On the Record- the Complete Collection

by Lee Winter

  He nodded, looking shell-shocked.

  She turned and left him in the dark and headed back to the house.

  It sounded like wildebeest were rampaging down the hall when the party broke up. Catherine had kept her ear out while reading her latest book, a biography on Elena Bartell, a powerful US media mogul who had married her female former assistant. The pearl-clutchers were still recovering from that one.

  The bangs of doors as Kings, one by one, went to bed resounded down the hall. But there was no sign of her fiancée. An hour or so later, Lauren slipped into the bedroom and slumped against the back of the door she closed. “Hey.”

  “Hello. I dread to ask where you’ve been. The stampeding hordes turned in hours ago.”

  “I wanted to get a head start cleaning up so Dad can use his workshop tomorrow. Also, Meemaw’s too old to tackle all that mess herself, and I just know she’d get up early and try.”

  “You should have called me to help.”

  “Nah, you needed some space. And I wanted to think some more.”

  “Oh? About Lucas?”

  “Yeah. It brought up a lot of stuff. Mom dying, raising my brothers, that sort of thing. We cleared the air a bit, but he’s still in my bad books. I think he thought I’d forgive him like I always did when we were kids. He could commit blue murder and then hang a jar of fireflies up on my tree with an apology note and I couldn’t stay angry. I was probably too easy on him. We all were.” She huffed out a breath. “I suppose I should have seen this coming. When Mom died, he clung to me like a second mother. He’s grown up too protective of me now. And because of Mom, he really gets upset at the idea of me…”

  “Dating.”

  “Leaving.”

  “Ah.”

  “He hates change. Never goes anywhere. It’s why he still works with Dad when he really should go off and see the world, get some perspective, and do his own thing. It’d do him a lot of good.”

  “He should. He’s far too old to have that chip on his shoulder.”

  “He really is. I’m so mad with him. And I’m really sorry he’s been such an asshole to you.”

  “I’ve dealt with worse.”

  “Yes, but this is different. He’s…”

  Catherine lifted her eyebrow. “Family? As I said, I’ve dealt with worse.”

  Lauren bit her lip. “Shit. I’m sorry to go near that topic. But since it’s raised, how are you doing? I hope you haven’t been lying up here brooding all night?”

  “What do you think? Knowing me as you do?”

  “Oh. You have. And you’re working out, to the word, probably, exactly how you’ll take your father apart tomorrow. Assuming he hasn’t gone back to Boston yet.” Lauren paused. “Hell, what if he has?”

  “He hasn’t. I rang the Grand Millennium. He’s still there. Penthouse suite.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to confront him for you? Or with you?”

  “No, it’s my family. Some things I have to do myself—as you found with Lucas.”

  “Yeah.” Lauren wandered over to the window and leaned against the frame, staring out. After a moment she whispered, “Wait…what?”

  “What is it?”

  “Be right back.”

  She returned in a few moments holding a pair of binoculars.

  “What’s out there?” Catherine sat up.

  “There’s something in my dreaming tree.” She adjusted the zoom. “Oh.”

  Catherine slid out of bed and padded over to the window, gently taking the binoculars. A glowing jar swayed gently in the breeze. “It must have taken some time for Lucas to collect that many fireflies.”

  “I guess my threat to uninvite him to the wedding hit him between the eyes.”

  “You don’t have to do that on my account.”

  “I didn’t do it for you, but for me. Us. It’s about respect.” She leaned against the window’s frame, warming Catherine’s side. She waved at the tree. “Well, it’s a start at least. But I’m less forgiving than I was as a teenager.”

  “They’re very beautiful,” Catherine mused, still studying the bright jar. “Striking how the fireflies light up the branches like that. They shimmer when the branches move. It’s almost ethereal.” Catherine lowered the binoculars and turned to give Lauren a thoughtful look. “I wonder…” Her mind exploded with the possibilities. “Oh.”

  “You’re either having a genius idea or an orgasm.”

  “The former.” She smirked. “And while I’m visiting my parents tomorrow, I think there are some calls you should make.”

  “Calls?”

  “To get our guests here for Sunday. For our wedding.”

  “W-what? You do know that only gives us a day to prepare? And we don’t even know where we’re holding it!”

  “Sure we do.” Catherine had never felt so right about anything. She pointed. “Right in front of the tree that means so much to you. The dreaming tree will be our backdrop. We could do it at dusk, with jars full of fireflies and other tree lights threaded throughout it. As the sun sets they will light up your golden willow like stars. It will be gorgeous.”

  “That sounds amazing.”

  “And here’s the best part: We get the people we want there. Joshua and Tad. I already know they’re free this weekend.”

  “Oh my God!” Lauren slipped an arm around Catherine’s waist. “That’s brilliant! And the reception? I know where to have it. At the tiki bar.” She pointed at the ramshackle structure, barely visible in the darkness. “We’d get the whole thing catered so Meemaw doesn’t try to kill herself in the kitchen. But yeah, we could have the reception here, too?”

  Catherine saw the soft plea in her eyes. “Well,” she said, trying to think of something positive to say about the weathered construct. It has that lived-in look? If we’re lucky it will still be standing before the toasts end? “As tiki bars go…it’s…conveniently located.”

  “Not the most ringing endorsement.” Lauren snickered.

  “Okay, why the tiki bar?”

  “It’s got form. See, if there’s one thing I know, it’s how awesome the King backyard is for holding a party around that bar. You’ll see. We’ve had so many classic blowouts there. It’ll go off like a cat-four tornado party. Trust me, that’s big.”

  Catherine blinked. Her imagination failed to supply the necessary source material to convince her. It didn’t matter, though. Lauren’s joyful face was everything. “I’ll take your word for it. Well then, the tiki bar it is. And who should cater?”

  “What do you want to eat?”

  “Not the best question. The French tasting plates I love would likely make your family want to hurl them against the wall. So a better question is: What would make an eclectic bunch of LA, DC, and Iowan guests happiest?”

  “Hmm, when you put it like that…”

  “Yes?”

  A wicked grin split Lauren’s face. “Rube’s! They cater weddings. They come out, drop off the meat and these big grills, and leave the guests to it.”

  Catherine lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “You propose our guests should cook their own food?”

  “Yep. See, here’s why it’s a winner: For the LA and DC crowd, it’ll be a novelty. Something fun and unusual to do at a wedding, and they love a surprise. And for the Iowan guests, it’ll be like a tradition and honoring the local thing.”

  Catherine considered that. This now went so far beyond her realms of comfort on what a wedding reception should look like. It had always been expected in her family that when she got married—to a man, of course—it would involve five-star elegance. However, she couldn’t exactly picture the Kings sipping cocktails at the Cedar Rapids Hilton and chatting in hushed tones. It sounded like something she’d endured for her sister’s big day.

  “Hey, if it’s too awful for you, the whole DIY-barbecue receptio
n, we can go for something less scary. Respectable, even.” Lauren threw her a hesitant smile.

  Catherine shook her head. “I was actually thinking about my sister’s wedding. It was elegant, refined, and entirely respectable. And it was miserable. No sense of family or connection, and certainly little love. The reception was like a perfect Vogue spread, with about as much warmth. I never want to have something like that. So, yes. Fine.” She waved her hand. “Guests can turn up and cook their own cow.”

  “Really?” Lauren’s eyes lit up.

  “Yes. Really.” She smiled at Lauren’s enthusiasm. So maybe this would work out after all. Even if Catherine did have to eat more Iowan specialties.

  “Wow. We’re all set. It’s going to be brilliant.”

  “It is.” Funnily enough, the moment Catherine said it, she believed her words. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that the least Ayers-sounding wedding she could imagine would be the one she’d end up having. And it was one she was so looking forward to.

  “Of course, the irony is that most of the credit for the idea should go to Lucas and his jar of ‘sorry’ fireflies,” Catherine noted with amusement.

  Lauren’s eyes narrowed. “Do not ever tell him that.”

  “Duly noted.” She smiled.

  Chapter 21 –

  Showdown

  Seated in the living room the next morning, Catherine watched the whirlwind of activity around her. Meemaw was figuring out some sort of wedding logistics, with a phone at her ear, looking thrilled. Her voice was bright, her crooked smile wide, and she kept smoothing down her apron as though trying to channel all her excited energy.

  Mrs. Potts was on a cell phone beside her, trying to drum up seventy chairs, looking exasperated.

  Owen had a pencil in his teeth and was frowning over the father-of-the-bride speech he was writing. “How do you spell incorrigible?” Owen asked no one in particular. “And does it mean what I think it does?”

  Catherine turned to the other side of the room. Matthew was on his phone, cajoling Rube’s to make an exception and cater on a Sunday with only a day’s notice. “Free car servicing for a year for you and all your staff,” he said, sweetening his deal. “You will? Excellent! Come by at four.”

  Lauren dropped to the sofa beside Catherine, beaming from ear to ear. “Everyone’s coming. Mariella’s free, and Tad and Josh are booking flights as we speak. So it’s officially happening!”

  “What about a celebrant, though?” Catherine asked. “We never really clicked with any of the ones we’ve met so far—”

  “We have Josh. He’s offered.”

  “Joshua can do it?”

  “He did some online course last year. He wanted to marry all his friends, and he joked it guaranteed him an invite to their weddings.”

  “Can a best man marry someone? Isn’t that, I don’t know, a conflict of interest? Or will he be too busy?”

  “Oh.” Lauren frowned, then brightened. “What about co-best men? Like Mark and Josh? Josh does the ceremony, Mark does the other stuff?”

  With obvious delight, Mark called out from the other side of the room, “I can work with that.” He turned back and pointed at Owen’s writing pad. “Mischievous has a C, Dad.”

  Catherine shrugged. “No objections.”

  “I have a cake!” Meemaw slapped down the phone in the kitchen and rounded the corner into the living room. “Frances will do that fancy French thing you wanted. She runs the bakery on 16th Ave.”

  “Croquembouche isn’t fancy.” Lauren laughed. “And it’s so delicious. Balls of toffee and custard and…” Her eyes glazed over.

  Catherine smiled at her dreamy look.

  Lucas ambled in, with loops and loops of fairy lights over one shoulder. “For the willow tree,” he said, sounding subdued. A kicked puppy came to mind. “Jace’s crew along with Suze had some more lights lying about. They also brought extra ladders and spare hands.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder to John. “We’re gonna hang them now. They’re solar, so we need them to get as much sun as possible to charge right for tomorrow.”

  Lauren nodded, lips pressed together.

  He shuffled outside, his expression drooping, trailed by his brother. Owen watched them both and then shot Lauren a questioning look.

  “Don’t ask, Dad.” Lauren turned back to Catherine. “Hey, I have something to show you.” She grabbed the iPad on the coffee table. “This ad’s all over social media today.” She cued it up and hit Play.

  A group of smiling young people were cavorting on a beach before traipsing up to a beachside bar, towels slung over their shoulders. They ordered drinks, and comically patted their swimwear for wallets they obviously did not have.

  “No cash? No problem!” said the voiceover. “Introducing Wave’N’Go—the new lifestyle chip that lets you carry cash wherever you are.”

  Everyone in the group took turns waving their hands under a scanner and then got back to drinking, laughing, and looking symmetrically perfect.

  “Dear God,” Catherine said. “That is ridiculous.”

  “I know.” Lauren dropped the iPad back to the table. “You should ask your dad about it this morning.”

  Catherine nodded, her stomach tightening at the reminder. She glanced at her watch and rose. She’d wait outside for the taxi. Maybe the fresh air would do her good.

  Lauren silently joined her in walking to the door. The cab pulled up as they reached it.

  “Good luck with the chaos in there.” Catherine glanced back at the house.

  “I keep telling you, it’s only chaos if you stop and look at it. Rest of the time it’s just fun. We’ll be fine. You look after you. Call us if you need us. The Kings can be a formidable force, just with a whole lot less diplomacy than your parents would be used to.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a tight smile even as warmth spread inside her at the suggestion she had reinforcements in her corner. “Good to know.”

  Climbing into the taxi, Catherine told the driver, “The Grand Millennium.” She turned to gaze at Lauren. Her butterflies only intensified when she caught her fiancée’s worried look as they pulled away.

  Catherine knocked on the door of the Grand Millennium’s penthouse suite. She glanced at her watch. Her father would be on his third coffee and halfway through the Wall Street Journal by now.

  The door sprang open. “I didn’t order any—” Lionel Ayers straightened. “Oh. I should talk to management. They’ll let anyone bribe their way to this floor.”

  “May I come in?”

  He stepped back and held his arm wide, allowing it.

  Catherine glanced around. “Mom here?”

  “Shower.” He closed the door behind her.

  Catherine made her way to a cluster of three leather chairs with a low table between them in the middle of the room. She sat in one.

  Her father detoured past a breakfast nook, collected a steaming coffee, and then followed. He sat opposite her. “I’d offer you one, but I sense you’re not staying long.”

  “Wishful thinking?”

  His eyes glinted with a matching hint of amusement. “Humor?” He stretched out his legs. “That’s new. Your Iowan girl making you soft? That one will do it to you.”

  Catherine didn’t respond but turned his words over, trying to unpick his meaning.

  “You’ll sprain something trying to figure it out.” He looked pleased.

  Of course. He was up to his old tricks. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  “Well, if it’s about your return to the fold, we both know my position hasn’t changed.”

  “Neither has mine. I’m never agreeing to a lifetime ban on going after your favorite cronies in Congress, so no. If they’re up to their necks in corruption, they’re fair game.”

  “A shame.” He eyed her over his coffee cup. “You know they’re not all
that bad. Some are halfway good.” He smiled.

  “They’re compromised. Let’s face it, that’s why you do business with them in the first place.”

  He waved his hand. “We’re not going to plow over old ground, are we? What’s left to say that we haven’t already said?” He suddenly laughed. “Oh, tell me you’re not after my approval for your marriage to the plucky Ms. King? She’s a sweet thing, isn’t she? Got a dash of salt, too. But you always liked them a little salty.”

  Catherine inhaled. “You’re baiting me.”

  “Tell me, does your girl next door know what you’re really like? How contrary? What happens when she tires of your eternal bad mood? When your sharp tongue seems less clever and just plain bitter?”

  She counted to ten. Even though he always did this, his arrows slammed home with their usual unerring accuracy. “Thanks for the pep talk. Excellent as ever,” she said, brushing lint from her pants. “By the way, I saw the ads. Wave’N’Go. That’s your chip, I presume?”

  “Phase two. And what did you think?” he asked, looking curious.

  “Catchy tune. Dreadful concept. But you knew that, too.”

  “Like I care. The kids will love it. It’s free. At least for the first few years. A rapper we have lined up to front it has ten million followers. It’ll be the hottest thing since My Evil Twin.”

  “You know about that app?”

  “Of course. Number one in the USA right now. It’s my job to know what’s at the forefront of technology. Oh hell, you should see who it matches your mother with.” He leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Martha Stewart. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or appalled.”

  “Knowing her, she’d go with both. So—Wave’N’Go. Why do it?”

  “It’s cutting-edge.”

  “So’s a six-blade razor. You don’t make those.”

  “We’re pushing technology to the limits. We do it because we can, and we’ll be first to go mass scale with it.”

  “Or perhaps you’re really just trying to make a controversial technology acceptable—or popular. But why go there, really? Who wants to be first to an Orwellian future?”