"Let's get to the point," said Frances seriously.
"He could not possibly have meant it."
"Yes, he could. Did you mean it, John, when you suggested a wedding in that bus terminal?"
"Of course," lied Yossarian.
"And you think it could be done? A big one?"
"I have no doubt," he lied again.
"Olivia Maxon." Frances made a wry face. "She's giving a wedding for a stepniece or someone and wants fresh ideas for an original venue. That word is her own. The museum isn't good enough since those two Jews had their reception there and those two other Jews were named trustees. Those words are also hers. Poor Olivia just isn't able to remember when talking to me that I might be Jewish."
"Why don't you remind her?" Yossarian said.
"I don't want her to know."
All three chuckled.
"You certainly wanted me to know," chided Patrick affectionately. "And everyone in my family."
"I was poor then," said Frances, "and an angry actress who thrived on dramatic conflict. Now that I'm married to a man of wealth, I'm loyal to his class."
"With a gift for stilted repartee," said Patrick. "Frances and I are happiest together when I'm away sailing."
"What I never could trust about high comedy," Yossarian mused, "is that people say funny things and the others don't laugh. They don't even know they are part of a comedy."
"Like us," said Patrick.
"Let's get back to our agenda," ruled Frances. "I'd like to see that wedding at your bus terminal, for Olivia's sake. For mine, I'd like it to be the disaster of the century."
"I might help with the venue," said Yossarian. "I don't guarantee the disaster."
"Olivia will pitch in. She's sure she can attract our newest President. Christopher gives plenty since he received a suspended sentence and escaped community service."
"That's a good start."
"The mayor would come."
"That would help too."
"And the cardinal will insist."
"We're holding all the cards," said Yossarian. "I'll start casing the joint if you really want me to."
"Who do you know there?" Frances was eager to learn.
"McMahon and McBride, the cop and a supervisor. McBride was a detective at the police station there--"
"They have a police station there?" Patrick exclaimed.
"That should be novel," Frances remarked. "We've got our protection on hand."
"And convenient too," said Yossarian. "They can fingerprint the guests as we all arrive. McBride should know if it can be done. We've all gotten pretty close since my son Michael was arrested there."
"For what?" Patrick demanded.
"For coming out of the subway and stepping back in when he realized he had mistaken the stop he wanted. They shackled him to a wall."