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Amsterdam, May 28, 2022
Dan
Andries isn’t exactlythe person I want to be driving through the countryside in my favorite convertible, but my best friend is happier than I’ve ever seen him, and his energy is infectious.
We’re on the way to meet his grandmother and the wedding planners at her estate. Margaret Van Dieren is an intimidating woman, but no one can say she doesn’t love her grandchildren, and I think she’s looking forward to all of this just as much as Andries is. She likes me pretty well, too, so it should be a good time either way.
The Jaguar moves effortlessly down the road, cherry red and glinting in the sun. We’re alone on the back country road, and the wind smells clean as it buffets us both.
“I could have driven,” Andries comments, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the wind. “But I think I like your ride better.”
“I always have better cars,” I remind him. “There’s nothing quite like the classics.”
“I bet you don’t say that in the dead of winter when I have heated seats and you don’t.” He laughs. “By the way, thanks for coming with Elise to dinner last night. I know she brought you as a buffer because she was uncomfortable, but it was nice to have you anyway.”
“As if I’d turn up an opportunity to be wined and dined on someone else's tab.”
“I know you’re joking, but it really was amazing to have you both there. Elise and Roxanne started out roughly, and for a time there I didn’t think they’d ever get along, but Elise really has been doing her best to fix things. I never expected that behavior from her, she’s been so selfish in the past, but I have to admit I’m proud of her. So I just wanted to say thanks for playing your part, too, even if it is just to come and hang around so people don’t feel as awkward.”
It’s so easy to just make a joke and keep things casual, but Andries is going through a transformation as we work our way toward his wedding, and I know he’s being sincere. I clap him on the shoulder and squeeze. “Thank you, friend. I’m glad to be a part of everything, too, even if it is your sister learning that she can’t be a straight-up brat anymore.”
Andries chuckles. “She’ll get there, eventually. Speaking of Elise, though, are you going to her birthday party next Saturday?”
I’m immediately transported back to the other night, listening to her telling me that I’m the only person that matters, and walking away from me. I had wanted to grab her back, make her explain what exactly she meant, but I just had to let her walk away, her confession ringing in my ears.
“Uh, well, she invited me, but I don’t know if I’m going to go.” Andries starts to ask why, but I cut him off, desperate to change the subject. “I guess now is as good of a time as ever to tell youthat I’m planning a bachelor trip for you the first week of July, so don’t book anything, okay?”
Andries sits up straighter. “What! You have to tell me more than that, Dan!”
I grin. “Nope. It’s going to be a surprise, but I promise you that it will be the time of your life.”
“Well…” He considers it. “Can I bring Roxanne?”
I glance at him quickly before returning my attention to the road. “You want to invite your fiancée to your bachelor trip?”
“Yeah. I’d want it to be the same if it was the other way around. Is that okay?”
“Uh, sure. I guess that’s fine.” It kind of ruins the vibe of it being a boys’ trip to have her along, but whatever makes Andries happy. It’s his wedding, after all. Knowing him as well as I do, he’ll probably invite the whole Feng family to come over last minute, so better not to invite anyone until we get closer to our departure date.
Margaret’s estate isn’t too far from the city, but it’s a long way up a winding driveway that has me working the gearshift overtime. Once we come around the last bend, the estate comes into view, and it’s every bit as impressive as I would expect from a woman like Margaret. It’s sprawling, multiple stories, and built out of pale, almost white stone. It’s easy enough to miss the color of the stone, though, with all the windows that cover almost every inch of open space. Inside the whole place must be lit by natural light, and I’m sure it’s stunning. Margaret isn’t a woman that does anything by half measures, so it doesn’t surprise me that her place is as lavish as it is.
There’s a small pond in front of the house, and the water is crystal clear with a few moorhens lazily floating on the surface. Unlike a lot of the newer estates I’ve visited, there are clear signs that Margaret’s property has had time to mature; ivy climbingup one corner, lily pads on the water, and a willow whose leaves droop nearly to the ground.
Margaret’s valet meets us in the front as I pull around the circular driveway, a twinkle in his eye when he gets a look at what I’m driving and I hand him the keys.
“Don’t get any wise ideas,” I warn him, half joking.
“Of course not, sir.”
Andries leads me through the home, which is every bit as sumptuous as I had imagined with artwork in heavy frames and vaulted ceilings, some even sporting murals themselves. All the natural light has the interior warm, and causes everything, including myself, to cast long lanky shadows. I follow my friend, wondering what it would be like to grow up in a place like this where it seems like nothing is ever out of place, and thinking about if Andries had any fond memories here or if it had just been a litany of adults telling him not to touch things over and over. My family has money now, but they are the first generation to be wealthy, so I was raised with a lot of the habits that my formerly middle-class grandparents had instilled into my parents. I’ve considered before that the stuffier upbringing that the Van den Bosch children have had might be a reason they’ve both grown to have such noticeable quirks. Introverted, overly serious Andries and Elise, a siren using every tool available to her in order to crawl her way to the top. What would they have been like if they hadn’t been raised the way they had?
I close the lid on that train of thought as we exit onto the veranda, the glass walls wide open for the season allowing the breeze to blow through freely. Margaret is having tea, with two places set for Andries and me, and she happily waves us over when she spots us.
“Hello, boys! Come, come, sit with me. I have tea for us.”
Andries leans down to give his grandmother a kiss on her cheek, and I follow suit, knowing that Margaret considers mepart of the family at this point. Her sophisticated fragrance hits my nostril, and if I didn’t know who she was, I wouldn’t have guessed that she was any older than her mid-fifties. It’s either that the Van Dieren women age gracefully, or Margaret is just too stubborn to get old.
