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By Root 908 0

they? Then why did everything seem the same? From childhood, I was made to believe that my wedding day would be the ultimate, life-transforming roller-coaster ride—that the ceremony itself, even, would be such a mind-blowing event that the world would never look the same way again. I was still waiting for the effect to kick in, though. I had a ring on my finger and a marriage license. Other than that, everything seemed pretty much the same. I looked around the room at our small wedding party, small because Cary, one of the most public personalities in the world, valued privacy above all else. He had wanted to keep this intimate, so there were only Mom and Dad, Addie and Cliff, Stanley Fox, and Charlie Rich and his wife, Evelyn. I looked at Cary, and I looked at the ring on my finger. They all looked the same too. I wondered if there was something wrong with me.

Charlie had arranged an exquisite dinner for us: lobster thermidor, beef Wellington, potatoes au gratin, spinach soufflé . . . but my hormones had their own ideas about sustenance, and since I was the bride, I pulled rank and got Charlie to come up with a cheeseburger and fries for me. Cary had a good laugh over that. “My Dyan is American to the core,” he said.

Charlie had transformed our wedding suite into a grotto of rose petals and candles, chocolates and champagne, and white taffeta. Once we were alone, with the doors shut behind us and our stormy nerves finally calmed . . . well, suffice it to say we made the most of our wedding night.

I awoke the next morning, wiggled my fingers, wiggled my toes, pinched my cheeks, and laid my arm over my husband’s chest. My husband. I loved the sound of that. And I realized that finally the wedding had kicked in and nothing seemed the same. Everything seemed new and different.

My husband stirred, looked over at me, and smiled. My husband happened to be a movie star known as Cary Grant, but those things didn’t have much to do with the man I loved. Now he was going to be my life’s companion and the father of my child.

Stanley called as we were getting up to tell us that the news of our wedding had leaked and that the press had staked out both the Las Vegas and Los Angeles airports. To avoid all the hubbub, Cary decided we’d rent a car and drive back to Los Angeles. We hit the road before noon, but the July sun was already hissing in the sky like a blowtorch. We sang happily to the radio with the air conditioner blasting, played our word games, and had a contest to see which of us could spot the most license plates from each of the fifty states (he won).

I was Mrs. Cary Grant. I was in heaven.

Halfway back to Los Angeles, I noticed that my wedding band had begun to feel a little tight. When I tugged at it, it wouldn’t budge, and I noticed that my finger was swelling.

“Cary, my finger is turning blue,” I said.

He took a look and said, “You’re right. It’s all swollen.”

“I can’t get my ring off.”

“It fit just fine when I slipped it on. Let me try.” Cary pulled over, placed his thumb and forefinger around the ring, and tried to turn it. Then he tried jimmying it along my finger. It wouldn’t move. “Silly child, you must be allergic to gold.”

“Hmmm. I’ve worn plenty of gold and I’ve never had a reaction.”

“Let’s see if we can find a jeweler.”

We pulled into the tiny town of Barstow and trolled Main Street for a jeweler. After looking for a while, we gave up on finding a jeweler, so we had to settle for the next best thing:

A plumber.

As the rented Mercedes pulled in front of Toby’s Plumbing Shop, a burly man whose ample belly peeked out from beneath a dirty T-shirt stepped out to admire the car. He let out a long whistle. “Boy howdy, that’s class!” he exclaimed. I thought he would immediately have a conniption fit at the sight of Cary Grant, but instead he set his eyes on me and said, “I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“She’s the best actress in Hollywood,” said Cary, who Toby seemed to think was my chauffeur.

“That’s it! That’s it! I’ve seen you on the tube! One of those shows. I know I have!”

“Could be,” I said, getting