“Where’s Auntie Anna?” asked Lelani.
“In the kitchen,” Megan said.
“Someone should tell her to come out here and see her niece,” Gil said.
“We already did,” Kendall told him. “But she’s in a stubborn mood.”
“Is Edmond with her?” Lelani asked.
“No,” Megan said. “Besides you and Gil, we’re all dateless tonight.”
“Don’t remind me,” Kendall told her. “I’ve been seriously missing Killiki today. I tried to talk my parents into flying them and me over to Maui just so they could meet him. They were actually thinking about it.”
“Seriously?” Lelani wanted to suggest that perhaps they could stay at her parents’ guest house but knew it wasn’t a good idea.
“Yeah. But then my dad went online to price tickets. So much for that idea.”
“You should tell your mom that you’d settle for less of a wedding in exchange for a Maui trip,” suggested Megan.
“Too late for that.” Kendall sighed. “She’s already booked this winery that her friend owns.”
“A winery?” Megan frowned. “You’re getting married at a winery?”
“It’s actually a gorgeous location. But not cheap.” Kendall shook her head. “Nothing about this wedding is going to be cheap.”
“Except your dress,” Lelani reminded her.
“Even that’s turned into a battleground.”
“Why? That dress is absolutely perfect,” Megan told her.
Gil laughed and reached out for Emma now. “Come on, Emma, why don’t you and I escape all this wedding talk.”
But Emma just sat there looking at him.
“Come on, Emma,” Lelani urged. “Don’t you want to go with Daddy?” They had begun calling Gil “Daddy” shortly after the engagement. It just seemed less confusing that way.
“Want to come dance with Daddy?” Gil asked sweetly.
“Da-da.”
“She said Da-da,” Gil exclaimed.
“Da-da!” she shouted again. And then Emma stuck her hands out and went to him. They all laughed and clapped, and Gil danced her around the pool as she said “Da-da,” over and over.
Eventually they went inside, mixed a bit with the guests, and Lelani got to meet the mystery woman who’d escorted Emma into the party (a second-cousin named Molly—or was it Sally?) as well as a lot of other relatives whose names Lelani would never be able to keep straight. Then they filled brightly colored plates with food and reconvened by the pool, where, to Lelani’s relief, Anna joined them.
“So they let you off KP,” Megan teased.
“I don’t mind helping,” Anna told them. “Sometimes it’s easier than mingling.”
Lelani nodded. “I understand.”
“Happy birthday, Emma,” Anna told her. “You’re quite the party girl, you know.”
“Time for the piñata,” Mrs. Mendez was calling out.
“Oh, great.” Gil groaned. “Time to beat and murder the poor piñata again.”
Anna grimaced. “Remember the time Elisa almost put out Danielle’s eye with the stick?”
Gil laughed. “It seemed like someone was always getting hurt.”
“It sounds brutal.” Lelani clung to Emma. “I’m not sure I want—”
“Bring out the birthday girl,” someone was calling now.
Gil reached down for Emma. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Fortunately, they didn’t blindfold Emma. Gil held her up while she swung the stick, and someone had rigged the piñata to release the goodies before it was beaten senseless. Finally, after the breaking of the piñata, the eating of the cake, and the unwrapping of a small mountain of gifts (with the help of some young cousins), Lelani could tell that Emma was getting close to that place of melting down.
“We should be going,” she told Gil’s mother. “But thanks for everything. It really was a wonderful party.”
Mrs. Mendez smiled. “Oh, I’m so glad you liked it.” Then she turned to the others. “Everyone say good night to the birthday girl.” Lots of birthday wishes and good-byes were shouted out.
“Thank you all for coming,” Lelani called back.
“And we’ll party again,” Gil’s mom called out, “just one month from now at the big wedding!” This was followed by more cheers and congratulations. Gil called out good-bye, opened the front door, and led the trio into the cool fresh air.
“Did I just hear your mother inviting everyone in there to the wedding?”
Gil shrugged. “It sure sounded like it.”
“What will we do?”
“Let Anna and Mom sort it out.”
“Poor Auntie Anna,” Lelani said to Emma.
He nodded as he opened the door to the truck. “Poor Auntie Anna.”
Seventeen
Megan
“Okay, class,” Megan said loudly, “that was very amusing, but let’s get back to our projects.” She’d just sent Jackson to the office—the third time this week—after catching him smoking in the ceramics room. He vehemently denied it and had hidden the cigarette somewhere, but she could smell the smoke, both on him and in the room. It was a wonder the smoke alarm hadn’t gone off. The class was all excited now and seemed unable to settle down and focus on their work. Megan wondered if she’d ever manage to control these kids. How did anyone do it?
Finally the day ended and Megan went down to the teachers’ room to get a bottle of water. Still feeling somewhat out of place (and slightly like an imposter, since she felt she hardly deserved the title of teacher), she tended to avoid the teachers’ room. After all, wasn’t that where the “real” teachers hung out?
“Hey, Miss Abernathy,” said one of the guy teachers, “how goes it down in the artsy corner of the campus?”
She tried to remember his name but came up blank. “For starters, you can call me Megan. Half of my class does anyway.”
“Join the club,” said a woman in the corner grading papers. Megan thought her name was Becky and that she taught French or Spanish or maybe both. “If you want respect, get a job at Starbucks.”
Megan laughed. “That’s occurred to me. I hear they have a great health plan.”
“I’m Harris.” He stuck out his hand and shook hers. “I don’t think we’ve actually met. I teach eighth-grade English, and if you think art is hard, you should try that.”
“Do they actually learn anything?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Hard to tell. But I just keep on trying.”
“How long have you been teaching?” He didn’t seem that old and also was rather attractive. Not that she was looking. She certainly wasn’t looking!
“This is my third year, but it feels more like thirty.”
“Does it get easier?”
He grinned. “Do you want the truth?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I probably can’t handle the truth.”
“At least you got here on the tail end,” Becky said. “By this time of year, we’re counting the days until school’s out.”
“What is it now?” Harris asked.
“Nineteen, can you believe it?”
“Nineteen,” Harris said dreamily. “It almost seems doable.”
“Well, I’m outta here,” Becky said as she shoved her papers into a bag. “Happy weekend, you guys.”
“You too,” Megan called. She turned to Harris. “Nineteen days might sound doable to you, but I’m still measuring my days by hours and minutes.”
He nodded. “I know how that goes.”
“So, do you have any tips?” she asked hopefully. “Any secret ways to maintain, make that restore, order?”
“First of all, you can’t control them.”
She nodded. “I
’m sort of getting that. But if you can’t control them, how do you get them to do what you want?”
“It helps if you make them think they want to do it too.”
She considered this.
“I know that Heather used to run her classroom rather loosely.”
“Loosely?”
“Yes. Art was one place where kids could sort of let their hair down, if you know what I mean. Probably one of the reasons she’s got some of the rowdy kids in there.”
“But how did she control—okay, not control. How did she keep it from being total chaos?”
“She played music. Seems like she was into bluegrass.”
“Bluegrass?”
“Not the real twangy kind of bluegrass, but some of the newer stuff. Folk music too. She said it brought out the creativity in them.”
“Okay.” Megan was making mental notes. “Anything else?”
“Sometimes she brought them donuts.”
“Donuts?” Megan shook her head. “Meaning I have to bribe them to like me?”
He grinned. “You do what it takes.”
“Okay, food and music. I got that. Anything else?”
“Mostly I think you just need to relax. I think these kids are really reflective, whether they know it or not. If the teacher is uptight, they get uptight, only their kind of uptight is to act out. You need to get comfortable with them, Megan. Just be yourself and I’m sure they’ll lighten up.”
“That’s actually sounds like really good advice.”
“The proof of the pudding is in the eating.”
She laughed. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”
He looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m a sucker for colloquialisms. I even collect them in a little black book.”
“I guess there are worse hobbies.” She was making her way to the door now.
“Speaking of hobbies,” he said as he followed her out into the hallway. “I assume that you’re single since you go by Miss and I don’t see a ring.”
“You’re right, I’m single, but I do have a boyfriend.” She said this quickly, then partially regretted it, since it was probably an overstatement. She had thought she had a boyfriend, but saying good-bye to Marcus this week hadn’t exactly felt like it. Oh, sure, they had kissed, but it was brief and not anything like the farewell kiss she had hoped for. In fact, she wondered if Marcus had been sending her a not-so-subtle message.
“Ah, yes, the boyfriend.” Harris smiled. “I should’ve known.”
“He just left for Zambia,” she said a little sadly.
“Zambia?” Harris’s brow creased. “What’s he doing there?”
“Good question. I think he plans to dig wells or something.”
“How long will he be gone?”
“I’m not really sure.”
“But you’re sure he’s your boyfriend?” Harris looked hopeful.
Megan shrugged. “I guess I’m not positive.” Suddenly she felt on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, Harris,” she told him, “but I guess I’m still feeling a little blue. And it’s been a hard week.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m the one who should be sorry, Megan. I sometimes come on a little too strong. And I totally respect that you have a boyfriend. If you need any more teacher advice, though, please feel free to ask.”
“Thanks.” She nodded and swallowed against the hard lump that was growing in her throat. “I appreciate that. A lot. And now I have a ceramics room that needs attention.” She turned and walked away, but she could feel his eyes on her as she moved down the hall. While this unexpected masculine attention felt nice, she wished it was Marcus watching her instead. And she wished that Marcus would call or e-mail or send a letter or something! He had told her before he left that communication would be sparse at best and not to expect much. But still!
With exactly four weeks until wedding weekend, things at Bloomberg Place were hopping. Megan actually welcomed this distraction. It allowed her to block out the trauma of teaching kids who didn’t seem to want to learn, as well as the sadness of missing Marcus. She didn’t really expect him to call, but she had hoped he would. If for no other reason than to simply say he’d made it there safely. But she told herself, “No news is good news,” and left it at that.
“I just do not understand why you want to wear a discount wedding dress,” Kendall’s mom was saying for the umpteenth time. All four housemates and Mrs. Weis sat around the dining room table working on a project that she had insisted they all needed to help with—hot-gluing ribbon and lace around small flowerpots. They’d fill these with foam and moss and miniature rosehip topiaries, then use them “not only to grace every table, but to be party favors as well,” she had told them with enthusiasm. Megan wondered why Mrs. Weis hadn’t picked something simpler, like fresh flowers in clear vases anchored with pebbles and small shells, which is what she was planning to do for Lelani’s wedding dinner. So she wasn’t about to suggest it now.
“Have you actually seen Kendall’s dress?” Lelani asked in a slightly impatient tone.
“Of course I’ve seen it.”
“And you don’t think it’s lovely?”
“Lelani helped me pick it out,” Kendall said hopefully.
“You mentioned that already, Kendall.” Mrs. Weis frowned at Lelani now. “I realize you’re both getting married on the very same day, which I must admit seems a bit odd to me, but I hope that there isn’t any competition going on between you.” She chuckled. “I raised four daughters, I know how it can be between girls.”
Lelani looked stricken.
“There is no competition between Lelani and Kendall,” Megan said. “It’s not like that all.”
“Not at all,” Kendall said firmly.
“That’s right.” Lelani set down her pot with a thud. “I really think the dress we picked for Kendall is beautiful.”
“Have you seen the dress on Kendall?” demanded Megan.
“Well, no—”
“Kendall,” commanded Megan, “Go and put it on.”
“Yes!” Kendall stood. “Great idea.”
“I’ll help you,” offered Lelani, who looked close to tears.
It was very quiet at the dining room table. Only Megan, Anna, and Mrs. Weis were working, but the silence was so thick that Megan finally felt the need to say something. She cleared her throat.
“Just so you know, Mrs. Weis,” she began carefully, “Lelani probably doesn’t have a single competitive bone in her body.”
Anna nodded. “That’s right.”
“Oh, nonsense.” Mrs. Weis waved a hand dismissively. “All us girls are a little competitive sometimes, especially when it comes to weddings and dresses and—”
“I’ll admit I can be competitive,” Megan said, “and I’ll admit I can be territorial and protective occasionally. But Lelani definitely is not.”
“And,” continued Anna, “Lelani is one of the sweetest people I know.”
Megan wanted to add, “Unlike Kendall,” except the truth was, that had changed. That was the old Kendall. They were seeing a new side of Kendall these days. Mrs. Weis might do well to follow her daughter’s example.
“Here comes the bride! Big, fat, and wide!” Kendall sang loudly as she came down the stairs.
They all got up and went out to see. She not only wore the gown, but Lelani had put her hair up and placed a pretty sparkling tiara sort of thing in her hair. And Kendall was glowing.
“Wow!” Anna nodded. “You look fantastic.”
Megan actually whistled.
“Well …” Mrs. Weis studied her daughter as she came down the last few steps. “I suppose that will be okay.”
“I’d say it’s a lot more than okay,” Megan tossed back.
“I think the most impor
tant thing is that I like it,” Kendall proclaimed. “After all, it is my wedding.” She laughed. “Well, mine and Killiki’s. I wish I could get his opinion on the dress.”
“He’s going to love it,” Lelani assured her.
“Fine, fine, Kendall. Now go upstairs and take it off before you get it dirty,” her mother told her. But as soon as Mrs. Weis turned around, Kendall did a little happy dance and gave them all two thumbs-up, mouthing, “Thanks!”
With a small sense of satisfaction, Megan picked up the glue gun and attacked the next pot. “How many of these are we doing?” she asked.
“About a hundred.”
Anna and Megan exchanged glances but said nothing.
“Oh, and before I forget, you girls need to go to Jean Pierre’s Atelier by the end of next week for your fittings.”
Megan controlled herself from saying, “Oo-la-la.”
“What color did you finally decide on?” Anna asked with what seemed like only polite interest.
“Fuchsia,” she told them, “but not a loud fuchsia.”
“Now there’s a color everyone looks good in,” said Megan as she patted her strawberry-blonde hair. Fortunately Mrs. Weis didn’t detect the irony in her voice.
“Yes, Kendall’s sisters are all summers, so they are cool palettes. And I’m sure that Lelani and Anna are both winters, also cool.” She frowned at Megan now. “Although I suppose you’re a warm palette.”
Megan knew enough about colors to know what she was talking about. “I’ll just be sure to wear some fuchsia-toned lipstick and blush.”
“Yes, that might help.”
Of course, Megan had no intention of wearing fuchsia-colored makeup. She’d look like a clown.
“Hey, what about Marcus’s sister’s wedding?” Anna said. “Are you still going to that?”
Megan considered this. “Well, I did receive an invitation, although I’d planned to go with Marcus.”
“Will he back in time for the wedding?”
“I’m not sure. But I thought he was going to be in it, at least to usher or something.”
“Oh, ushers are easily replaced,” Mrs. Weis told them. “Goodness, I remember Katie’s wedding. The attendants to both the bride and groom kept changing their minds. It’s a wonder we were able to get them lined up at all when the day finally came.”
Three Weddings and a Bar Mitzvah Page 15