Wedding Bell Blues

by Meg Benjamin

  Janie closed her eyes. “Docia, there’s no way we could get another bridesmaid dress here in time, let alone the maid of honor dress. I can run the guest book or something. It really doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter.” Docia’s voice cracked. “I’m not doing this without you.”

  “Couldn’t you just wear a different dress?” Cal asked innocently.

  Docia and Janie both stared at him.

  “No, no, of course you couldn’t, what was I thinking!” Cal took a hurried swallow of Dos Equis.

  “Wait a minute.” Pete’s brow furrowed. “Why couldn’t you wear something else? What’s stopping you?”

  “Because it’s a wedding.” Janie looked at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “Everybody has to match.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…they just do, that’s all.”

  “Look—” Pete leaned forward, “—Docia says she wants to get out from under this train wreck. Well, why not change its direction? Who says this has to be the second coming of Di and Charles—hell, just look how well that one turned out, anyway!”

  “So, I get to stand up there in my prom dress, while everybody else wears those luscious bridesmaid dresses?” Janie grimaced. “Excuse me, but I don’t see how that’s going to help.”

  Pete shook his head. “Not just you. Me too. And Lars.”

  “You’re going to wear a prom dress?” Cal raised an eyebrow. “Good entertainment value, but mixed messages.”

  “No, wait, I see what you mean.” Docia leaned forward. “As long as we’re not going with tradition here, let’s take it to the limit. No bridesmaid dresses. No tuxes.”

  “Right.” Pete nodded. “You and Cal can wear your finery, and the rest of us will wear stuff that will make us fade into the background.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Janie cut in. “Even if I’m not going to get to wear that dream dress, I’m still wearing something nice. It’s Docia’s wedding.”

  “No.” Docia stared down at her margarita, her forehead furrowed.

  Janie blinked at her. “No, you don’t like it or no, you prefer me to fade like Pete?”

  The corners of Docia’s mouth quirked up slightly. “No, I’m not wearing any finery. Why should you guys be the only ones who get to wear what you want?”

  “Oh, but Docia, it’s such a beautiful dress!” Janie sighed.

  “It’s a beautiful dress for someone who isn’t me,” Docia said gently. “For me, it’s like playing dress-up. I’ve never wanted to be Cinderella, even when I was a kid.”

  “Okay, hold up a minute.” Cal frowned. “What do we have here? No wedding clothes I get. But what about the rest of it? We’ll look pretty weird wandering into this extravaganza dressed in jeans and boots.”

  “Oh, god, Mama,” Docia moaned. “I forgot all about the wedding of the century part of it.”

  Janie narrowed her eyes, thinking. “You wanted to cut the guest list, right?”

  “Right.” Docia grimaced. “Four hundred isn’t a wedding, it’s a convention.”

  Janie shrugged. “So your mama’s production becomes the reception. And we have the wedding someplace else. Maybe even sometime else.”

  “Such as?” Cal was leaning forward now.

  “I don’t know.” Janie’s eyes danced. “Maybe in the morning. Or even the night before. But we’ll have to clear that with Reba.”

  “You know where I want it to be?” Docia leaned back, her eyes meeting Cal’s. “Morgan Barrett’s winery. The patio outside the tasting room. I’ve always loved that place.”

  Cal looked slightly confused. “Then why didn’t you suggest it for the wedding when your mama was doing the planning?”

  “I did. She vetoed it because it won’t hold four hundred guests.” Docia was grinning now. “Which means it’s currently perfect for our purposes.”

  “If your mama agrees,” Janie cautioned. “I’m not going to get into this if it’s going to upset Reba too much.”

  “Oh you can explain it,” Docia said airily. “Mama listens to you.”

  Janie looked as if her stomach had suddenly dropped to her toes. “Me?”

  “You.” Docia nodded in Pete’s direction. “And him. Your impossible mission, should you choose to accept it.”

  “Is the alternative Vegas?” Janie croaked.

  “It is.” Docia gave her a faintly feline grin. “The two of you are still invited if we go.”

  “In that case we accept.”

  “Huh?” Pete’s head whipped toward her.

  Janie sighed. “I mean we accept the mission. We’ll talk your mama into it, Docia.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “So explain to me again why we’re doing this,” Pete murmured as he wandered up the street behind Janie.

  “Well, Docia wanted a smaller wedding, and we’re down by a dress and a tux, and…”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Explain to me why we’re not just letting them head for Vegas.”

  Janie paused, leaning one hand against a live oak tree. Why weren’t they? “Well, Reba would be upset.”

  “She’d get over it eventually.” He placed a hand on the tree trunk above her head, angling over her.

  “Your mother would be upset.”

  Pete didn’t say she’d get over it. Janie was willing to bet Millie Toleffson didn’t get over very many things. She probably had a memory like an elephant on ginko.

  “We’d survive.”

  “Docia would be upset. Once she realized what she’d done, she’d be unhappy.”

  “She’s already unhappy. You think she’d feel worse than she already does?”

  “Right now all she can think about is the fuss and the disasters.” Janie leaned her head against the tree trunk. “But the thing is, every time she and Cal have talked about getting married for the past few months, Docia has said her one nonnegotiable demand is that the wedding happens here with all her friends. If she bolts off to Las Vegas, she’ll lose that. And she won’t be happy when she understands what she’s done.”

  Pete’s mouth edged up in a grin. “So you’re saving her from herself? You’re being a nice girl again? I’d say this isn’t going to help you in your ambition to become a bitch.”

  “Oh well, I’ll have other chances.” Janie grinned back, then her grin turned into gritted teeth. “And if we do this, we keep that true bitch Sherice from screwing everything up like she planned to. We will make this wedding happen.”

  Pete’s smile turned fierce. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “Look, I’ll talk to Reba.” Janie pushed herself up again. “It’s probably better if I do this alone. She’s more likely to listen to me after all the work we’ve done together.”

  Pete nodded as he fell in step beside her again. “Okay, but we need to check in with each other. Keep in touch. Maybe have dinner.”

  He was looking carefully at the other side of the street, his face neutral. Janie thought he was adorable. Also super hot.

  “Right. We can get together later.”

  Pete sighed. “Yeah, I guess I need to check back with my dad to see what’s happening on the other front. Call me when you’re done, okay?”

  Janie sailed home, almost literally. She was pretty sure her feet were several inches above the ground. The wedding was on, Sherice was gone, Lars was smiling, and she had Pete.

  Her feet hit the ground with a thud. She had Pete? What did that mean? She didn’t have Pete—nobody did. As far as she could tell, Pete preferred it that way.

  And, of course, so did she. Independence. Her own apartment. The new, vaguely bitchy Janie Dupree. She started up her front walk, then stopped, her chest constricting. Suddenly, she was having trouble breathing.

  Otto’s truck was parked in the driveway.

  A muted pain began somewhere around Janie’s sinuses. She had a feeling Mom had something to do with this. For a moment she considered heading back toward Main, but she waited too long. Mom stepped out onto the front porc
h.

  “Janie, honey, come inside.” She glanced a little fearfully at the houses on either side, her voice dropping. “You need to talk to him.”

  No, I don’t. On the other hand, maybe talking to Otto now would lead to a clean break. Preferably of one of Otto’s major bones.

  Otto himself was sitting at the kitchen table with a coffee mug in front of him. He looked like he needed it. His complexion reminded her of bread dough—moist and pale. His brown hair was plastered against his skull as if he’d been wearing a close-fitting hat. Janie didn’t think she’d ever seen him looking quite so bad. She tried not to be delighted. Delight was beneath her. “What do you want, Otto?” she snapped.

  “Janie,” her mother said from behind her, “don’t be rude. Otto is our guest. Sit down. I’ll make some sandwiches.”

  Janie sat. She decided she’d save her battles for more vital things. On the other hand, she needed to dispense with extended conversations. “I don’t have time to eat right now, Mom. I’ve got errands to run. I’ll get dinner while I’m out. What was it you wanted, Otto?” She figured that sounded marginally more polite at least.

  Otto turned red-rimmed eyes in her general direction. “Came to apologize,” he mumbled.

  “All right.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Go ahead.”

  “Janie!” Mom stood behind Otto’s chair, her eyes narrowed.

  Janie gritted her teeth. “Mom, maybe you could go check the mail.”

  “The mail? It’s almost five. The mail came at two.” Her mother glared at her with mutinous eyes.

  “Then find something else to do in the living room, Mom.” Janie managed to keep her voice level. “Otto and I need to talk. In private.”

  She watched her mother’s jaw become square, as her chin moved up. She walked stiffly toward the kitchen door, her eyes sending messages all the way. Don’t blow it! Last chance! Good catch! Janie looked away.

  Otto took a long swallow of coffee, shuddering slightly at the taste. Janie thought about standing again to try to hurry him on his way. “So what do you have to say, Otto?”

  “Well, you know.” He rubbed his eyes. “Like, I’m sorry.”

  Janie swallowed down the words that leaped to her tongue. “Sorry for what exactly?”

  “Well, last night.” He waved one hand in the air, vaguely. “What happened and all. I was drunk. I’m sorry.”

  As an apology, she figured it ranked right up there with Helen of Troy apologizing for causing that misunderstanding with the Greeks. “Okay. You’ve said you’re sorry. Now you can go.”

  “Oh come on, Janie.” Otto winced, rubbing his eyes again. “So I’m not good with apologies. I came over here to make it right. Give me some credit at least.”

  She blew out a quick breath. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get the hell out of her kitchen yet. “I accept your apology, Otto, but I don’t really have much more to say about it. In fact, I don’t see that the two of us have much more to say to each other at all.”

  Otto gave her an incredulous look. “You’re not gonna break up with me over this, are you? It’s not like I really cheated on you or anything.”

  She stared at him, fascinated. She’d never seen self-delusion on this scale before. “What exactly would you call it?”

  “I just…” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Like I said, I was drunk. And she was willing. And the Toleffsons have been like a burr in my ass all week long.”

  “So this was a chance to get back at the Toleffsons?” That didn’t exactly speak well for Sherice’s charms, not that she found that idea all that upsetting, of course.

  “Bunch of smartasses.” His face darkened. “He threw a dart at me.”

  Janie sighed again. Had dealing with Otto always been this annoying? Probably. She just hadn’t focused on it before. “Look, Otto, let’s just forget the whole thing, all right? It’s not like we were going steady or anything. You’ve said you’re sorry, I’ve accepted your apology, we can be friends. That’s that.”

  “Friends?” He glared at her. “We weren’t friends!”

  “Okay,” she said through gritted teeth, “we can be distant acquaintances. Is that better?”

  Otto ignored her. “We’ve been going out for weeks. You’re my girlfriend, damn it!” He pushed back his chair and stood, then leaned over her, resting his fists on the table. “What do you mean we weren’t going steady?”

  Janie sat very still, staring up at him. He seemed to loom over her, like some backstreet thug. She’d never been afraid of him. She wasn’t now. Not exactly. “I can’t talk about this now. I’ve got things I have to do. And we both need time to cool off.”

  Otto straightened, his face thunderous. “Cool off? Yeah, right. Believe me, honey, you don’t need any more cooling. You’re already so frigid you’re like a fucking icicle.” He turned and walked out of the kitchen without looking back.

  Janie sat very still, concentrating on breathing. She wasn’t going to take anything he said seriously. She wasn’t frigid. Pete hadn’t thought so.

  Had he?

  She heard her mother’s step in the doorway and closed her eyes. She really wasn’t up to this right now.

  “Janie?” her mother said, tentatively.

  Janie pushed herself back from the table. “Mom, I’ve got to go talk to some people. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.”

  Mom watched her go with worried eyes, but Janie willed herself not to slow down or look back.

  Pete parked outside the B&B where his parents were staying, trying to remember which rental car was his dad’s. If they’d gone out to dinner with Lars or Cal, he’d catch up with them later.

  He tried the front door, knocking quickly when he found it was unlocked. “Hey, anybody home?”

  “Just me.”

  Pete froze. Sherice sat on the couch wearing a tank top made out of shiny black fabric and a skirt that ended the usual six inches above her knees.

  The corners of her mouth edged up in a thin smile. “You should see your face.”

  “Why?” Pete blew out a quick breath, trying to regroup.

  “You look like you’ve had the shock of your life. At least I’m ahead of you for once.” Sherice looked out the window, squinting slightly.

  “Is Mom here?” he asked.

  Sherice shrugged. “Haven’t seen her. Is Lars coming over now?”

  Pete sank into the easy chair opposite her couch. “Why? Do you want him to?”

  “Not especially. I assume you’ve already closed ranks.”

  “Well, we saw your little goodbye present. I figured if you wanted to make it up to him, you wouldn’t have burned your bridges.”

  “There’s no point in my talking to him now, is there?” Sherice inspected her sunshine-yellow fingernails.

  Pete shrugged. “Depends on what you’ve got to say, I guess.”

  She glanced up at him, her mouth narrowing to a thin line. “You’re all so smart. You’ve got it all decided, haven’t you? You know who the good guys and bad guys are. What chance do I have?”

  “Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to feel sorry for you, to think you got some kind of raw deal.” Pete blew out a disgusted breath. “C’mon Sherice. You were screwing a near stranger in the front seat of his truck. How is that Lars’s fault? How is that anybody’s fault but yours and Otto’s?”

  She gave him a faintly feline smile. “Your mother doesn’t think it’s all my fault. She thinks you’ve all been mean to me.”

  He rubbed his eyes. He had an overwhelming desire to kick Sherice in the butt. “Mom has her point of view. I have mine.”

  “You should keep something in mind—all of you Toleffson boys.” Sherice leaned forward in her seat, her voice dropping to a rasp. “I’ve got Daisy. She’s with my mama. If you push me too hard, I can send them away to some place where you’ll never find her.”

  Pete felt a quick surge of rage, followed by an equally quick surge of guilty delight. He managed to keep h
is face blank. “You’d do that to Lars? And to Daisy? They’re nuts about each other.”

  “Then Lars had better think twice about throwing me out with nothing.” Sherice stood, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt. “I’m looking for a decent settlement, and I’ve got all the cards here, Mr. Attorney of Record. Just keep that in mind.”

  “I will.” He sighed. “Oh, believe me, I will. Are you staying here with Mom?”

  Sherice narrowed her eyes as she opened the front door. “You never mind where I’m staying. I’ll be in touch.” She closed the door behind her with a snap.

  Janie called Morgan Barrett from the car as she headed toward the Woodrose.

  “The tasting room patio?” Morgan sounded mystified. “Yeah, sure, it’s available on Saturday morning. We don’t open until noon. Why do you need it?”

  Janie took a deep breath. “For Docia’s wedding.”

  Silence spread at the other end of the line, then a sigh. “I thought Docia was getting married at the Woodrose. I mean that’s what my invitation said.”

  “She was. There’s been a slight change in plans.”

  “Well, okay, I guess. What all do you need from us?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” Janie turned into the Woodrose’s drive. “I’ll get back to you after I talk to Reba.”

  Janie found Reba on the Woodrose’s spacious side porch, a very large glass of wine on the table beside her. Billy Kent was sitting next to her on the wicker settee, his arm draped across her shoulders.

  Janie had decided that she’d tell Reba about the dresses without any preliminaries, sort of like jerking out a splinter without discussing it. Reba sat perfectly still when she’d finished, then slowly lowered her head to her folded arms.

  Janie wondered if she should have indulged in some preliminaries after all.

  Billy leaned forward, stroking his wife’s shoulders. “Hey there, sweet thing, we’ll take care of it. We’ll just fly in another one, and another tux too. Hell, how hard can it be?”

  Reba raised her head fractionally to stare at him, then sighed, dropping her head back on her arms. “There’s no time, Billy. The wedding’s day after tomorrow. Besides, I think that bridesmaid dress I got for the sister-in-law was the last one in the country. And finding a tux for someone Lars’s size is no simple thing.”