My mother was having a floral breakdown.
I was in no mood for an argument. Consequently, I refrained from challenging her insistence that the tent looked desolate and was thus in dire need of the help that plants would provide. Fortunately, the van parked at the end of the driveway was one of the new ones rather than the old gray rattletrap that had unhappy associations. Unfortunately, however, the nursery was only a few miles from the house; I’d have preferred a long respite from my mother’s frenzy.
Nursery turned out to be a misleading term for Emilio’s family’s sprawling, impressive garden center, which had eight large greenhouses and a main building with a garden-supply store, as well as two or three big outdoor areas devoted to trees, shrubs, and small plants of all kinds. I found a wagon and began strolling the aisles of the first greenhouse in search of plants that would appease my mother—in other words, horticultural tranquilizers. Knowing my mother as I did, I avoided anything that would have to be planted in the ground. It would have been just like Mom to decide that the whole family had to spend the rest of the day and night digging holes and planting shrubs.
“Chloe?”
I whipped around to see Emilio before me. “Hi,” I gasped. “I’m looking for plants,” I added stupidly, as if there were thousands of other reasons for pushing a wagon through a greenhouse.
“Do you need any help?” Oh, those darn dimples.
I explained my mother’s instructions, and Emilio nodded. “Sure. Why don’t you come with me. I can help you.”
Can you ever, Emilio.
He added, somewhat disappointingly, “We’ve got a bunch of new fall plants in terra-cotta containers.”
Within minutes, we’d made so many selections that we needed a second cart. “I can’t believe I’ve never been in here before,” I said as I admired the many healthy plants. “This is a wonderful nursery.”
“Thanks. Let’s check over here, too. We’ve got tons of perennials and biennials that are seriously discounted because it’s the end of the season. They’re in pots. You won’t have to sink them in the ground. Some of them are in bloom. Not all, but some.”
“Let’s take a look,” I said. “My mother will have a fit if I show up with yellow mums like the ones in the supermarkets.”
I followed Emilio into another greenhouse where, just as he’d said, there were bargain-priced perennials and biennials, some flourishing, some rather battered. I browsed the aisles and stopped in front of a group of low, green plants with some tired-looking old leaves mixed with bright new growth. I didn’t have to read the labels to recognize foxglove. Foxglove! Digitalis! Lots of it, all cheap, all readily available to absolutely anyone. Oh, and all deadly, of course. Well, so much for finding out who did and didn’t have a garden. Anyone, including an apartment dweller, could have bought the plants that were the source of the poison that killed Francie.
“Emilio? Have you been selling a lot of this foxglove?”
“Probably not. Most foxgloves bloom in the spring. They’re not at their best right now. Look at them. But I’m not sure. I’m not always here at the nursery. Why?” he asked with curiosity. “Bethany won’t want them. Your mother wants a show. For the wedding tomorrow. Not something that’ll bloom next year.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s . . . there’s just something I’m wondering about. Do you think we could find out from somebody else who works here?”
Emilio had been nowhere near Leo and Francie’s house on the day of her murder, of course; he couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with it and was obviously not a suspect. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to admit my reason for wanting to know who’d bought foxglove. I could barely imagine how I’d phrase my purpose. Well, Emilio, I’m leading a secret life as social work’s answer to Nancy Drew.
Happily, he didn’t demand an explanation. All he said was,“Yeah, I guess I could ask my cousins.” Emilio waved to a young man across the greenhouse who then approached us. Emilio began speaking rapidly in Spanish. The only word I understood was the one repeatedly spoken in English: foxglove. The young man kept nodding his head. Then he smiled at me and left.
“He says that they’ve sold lots of foxglove to lots of Americans,” Emilio reported with a smile. “I don’t suppose that helps you.”
“I wouldn’t say it narrows the field, but thanks anyway.” I’d run out of time to pursue my investigations. I had to get the plants back to the house, and I had to pick up Ade. “So my mother said I could just charge all this stuff to her account,” I said.
“Of course. I’ll write it up.”
Many hundreds of dollars later, Emilio offered to help me load the plants into the van. As we worked, he said, “I guess I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I hear you and your cousins are going to help out. That’ll be great.”
“Hey.” Emilio placed a potted sedum in the van and then posed charmingly with one arm against the sliding door. “I was wondering if you might want to get together sometime. After the wedding, of course. I thought I could take you out to dinner. There’s a new little French restaurant on Exeter Street. In the Back Bay, near my apartment.”
Oh, God. I wished that my immediate thought were something other than what it was. I should have been thinking that there was no way on earth that I’d ever be interested in anyone but Josh. As it was, all I could think was that this was an adorable, smart, socially and environmentally conscious guy who worked regular hours and . . . Hold it! The weirdness between Josh and me certainly didn’t mean that I should accept Emilio’s offer. Or did it? No matter what, I couldn’t just keep standing there staring at him. Mustering up the courage to respond, I said, “I’m flattered. I really am. But I have a boyfriend. Josh. He’s the one doing all the cooking tomorrow.”
How could my mother have failed to mention Josh when she’d asked Emilio to help? A simple statement—“My daughter’s boyfriend is catering the wedding”—would have been sufficient. When things got uncomfortable tomorrow, it would be my mother’s fault.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Emilio shrugged. “I had to try. I just got out of a relationship, and I thought I should take a stab at dating again. Let me know if anything changes.”
I drove away. I wished that Emilio hadn’t asked me out, and I wished that I hadn’t hesitated. I exhaled deeply. After checking my watch, I decided that instead of going directly to my parents’ house, I should pick up Adrianna on the way. After four tries, I finally parallel parked the van on Ade’s street. Climbing the stairs to her apartment, I wondered, as I had many times before, how a humongous pregnant lady made it up these steps every day. I let myself in only to be greeted by the unmelodious sound of Kitty’s voice.
“Is that what you really want to wear tonight? All right. If you think that’s appropriate, be my guest.”
“Mom! I swear on my baby’s life that if you don’t shut your—”
“Hello?” I called cheerily, hoping to abate some of the tension. “Where is the bride-to-be?”
“Chloe. Thank God.” Adrianna emerged from the bathroom with a major scowl planted on her face. She wore a clingy yellow top, a white knee-length skirt, and sandals with three-inch heels. I loved it that Ade hadn’t spent her pregnancy shrouded in oversized outfits. Her clothes hugged her beautiful curves and celebrated her pregnancy. In my opinion, Kitty had no reason to criticize Ade.
“Hello, Chloe.” Kitty’s smile was forced. “Adrianna, I just think that you could find something less . . . revealing than that outfit. You are a bride, after all. You could be less obvious.”
“Less obvious? You mean I’m supposed to make it less obvious that I got knocked up before I was married?” Adrianna sounded incredulous. “You think I can hide my pregnancy? You think I’d want to? Say it, Mom. Just say it! You want to pretend I’m not pregnant. You want me to play the part of some virginal bride, right? Well, tough.”
“Adrianna Zane! How dare you!” Kitty had turned an alarming shade of red. H
er lips were tightly pursed.
“How dare I what? How dare I say what you’re thinking? You hate that I’m pregnant. You hate Owen, and you probably hate me.” Despite her raised voice, Adrianna looked remarkably calm for someone who was duking it out with her mother. “I cannot deal with you right now. I can’t change how you feel and how you treat me, but I don’t have to put up with it.”
Kitty stood frozen, aghast at her daughter’s brutal frankness.
“Chloe, I’m packed and ready to go. Mother, you can let yourself out. I’ll see you tomorrow if you can drag yourself to the wedding. But I want you to leave right afterward. I don’t want you around after the wedding, and I don’t want you around when I give birth. Come on, let’s go.”
I picked up Adrianna’s bags, she carried her wedding dress, and we bolted. We said nothing until we were seated in the van.
Ade managed to buckle her seat belt and then took a look around the plant-packed van. “This is not exactly the glamorous limo ride I was expecting, but thanks for getting me.”
“No problem. I thought a limo might be too pretentious and clichéd. A van packed with greenery hit me as celebratory without being excessive or trite.”
“Good thinking.”
I did a forty-point turn to get us out of the tight parking space. “You okay?”
“Yup. I’m quite okay. Actually, I’m fantastic.” Ade smiled broadly. “I’m ready to get married, Chloe. I’m really ready. Kitty can suck it!” she cheered.
“That’s my girl!” I yelled happily. “Kitty can suck it!”
TWENTY-TWO
“LOOK at the tent!” Adrianna’s eyes lit up with happiness as I pulled the van to the front walkway. “It’s just beautiful, isn’t it, Chloe?”
“It’s gorgeous. The ceremony is going to be amazing. Let’s go put our things in the guest bedroom, and then we’ll look around.”
When my father opened the front door for us, he was humming Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus.”
“Oh, here we go.” I rolled my eyes.
“I love it. Keep up the music, Jack.” Adrianna hugged my dad.
“Can you believe this weather?” he exclaimed. “I’m going to sit out on the deck tonight and do some meditation. Did Chloe tell you I’ve become addicted to yoga?”
“Dad, not now!” I said, exasperated.
Mom entered the living room. “Did you get everything we need? Oh, hello, Adrianna. Isn’t this fantastic? Chloe, where are the plants? Did the nursery have what we need? Jack, start unloading the plants from the van. Bring them all into the tent.”
While my father obediently headed for the van, I calmed my mother down by informing her that I had enough foliage to fill four tents. Ade stifled a yawn. I took the wedding gown from her arms and asked, “Do you want to lie down for a bit while we unload the plants?”
“I think I should. I feel like I’m ready to burst.”
Mom put her arm on Ade’s and fired off ten or twelve questions one right after the other, including: “What has your doctor said? Does she think you’re getting close to delivering? Are you having Braxton Hicks?” My mother, I suspected, had consumed one espresso too many today.
“Um, actually, I skipped my appointment this week and rescheduled it for next week. Owen and I aren’t going anywhere for a honeymoon, so he’ll be around to go with me.” Ade saw my mother’s alarmed face. “Honestly, Bethany, I feel fine. I really do. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“If you say so. Make yourself at home in the guest room, and come and join us when you’ve gotten some rest.”
My parents and I spent the next few hours moving all the nursery purchases from one place to another in the tent. Astonishingly, my mother was eventually satisfied. The ceremony would take place on one side of the tent, where white folding chairs were set up for the guests. The other side of the tent already had some tables and chairs in place. Fifty or so people made for a fairly small wedding, but additional tables would have to be added once the ceremony was over. Long tables covered in white tablecloths were ready for Josh’s food. Another table would serve as the bar.
Adrianna roused herself in the late afternoon. To my relief, she looked thoroughly refreshed and even energetic. Nodding at a monstrous blue box that she held in her hands, she announced, “Nail time, ladies!”
My mother and I let Ade paint our fingernails in a shade called Sheer Tutu Pink. Meanwhile, my father prepared the grill for tonight’s dinner. I called Josh, who muttered something about “crazy lamb” and “stupid pot’s too small.” Otherwise, I got barely an intelligible word out of him except a promise to be at the house for the rehearsal.
Josh and Owen arrived in Owen’s refrigerated fish truck, which held some of the food that needed to be stored at my parents’ house. “Your fridge is filled to capacity, Chloe,” Josh said, “and this stuff I won’t need until tomorrow.”
“How is everything coming?” I asked.
“We’re in good shape. Risotto is ready, squash puree is done, soup is ready. Everything. It’s all good. Dinner will be fantastic tomorrow.”
At six thirty, the wedding party assembled in the tent. I stood at the front of the aisle, flanked by two empty white podiums. Tomorrow, they’d hold floral baskets. Owen, Ade, Mom, Josh, and my father all sat before me in the white chairs while I went over the ceremony.
“Tomorrow,” I said, “the guests will mostly seat themselves, but Evan and Willie will be here to act as ushers if needed.” Owen had refused to have either of his brothers in the wedding party; he’d maintained that the risk of their misbehaving was simply too great. “Owen, come stand right here. Don’t fidget, pick your nose, touch your hair, or otherwise move unless I tell you. Stand there and watch the back of the tent for your bride. Mom and Josh, when the music starts, you will walk down the aisle together, followed by Adrianna and Dad. Let’s do that now.” The music would be provided by nothing fancier than my MP3 player hooked up to outdoor speakers.
The members of the wedding rushed to their places, and then Josh looped my mother’s arm through his and escorted her down the aisle. “Now Adrianna and Dad . . . Good. Dad, you kiss Ade’s cheek, pass her off to Owen, and sit down. Wait! Owen, you don’t kiss her now!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Owen beamed. “I couldn’t help myself!”
I continued. “The music will stop, and I’ll begin the ceremony. That part is a secret until tomorrow, so all you need to know is that at some point I will get to the vows and ask you both to repeat what I say. And, Owen, let me dash your hopes right now. There is no rhyming. Then I will pronounce you husband and wife. That’s when you get to kiss. Then Mom and Josh walk back up the aisle, followed by the bride and groom. That’s it.”
I received a small round of applause for leading such a quick rehearsal, and all of us moved to the patio by the grill. Because tomorrow would be so busy, tonight’s dinner was simple: Dad was grilling chicken, and Mom had made a big salad. Josh, I could tell, was having to struggle to restrain himself from taking over at the grill. Inevitably, Dad was singeing some of the chicken pieces.
I filled a paper plate for Adrianna, who was seated next to Owen. “You got your tux, right?” I asked.
Owen nodded. “All set. I picked up mine and Josh’s today.”
“Can I see them?” Ade spoke nonchalantly, but I knew that she wanted to make sure that Josh and Owen would, in fact, be dressed in black and not blue.
“They’re back at the apartment. I didn’t want to leave them in the fish truck and take the chance they’d smell like seafood.”
Adrianna looked surprised and impressed that Owen had had the foresight to avoid smelling like fish during their wedding. I felt skeptical. I didn’t expect him to go out of his way to stink of seafood, of course. Still, I didn’t trust him to present himself appropriately and wouldn’t trust him until tomorrow when—if—he was actually standing next to me fully outfitted in the conventionally handsome attire he’d sworn to wear for the wedding.
“I�
�d like to make a toast.” Owen rose, helped Ade out of her chair, and lifted his glass of beer into the air. “To Jack and Bethany. Before we head into the inevitable chaos tomorrow, we both want to let you know how unbelievably grateful we are to you both. You are giving us exactly the kind of wedding we want.”
Ade continued. “Owen and I didn’t want a formal, stuffy reception, and this dinner-party style you’ve put together is really us. You both know that my father is out of the picture and that my mother is not exactly the mother I would have handpicked. You two have made us feel like part of your family, and we will never forget that. And Chloe? I couldn’t ask for a more loyal, special friend. I love you.”
Owen wiped his eyes and put his arm around Ade. “I’m so sorry about your mother,” he whispered. She nodded and lifted her lemonade. “To the Carter family!”
We all clinked glasses and traded mushy hugs and kisses.
“There is one more treat for you two,” I said as I handed Owen the envelope Nana Sally had slipped to me at the end of the shower.
“Whoo hoo!” Owen yelled.“We’re going to the Ritz! Nana Sally is sending us there for our wedding night.” The groom did a goofy little dance that involved weird hip thrusts and snapping fingers.
Ade giggled and then managed to settle him down. “God, I’ve always wanted to go there. That’s going to be fantastic! Oh, and Jack and Bethany, we have something for you.”
The bride and groom handed my parents a gift-wrapped box. My father was busy burning chicken, so it was my mother who opened the package and lifted out a hand-blown glass vase.
“I know it’s not much,” Adrianna said, “but we thought you’d like it.”
“It’s simply beautiful. You shouldn’t have,” my mother said as she admired the vase.
“Chloe, we have something for you, too.” Owen gave me a piece of paper that had been rolled up and tied with a pink ribbon.
I slid off the knot and unrolled what looked like an official invitation. I read the page and looked up at my dear friends. “Are you sure?”
Fed Up Page 18