To Have and to Hold

by Laura Dower

  “So, are you going to get dressed?” Dad asked.

  Madison burst into giggles. “Dad! Of course I am. I was going to, but then you all barged into my room….”

  “Sorry! Sorry!” Dad said. “I’m a little tense, I guess.”

  “Are you leaving now?” Madison asked.

  “I have to leave, yes,” Dad said in a low whisper, sounding guiltier than guilty. “Will you be okay without me or Uncle Rick and Aunt Violet?”

  “Uh-huh,” Madison said, trying to act upbeat. “Really!”

  “So here’s the plan,” Dad said. “Stephanie’s sister Wanda is going to pick you up. She should be here in an hour or so. Around nine, I think.”

  “Okay,” Madison said.

  “I think she’ll be coming with Tiffany,” Dad said. “So that’s a good thing. You’ll have someone to spend time with.”

  At that point, Madison fought the urge to scream “Blecch!” How could Dad have not noticed that she and Tiffany weren’t exactly BFF material?

  But Madison didn’t scream anything. She just listened.

  Dad laid out the plans for the remainder of the day, promising (more promises!) that he would try to spend as much time as possible with Madison. But Madison knew that this was probably their last private moment together before Dad turned into Mr. Married for a second time.

  “I told you how much it means to have you here by my side, right?” Dad said reassuringly.

  “Uh-huh,” Madison said.

  “And I told you that you mean the world to me, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And I told you that—”

  “Just go, Dad,” Madison said. “I’m cool.”

  “You’re always cool,” Dad said, mopping his brow again. “Gee, how’s about you lend your hot, sweaty dad a little of that cool?”

  Madison chuckled. “Bye, Dad,” she said as he disappeared through the divider door.

  “Later, gator,” Dad quipped. “Thank you again.”

  He waved and blew a kiss. Then he was gone.

  Madison went back to her laptop. There wasn’t much time now before Wanda arrived, and she had one more very important person to talk to before she dressed for the wedding.

  From: MadFinn

  To: Wetwinz

  Subject: Thinking of U

  Date: Sat 20 July 8:02 AM

  How r things in Far Hills? Aimee wrote and told me what happened. Is ur Dad doing better since surgery or whatever they’re doing to fix his heart? That was such sad news. Are you and Chet OK?

  Wow, I miss you so much, Fiona. I know how I feel just watching my dad go off and marry someone other than Mom. I feel this weird kind of empty feeling inside. It must be so hard seeing your dad sick like that.

  Why am I in Texas? Grrrrr.

  I should be in Far Hills RIGHT NOW. U know I LYLAS, right? I am totally, 100% here 4 u. I know that sounds pretty lame. But I mean it. I really mean it.

  U probably don’t have time to write or n e thing. I guess ur @ the hospital now. I will be home Sunday though and I hope I will see u right away. Can I C U right away? Right now I have to go get dressed for the wedding. I am trying sooo hard to get excited but I haven’t even really practiced my poem and I don’t know if I even like my dress n e more. I’ll write more l8r. Talk 2 u sooner than soon.

  Love,

  Maddie

  As soon as Madison hit SEND, there was another knock. Only this time, it came from the door that led into the main hallway.

  Madison scooted over and peered through the peephole.

  At first, she didn’t see anyone.

  But then she saw her…. standing there … in a perfect, pale, lavender dress.

  Tiffany.

  Madison grabbed the door with both hands to keep from falling over. What was she doing here—now? It wasn’t nine yet! She clicked open the lock and turned the knob.

  “Hello?” Madison mumbled.

  “Aw, jeepers!” Tiffany said, covering her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh. “You’re not even ready yet?” She snapped a piece of gum. Tiffany’s smile was shiny-white, her eyes ringed with purple liner and mascara, and she had on sweet-smelling perfume.

  “My dad said you’d be here at nine,” Madison stammered. She smelled like soap.

  “Well, it’s practically nine, now,” Tiffany said. “Right?”

  “Actually, it’s not even eight-thirty,” Madison said.

  “Nice outfit,” Tiffany joked.

  “This isn’t really my out—” Madison started to say. She stopped in midsentence. “I still have to get dressed.”

  “Whatever,” Tiffany grinned. “My mom is waiting downstairs, and she said to tell you that we have lots of things to do today, and, since you’re practically one of the cousins, she wants you to feel like you’re part of the family, so you should come with us. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “Oh,” Madison said.

  “Yeah,” Tiffany said with a toss of her head. “So, are you going to get dressed in a real dress or what?”

  “Sure,” Madison said. “I’ll just put on my clothes and come right down to the lobby, okay?”

  “Mom’s in kind of a hurry,” Tiffany said. “Did I say that already?”

  “Yes,” Madison said. She could feel her pulse quicken. “I’ll hurry. I promise.”

  “Don’t forget, we won’t be coming back to the hotel, so you should bring everything you need for the wedding, all right? Mom said to tell you that, too.”

  “Got it,” Madison said.

  “What’s your dress like, anyway?” Tiffany asked, poking her nose inside Madison’s room.

  “Well, it’s not as … um … purple … as your dress,” Madison said.

  “Actually, this color is called Sweet Lavender,” Tiffany corrected her. “What color are you wearing?”

  “Actually, my dress is orange….”

  “Orange?” Tiffany let out a little gasp.

  “What’s wrong?” Madison gulped.

  “Well,” Tiffany said with another flip of her hair. “Nothing’s wrong with orange if you’re an orange. But … I never heard of an orange … Oh, well. Forget I said anything.”

  Madison could almost feel the blood drain from her face. Panicked thoughts zipped through her head like little fireflies. She had a vision of herself walking up to the wedding ceremony at the Wolfe Ranch. There, a burly cowboy bouncer would greet her.

  “Hey, you in the orange dress!” he would exclaim, readying his lasso to rope Madison like loose cattle. “No orange allowed at this hoe-down!”

  “So … should I wait downstairs?” Tiffany asked, snapping her gum again.

  “Yes. Can I meet you in the lobby?” Madison asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Okay, great,” Madison said. She quickly closed the door.

  “Okay!” Tiffany said from behind the door.

  “Sorry!” Madison cried. She struggled to reopen the door, but it stuck. Madison peered through the peephole. Was Tiffany standing there, fuming?

  As it turned out, her cousin-to-be had already disappeared down the hall.

  Madison stumbled away from the door and threw herself across the edge of the bed.

  No orange allowed! she heard again inside her head.

  Over by the closet, her junior-maid-of-honor dress was laughing at her.

  Chapter 17

  MADISON WALKED CALMLY OVER to the closet and took her dress off its hanger.

  Think positive thoughts, she told herself, trying to forget about the look of disgust on Tiffany’s face. So what if my dress is different? So what?

  Madison pulled the dress on, one foot at a time, wiggling and zipping up the side until it fit just right. Then she flipped the little ruffle at the bottom and turned to her reflection in the floor-length bathroom mirror.

  After staring at the dress from every conceivable angle, Madison slipped on the orange shoes and faced the mirror again.

  There were some positives.

  For on
e thing, the dress was sleeveless. That way, Madison could stay cooler than cool during the ceremony. Unlike Dad, the nervous groom.

  For another thing, the dress fit nicely. Madison didn’t feel fat or self-conscious about the way it hung on her body.

  But then there was her skin. That was a problem.

  Under the bathroom lights, and wearing this orange-colored dress, Madison’s face looked a little more peach-colored than usual. In the shadows, it looked downright orange. Had Mom been right when she teasingly called Madison a Creamsicle?

  In the middle of everything else, Madison spotted a teeny-tiny, barely-there spot in the middle of her cheek. She picked at it, hoping it would go away. And the more she picked at it, the redder and BIGGER it got.

  Think positive thoughts, Madison said to herself again. She could hear Gramma Helen’s voice inside her head. Gramma was always spouting affirmations like that.

  “What luck. Now I have a pimple that matches my dress,” Madison said aloud, disgusted at the new development. Luckily, Mom had lent Madison her cover-up stick, so Madison was able to mask the growing pimple before it turned volcanic.

  But that wasn’t the only disaster.

  Madison’s hair didn’t look right, either.

  First, she pulled it back in a clip. Then, she tried a brown hair bob. Nothing looked right.

  Madison tried wearing it loose on her shoulders, but that looked too messy. She didn’t have hair gel or hairspray or mousse or anything to hold it in place. Frustrated, she ran a comb through the side and decided to deal with it later in the day. She still had time before the actual wedding to come up with a better hairdo.

  Madison grabbed the wedding collage and carefully put it into a supersized envelope she’d bought for the occasion. On the outside of the envelope, she wrote: “For Dad and Stephanie.”

  The dress fit, the shoes fit, and the collage worked. But Madison felt dizzy with fatigue. How was she going to get through the morning and muddle through the reading at the wedding? She needed sleep—desperately.

  Madison took a deep breath and collected everything she needed for the day: collage, book of poems, assorted hair clips, her mom’s cover-up makeup (just in case), spare lip gloss, tissues, and her digital camera.

  She cast one more glance at herself in the mirror and left the hotel room.

  No sooner had Madison stepped off the elevator into the lobby than she spotted Tiffany and company, seated in big, sunken, upholstered chairs.

  “She’s heeeeeere,” Madison heard Tiffany say as she approached.

  Wanda stood up, arms extended. “Good morning, darlin’,” she said to Madison. “You look so pretty.”

  “Thanks,” Madison said, her head down.

  Wanda gave Madison a bear hug. “How did you sleep?” she asked.

  Madison smiled. “Okay,” she said, figuring it was better not to tell the whole world that she’d been up half the night.

  “Can we go now, or what?” Tiffany whined loudly.

  “Tiffany!” Wanda yelled. “Will you puh-leeze? I was just talking to Madison….”

  “Sorry,” Tiffany said. “I was only trying to—”

  “Hush!” Wanda barked.

  Tiffany made a face and turned away.

  “Well, I just have to gather another family friend who’s staying here at the Bellville Villas,” Wanda explained. “One of Stephanie’s coworkers is just getting ready. She said she’d be a few minutes. I’m just going to go get her. You gals wait right here, okay?”

  “How long do we have to wait now?” Tiffany asked.

  Wanda grabbed Tiffany by the elbow and pulled her away from where they’d been standing. Madison could hear their frantic whispers—but just barely.

  “You behave, young lady!” Wanda cautioned her daughter.

  “Mother, please. You’re embarrassing me,” Tiffany said.

  “Hush up!” Wanda cried. “I expect you to behave and act like a perfect young miss today. There will be no complaining. Do you hear me?”

  Tiffany pulled her elbow back and rubbed it. “That hurts,” she said.

  Wanda grabbed it again. “I don’t care. Now, behave!”

  “Can we go into the arcade room over there and wait?” Tiffany asked.

  Wanda shook her head. “No way,” she said. “Not after this display of yours this morning.”

  “But it’s only for a few—” Tiffany began.

  “I said no!” Wanda said firmly.

  “What if Madison wants to go?” Tiffany asked.

  “I don’t care. I said no,” Wanda said. “Sit down and quit it.”

  Madison looked away quickly so she wouldn’t be caught eavesdropping.

  As soon as her mother had walked away, Tiffany turned around. “I am so embarrassed,” she said aloud.

  “What happened?” Madison asked.

  “Let’s go into the video arcade. She won’t be back for ten minutes,” Tiffany said.

  “But I thought—” Madison cut herself off. She didn’t know what to say. She’d clearly heard Wanda warn Tiffany not to go inside the arcade.

  “Are you coming?” Tiffany groaned. She turned toward the arcade entrance. “Don’t worry. I have quarters.”

  Madison followed Tiffany into the small room, where four video machines were up against one wall, two pinball machines against another, with a ping-pong table in the middle.

  “This is lame,” Tiffany said. “But it beats sitting in the lobby.”

  Madison nodded. “Yeah.”

  And it did.

  For five minutes, Madison stood behind Tiffany, as her cousin-to-be pummeled a pinball machine.

  “You got a million points already!” Madison said excitedly. “You’re a pro!”

  Tiffany smiled. “Look out!”

  Madison cheered her on.

  “I’m really sorry you had a fight with your mom,” Madison said after another minute.

  “It’s, like, her job or something to make me feel like I’m … oh, I don’t know. I just wish she’d lay off,” Tiffany groaned.

  Madison nodded in agreement, even though, right now, she actually missed her own mom.

  “By the way, that dress is the deal,” Tiffany said, examining Madison’s outfit. “I never would have guessed that orange could look so cool.”

  Madison pulled away, surprised. “You think so?” she said.

  “I should dress more like you,” Tiffany said.

  “Like me?” Madison said.

  “Yeah!” Tiffany said. “I’m always stuck in outfits my mother picks for me. I mean, I like this one, but sometimes she makes me wear these hideous dresses that Grandma Diane wouldn’t even wear….”

  “I think you look great,” Madison said.

  Tiffany laughed out loud. “Well, maybe. I know at least my hair looks good. And it’s not just because I went to this stylist….”

  Madison wanted to laugh. Tiffany sounded so stuck-up! But she wasn’t anything like Poison Ivy, Madison realized. She said outrageous things, but she seemed not to mean to come across as self-absorbed or cruel. She was just really into hairdos and dressing up….

  And pinball.

  “I always wanted blond hair like yours,” Madison said, tossing her own locks. “Sometimes my hair can be so scary. Look at it. I still don’t know what to do with it for the wedding.”

  Tiffany nodded and inspected Madison’s hairdo. “It does look as if it’s just lying there.”

  Madison made a face. “Gee, thanks.”

  “Aw! Don’t get all huffy,” Tiffany said. She raised a finger to her lip-glossed lips as though she were thinking extra hard. “How about flowers?”

  “Flowers?” Madison said.

  “Add ’em to your hair. Like a dancer or a model,” Tiffany said. “Flowers would look super good, don’t you think?”

  Madison shrugged. “I don’t know what to think anymore….”

  “Okay, look. Here’s the story. I have the best hair clip in the whole world, and it’s orange-red
, and it would match perfectly!” Tiffany squealed. “We have to get that for you, now.”

  “Now?” Madison asked, in disbelief.

  In a matter of moments, Stephanie’s niece had turned into Madison’s fashion adviser.

  How had that happened?

  Madison gave in to Tiffany’s makeover tips. “You’re being so nice to me,” she said.

  Tiffany rolled her eyes. “That’s right. We have to stick together now. We’re cousins, right?”

  Madison grinned. So far, today, she liked having new cousins—a lot.

  “So, are you close to Aunt Steph or what?” Tiffany asked. “You never say much about what y’all do back North.”

  “Stephanie is nice,” Madison said. “We see each other a lot.”

  “Did you know that Aunt Stephanie is, like, the only person in our entire family who left Texas?” Tiffany said. “Does she talk about us, ever?”

  “Oh, sure,” Madison said. “All the time,” she added, exaggerating a little.

  “Usually, she’d take us to all these places when she came home,” Tiffany said. “But I have this feeling she won’t be visiting Texas as much anymore.”

  “No?” Madison asked.

  Tiffany shrugged. “Well, of course not. She has this whole life with you and your dad up there. Why would she bother coming back here?”

  “Maybe she’ll just get homesick,” Madison said.

  “Yeah. Sick of home,” Tiffany joked.

  “But she loves Texas,” Madison said.

  Tiffany shrugged. “She loves her job and your dad. That’s all I know.”

  “And everyone in your family,” Madison said. “It’s so big.”

  “Mammoth,” Tiffany said. “We have a mammoth family. That’s what Kirk always says.”

  Madison giggled.

  All at once, Tiffany took Madison by the arm and pulled her out of the arcade and into the lobby. She motioned toward the elevators. Wanda had reappeared, followed by a gray-haired woman wearing a dark-green pant suit.

  “How did you know your mom was coming?” Madison asked.

  Tiffany raised her eyebrows. “Wanda radar,” she joked. “That’s what Kirk calls it.”

  Wanda swept toward them.

  “Gals, this is Ms. Morgan,” Wanda announced. “Did I get that right?” she asked Ms. Morgan, who nodded, waiting for her cue to speak.