A Very Perry Wedding

by Marie Landry

  The young man gives me my total and tells me that because I spent over twenty dollars, I get a free Nansom Farms cloth bag. Is it sad something like that makes me really happy? He whisks everything into the bag while I pay with my card. Jasper is speaking with the woman at his checkout, so I take my bag, thank the cashier, and wander outside.

  Jasper catches up to me a moment later. “What an enjoyable outing this has been.”

  “Agreed.” I turn my face up once again, soaking in the late afternoon sun. “I guess I’ll see you in a few days for Thanksgiving? Is there anything I can bring?”

  He thinks for a minute. “Perhaps you could bring a small selection of desserts? Something like you did for the dessert buffet tasting? I was thinking I’d make a couple of pies since they’re always popular at Christmas. With this being the first Perry family Thanksgiving in years, I’d like it to be perfect. And your creations are perfection.”

  Perfection? The compliment is aimed at my baking skills and not at me personally—which I wouldn’t want it to be anyway since I’m far from perfect—but still. Wow. “That’s really sweet of you to say, Jasper. I’d be happy to bring an assortment of desserts.”

  He nods, looking pleased. “Right then. I’ll see you in a few days.” He shifts the bag with his purchases from one hand to the other. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” He fishes in his bag and pulls out a candy apple. “I didn’t intend to be nosy, but I noticed you didn’t buy one for yourself, even though you were eyeing them with such longing and…singing them a love song? I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind?” I say faintly, reaching for the apple. The shiny, beautiful apple that somehow, ridiculously, has become a symbol of my frugality and fear of spending money. Emotion swells in my throat. God help me, I’m about to cry over a freaking candy apple. “Jasper, I could kiss you.”

  His eyes widen. “Oh, well, I mean, if you like.” He steps forward and my throat tightens even more. Of course he would take me literally. I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to kiss the man, though, even if it is just a friendly peck on the cheek. Which is what I try to keep it to as I grip his shoulder, rise on my toes, and brush my lips against his cheek.

  “Thank you,” I say. “You are a lovely human being, Jasper Perry, and I’m grateful you’re my friend.”

  His cheeks were already slightly pink, and the color darkens now. He’s so adorable when he’s flustered. “I could say the exact same things about you, Willow.” He leans in and places a quick kiss on my cheek. “I’d better go find Evan and Gwen. I’ll see you soon.”

  I watch him stride across the parking lot. I wasn’t aware I was touching my cheek where he kissed me until he turns around to wave. I jerk my hand away and wave back.

  “Making progress?” Ivy asks, coming up beside me.

  “I think so?” It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement. “Ask me again next week at this time after Thanksgiving.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I’m thrilled to learn Jasper lives in Cabbagetown, a neighborhood in central Toronto that’s known for its funky, colorful Victorian houses and picturesque nooks and crannies. When I lived in Toronto, I’d come here often on my days off, particularly in the autumn when the leaves turned and the flowering cabbages were in bloom. I’d stroll along the streets, check out the shops and restaurants, and, when I needed an hour or two of solitude to clear my head, I’d wander the vast, peaceful grounds of St. James’ Cemetery.

  “Is it sad I was hoping Jasper lived in one of the Victorian houses?” I ask as Evan pulls the car up in front of a four-story apartment building.

  Gwen laughs. “No. The first time we came for a visit and Evan told me Jasper lived in Cabbagetown, I hoped it’d be one of the Victorians.”

  “She was especially hoping it’d be one of the hideous yellow and purple ones,” Evan says.

  “They’re not hideous!” Gwen’s tone is so scandalized you’d think Evan had just called her hideous. “They’re charming and full of character, just like this whole area.”

  “It’s that charm that’s taken this from a beautiful neighborhood to something trendy, which has driven up real estate prices. Do you know the Victorians cost up to two million dollars these days? The prices have driven out so many families and middle class people who want to live in Toronto but don’t necessarily want the hustle and bustle of the busier areas.”

  Gwen glances over her shoulder at me as Evan hops out of the car. “Touchy subject,” she whispers. “We’ve been talking about buying a house within the next year, and everything is more expensive than we realized. He was grumbling the other day about how people are leaving Toronto and coming to Bellevue, and it’s driving up real estate prices.”

  “I’d believe it, considering what I’m paying for my itty bitty apartment,” I tell her.

  We get out of the car and join Evan, who has my bags waiting on the sidewalk. He’s dropping us off at the front of Jasper’s building and then driving to one of the nearby public parking lots.

  “Next time I do an impression of a miser, I’m really going to lean into it,” Evan says with a wry smile. “I’ll go full Scrooge McDuck with a Scottish accent and everything.”

  Gwen presses into him on one side and I do the same on the other. “Make sure to complain about the price of bread and eggs too,” she says, kissing his cheek.

  “And how much it costs to go to the movie theater these days,” I add, kissing his other cheek.

  With a laugh, he playfully shoves us away from him. We take my bags and head toward Jasper’s building, slipping in behind someone who’s on their way out. When we get out of the elevator on the fourth floor a minute later, I follow Gwen to the end of the hall, where she knocks on a door with a small autumnal wreath. We wait for several beats and then she knocks again.

  “That’s weird.” She pulls her phone from her purse and checks the screen. “I texted him a few minutes ago to tell him we were almost here.”

  The sound of the door being unlocked comes from the other side, paired with a string of muffled muttering. Gwen and I stare at the knob as it jiggles back and forth, then jump back when the door suddenly flies open.

  “Apologies,” Jasper says breathlessly. His arms are bent at the elbows, hands in the air like a doctor who’s just scrubbed in for surgery. “I was elbow deep in…and my hands were…please come in. Mind the doorknob when you’re closing the door, it’s covered in grease.”

  I’ve never seen Jasper so disheveled. The sleeves of his dark-red pullover are shoved to his elbows and his jeans are not only unironed, they’re actually wrinkled. His wild hair and the stubble on his cheeks—which are flushed, either from the stifling heat in the apartment or the embarrassment of his struggle getting the door open—make him look way sexier than it should for someone who’s obviously quite distressed.

  “Why is it so hot in here?” Gwen asks.

  “I honestly have no clue,” Jasper says, his voice higher than usual. “The temperature was perfect until about half an hour ago when heat started blasting from the vents. I’ve put in a call to the super, but it’s the Saturday of a holiday weekend, so who knows when he’ll arrive.”

  Sweat is gathering around his hairline, making little curls spring up over his forehead. He raises his hand as if to push his hair back, then remembers his hands are covered in—whatever they’re covered in—and uses his forearm to shove his hair back instead.

  He shoots me an apologetic look as he hurries across the room. “I promise I’m normally a much better host. Please come in and make yourselves at home, maybe open a window or two. I just need to check on a few things and I’ll be back shortly.” He disappears into what I assume is the kitchen, leaving Gwen and me standing in the doorway staring at each other. The moment our eyes meet, we both dissolve into stifled laughter.

  “Poor Jasper,” I whisper.

  “We shouldn’t laugh,” she says around a giggle. “But only Jasper would be so polite while having a meltdown.”

>   “A literal meltdown.” I set my bags on the floor and peel off my jacket and cardigan. It feels like we’ve just arrived on a tropical island. Gwen shucks her outerwear and pushes the sleeves of her top up as far as they’ll go.

  “Come on, I’ll give you a tour and show you to your room,” she says.

  “I’m almost afraid to go into the kitchen, but the desserts for tomorrow should be put in the fridge, seeing as it’s a thousand degrees in here,” I say, lifting the insulated bag from the floor.

  “Okay, we’ll venture in and see if there’s anything we can do to ease his stress,” Gwen says.

  Jasper is drying his hands on a towel when we enter the kitchen. I scan the room; it’s small and bright, with the window wide open, letting in a cool breeze to offset the oppressive heat. The most noticeable thing about the room is the fact it looks like a food bomb went off in here. Every inch of counter space is covered in pots, pans, and various ingredients.

  “I was rather hoping you wouldn’t see the kitchen this way,” he says when he sees us.

  “Sorry,” I say faintly, taking in the very un-Jasper-like mess. “I wanted to put the desserts in the fridge. What can we do to help?”

  Jasper plants his hands on his hips and looks around. Before he can say anything, Gwen says, “Jasper doesn’t like to relinquish control of the kitchen. I basically forced him to let me help last Christmas, and it’s been a continued struggle ever since.” She grins at Jasper when he shoots her an exasperated look. “Why are you cooking already when dinner isn’t until tomorrow?”

  “I wanted to do as much prep as possible today so I wouldn’t have to spend the entire day tomorrow in the kitchen and could enjoy everyone’s company.” He’s nearly breathless again by the time he gets the words out. He opens his mouth to say something else and is interrupted by a knock on the front door. “Oh, thank god, that’ll be the super here to fix the heat.” He shoots us another rueful look as he dashes past. A muttered curse reaches my ears and then, “The door’s unlocked, can you open it from your end? Oh, it’s you.”

  “Hello to you too, big brother,” comes Evan’s voice. Gwen and I peek out the kitchen door to see him fanning a hand in front of his face as he steps into the apartment. “Why is it like a sauna in here?”

  “I decided on a tropical theme for Thanksgiving since none of us has had a vacation this year,” Jasper says, turning on his heel and marching back toward the kitchen.

  Gwen and I scramble out of the way, heading for a bewildered-looking Evan. “You know Jasper is truly unraveling when he breaks out the sarcasm,” Gwen whispers to me. To Evan, she says, “Something happened to the heater and he’s not sure if or when the super can come to fix it.”

  “Oh.” Evan kicks off his shoes and removes his jacket. When Gwen takes it from him to hang it up, he kisses her cheek and moves past her toward the kitchen. “Hey, Jasper, I can take a look at the heater if you want. I fixed the one in our apartment last winter when it went on the fritz.”

  Gwen turns to me, her eyes bright with humor. “Tour?”

  I shouldn’t be surprised Jasper’s apartment is like something out of a magazine spread. With the current exception of the kitchen, everything is spotless. I can practically see my reflection in the gleaming hardwood floor. The matching couch and armchairs in the living room are fancy and yet manage to look comfortable and inviting. Furniture like that usually makes me want to run in the opposite direction out of fear I’ll spill something on it. A large bookcase takes up the wall between two huge windows, and features neatly organized books and framed family photos.

  I follow Gwen down a short hall, where she points out the bathroom, a closed door she says is Jasper’s bedroom, and then Hadley’s room at the end of the hall.

  “And that completes the tour,” Gwen says with a sweeping bow. “You good here? I’m going to go check on the boys, make sure Jasper hasn’t spontaneously combusted and Evan hasn’t broken anything.”

  I assure her I’m fine and tell her I’ll be out in a few minutes. When she leaves, I stand in the middle of Hadley’s room and do a visual sweep. I expected the youngest Perry’s bedroom to reflect her personality. I was picturing lots of color and clutter, souvenirs from her travels, and maybe fandom stuff like I have. But the room looks like the spare bedroom it was before she moved in: nicely decorated with a quilt-covered double bed, end tables, and a dresser. A peek in the closet shows a few items of clothing on hangers, with the rest of the space taken up by stacks of labeled boxes. I guess Hadley hasn’t got around to unpacking, which is strange since she’s been living with Jasper for months now.

  “Quit being nosy,” I murmur to myself, closing the closet door. I unpack my few belongings and make a stop in the bathroom before going to join the others.

  I’ve nearly reached the kitchen when I hear Jasper saying, “I just want everything to be perfect.”

  “You know no one expects or even cares about perfection,” Gwen says. “What is this really about?”

  I pause near the kitchen door. I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the fact Jasper has gone silent makes me curious. My sudden appearance would make it too easy for him to change the subject, and I want to know what has him so discombobulated.

  “You do know there’s only seven of us, right?” Gwen says. “Eight if you count Miss Lizzy, but she’ll have to wait until next year to enjoy Uncle Jasper’s cooking.”

  I’ve heard this particular tone from Gwen many times over the years. Gentle, with a hint of coaxing. It’s what makes her so easy to open up to, and what’s always made me think she missed her calling as a therapist.

  Jasper must agree because after another beat of silence, he says, “Despite knowing nobody expects perfection, I want everything to be perfect. It’s our first Thanksgiving together in years, and your first with us. And Willow’s first with us.”

  My ears perk up at the mention of my name.

  “I was going over the menu late last night and suddenly remembered Willow is a vegetarian,” Jasper continues. “At least I believe she is. She’s never eaten meat in my presence and we’ve dined together a few times now.”

  “Wow, look at you, Mr. Observant,” Gwen says.

  “So I’m right.” It’s a statement rather than a question. Gwen must give some indication of agreement because he says, “I realized most of the dishes revolve around the turkey. The stuffing is made with sausage and turkey broth, plus many of the vegetables are cooked with the turkey. Even if I cooked the vegetables separately, I couldn’t expect her to eat only that and maybe another side or two, so I had to expand the menu. Which meant a frantic online search late last night for dishes that tie in with Thanksgiving, and then a shopping trip early this morning.”

  “Is any of it vegan?” Gwen asks.

  There’s a long pause. I can’t see them, but I can practically feel the weight of the silence. After a moment, Jasper lets out a strangled laugh. “Gwendolyn Dunwitch, are you trying to push me over the edge?”

  Gwen’s devilish laugh has me covering my mouth to hold in a chuckle of my own. I chance a glance around the corner to see Jasper shaking his head, his expression a mixture of fond indulgence and resignation. The kind of look I imagine a brother would give his sister when she’s being a brat. That, paired with what I just overheard, melts my heart.

  I can’t believe Jasper went to all that trouble for me. I would have eaten what I could without ever saying a word; I’ve had to do it countless times at dinner parties and get-togethers. And yet Jasper went out of his way to include me so I wouldn’t have to eat bits and pieces of meatless side dishes. He’s making it harder and harder not to fall head over heels in love with him.

  Evan appears from around the corner, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He grins when he realizes I’ve been listening in on Gwen and Jasper’s conversation.

  “Busted,” I whisper.

  “You’re as bad as Gwen,” he whispers back, poking my arm. “But your secret’s safe with me. And for what it’s worth
…” He leans away from me to peer around the corner, likely ensuring Gwen and Jasper are still in the kitchen. “I think you and Jasper would be really good together. He needs someone like you. Someone who sees the real him and likes him just how he is without wanting to change him.”

  I’m not sure what to say. All I can think of is ‘thank you’ but that doesn’t seem quite right. Evan nods as if he understands and pats my shoulder. “Keep being patient with him. If he doesn’t get a clue soon, we’ll all gang up on him and help him see the light. Sometimes that’s what it takes with Jasper.”

  *****

  “Can I get you a drink?” Jasper asks.

  It’s a few minutes after nine o’clock. Gwen and Evan have just left for Malcolm and Sherée’s house after a day of laughter, food, and Thanksgiving dinner prep. Thankfully, Evan was successful in fixing the wonky heater and was showered in hugs and kisses from all of us, including a red-faced, sweating Jasper. By the time the apartment had reached non-tropical temperatures, Gwen and I had convinced Jasper to let us help in the kitchen.

  “I’d love a glass of wine, thanks.”

  Jasper returns from the kitchen a moment later with my glass of wine and a tumbler of what looks like whiskey for himself. He lets out a weary sigh as he collapses into the chair across from mine.

  “It’s difficult being a perfectionist, isn’t it?”

  His expression doesn’t change, but he laughs under his breath.

  “Being a recovering perfectionist myself, I recognize the signs,” I continue. “The need for control. The stubbornness.”