trappings. Look how I've adjusted. I haven't over spent in months. I don't know what to do with all the dough I've saved. Give us both a trophy. Look at the differences we've both endured. It's only been eight months since I met you and our lives are smooth as silk. I can't even think of living my old way. That life was a made-up joke."
I never loved him more, and I knew he spoke the truth with every syllable.
Sunday morning came, mercifully late, but I woke with my head in the toilet. Must I always over indulge when I'm staying in hotels? Back by limo to our late afternoon return flight, back to reality. God, what a great few days! Maybe I hadn't given this opulence business enough time . . .
Maureen only remained a few minutes after we arrived home as she insisted on undertaking the long drive back to Rhode Island that night. She praised my little darlings to death, but we didn't have time to discuss any details of her stay. Paul and I unpacked, distributed presents and listened while Karen and Timmy rattled on about the fun time they'd spent with their cousins.