Wedding Roulette

by Leandra Logan

  “Just the opposite,” she confided blissfully. “The idea just flowed.”

  “Stop now to consider what will happen if that logo has fallen into the wrong hands.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hands that might turn the napkin over to Gerald Stewart himself. Think of how the vain Gerald might react to the comical sketch. He might consider it a personal and unforgivable blow.”

  “It was such a lighthearted luncheon. Between the girls.”

  “All it takes is one person to break a bond of secrecy.”

  “Poking into recipes for a leg up is one thing. But do you really think someone would risk damaging your relationship with Gerald beyond repair?”

  “It is possible.”

  “I hope not. Despite the competition, I like all those women.”

  “I am thrilled that you do. Most of the time, it makes for a great working relationship. But with rivalry this keen, it doesn’t help to put this kind of inflammatory temptation in front of a desperate competitor.”

  “Who’s desperate enough to run to him with my napkin?”

  “I don’t know. Just as people don’t know how desperate I am, coercing you along for the ride as my bride-to-be.”

  “Guess I got carried away, grandstanding for the girls. Please don’t be angry, Michael.”

  “I’m more frustrated than anything else,” he confessed. “One minute you’re the coy advice guru, the next my confidante, the next an adwoman.”

  “I sound truly fascinating,” she teased.

  “True, but I’m far more comfortable with a person once I’ve figured them out.”

  “I can understand that—”

  “You understand that, too?”

  She pressed her lips together, as if finally reaching her comeback limit.

  Clearly, she meant well, was trying so hard to help him. Sitting up, he touched the loose, damp tendrils on her shoulders with an expression of regret. “All I know for sure at this point is that I want to know you better. A lot better. Realized as much when I didn’t even know if you could swim.”

  “How does that fit in?”

  “Just a funny little moment I had with Randy. He reported there was some swimming going on at Norah’s and he wondered if you swim. Suddenly I really wanted to know if you do.”

  She smiled. “That is so sweet, Michael. As it happens, I do a lot of swimming at home. Laps at the YWCA.”

  “Well, I like it, too. Swim at my club.”

  “Maybe sometime we can swim together.”

  He paused to imagine such a sometime—frolicking in the water with his own sexy mermaid. Then he remembered the issue that had kept him distracted from the television for the past hour, the aunts. After the shocks she’d reeled him he couldn’t resist turnabout. With a benign smile he said, “We could even make it a family affair if you like, you and me and Beverly and Rachel.”

  She gaped at him. “My aunts call or something?”

  “They’re here. Tracked me down in the casino.”

  “Well, they would be in the casino, being big gamblers back home at the Indian-run places,” she said gaily. “Mystic Lake, Turtle Lake, Hinkley—they hit them all.”

  “They outright admitted they are here to snoop.”

  Her affectionate tone was strained. “Why, the old dears.”

  “They’ve been trying to find us all day, calling this suite, bobbing for name tags on polo shirts.”

  “How much do they admit to? To knowing, I mean,” she stammered.

  “You’re fully aware that they know the whole shebang! The fact that I am your column’s Doughman, that you have offered to fix my broken engagement by posing as my fiancée. Did you really have to tell all, Krista?”

  “I didn’t mean for the whole story to pop out. But I had to tell them I’d be out of town or they’d have worried.”

  “As things stand, I believe they are more curious than worried. And possess unusually strong opinions on my whole dilemma. I can see where you got your sly edge for the advice column.”

  She averted her gaze. “The Mattson women have many talents.”

  “No doubt!” He clasped his hands together, carefully choosing his words so as not to offend. “Don’t get me wrong. I like your aunts. They are fun. But they are also impetuous and invasive. Traits that make me very nervous.” He went on to explain everything, including Randy’s interest.

  “My aunts’ only sin is loving me too much,” she assured hurriedly.

  “I believe it, as their present mission appears to be far more complex than steering you clear of a lawsuit. I believe they’d like to marry you off.”

  “What!”

  “To me, of course.”

  “What!” Her shriek stung his ears.

  “It hasn’t taken them long to get caught up in the romantic angle of our trip, to imagine we could be real together. If I do say so myself, I think I passed their screening.”

  “This is crazy. You should be outraged, rather than wearing that moony grin.”

  His amusement deepened. “I am flattered that they think I am worthy of their precious niece. I sense they have high standards.”

  “The nerve, sharing all that with you.”

  “Seems only fair, as you’ve discussed everything about me.”

  “The interfering old ducks. I will definitely have a talk with them. ASAP.”

  “Seems best. But be gentle in relaying my views. Under other circumstances, I would love to spend more time with them. It’s just this production, with all its complexities, doesn’t need two more bit players.”

  “I heartily agree. It is imperative that they leave town immediately.”

  She reached back to the house phone of the end table. “Have you their room number?” Michael provided the number and she gave them a ring. Unfortunately, no one answered. “Now what?”

  “You could try and hunt them down,” he suggested anxiously.

  “This hotel has three casinos.”

  “They found me in Sultan’s Fancy on the main level.”

  “Okay, I’ll go have a look. Remember what they were wearing?”

  He described their nylon running suits.

  “I will call you when it’s over.”

  “You sound as though you’re going down there to execute them.”

  She raised a halfhearted protest. “No, of course not.”

  “But you look as if you wish…”

  “It’s a matter of wearing this very look, of being firm, of not letting them mold me like Play-Doh.”

  Michael flinched as the door slammed behind her. Apparently, the aunts had a history of pushing her into some very tight corners. How did the two sweet old things ever manage it? Maybe they could give him lessons.

  A QUICK RUN THROUGH THE ROWS of slots in Sultan’s Fancy paid off for Krista. As she predicted, the aunts were belly up to adjoining progressive machines, a bucket of coins between them, their eyes glued to the spinning reels of bars, bells and fruit.

  “Are we winning?” Krista asked, placing a hand on Beverly’s beefy back and one atop Rachel’s delicate shoulder.

  “Breakin’ even,” Beverly replied matter-of-factly over her shoulder. “So you finally got our message, then?”

  “I got it, all right. Straight from Doughman himself. How could you approach him that way? It’s amazing he wasn’t more suspicious. You aren’t even supposed to know what he looks like!”

  “We handled it real smooth,” Rachel insisted, yanking down the arm on her machine. Hitting a run of cherries, she watched coins tumble into the payoff return. With a squeal she scooped them into her plastic money cup.

  Beverly watched the win with envy. “We’re in no danger of being unmasked, as that man’s every wheel is already spinning in another direction. Now, let’s have a look at you.”

  Keeping a body block on their machines, the aunts stopped play long enough to turn to survey their niece.

  “My, don’t you look relaxed,” Beverly boomed. “Noth
ing like the driven executive we know.”

  “Your complexion is so pink,” Rachel cooed. “I’d swear you were having good sex.”

  The implication hung between them for a good thirty seconds, during which time Krista’s complexion grew five shades darker. “I am not—” She stopped, realizing she was about to play right into their web. Given the chance, they’d take back control of the whole charade. That wouldn’t be fair, as she was handling things quite efficiently. “I am not here to answer questions,” she went on to say. “I’m here to ask them.”

  Beverly tsked. “Of course you wonder why we’re here.”

  “We got to wondering whether Doughman deserved our published flogging, after all,” Rachel said reluctantly, staring at her coin cup.

  Beverly took up the slack. “Not that we are apologizing outright, mind you. Simona must never be chicken-hearted in her advice. Still, we do like to be accurate. Once you got involved with him, started enjoying yourself, doubts set in. Would a genuine dud have so readily agreed to the masquerade we invented? Would he possess the daring and confidence to pull it off? Well, we saw no alternative but to follow you here, see if, in fact, we had screwed up by condemning this man as a hopeless bore.”

  Suddenly Krista recognized the chance to nail down a rare and most welcome admission of error on their part. “So are you telling me that you’ve actually come to see your judgment was wrong?”

  “My, yes!” Rachel gushed. “Michael’s risen from dud to dish in record time.”

  Beverly agreed, though dispassionately. “He is quite charming, it’s true.”

  “I tried to tell you so back home,” Krista chided.

  “Don’t get all high and mighty on us, though,” Beverly cautioned. “We still feel our advice to Irritated In Illinois was valid. We may have misjudged Michael’s personality, but not the doomed relationship. It was a mismatch if ever there was one. Having drinks with Michael set a lot of things straight. He believes, rightfully so, that his fiancée was probably only looking for an excuse to break up with him because she was completely unprepared for marriage. For his part, he realizes he pushed her too hard, expected too much. All in all, blame was distributed quite evenly. Bottom line—Simona’s advice was for the better good.”

  Krista’s retort was dry. “Okay, you saved Michael from a bad marriage. But let’s not overlook the fact that a frank talk with him up front, without involving me, probably would’ve had the same effect.”

  “Oh, but then he wouldn’t have had a nice girl to bring to the convention,” Rachel said. “And you wouldn’t have met a suitable man or taken this vacation. A vacation you sorely needed. It’s been a while since you broke from routine.”

  Beverly’s smile was smug. “Our scheme is the closest you’ve come to real romance in ages. This Michael character is ripe for the picking and it’s plain he’s interested in you.”

  “And obviously you feel the heat,” Rachel said, “in your own repressed and cautious way. Even if you haven’t managed to consummate your relationship yet, you have never looked prettier, more content.”

  “We feel so strongly about our goodwill that we are willing to confess everything to Michael this very minute,” Beverly proclaimed bravely.

  “What!”

  “It’s high time he discovers with whom he is dealing—a talented fellow member of the executive stress club. It’s bound to speed up the courtship.”

  Krista pressed fingers to her temples as if warding off a migraine. “No, no.”

  The aunts were at this point justifiably confused. Here was the opportunity she’d been longing for, to reveal herself as a lucid woman with a solid career. But a sudden unexpected gut instinct held her back.

  “This is not the time for a confession. Michael’s under enough strain right now, plotting contest strategy with the reality we’ve fed him. It would be a disservice to rock the boat. He’d be angry about the lies and might, in a burst of pride, send me away. That in turn could upset him enough to cause him to blow the contest. Even perhaps put you back on the line for a lawsuit.”

  “He likes us too much now ever to sue,” Beverly said confidently.

  Rachel also took the peril in stride, tweaking Krista’s cheek. “Understandably you want to get him into the sack before confessing your sins. It’s every woman’s prerogative to cloud a man’s brain with desire.”

  “Ooh, you two will never understand the art of the deal.”

  After turning in their coins for dollar bills, the aunts wandered out to the lobby with their niece. Along the way Krista prepared to explain why they might consider cutting short their four-day trip. But the words didn’t come easily. They were so excited about finally making it to the gambling capital of the nation, about seeing their precious niece looking so relaxed. And a part of Krista was happy they finally appreciated Michael’s magnetism.

  Still, they were so unpredictable and had no real purpose here beyond a relative’s snooping privileges.

  “Have you considered how you will spend the next few days?” Krista prompted, steering them to a fountain, beside which was a gilded bench padded with a gold-colored cushion. It sat only two, so Krista remained standing. “If you stay on, that is?”

  “There are so many things to see and do. Or we may just hang around right here in this hotel.” Rachel gave the lobby an airy perusal. “It depends upon how interesting the convention is.”

  “You two aren’t conventioneers. You need a badge to enter any of the activities. Even I don’t have a badge.”

  “Am I to understand that you would prefer we leave town altogether?” Beverly asked abruptly. “When we’ve already paid in full for a four-day package of glamour and fun in the desert sun?”

  Krista withered a bit under her hefty aunt’s stare. “You could come back another time.”

  Rachel pressed a hand to her heart. “Is that what you want?”

  “We do already have our hands full.” She watched the aunts exchange glances. “One slip-up by you and the whole scheme might fall apart. Would you like that responsibility?”

  The two ruffled hens locked eyes. “I suppose we could cooperate,” Beverly finally grumbled. “If you see it as totally necessary…”

  In her joy Krista took an involuntary step back, jostling into a sturdy frame. She whirled around to find Gerald Stewart standing behind her. He was dressed in a plaid western-style yoked shirt and tan jeans. Toupee glued in place.

  “Hello, there,…missy.”

  “Krista Mattson, Mr. Stewart. Michael Collins’s fiancée.”

  “Dear child, I know that,” he lied smoothly. “Do call me Gerald.” He was looking over her shoulder now. At her aunts. “Who are your lovely companions?”

  Krista should have expected it. Rachel’s golden hair and vivid makeup and pound of bangles rarely escaped the attention of the average middle-aged man. Not to mention her voice that rang like a beckoning bell, or her petite figure, set to advantage even in her loose nylon suit. The doctor had told her to stop crossing her legs in order to relieve chronic back pain, but Rachel couldn’t bring herself to sacrifice the provocative pose.

  Krista made introductions, sensing that Gerald Stewart was at his most attentive.

  “Just arrived, eh? All the way from Minneapolis.” He surveyed the bench the aunts sat upon as he might a case of his own tempting doughnuts.

  “A four-day package deal,” Rachel cooed. “Here to support our Michael.”

  Our Michael. Krista thought the coo was overdone, but Gerald seemed all the more pleased.

  “That’s the spirit,” he said. “My kind of family loyalty.”

  “There’s not much my sister and I wouldn’t do to keep the Mattson machinery in running order.”

  Beverly’s claim made Gerald’s whole tanned face crinkle in pleasure. “Can’t be too serious a mission, here at my lively convention, surrounded by so many games of chance.” With that he hazarded a wink.

  “We’ve never seen such a spectacle as the Vegas St
rip. We can only imagine how it dazzles after dark.”

  Krista tensed in the brief silence to follow. Rachel had cast her line on the Stewart waters, struck in her trademark damsel pose.

  Gerald swallowed the bait in a single gulp. “I would be honored to treat you to a stellar night of excitement.”

  Beverly’s ample bosom lifted in a sigh. “We’re not sure we’re available.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because we may have to leave,” she said with a pat to her gray head. “Due to an unexpected…glitch in our plans.”

  Both aunts leveled Krista with an accusatory look. Krista, who had moments ago felt so in control, now felt her expression go blank.

  “Can’t be anything too serious. It would be a shame to break up our little group.” He smiled upon Krista. “Naturally I am including you and Michael in my invitation. Surely you can take care of any glitches these ladies have.”

  “Do you think you can, Krista?” Rachel peeped.

  Krista was caught off balance by this development. But its value was not lost on her. A night on the town with Gerald would be a splendid opportunity for Michael to step forward, perhaps finally make an impression on Gerald. The price paid would be the aunts’ uncertain company.

  Here she was, facing another hurdle that would affect Michael. Another he’d rather address himself, no doubt. But he wasn’t here. Whether he could appreciate it or not, she was an executive with all the cunning he himself possessed, and she was perfectly capable of making this move on the game board. Truth be told, there was only one reasonable move to make.

  “Of course the aunts will stay on. I shall speak to the reservations desk about your room mix-up right away,” Krista improvised. “We’d all be happy to join you, Gerald.”

  He smiled broadly. “We’ll meet here in the lobby round six-thirty.”

  “Now, Gerald, you must tell us all about this business of yours.” Rachel rose in a fluid motion to take over, pulling Gerald Stewart down on the bench, sandwiching him between Beverly and herself. “We adore doughnuts, no two ways about it.”

  Krista stood by dazedly, aware that she had been ruthlessly cut from the conversation. There seemed no choice but to exit.