A Wedding At Two Love Lane

by Kieran Kramer

  “Yes, we are, Papa,” she told her father. “We’re a wonderful family. We love each other. You and Mom have both worked so hard to keep a roof over our heads. And you two brought me up to have a big heart. Thank you.” She looked at him in the rearview mirror.

  He sat back, a contented smile on his face.

  Her mother reached over and squeezed her hand.

  That moment was enough. If they had to turn around and go home right then, Greer would have had a shining memory of their visit to cling to.

  “The days are getting long,” her father said, when they arrived at Baker House. Greer was happy to have a spare bedroom. And then she remembered her own. How could she have forgotten it? All the pink! The diamonds! The Elvis pictures!

  She was aghast. She was glad she always kept her bedroom door closed.

  “I can’t wait to see the whole apartment,” her mother said. “I love the kitchen already.” They’d parked their suitcases there for a moment to grab a glass of water. “Your decorating reminds me of mine.”

  “That’s on purpose,” said Greer. “You always made such a sunny home for us.”

  “Yes,” said her father. “Give us the grand tour so we can see how else your mother has influenced you.”

  “Oh, but you have, too, Poppa.” Greer could tell he was hoping she’d say so. “Look at how well-organized my books are. And every bit of furniture here has been painted by me, using techniques you taught me.”

  He was very pleased.

  Greer could see no way out of showing them her room, especially when her mother saw the shut door. “What’s in there, dear?”

  “Oh,” she said, “that’s a bedroom. It’s my roommate’s bedroom. She’s out of town for a couple days.”

  Her mother’s mouth dropped open. “You never told us you had a roommate!”

  “I just took one on,” she said, “to save money.”

  “Smart,” said her father. “What’s her name? And where’d she go?”

  “Ah, her name is Elena,” Greer said. “And she went to Disney World. For her mother’s birthday.” She couldn’t believe the lies she was telling. “I’ll sleep in her room, and you can have mine.”

  “Let’s see yours,” they said, and walked past her closed bedroom door, thank goodness.

  But her father didn’t like the double bed in what was really her guest room. “Your mother and I prefer a king-sized,” he said. “Is Elena’s bed a king?”

  “Oh, no,” said Greer. “It’s only a queen.”

  “Well, that’s better than this one,” he said, and rolled his luggage out the door.

  Her mother immediately followed suit.

  “I don’t think you’ll like it, Poppa!” Greer called after them. She couldn’t get around her mother’s luggage to beat both of them to the door. “Elena has interesting taste.”

  Her father flung the door open. And stood in shock. When her mother caught up with him, she stopped in her tracks, too.

  “She really loves Elvis,” Greer said, and tried to sound matter-of-fact about it.

  “I can see that,” her father said.

  What would they do? Greer folded her hands in front of her. “There are towels in her bathroom,” she said.

  “Right.” Her mother’s voice was faint.

  But they rolled their luggage in and unpacked. When they came out again, a few minutes later, it was as if nothing had happened. Greer fed them some appetizers, and then she took them to her favorite restaurant, where her mother and father split a piece of New York–style cheesecake for dessert. Greer, of course, had crème brulée.

  It was the story of her life.

  * * *

  Ford cornered Pierre in the macaron shop. “He’ll take exactly nothing,” he said to the big-eared boy behind the counter, who was busy stacking pastel pink macarons into a cellophane bag.

  “Hey,” said Pierre.

  Ford grabbed him by the arm. “You’re coming with me.”

  Pierre stumbled alongside him as they crossed the street and entered a leafy park surrounded by a wrought iron fence.

  “I’m Lord Wickshire, otherwise known as Stanford Elliott Wentworth Smythe, Eighth Baron Wickshire. You know me as Ford Smith.”

  “Uhh…”

  “You’re a very unpleasant guy who messed with several women’s psyches during this contest you rigged. I know you did. I spoke to Kiki. She was easy enough to break down when I offered her a position at a clothing shop in Mayfair in London with a woman I know who’s even more frightening than Kiki is. Her name is Rosemary Dunhill.”

  “The actress?”

  “Yes, she owns clothing shops on the side.” She was Teddy’s mother, of course.

  “I’m well aware.”

  “She said she’d get Kiki in line. She’d make a lady out of her if it was the last thing she does—a woman of integrity, polish, and grace, she told Kiki—and guess what? You didn’t give Kiki enough credit. She jumped at the chance.”

  “Damn.” Pierre’s drawl became more pronounced. “I wondered why she didn’t show up for work this morning.”

  “She’s on a plane to London as we speak. So Kiki told me the name of the hacker in Scotland you hired to place that text on Greer’s phone. And from there it’s easy enough to put you behind bars.”

  “You—”

  Ford grabbed him by the shirt front. “Shut up,” he said. “I’m going to give you two choices. Pick one. You will get me Royal Bliss right now. Or you don’t. And I call the police.”

  “I’ll get Royal Bliss,” Pierre whispered.

  “We’ll be borrowing it, but it might never find its way back to you. Greer will wear it, if she’ll have me and if she cares to don it at our wedding. And then we’ll be offering it to the other finalists. If Lisa marries last, we will cut it down permanently to fit her, and she will keep it henceforth.”

  “Okaaaay,” said Pierre.

  Ford released him. “I also expect you to provide bridesmaid dresses to some women I hope to be sending into the shop.”

  “Fine,” Pierre said low.

  “I’ve brought my own tux,” Ford said, “but my groomsmen will need tuxes. I realize you don’t carry them—foolishly. You’re too stubborn to listen to Henny, the only friend you have and can trust. Your future happiness begins in your switching over to men’s wear. But as you’re too egotistical to accept good advice, you can at least arrange for said tuxes to be purchased at another men’s store.”

  “Will do,” Pierre whispered.

  “Speak up,” Ford said.

  “Will do,” Pierre said. “Not only will I help you, I will arrange the entire thing.”

  “Almost the entire thing,” Ford qualified. “There are a few things only a bride’s true love can do. But otherwise, I’ll accept your offer. Make it much more lavish and romantic. Not a bit cynical or fake. I don’t want to see any evidence of your hand in it, do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now go apologize to Henny and get started. The wedding will take place tomorrow at six o’clock at Two Love Lane, in the back garden. Seating for one hundred. Heavy hors d’oeuvres reception to follow across the street at the Carolina Yacht Club.”

  “Have you even proposed?”

  “No. But I have the ring.”

  “Show me,” Pierre said.

  “No.”

  His face fell.

  “But I’ll allow you to attend the wedding if you commit to apologizing to every one of the five finalists before it begins. Save Greer’s apology for the actual wedding site. I don’t want you ruining my own surprise proposal. If I don’t hear from the other four, however, before the wedding, you can’t come.”

  “This will be the wedding of the year! I never miss important weddings.”

  “You will this one, if you don’t apologize. I doubt you will. You’re a foolish little man. You could be the next Beau Brummel, with your sartorial know-how, but instead you choose smallness of character and a silly fake whisper.�
��

  “I’ve stopped whispering,” Pierre said. “And just watch me become the next Beau Brummel.” He stalked off, but then he began to run, and when he flung open the door to La Di Da, he wore the look of a determined man. “Wait!” he called to Ford at the door. “What kind of tuxes?”

  “I’ll be in white tie!” Ford called to him. “I’ll let you decide for the rest of the lads.” Three of whom were older than he was: his father, Greer’s father, and Rupert.

  Pierre gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared inside.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The morning dawned bright. Ford woke up happy at his old flat. The boys still hadn’t found a tenant for his room and probably never would, considering Ford had paid his portion of the lease until the end of the leasing period and also paid theirs off for the entire year. Oh, they’d been ecstatic about that, and really grateful, so he hadn’t minded a bit when they told all their friends that having a rich English pilot friend rocked.

  Today, he’d be getting engaged. He prayed so. And tonight, if the universe was on his side, he’d be getting married. Rupert, Anne, and his parents were on their way. Rupert promised to be on his best behavior, but if he wasn’t, Ford refused to let his brother’s choices affect him. He also asked his parents and Anne to avoid stressing about Rupert. He wanted them to enjoy his big day. He couldn’t wait for them to meet Greer.

  His newfound clarity had yet to abandon him. There was a chance Greer would think him arrogant or presumptuous to propose. She might send him on his way. If that happened, he would be wretched. He would put up a huge fight. But in the end, if she said no to his proposal, he would also be able to look back and say that he’d tried his very best. He’d walk around England a broken-hearted man who went for it, which was better than merely being broken-hearted, wasn’t it?

  He hadn’t been able to connect with Greer’s dad until that morning. He’d explained everything, and her father gave his permission for him to ask for her hand in marriage. Mr. Jones would make sure Greer was at the French crêpe place for lunch, which was right around the corner from the College of Charleston’s Randolph Hall, where Ford had first met her at the auction. After lunch, Mr. Jones would get Greer to Randolph Hall’s main gathering space, presumably on a rambling walk. Ford would be waiting there to propose.

  Everyone else was at battle stations, preparing. The four other contest finalists, including Serena—who agreed to come if Wesley wasn’t there—were bridesmaids. The ladies of Two Love Lane would share the role of maid of honor. They had called Greer’s friends the night before, and a good many of them from Waterloo, college, and grad school were actually flying or driving in that day for the surprise event. And of course, many locals were invited as well. Ford had purchased a big block of rooms at the Omni Hotel on Market and East Bay for them to walk right into, gratis.

  The moment of the proposal was at hand.

  And Greer wasn’t there.

  He waited for forty-five minutes. The sapphire-and-diamond ring, which his mother had given him—a gift from her grandmother—was, of course, burning a veritable hole in his pocket. He texted Mr. Jones. But he got no answer. What to do?

  He called Anne. “She’s not coming,” he said. “I have no idea where she is. Her father isn’t answering his texts.”

  “Oh, dear,” she said. “When’s the wedding?”

  “Four-and-a-half hours.”

  “And she doesn’t know it’s happening. Nor that you’re in America and about to propose.”

  “No. She knows none of that.”

  Anne sighed. “Is there the slightest possibility that she does know—and she’s trying to let you down easily? Maybe her mother spilled the beans.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Only a sister could offer such a horrible scenario so blithely and get away with it. I’ve already been left once at the altar. Can lightning strike twice?”

  “I have no idea,” said Anne. “Maybe we should Google that.”

  “Should I stay here much longer?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Give it another twenty minutes, and if they don’t show, you’ll go to Plan B.”

  “What’s Plan B?”

  “You’ll have to figure that out in the next twenty minutes.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “My little brother’s getting married today. What do you think? The key lime margaritas at the hotel bar are divine.”

  He offered a few rich words of which his mother would disapprove.

  “You know I’ll be there if you need me,” said Anne. “Stay calm. I believe in Greer.”

  “You haven’t even met her,” he said.

  “But you love her. So I know I will, too.”

  Twenty minutes later, he left Randolph Hall, despondent. Panicked. Still no answer from Greer’s father.

  He was wandering lonely as a cloud—let him indulge in Wordsworth on the most romantic and wretched day of his life!—down King Street when he got a call from an unknown number.

  “Ford? This is Patricia. Greer’s mother.”

  “Patricia?” He stood stock still. “Where are you? You didn’t come to Randolph Hall. Is everything all right?”

  “It’s fine, dear, but—”

  “But what?”

  “We’re in Columbia. Columbia, South Carolina. It’s the state capital, about two hours out of Charleston.”

  “Yes, yes, I know.”

  “My husband’s phone died. I left mine at the apartment by accident, so I had to borrow this one from a woman we just met in a diner. Greer is talking to the line cooks and telling them how good their fried chicken is. She has no idea what’s going on, if that’s any reassurance.”

  “That’s good news,” he said, as relief poured through him. “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story, and I don’t have time to tell you. She’s coming. She can’t see me on this phone. We’ll be back in Charleston by five. She thinks our flight departs at eight o’clock.”

  “The wedding’s at six.”

  “Okay.”

  “I still haven’t proposed, Patricia. I can’t do that via text. Or a phone conversation. It wouldn’t be right.”

  But there was a click. She’d hung up.

  * * *

  Greer’s father had never seen a gorilla. He’d told her that morning over a French toast breakfast she’d whipped up. He’d wanted to see one his entire life, he’d said. Greer’s mother had laughed and said, “That’s cute.” And she’d looked at Greer’s father shyly, the way a girl with a crush looks at the guy she likes.

  Greer had never seen that happen.

  And so that adorable exchange between her parents about the gorilla stuck with her all through their boat tour to Fort Sumter. She wondered if sleeping in her very pink bedroom had had anything to do with it! Maybe it was merely getting away from the farm?

  No, it had to have been the pink boudoir!

  Or had she imagined their sweetness to each other?

  They finished the Fort Sumter tour at about eleven thirty.

  “Dad.” She was so excited, she couldn’t stand it. “We’re going to Columbia today. Their zoo has gorillas. You’re finally going to see one.”

  He was silent for a moment. And then he said, “Aw, no, honey. This is your day to show us the city you love.”

  “Dad,” she said. “I’d be much happier showing you a real gorilla. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  “Well, when would we be back, honey?” her mom asked. “I want to have dinner in Charleston before our flight leaves.”

  “We can make it back by five,” Greer said. “We’ll go to the zoo and have lunch. There’s a place I read about in Columbia that has the best fried chicken in the world. It’s only a two-hour trip up there.”

  “I don’t know,” her father said. “I think it’s a bad idea.”

  “Why?” Greer asked him.

  “Because,” he said.

  But he never articulated a
good answer. It was so obvious he wanted to go!

  “We’re going,” Greer told him. “Think of all the talking we can do on the way up. I promise I’ll get us back by five.”

  And that was that. They had a wonderful day. Her dad’s reaction to the gorillas was priceless. He was like a kid. And her mother enjoyed seeing him that way as much as Greer did. Her whole demeanor was lighter. Playful.

  But by the time Greer drove them back to Charleston, she was hot, sweaty, and exhausted.

  “I can’t believe you have to leave in a few hours,” she said.

  “It’s a bummer,” said her father. “But we sure have loved being with you. I wish we lived closer.”

  That admission broke her heart. “I hope we can do this again soon,” Greer said over the lump in her throat. “I miss you two so much.”

  They offered her soothing words, the kind sweet parents do, but Greer felt alone when they got out at Baker House. They’d go upstairs and pack. After that, they’d stow the luggage in her car and grab a quick dinner at the crêpe place, where they’d originally planned to eat lunch, and then they had to be at the airport by six thirty or so.

  After she dropped them off in the terminal, she’d head back to her apartment. And she knew all she would do once she got there was water Fern, change the bed sheets, wash the towels, straighten the kitchen, and miss her parents and Ford.

  He’d left a permanent ache in her heart.

  * * *

  The dread of her parents’ departure kept building in Greer’s chest. At the crêpe place, her father was very annoyed that his phone was dead again. Something had to have gone wrong with the battery.

  “Or maybe it happened when you accidentally dropped it in the sink last night,” said her mother.

  “It barely got wet,” he said. “But who knows?”

  Greer’s mother took out her phone. “Do you two mind if I make a call outside to the Ladies’ Auxiliary at church? I have to miss a meeting tonight, and I forgot to tell them.”

  “Sure, Mom,” Greer said.

  A minute later her mom came back inside. She looked a little worried.

  “Is everything okay?” Greer asked her.

  “Yes,” her mother said, but she didn’t elaborate. Greer’s father, too, seemed more somber. Of course, they were all worried about parting from each other.