Gwen agreed, “It’s HUGE,” she said to her friend. “It’s one big thing off that wedding list. But, you’ll need to really hone in on finding a dress for yourself,” she warned. “You barely have time for any alterations.”
“I know, I know,” Sylvia sighed again. “Maybe I can hit some of the smaller stores after work. That bridal palace was too much for me. Poor Maria!”
“She did her best, and was still kind, after you kept turning down her ideas,” Carol chuckled.
“I know,” Sylvia replied, “and I still feel a little guilty.”
“Don’t!” Gwen insisted, “It’s her job.”
Carol rattled off some of the other things they should really look at, like the invitations, flowers, and the cake. But, Sylvia had had enough wedding for the day. Gwen was beginning to look peaked and tired again. Mary suggested they go home. With more than one sigh of relief from the passengers, she turned the car from the Delaware traffic to the quieter roads of rural Maryland. Gwen fell asleep on the way home and Mary, Carol, and Sylvia talked quietly.
“At least you know what you don’t want in a wedding dress,” comforted Carol. “That’s more than a lot of brides can say,” she told her friend. “And, I’m speaking from experience from shopping with my cousins!” she said stoutly.
“I guess so,” Sylvia said. “But, it was entirely depressing. Some of those dresses really turn a person off from even thinking about getting married.”
“I will never forget your face when you tried on that heavily beaded gown!” Carol laughed.
“I know! I could barely walk and it weighed a ton,” Sylvia answered her and made a face.
“I did like a couple of the more traditional gowns,” her mother interjected. “I liked the one with the higher neck with – what is that fabric called – illusion over the satin of the strapless dress. It was on the lines of a halter dress. I also liked the traditional A-line dresses.”
“I didn’t like the halter one,” Sylvia said. “The neckline was much too high and I felt like choking. I do like the dresses with a waist that flair out a little bit – not like that first Disney princess dress.”
They discussed the various dresses until they pulled into the driveway. Gwen woke up and retreated upstairs to continue her nap. Mary decided to close her eyes for a few minutes as well, and Carol left to change for a Bluegrass gig Joe was playing at later that evening. She hugged Sylvia goodbye and took off in her car. Sylvia was weary too, but Percy needed to be walked. Percy and Sylvia walked down the road, up the rise and over the small hill to the marina. There was little activity at the marina. Skip and Maureen had a skeletal staff to handle those boaters who did not know old George or who did not care to attend the services and celebration of life. As Sylvia walked by the boat lift, a cold shiver of fear raced up her spine. She questioned again who might want to kill George and why? Maureen had alluded to the façade of a marina being a happy place but said there was an undercurrent that was not of the carefree boating world that Sylvia viewed. Sylvia inadvertently tugged on Percy’s leash harder than usual as she turned from the boat lift. He yelped.
“Oh, sorry Percy,” Sylvia told him and gave him a quick hug. “The boat lift is creeping me out today.”
Sylvia and Percy headed home. Now she needed to put on a happy face. Sylvia and Owen were taking Gwen and Frank to “The Tilted Tern,” a local restaurant on the water that hosted bands and dancing on the weekends.
Owen was hurrying down the road towards them. He was obviously happy and excited. Percy picked up on Owen’s excitement and pulled away from Sylvia to go to him. Percy seldom pulled and she let the leash drop. Percy ran towards Owen and nosed him happily as high as he could reach without jumping on Owen. He pranced with excited, happy barks. Owen was laughing when Sylvia caught up to the two of them. He reached Sylvia, pulling her into his arms and lifting her off her feet in a happy hug. He gave her a resounding smack on the lips. His laugh partially answered the questioning look in her eyes.
“I’ve found a boat!” he told her excitedly.
He hugged her again and Sylvia laughed happily as well. She touched the curl that was astray on his forehead and then kissed him again, slowly, the kiss deepening until she forgot, for a moment, where they were.
Percy didn’t. He barked in small yips and danced around and nuzzled both of them.
Owen gave a little groan as he pulled himself away from Sylvia.
“Stop, Percy!” he said a little sharply. “It’s all right.” Owen picked up Percy’s leash and glanced at Sylvia. “This is what happens when you have kids, right?” he said.
“I think so,” she answered, shaking her head at the dog. “You never have a moment alone.”
“Promise me we will wait a little while,” Owen requested, “before we have kids,” He turned to grin mischievously at her, “but we can practice!”
“Oh!” Sylvia responded, blushing happily. “Now, tell me about this boat.”
“It’s a thirty-six-foot sailboat and it’s gorgeous!” Owen said.
He continued to give her details on the remainder of their walk. Gwen was awake and yawning sleepily against Frank’s arm when they came in. She gave Sylvia a sly grin after her yawn.
“Frank told me about the boat,” she said to her friend. “One more thing crossed off your wedding list – the honeymoon!”
“It sounds beautiful,” Sylvia agreed. “I also need to learn how to sail the thing – at least a little bit, before September.”
“Well, sailboat shopping has made me ravenous for seafood,” Frank complained. “Can we head to this waterfront restaurant soon?”
“As soon as I freshen up,” Sylvia told him smiling. “I think you’ll like the ‘Tilted Tern.’”
Sylvia peeked in on her mom as she went to her room. She was still napping. She gently shook her mother awake before she went downstairs. She knew Mary would not want to be late for her dinner at Marian and Jon’s. She also told her they were leaving for the Tilted Tern.
Mary, not quite awake, mumbled, “Have a good time. Be careful.”
“You too,” Sylvia answered her mom as she stepped through the bedroom door and went downstairs.
They drove to the restaurant in Gwen and Frank’s car. Gwen commented they would be able to all party happily as she, and the baby would be designated drivers. It was relatively early in the evening and there was ample parking at the restaurant. The Tilted Tern was an old, rambling building on the waterfront in North Bay. It was flush against a storage building of one of the marinas. The other side was graced by the town’s park.
Frank had insisted on a waterfront, seafood restaurant, even though Owen and Sylvia tried to convince him that the Crab Shack in town had much better food. The Tilted Tern was good but as a restaurant, not the same caliber as the Crab Shack. The Tilted Tern had become more of a drinking establishment for boaters, bikers and tourists rather than a dinner spot. It did have an excellent showcase of local bands.
The hostess led them to a table on the deck. It was a sprawling, weathered deck that was covered with a large awning and overlooked the bay and the restaurant’s floating docks. The hostess seated them closer to the building in the shade and well out of the sharp, early evening sunlight. A band was beginning to set up against the backdrop of the bay and the boats. They ordered drinks and appetizers. Owen was talking excitedly about the sailboat.
Suddenly, it occurred to Sylvia, that she had not asked Owen the name of the boat. Frank started to say something, but Owen glared at him.
“It’s a surprise,” Owen insisted, “until I sail her home.” He was unusually vehement.
“Oh?” Sylvia questioned.
“You’ll love it!” Gwen baited.
“You know too?” Sylvia asked her friend. “C’mon, buddy, tell me!”
“I know and I won’t tell,” Gwen said to Sylvia, giving her a pretty pout.
Sylvia frowned back, “And I thought you were my friend.”
“Girlfriend,�
� Gwen insisted, “this is much too good of a surprise to spoil.”
Sylvia stuck her tongue out playfully at Gwen. “Well,” she admitted, “I have absolutely no idea.”
“Good,” the other three chorused at the same time and then laughed.
Owen asked how the dress shopping had gone. Gwen regaled him with stories of the good, the bad and the ugly side of wedding dress shopping.
“You know,” Owen said, “We could have a geeky, Star Trek Next Generation wedding,” he told her, “and pretend we’re on Betazed.”
Sylvia gave him a puzzled look. “And?” she asked him, “What would that entail?”
“Everyone at the wedding is nude,” Owen told her with a sparkle in his eye, “to show that physically and spiritually people have nothing to hide, according to Peter David and a scene in his book.”
“Not so good for me,” Gwen scoffed good-naturedly, “with my burgeoning belly.”
“Okay, okay,” Sylvia told them, “I know I need to find a dress – just not at the bridezilla superstore. There has to be something better out there!”
They laughed and continued to talk. The boys ended up talking about sailboats and sailing. Gwen rolled her eyes at Sylvia and turned her attention back to the wedding.
“Syl,” she advised, “you desperately need to get invitations ordered. They technically need to be sent out this week. Why, you don’t even have time for a ‘save the date’ card. What are you going to do? Do you have any ideas on the design?” Gwen peppered her with questions.
“I was thinking of leaves or a sailing theme,” Sylvia told Gwen, “But, I want to firm things up with Maureen before I order anything. I don’t know what’s going to happen with George’s murder, the investigation and all of that. I will give her a call tomorrow.”
“Good,” Gwen said, “and we can look online for ideas tomorrow before we head back to Connecticut. You’ll need to overnight them and work on addressing them next weekend.”
The waitress reappeared to refresh their drinks and take their dinner order. The deck was getting crowded and the band started playing vintage rock and roll. For the most part, the band was excellent, but the sound level of the music was almost deafening.
“It’s worse than those cigarette boats,” Frank shouted across the table to Owen and Sylvia.
The band continued to play extremely loudly. They gave up on their shouting conversation and focused on eating their dinner. Sylvia looked out at the water where the setting sun was making a sparkling, golden path across the bay from the western shore to the docks. The sun was a glowing, dark, coral, red ball in the sky that was dropping in slow motion towards the horizon.
Sylvia watched as a family pulled their boat into one of the slips on the floating docks. Sylvia thought one of the children, jumping up and down in excitement, might fall overboard, but the mother saved him just in time. The Dad was busy tying up the boat and the other child was concentrating on his every move. Another ship, a cigarette boat purred to a stop at the dock. Out of the vessel climbed a blond headed woman in a bikini, who was putting on a diaphanous swim cover up. Her companion was tall, slim and had dark hair. For a moment, Sylvia thought she saw Joyce and Tony. Sylvia felt the blood drain from her face and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Sylvia had found Joyce’s body on her beach earlier this year and Tony was in prison for killing Joyce and attempting to kill Sylvia.
Her attention shifted from the couple when the band abruptly stopped playing. The conversation drifted to silence. Everyone looked expectantly at the band leader. He approached the mic.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a showman-like tone to the audience, “I would like for you to turn your attention to the sunset. We’re celebrating the end of another beautiful day in the paradise of North Bay, where the sunsets are spectacular. So, raise your glasses to the setting sun,” he requested.
The band leader took a beer and raised it to the audience. “It takes three minutes for the sun to set behind the horizon and leave behind a unique sky painting each evening,” he told them.
Everyone watched the setting sun as it dipped down to the horizon. A cheer went up as the glowing ball dropped below the horizon line. Splashes of fuchsia, gold and mauve spread across the sky in a gorgeous painting of light. There was a gasp from some of the audience. The band leader took up his guitar and nodded to his fellow band members to start playing “There Goes the Sun,” apparently an original tune mimicking the popular Beatles song “Here Comes the Sun.” A few of the audience chuckled and the volume was once again turned up to the maximum level.
Owen shouted across the table, “If you are ready to go,” he told Gwen and Frank, “we can probably enjoy the rest of the concert from our deck.”
They paid their bill and headed back to Bayside. Indeed, settled on the deck, they could hear strains of the band wafting down the bay.
“I can’t believe you can hear that band from the town, here in Bayside,” Gwen marveled.
“I can,” Frank said sarcastically, “at least for now. I need to go back to Connecticut and get a hearing check, to find out if I lost some of my hearing. And here I thought you lived in a quiet, peaceful, neighborhood!”
“Usually,” Sylvia soothed, “it’s one of the most peaceful places on earth.”
“Next time,” Owen said smiling, “the Crab Shack.”
“Okay, okay,” Frank said succumbing to the silent ‘I told you so’ from Owen, Sylvia, and Gwen. “Besides, you have a lovely waterfront view here.”
“Indeed we do,” Sylvia said, “and I’m getting better at cooking. And the entertainment is definitely ‘in the air.’ We won’t even have the need to go out to eat on your next visit.”
Chapter 8
“Many people spend more time in planning the wedding than they do in planning the marriage.”
Zig Ziglar
By noon on Sunday, Sylvia began to wonder which was more stressful – wedding dress shopping or invitation shopping. Both her mom and Gwen had firm ideas on the subject. They offered comments, sometimes simultaneously. Owen looked over her shoulder as well ‘helping’ with occasional pretend gagging sounds. Sylvia thought she might tear out her hair. There were just too many choices. Owen, of course, wanted a sailboat on the invitation since the ceremony and reception were taking place by the water. Sylvia found a couple of sailboat decorated, wedding invitations that were okay, in her viewpoint, but none of them clicked with her. She searched the internet for wedding invitations with leaves and found what seemed to be hundreds of fall leaf wedding invitations. The majority appeared tacky to her. Her patience was beginning to ebb when finally, after a few hours of searching what seemed to be hundreds of websites, she found a very elegant invitation. It was a washed pearly paper of embossed leaves. The inside of the invitation was a colored paper that matched the attendant dresses. An oval cutout on the front of the invitation allowed their names to show through and add a hint of color and was adorned with a small, matching ribbon. It was simple, elegant and understated. Even better, they could be printed and shipped out within twenty-four hours. Sylvia loved it.
“This is it!” she cried with relief to the group.
Her mom, Gwen, Owen, and Frank crowded around the screen. All agreed that it was lovely.
“I can fill in most of the information and double check with Maureen for final confirmation before I send off the order,” Sylvia told them.
“It’s a formal invitation,” Gwen advised, “so you should probably be formal in your text. How about: Mrs. Mary Ash and Mr. and Mrs. Phillip Anderson request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their children – Sylvia Beithe Ash and Owen…” her voice trailed off.
“Owen,” Gwen asked him, “what’s your middle name?”
Owen grimaced, “Brady,” he answered, “after the Civil War photographer – Owen Brady Anderson.”
“Nice moniker,” Frank teased. “That’s just as bad as mine – Franklin Carlisle Beecher.”
“Oka
y,” Gwen said, “Enough. “ She continued, “Sylvia Beithe Ash and Owen Brady Anderson on Saturday, the thirteenth of September at half-past four in the afternoon. Reception immediately following, North Bay Yacht Club.”
“Perfect,” Sylvia said as she typed it into the text box on the website. “Mom?” Sylvia questioned over her shoulder, “What do you think?”
“Perfect,” Mary agreed.
“Your middle name is unusual,” Frank mentioned, “is it a unique spelling of Beth?”
“It’s my grandmother’s maiden name,” Sylvia explained. “It’s actually an ancient Gaelic word for Birch. The language is Ogham.”
Blank looks met Sylvia’s eyes. She chuckled.
“Ogham is the ancient, druid language. Beith is for Birch, as in the tree,” she explained.
“You might need to explain that to the invitation people,” Gwen suggested. “They may think you had a typo for Beth.”
“Good idea,” Mary agreed with Gwen.
“Okay,” Sylvia said, and she typed that into the comments section on the order form, “Let me confirm with Maureen and then I’ll send for the invitations later this afternoon. Whew!”
“One more thing to check off your list,” Gwen said. She looked at the time. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t realize it was so late!”
“The car is packed, love,” Franklin said. “We can say our goodbyes and jump in the car. If the traffic is good, we’ll be in Connecticut by dinnertime.”
After Gwen and Frank had left, Mary packed up to leave as well. Before she left, she told Sylvia to contact Marian. Apparently, Marian had a gift for her for the ‘something old and borrowed’ portion of the rhyme –something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, for brides. Mary would not tell Sylvia what it was. Mary also mentioned that Marian had a minister to marry them. Apparently it was someone who had been at Marian’s parties that Owen and Sylvia attended. Neither, Owen or Sylvia remembered such a person, but she told her mother she would give Marian a call.
The Blossoming: The Third book in The Green Man Series Page 6