by Sara Rosett
The centerpieces on the tables held the same flowers Summer had picked for her bouquet: white roses, lily of the valley, and sweet pea. “That one does look a little beat up, but I think we need the florist, not the manager. I know she brought a few extra arrangements in case there was a problem.”
The waitress arrived back with another tablecloth and several people following her. “The florist is in the kitchen, if you’d like to speak to her,” the waitress said as she and her crew quickly stripped the table of the flatware, china, and glasses, changed the cloth, and began to reposition everything. Within a minute, the place settings were aligned and the tablecloth was pristine.
“Indeed, I do want to speak to the florist.” Patricia stomped off, and I followed her, carrying the offending arrangement.
“That is not my work,” the florist said when I set the centerpiece down on the counter in the little work area off the kitchen. Summer had told me that the resort catered so many events that they had a special area for floral preparations setup, but I hadn’t really looked around it until now. I’d only taken a quick look earlier in the day to make sure the flowers had arrived.
A long counter filled one side of the narrow room and the other held two large refrigerators, which were stuffed to overflowing with the flowers that would be used tomorrow for the arch, the centerpieces, the bouquets, the corsages, and the boutonnieres.
“You’re saying that you didn’t make this centerpiece?” Patricia asked, her lips pinched together in a way that made the fine lines radiating out from her lips stand out.
The florist, Denise, was a short, roly-poly woman in her forties. In the few interactions I’d had with her, she had been very easy to work with. She reached out one plump hand and spun the arrangement around so that she could see it from every side. She pushed it away with a look of distaste. “I did the initial arrangement, but I would never put something that looked like that on a table at an event.”
She shifted the low vase around and pointed to the crumpled long green leaves of the lily of the valley and then gently cupped a crushed white rose that hung from a broken stem. “No, this is inexcusable. I will speak to the waitstaff. Someone must have bumped it or dropped something on it.” She shook her head as she turned to slide open the door on the large refrigerator. “I have an assistant, but I check every arrangement myself.” She pulled out a duplicate of the centerpiece and set it beside the beat-up arrangement. “I assure you I would not let that horrible-looking arrangement go out this door. Every arrangement on the table was in excellent condition earlier.”
“I don’t care whose fault it is, the fact remains that you tried to pawn off a subpar flower arrangement on us, and I will not have that,” Patricia said. “I expect to see a discount on the final bill.”
The florist ran her gaze over Patricia, then said, “I won’t charge you for one of the centerpieces.”
She’d obviously dealt with women like Patricia before and had decided it was better to knock something off the final bill than argue.
“Thank you, Denise.” I scooped up the new arrangement. “This will be perfect. Very smart of you to make an extra arrangement.”
Patricia sniffed and seemed to want to linger, but I waved for her to precede me through the doorway. “We better get back out there before everyone arrives from the rehearsal,” I said.
“Yes. I suppose so,” she said reluctantly, then looked back to the florist. “There better not be any crushed or bruised flowers tomorrow. I’ll check everything myself.” She turned and stomped out the door, her words floating back, “You really have to watch these people. They will take advantage at every opportunity. . . .”
I paused at the door. “I’m sorry about that.”
Denise waved her hand. “Typical monster-in-law. Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen worse.”
Glad I hadn’t become a florist, I replaced the flower arrangement as the first of the wedding party came in the door. Mitch arrived with Livvy and Nathan, and I had them check the place cards until they found our four seats on one of the long sections. We settled into our chairs, Mitch and I in the middle, with a kid on each side of us. Summer and Brian took their seats at the center of the head table, and the food service began.
We had a delicious spring mix salad with feta cheese and dried cranberries, then filet mignon, baby red potatoes, and roasted mixed vegetables. The expensive steak would have been wasted on the kids, but Summer had thought of them. They were each served a bowl of gourmet macaroni and cheese, which they enjoyed, but their favorite part was that the menu for the dinner was impressed on large chocolate wafers, which had been centered on each dinner plate when we sat down to eat. I made the kids save the chocolate until most of their mac and cheese was gone. The kids finished eating long before all of the adults. I could tell Livvy was chafing under the “no-reading” ban, fidgeting, and looking longingly toward her purse, so I gave her my phone and told her she could take some pictures.
Eventually, Livvy asked if she and Nathan could go play board games in the library with their cousins. “Madison said she would be there.” Madison was older than Livvy, and Livvy adored her. I’m sure we would hear “Madison this” and “Madison that” all the way home.
I glanced over at Nathan, who was licking the last of the chocolate from the fingers of one hand, while lining up his Hot Wheels cars around his plate. The servers were circulating through the room, topping off drinks. The toasts were about to begin.
“In a little while. After the toasts,” I said.
Livvy sighed loudly and went back to taking pictures with my phone.
At the head table, Gus picked up a glass of champagne and cleared his throat. The murmur of conversation died away as everyone shifted their attention to him. “Everyone who knows me, knows I don’t go in for this sort of thing.” He circled his glass of champagne, indicating the room. “Fancy dinners, making speeches.” Patricia, seated beside him, closed her eyes. I bet she wanted to stand up and rip that glass out of his hand and give the toast herself.
Gus cleared his throat again. He looked toward Brian and Summer, and his face relaxed into a smile. “But for you two, I’d do anything.” He lifted his glass toward the couple. “Summer, welcome to the family.” Brian and Summer clinked their glasses against Gus’s. Beside me, I heard the shutter click rapidly, and I wished I’d thought to silence all the sounds on the phone, but no one else seemed to notice. Everyone was watching the front of the room.
Gus sat down and Brian stood to respond to the toast. There was a moment during all the shifting and movement that I thought Summer’s face looked strained, but when Brian glanced down at her, she smiled back as radiant and beautiful as I’d ever seen her. I missed Brian’s words because I was focused on Summer’s face, but he must have said the right things because a murmur of “aww” went around the room when he finished. They touched their glasses together, and we all sipped along with them. Summer put her glass down and that same look of strain came over her again, but it vanished when Meg, who was sitting on the other side of her, said something. Summer turned her way, and I couldn’t see her face anymore. Meg braced her shoulders and stood, giving a beautiful, obviously memorized toast, but it was sweet and Summer sent Meg a special smile, then Summer raised her glass again toward her maid of honor.
“How do you think Summer is doing?” I asked Mitch, who had his arm along the back of my chair.
“She looks happy.”
Graham toasted the couple, only saying a few words, but everyone understood that he had other things on his mind.
“Is that the last one?” Livvy whispered loudly. “Can I go find Madison now?”
I glanced at Mitch. “They have been very good.”
Mitch nodded. “Yeah, I think they can skip the rest of the toasts.” He tilted his head. “Come on, let’s see if your cousins are there.”
Nathan pocketed his cars in seconds. “If only he’d clean up his room so quickly,” I murmured as Mitch edged behind my ch
air, the kids following him closely.
Mitch slipped back in during the pause after another toast. “They’re playing Candy Land,” he said. “Nathan’s not too excited about it, but they promised Battleship was next.”
After a few more toasts, there was a general shuffling as the event wound down. Chairs were pushed back, some people stood and moved to talk to different groups of people. Brian stood, buttoned his suit coat, and whispered something in Summer’s ear before moving to a group on the far side of the room. Summer dipped her head and pressed her napkin to her lips, which was perfectly normal, but there was something about her posture, her slightly hunched shoulders, that didn’t look right.
“I think I’ll check on Summer,” I said, standing. I slipped into Brian’s vacated chair. Meg and the other of the bridesmaids had pulled their chairs closer and were looking at photos on someone’s phone.
“Summer, are you okay?” Now that I was closer to her, I could see that her face was flushed.
She blew out an unsteady breath. “No. I feel like I’m going to be sick.”
Tips for an Organized Wedding
A Wedding Budget
The first step to staying within your budget is to actually sit down and figure out a total amount you want to spend, which may involve discussions with various family members. Traditionally, the bride’s family covers the wedding ceremony and reception while the groom’s family takes care of the rehearsal dinner and the honeymoon, but there are plenty of variations on how expenses are covered, so make sure everyone is in agreement on who is paying for which portion. A shared electronic spreadsheet can help everyone keep track of expenses. Decide what portion of the day is most important to you and allocate the budget accordingly.
Chapter Thirteen
“I do not want to throw up at my rehearsal dinner,”
Summer said through clenched teeth.
“No, of course not. Let’s get you out of here.”
Summer stood, tottered for a second, then regained her equilibrium. I’d reached out to steady her, but she put up a warning hand.
She didn’t want anyone to know she wasn’t feeling good. I could understand that. I remembered the nearly hysterical reaction of one of the bridesmaids to the poison ivy. Summer shuffled along the edge of the room. Once I was sure she wasn’t going to fall over, I managed to catch Mitch’s eye and motioned my head toward the door. The banquet room was at the back of the restaurant’s dining room. Mitch met us outside the banquet room doors.
“Summer, you look overheated,” he said. “Do you need some air?”
“She’s not feeling good,” I said.
Summer ran a hand over her forehead. “It came on so quickly. It just hit all at once. Oh, I hope it wasn’t something in the food. That would be terrible, to food-poison the wedding party.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine in a little bit,” I said, but I wasn’t sure of anything.
Summer pressed a hand to her abdomen and grimaced.
“Let’s get you up to your room,” I said. “Do you think you can make it?”
She nodded and swallowed thickly. Mitch said, “I’ll get Brian.”
I shuffled off, one hand under Summer’s arm and the other around her back as we moved through the tables of the dining room. I led her to the elevator. She wasn’t in any shape for the stairs. Thankfully, the little alcove was empty and the elevator came almost immediately. She leaned against the wall as the elevator creaked into motion. Her cheeks were bright pink now. She rubbed her eyes. “Ellie, what’s wrong with the lighting in here? You look odd.”
“Nothing.” The lighting looked normal to me, but then I looked more closely at her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, which I knew couldn’t be good. A ding rang out as the doors opened. She had her room key card in her pocket, and I got her through the door and into the bathroom before she threw up.
I held her hair back for her, then handed her a wet washcloth as she collapsed back against the tile wall. “I’m calling Rebekah,” I said.
She raised her hand a few inches, but she moved slowly as if the small movement took a great deal of effort. “Oh, don’t do that. I think I feel a little better.” She’d tipped her head back against the wall and spoke with her eyes closed.
“I’ll get you some water,” I said, and moved into the room. I didn’t care what Summer said, my “mom senses” were tingling. Something was very wrong.
* * *
Rebekah arrived, took Summer’s vital signs, and reached for the phone. “We need to get her to the hospital.”
“The hospital?” Brian said. He was on the floor of the bathroom beside Summer, his arm around her shoulders. She hadn’t wanted to move.
Rebekah didn’t answer him. Instead, she spoke into the phone. I couldn’t understand what she said, but her words were sharp and there was concern in her gaze as she turned back to us. “The ambulance will be here shortly.”
Summer was lying against Brian, her face flushed and her limbs droopy. Her lethargic manner alarmed me more than her nausea and her flushed skin. Summer was not one to stand by and let others decide what was best for her. She wasn’t speaking up—in fact, she didn’t seem aware of the conversation at all—and that concerned me. Brian ran his hand across Summer’s forehead, brushing back her hair. Her eyelids fluttered, but that was her only reaction.
Rebekah said to Brian, “Her pulse is slow and erratic, and her pupils are dilated. Those symptoms combined with the gastric distress indicate she may have ingested a toxin.”
Brian blinked once, then said, “How long until the ambulance gets here?”
“It should only be a few minutes.”
Brian looked toward Mitch. “Can you find Caroline? I want her to come with me.”
“Of course.” Mitch leaned over and touched Summer’s cheek. “Hang in there, Summer.” She didn’t respond, and Mitch hurried out of the room, his face tight with worry. My heart went out to him, but I was glad Brian had asked him to find Caroline. He’d feel better doing something rather than just standing around, which was all I could do as Rebekah and Brian cared for Summer as she roused and her body tensed with another attack of nausea.
I slipped out of the crowded bathroom and waited in the hotel room until I heard the sirens. The EMTs came, and the whole awful scene that had played out earlier with Julia was repeated—the confusion and rush that accompanied the arrival of the EMTs, the calmness of their voices as they asked questions and moved Summer to a gurney, speaking to her in normal, everyday voices, informing her of their every move even though Summer barely acknowledged them.
I watched the gurney trundle away down the hallway, Caroline on one side and Brian on the other, feeling scared and worried. They took the gurney down through a service elevator, and I sprinted down the main staircase to the lobby and out through the main door. I flew down the shallow steps at the edge of the veranda and rounded the corner of the resort in time to see the ambulance lumber down the shell drive at a moderate pace. It had happened very quickly and since they had emerged from the service entrance where there were only a few spectators, I doubted most of the wedding party knew what had happened. I had hustled Summer out of the banquet room quickly, and apparently Mitch had managed to tell Brian and Caroline what had happened discreetly.
I crunched across the shell drive and joined Mitch and Rebekah. Mitch turned to me. “Rebekah says that they will probably call for a medical air evacuation and take her to the nearest hospital.”
“It’s that serious?” I asked, my heart sinking. Summer had looked awful, but I’d hoped that Rebekah would be more reassuring.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she said, her gaze full of sympathy.
“What do you think happened?” I asked.
Rebekah glanced away, clearly not wanting to speculate.
Mitch said, “Please tell us what you’re thinking. You already know that someone made sure Summer came in contact with poison ivy. There were other incidents as well. Someone may have . . .” He sw
allowed, overcome by emotion.
“Upped their game,” I said, finishing the sentence for him. “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” He gave a reluctant nod, and I added, “I don’t want to think about it either, but with everything that’s happened . . . it could be possible.”
“But you know what that means, don’t you?” Mitch asked.
“Yes.” I didn’t want to think about what else that meant. “We were wrong about Julia.”
“I’m afraid I’m lost here,” Rebekah said, breaking into our intense conversation. “There’s obviously some huge undercurrents that I’m missing.”
I looked at Mitch with raised eyebrows. He gave a small head nod, and I said, “After the incident with the poison ivy, we were pretty sure that Julia—the woman who fell down the stairs today—had planted the poison ivy. She had some . . . issues with Summer’s fiancé, Brian, in the past. The police found evidence in Julia’s room today. It looked like she was responsible for the pranks on Summer as well as the golf cart accident.”
“Wait.” Rebekah took a step back. “You’re saying that the woman we sent off to the hospital earlier today—the one who fell down the stairs—was responsible for that photographer’s death?”
“Well, it looked that way, but now . . .” I shrugged. “Julia’s in the hospital off the island. There is no way she could have done anything to Summer, unless she was able to give Summer something that had a delayed reaction?”
Rebekah shook her head. “No, the onset of digitalis toxicity usually takes place fairly quickly.”
“Digitalis?” I said, weakly. “Isn’t that the poison that shows up in a lot of mystery novels? It affects the heart?”
“Yes, that’s the one. But I’m not sure that digitalis was involved here,” Rebekah cautioned. “It may be something completely different, but the dilated pupils, the flushed skin, the lethargy, all combined with nausea and vomiting. . .” She shrugged. “They will work it out at the hospital. They’ll run toxicology reports and figure out exactly what it was.”