Please Say I Do

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. Barney isn’t available, but we do have a nice Big Bird, if you’d want that.”

  Big Bird. Wasn’t that something like a stork? “The bird’ll be great,” he told her. “You have all the instructions, right? And my credit card number. Anything else you need?”

  “Normally, there’s an extra charge for making a special delivery along with the singing telegram, but since we couldn’t provide the costume you originally requested, I’m going to waive that fee.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate your help. You’re sure the telegram will arrive as scheduled tomorrow afternoon? Without fail?”

  The woman laughed. “Barring complications, Big Bird will be there.”

  Complications were exactly what Rik hoped would arise from this little escapade. He was beginning to feel a bit uneasy about the whole thing, but damn it, he had to do something to stop Jack from going through with this, There was no other way Rik could see to clobber his buddy’s complacent rush into this misconceived state of matrimony. It wasn’t as if Rik wouldn’t be right here to oversee this small practical joke. He could step in the minute things got out of hand. If they got out of hand. Which they wouldn’t. Jack just needed a jolt to open his eyes to the sham his marriage would be, and Rik felt sure this little delivery would do it

  Now, all he had left to do was to check with his sister, Lynn, and make sure she still intended to leave baby Sam with his uncle Rik for a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon. And if this didn’t turn the tide, Rik had no idea what else he could do. Except stick to Hallie like a saddle bur and do his damnedest to interfere with the wedding arrangements.

  “This is strictly confidential,” Rik reminded the woman who’d taken his order. “I don’t want my friend to be able to call you and find out I’m the one who set him up. At least, not right away.”

  “We’re very good at keeping secrets here at Patty’s Party-Grams, Mr. Austin. Thank you for calling. I believe you’ll be very happy with our services.”

  “I’m counting on it,” he said.

  THE PHONE SHRILLED and Hallie gave up on the idea of taking a nap. The darn thing hadn’t stopped ringing for the past ten minutes, and even with the pillow stuffed on top of it, she could hear every jarring jangle. It no longer mattered to her who was calling whom, or whether she was supposed to answer or not supposed to answer, whether she was supposed to be in this room or another one. She just wanted the ringing to stop, so she stopped it.

  “Hello” she said into the mouthpiece.

  “Ms. Bernhardt.” Babs’s voice tapped across the phone line like a redheaded woodpecker on a hollow tree. “I thought I would never reach you. Do you know they have lost you at the front desk?”

  Hallie wasn’t surprised to hear it After yesterday, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn her birth certificate had been revoked. “I’m here,” she said, as brightly as possible. “On the job.”

  “I am relieved to hear it. In the last hour, I’ve been told you were given the wrong room when you arrived, that you checked in, then checked out, and that now they have no record of you in the reservations computer at all. But, as I told Danny, I knew you had to be here and that there was simply an error on the part of the hotel. Frankly, Hallie, I expected a bit more from this hotel. You gave it such a glowing recommendation, I felt comfortable sending that enormous check, sight unseen. I realize we’ve only been here since yesterday, but I have to tell you I’m bothered by a few things.”

  Hallie eyed the bed with desperate longing, but there was no escape.

  “The orchids.” Babs began listing, and Hallie reluctantly, but quickly, picked up a pen and began making notes on a pad of hotel stationery. “Have you checked with the hotel to make certain we can keep them in the restaurant refrigerating unit until the last possible moment? Well, I have, and the kitchen manager was not at all encouraging. He was almost rude. And the chef…”

  Those last three words somehow formed a complete sentence that spelled trouble. Big trouble. Hallie said a silent prayer that Jacques hadn’t been offended. It had taken her an entire month of phone calls to persuade the chef to agree to make the wedding cake himself. He was touchy, she knew from experience. One wrong word from Babs, much less several words together, and there could be major problems already on tap.

  “Jacques,” she wrote on the notepad.

  “Also,” Babs continued, “I think you should call the weather bureau. This wind will ruin the effect of the waterfall and I’ve invested too much time, energy and money into this wedding to allow it to be ruined by a passing hurricane.”

  “Weather is one of the variables we discussed, Mrs. Brewster, if you recall. It’s always a factor, and since we can’t control it, we will simply work around it.”

  “I hope you can get a commitment from the hotel groundskeeper, because I couldn’t. I merely asked him about moving some trees closer to the lanai where the ceremony will be held, and he was quite snippy about refusing.”

  Hallie didn’t know why Babs hadn’t just asked him if he’d mind putting up a seawall between now and Saturday. A pretty one, made out of seashells to complement the bridal bouquet. “I’ll talk to him,” she said, and wrote “Harold” on the pad.

  “I do hope you’ll call the weather bureau. All these special reports on the television and radio are nerveracking for a woman of my sensibilities, you know. I’m not sure I can survive this wedding.”

  A sentiment Hallie had heard repeated any number of times since Babs Brewster first walked into her office. She’d just never really thought about how much easier this wedding would be to carry off if that particular sentiment came true. “I’ve never lost a mother of the bride yet,” Hallie said cheerfully, and added “hitman” to the list. “You hired me to worry about these things, remember? I’ll take care of everything. You relax and enjoy these couple of days before Stephanie arrives. She’ll be here Friday evening, right?”

  “That’s another thing. I’ve been calling her, telling her she needs to change her plans and arrive sooner than that.” Babs’s sigh was heavy with the frustrations of motherhood. “She’s so conscientious, you know. Can’t leave the office until her desk is cleared. That sort of nonsense. Honestly, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you thought Stephanie wasn’t excited about her own wedding. Which she is, of course.”

  “Of course she is.” Hallie had pegged this bride as brilliant from day one. Stephanie Brewster obviously had no illusions about the kind of wedding she would have, whether she wanted it or not. So she’d wisely given her mother carte blanche and stayed as far from the wedding plans as possible. Hallie only wished she could have afforded to do the same. But this was her business, she was damn good at it, and Babs was merely an experience she’d look back on with satisfaction and a ton of relief. “Stephanie will love the orchids. You were absolutely right to insist on having enough to fill the entire staging area in front of the waterfall. It’s going to look just gorgeous.”

  Babs’s pleasure flowed through her voice like fine wine. “Isn’t it, though? I’m beside myself with anticipating the moment Stephanie and Jack see the lanai all covered in orchids on Saturday’ Her tone changed. “If this terrible wind doesn’t ruin everything. You will talk to the groundskeeper right away, won’t you?”

  “Right away,” Hallie said, and underlined Harold’s name.

  “And you will inform that dreadful man in the kitchen that we do, indeed, require the entire refrigerator from Friday night until Saturday noon?”

  “Consider it. done.” She circled Jacques’s name in ink.

  “Wonderful. Now, if you’ll just tell me your room number, I’ll let you get on with your work.” There was the sound of a drawer being opened with a creak. “Wait, let me find a pen so I can write it down.”

  Not in this lifetime, Hallie thought. “There’s someone at the door, Mrs. Brewster. I’ll phone you later.”

  “No, wait! I nearly forgot the reason I called you. You’ll need to contact someone about ge
tting Danny a tuxedo. Can you believe the man cannot locate his pants anywhere? I can’t imagine what he’s done with them, but I’d rather buy an extra tuxedo than have him fret over those pants. You will take care of that for me, won’t you, Hallie?”

  “Absolutely,” she assured Babs, and wrote down “Dan’s pants.” Not that she believed Danforth Brewster could work up a good fret even if he’d lost every pair of pants in America. “Now, I really must see who’s at the door. Goodbye, Mrs. Brewster.”

  “Keep me informed” were Babs’s last words before Hallie cradled the receiver and sank onto the edge of the bed. As if there could be anything Hallie might know that Babs hadn’t discovered first Why had she ever agreed to do this wedding? It had shouted “Headache” from the introductory call. Not just out of town, this wedding had to take place half a world away. Not just an absent bride and groom, neither one had even been available to speak to Hallie about the arrangements. Not just another family, this was the Brewsters, one of the most influential names in all of Boston.

  Which was the reason Hallie was here now. Business was business, no matter how much of a nuisance the mother of the bride turned out to be. And Babs was going in the record books…right after Hallie proved she could deliver the perfect wedding, no matter where, no matter who, no matter what the weather. Picking up the notepad, she read over the list of potential hazards and decided to tackle the easy one first It would drive Babs crazy to have to rent a tux for Dan, but Hallie wasn’t about to take him shopping and she didn’t see how she could find time to argue about tuxedo pants. If Mr. Aloha Formalwear was good enough for the groom— and it had been Jack’s choice—it was good enough for the father of the bride.

  And the best man.

  Making arrangements to have Rik and Dan measured for a tux would be a simple matter of scheduling, she thought as she found the Honolulu phone number in her briefcase and put in a call to Mr. Aloha. One simple call and her sense of accomplishment was on the rise.

  At least it was until the phone failed to produce any more than a busy tone and an oft-repeated message to hang up and try the call again. Okay, she’d move on to the next item on her list and try the call again later!

  Jacques, the chef. The arrogant, irritable genius whose own staff referred to him as the Pope of Pastries and Pout He hadn’t taken well to the idea that the Brewster-Keaton wedding cake had to meet certain standards. Babs’s standards. Hallie had had to compromise her principles and promise him a night of secret passion—a rendezvous with a box of Mallomars, his weakness—in order to coax him into saying yes. She did not think she could deal with Jacques and her hangover at the same time. He could wait.

  Harold. One glance out the window at the clouds and the peach-bra wind sock told her that Harold had more important matters on his mind right now than weatherproofing the lanai.

  Which brought her back to Mr. Aloha. Somewhere in this hotel, sometime today, there would have to be a free phone line that could connect her with Honolulu. She’d try the call again…just as soon as she found that bottle of pain reliever Rik had bought in the pharmacy, just as soon as she washed down a couple of the nonacidic aspirin with the acidic orange juice.

  What the hell. This morning was not going to get better, anyway.

  THE CONNECTION WAS scratchy at best. “Mr. Aloha Formal wear?” Hallie repeated. “Honolulu?”

  “Yeah. What d’ya want?”

  This definitely was not the cultured man she’d conducted her business with long-distance not two months ago. “Could I speak with Mr. Reynolds, the owner?”

  “Yeah, you could…if he was here, which he ain’t.”

  “When will he return?”

  “Didn’t say. You wanna leave a message?”

  “Is there someone there who can assist me with a rental order?”

  “Yeah. Me. What d’ya want to rent?”

  She had a bad feeling about this, but she told him anyway.

  “YOU’RE SURE YOU WANT to do this?” Rik couldn’t believe he’d said that, especially when his sister’s laugh echoed over the phone line.

  “If you’re feeling that apprehensive about babysitting your nephew, I can leave Sam home with a sitter,” Lynn said. “But last week you said you wanted to watch him while I went to my doctor’s appointment. Honestly, Rik, it isn’t like you’re going to have him for longer than three or four hours at the most. And he still takes long afternoon naps. Besides, you’re usually better with him than his own daddy. Keanu is still scared to death that Sam is going to break.”

  “He isn’t, is he? Going to break, I mean?”

  She laughed again. “Of course not. Sam is made of sturdy stuff. He’s half-Austin, remember? I suspect in another few months, he’ll be making even you wish you were in better shape to keep up with him.”

  “You’re sure?” Rik asked, knowing in his heart of hearts that he should not be making plans involving his nephew. “He’s barely eight months old. Maybe I shouldn’t—”

  “If you’re trying to tell me you’ve had a better offer for tomorrow afternoon, you’d better think again. Being uncertain about your baby-sitting skills is one thing. Dumping your nephew for some skinny blonde in a skimpy bikini is another.”

  “No. Save me from skinny blondes. Plump ones, too, for that matter. I’d rather be with Sam any day. He smiles at my jokes and laughs when I make a face. No blonde has ever come close to liking me as much as he does.” Rik was nuts about the little guy and he did want to see him, spend time with him. And maybe he wasn’t crazy to think that a couple of hours with a great kid like Sam would squeeze Jack’s tough-nut heart and make him realize what he’d be missing if he went through with this wedding. “Of course I want to babysit tomorrow. Just tell me where to meet you and what time.”

  She did.

  RIK INSERTED THE KEY CARD into the door of room 1413 and waited for the green light before he reached for the latch.

  “Psst!”

  He looked over his shoulder at the deserted hallway, looked in the other direction at the same empty view, then pushed open the door with the heel of his hand.

  “Psst! Rikr

  This time he knew he hadn’t imagined the reedy whisper and he turned around, scanning for the source, as the lock clicked back into place behind him. At the end of the hall nearest his room, the fire escape door opened a crack. A half inch, maybe three-quarters, but not more. And sticking out of the opening was a finger. A woman’s finger, crooked and beckoning him down the hall.

  Whatever this was about, it ought to be good. “Tell me quickly,” he whispered as he stepped into the stairwell and saw Hallie. “Are we on the trail of the elusive lingerie? Or is this a romantic assignation?”

  “It’s an assignation, all right. Minus the first three syllables.”

  Her morning obviously wasn’t going as well as his. “What are you doing out of the room? I thought you were going to take a nap.”

  “I had to use the phone.” Her hazel eyes seemed brighter, sharper than the last time he’d looked into them like this.

  He snapped his fingers, realizing why she looked different, like a little girl with pudgy cheeks and flyaway hair surrounding a serious, studious face. “You’re wearing your glasses…and a sweater.” Pausing, he stepped back to note the eclectic mix of poppy red sarong and brick red, cotton cardigan. “Your glasses. My sweater. Are you cold?”

  “I’m locked out.”

  “Hmm, usually women lock themselves in my room, not out of it”

  She frowned. “Have you been drinking?”

  “I must have had three glasses of orange juice already this morning, and it isn’t even eleven o’clock.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “The acid in the juice doesn’t bother your stomach?”

  “Nothing bothers my stomach.”

  “It’s early yet. Look.”

  He arched a brow. “At you?”

  “No, look down the hall.” As he was about to yank open the door and take a look around, she stopped him.
“Don’t open it all the way, for Pete’s sake. Be discreet He might be out there.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Aloha.”

  “Mr. Aloha?”

  She peeked under his arm at the scant inch of visible hallway. “Trust me, you don’t want to be found.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Well, I don’t. I suppose you can decide for yourself.”

  “Which is why you lured me into the fire escape for this little rendezvous?”

  Her chin came up and she stepped away from the door. “If I had wanted to lure you, Rik, I’d have hung out a neon sign with a big green arrow pointing at the door handle. As it happens, I called you in here to warn you.”

  He was beginning to like the sound of this. “Okay, here I am. Warn me.”

  She cocked her head at an angle, and behind the slightly bent, duct-taped pewter frames, her hazel eyes nailed him. “You know, you deserve what’s going to happen to you.”

  “I certainly hope so. I’ve worked hard all my life to get my just deserts.”

  “Fine. I wash my hands of you.” She demonstrated the effect by dusting her hands. “Just remember when it comes time for Mr. Aloha to measure you, I tried to save you from embarrassment.”

  “All right, Hallie, I’ll bite. Who is this Mr. Aloha and why do you believe he’s going to embarrass me?”

  “Mr. Aloha Formal wear is the shop I asked to handle the tuxedo rental. You need a tuxedo for Saturday’s wedding. Therefore, Mr. Aloha needs your measurements.”

  “For an Aloha lei?”

  She didn’t even smile at his joke. “For a standard tux.”

  “Ah.” He nodded sagely. “The standard tuxedo measure. And you thought that would embarrass me?” Rik laughed. “Really, Hallie, that’s sweet and all, but believe me, there isn’t any part of my anatomy that won’t measure up. Certainly nothing I’ll be embarrassed about.”