The caterers exchanged a look and, all of them now seeming disgruntled, went back to work.
“Fixed?” my dad asked hopefully.
“You’re going to need a system upgrade,” Leo said, shaking his head. “Should have been looked at ages ago. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve made it this long without problems.”
“But the problems have been fixed for now, right?” Rodney asked. “So we’re all good?”
“Son, don’t say ‘all good,’ ” Mrs. Daniels murmured.
“It’s just a patch job,” Leo said, looking startled to see two more people in a room that hadn’t been lacking for people to begin with. I was fairly used to being in a kitchen with ten people, but his reaction was a reminder that most people weren’t. “You’re going to have to get the system upgraded. But once you do, it should be good here for another ten, fifteen years. You’ll get your money’s worth out of it.”
“We’ve sold the house, so it’s not really our issue,” my dad said, then looked around and patted his pockets. “Let me just find my checkbook. . . .”
“Charlie?” I looked across the kitchen to see Priya raising her eyebrows at me. “Did you find out when the hair and makeup people are coming?”
“Right,” I said, pulling out my phone again. I was scrolling through my documents when the doorbell rang. “Hold on,” I said, hurrying over to the front hall—and grabbing the suit off the back of the chair as I went to answer the door. It wasn’t until I was halfway there that I realized I’d never actually gotten my bagel. I groaned when I saw it was Don standing on the threshold, his face red. “Hello, Don.”
“This is just unacceptable!” Don yelled, like we’d been in the middle of a conversation and were just now picking it up again. “Do you have any idea how noisy your house is? Are they doing construction in your yard?”
“They’re putting up a tent,” I explained.
“And why does your alarm keep going off?”
“We’re fixing it,” I assured him, lowering my voice in the hopes that it might get him to do the same. “But—”
My mother came hurrying out of the kitchen, and I saw her shoulders slump when she realized who I was talking to. “I’m sorry, Don,” she said, coming to stand behind me. “But we’ve got a lot going on right now and we really don’t have time to talk.”
“This is not a social call,” Don said, his face getting redder than ever. “This is a warning. Unless the noise level decreases, I will contact the authorities.”
“That’s a big accusation to throw around,” my mother said, her voice still pleasant but with a steely edge now. Don seemed to notice this too, and he immediately looked a little more uncomfortable.
“Well, just try to keep it down,” he muttered. He gave us a disgusted look, then turned and marched down the front steps.
“Just don’t tell your father he was here,” my mother said, pulling the front door shut behind him. “I swear, they’re about to come to blows over this stupid garden competition.”
“Charlie!” Jenny W. was coming down the stairs holding a white satin garment bag in her arms.
“Is that the wedding dress?” my mother asked, her eyes widening. “Why do you have it?”
“Oh, just because I’m trying to save Linnie and Rodney’s marriage,” Jenny said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Rodney keeps insisting on going into her closet, and Linnie had taken it out of the bag already, so he’s almost seen it, like, three times this morning.”
“In fairness, it’s his closet too,” I pointed out, but Jenny kept right on going.
“And it’s bad luck to see the wedding dress before the wedding,” she said, shaking her head. “And I don’t want that on my conscience. I mean, do you? Knowing that their marriage is doomed because of you?”
“No. Obviously. Nobody wants that,” I said.
“Well, then,” Jenny said, holding it out to me. “Here.”
“You can put it in our room,” my mom said. “Unless I’m mistaken, Rodney’s not going to be hanging out in there.”
“Okay,” I said, taking it along with the other garment bag. “I’ll just drop it off, then.” I started to head for the stairs, then turned back to Jenny. “Do you know when the hair and makeup people are coming? Priya was asking.”
“No,” Jenny said, her eyes getting wide. “Is it soon? I wanted to take a shower first. . . .” She hurried into the kitchen, and I started upstairs, moving more slowly under the weight of the dress.
“Charlie, make sure you hang it carefully,” my mother called to me just as the doorbell rang again. “We don’t want it to get wrinkled.”
“Got it.” I craned my neck to see who had arrived and got a glimpse of a girl dressed all in black with a camera bag—and figured this was probably the photographer. Since I was not even close to being camera ready, I increased my pace up the stairs to the second floor and to my parents’ bedroom.
I closed the door just in case Rodney was going to be walking by, since the last thing I needed was blame for more things going wrong with this wedding. Then I unzipped the white satin garment bag and felt my breath catch as I pulled it out.
I’d seen pictures, of course, that Linnie had sent of her in the dress at various fittings. But somehow, none of the pictures had done the dress justice.
It was long, and white—not a bright-white, though, more like there was some gray mixed in with it, somehow, like a pale pebble. It had an open back, and beading on the V-neck and on the straps. I looked at it, fighting the feeling that I was about to burst into tears. I’d known Linnie was getting married—obviously, I’d known it. It was all I’d been thinking about for the last few days, and it had been one of the main topics of conversation ever since she and Rodney got engaged. But somehow, seeing her wedding dress made it all that much more real. And considering I was about to start crying just looking at the dress, I wasn’t sure how I was going keep it together when I actually saw my sister in it, walking down the aisle toward Rodney.
I took a breath and tried to pull myself together. I had a lot to do—and I probably didn’t have time to be getting misty over dresses. I looked around for a place to put it. My parents’ room was the biggest one on this floor—with a king bed, attached master bath, my mom’s closets on one side of the room, my dad’s on the other. There was a daybed in the corner of their room that was mostly just decorative—but as I looked at it now, I realized that someone could have stayed there, in a pinch. Not one of the guests, of course, but I certainly could have, or J.J. . . . I’d forgotten about it, and as I looked at it now, I wondered why my mother hadn’t suggested it when we were looking for room options. And it looked like it was even made up, which it almost never was, so it would have been totally ready for someone—like me—to stay there.
I shook my head at this, then heard the doorbell ring again downstairs and realized that I needed to get moving. I didn’t just want to just cram the dress into my mother’s closet, next to her suits in their dry-cleaner’s plastic and her sensible black pressed pants. This was the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen in person, and it felt like it deserved better than that. After looking around, I carefully laid it over the daybed, arranging the skirt so that it was lying flat and hopefully wouldn’t wrinkle at all. I looked at it for just one more moment, gently touching the fabric of the skirt, before leaving the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind me.
I took the suit in its garment bag with me and headed out onto the landing—nearly tripping over Waffles, who was sitting, perfectly still, outside the door of my dad’s study, like he was waiting for someone on the other side of the door. As I looked at him, I wondered just what kind of dog had come to stay with us for the weekend. Was this a former police dog, or something? Could he smell what Max was undoubtedly up to inside?
“Come here,” I said to him. Waffles just looked at me, but then turned back to the door, now growling low at it.
“Charlie?” Max called through the door, soun
ding panicked. “Is that you? Is the dog still there?”
“Yeah,” I said, walking over to the dog, not sure I really wanted to pick up a growling beagle. But he stopped as I got closer, and didn’t protest when I picked him up. He was lighter than I’d expected him to be, and curled up a little in my arms, leaning his head against my chest. I gave the top of his head a tentative pat. “I’ve got him, Max.”
“Okay,” Max yelled through the door. “I’ll just—ow—I’ll just stay here. Bye-bye now.”
“Okay,” I said. I was about to tell Max that we’d found someone to perform the ceremony, when Waffles started growling at the door again, and it seemed like the best course of action might be to separate them.
I headed downstairs, the dog now resting comfortably in the crook of my arm, apparently enjoying being along for the ride. When I arrived in the front hall, it was to see people coming through the front door, three burly guys, all of them carrying cables and what looked like black metal suitcases. “Hi,” I said to one of them, a question in my voice, even though they didn’t seem to need any direction.
“Hey,” the one bringing up the end said matter-of-factly as they continued through to the kitchen just as Rodney came out of it.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“They’re rigging the electrical in the tent,” Rodney said. “Did you meet the videographer yet?”
“No,” I said, starting to feel my pulse speed up. “Why is everyone here so early?”
“They’re not that early,” Rodney said. “Plus, they want to capture everyone getting ready, getting dressed, that kind of thing.” He looked from the dog in my right arm to the suit over my left. “Can I have my suit now?”
“Right.” I took a breath, then realized I really didn’t want to do this alone, and that I needed more backup than just Waffles. “Um, just give me a minute.”
* * *
“What is going on?” Linnie asked five minutes later. We were in the family room—Linnie and Rodney on one couch, me, Danny, and Max on the other, and Mike slumped in the armchair in the corner. I’d corralled Danny into joining us, mostly so that I could have someone on my side, and I’d dragged Mike in here because I thought that Linnie and Rodney might not yell quite as loud if they were in the presence of our very hungover brother. Waffles was also there, though he wasn’t really helping things—he’d jump onto the couch, curl up in my lap, and be peaceful for a moment or two, but that was as long as it would last. Soon, he’d be up, running around the room, looking at the ceiling like he’d been doing this morning, and growling up at it.
“Okay,” I said, realizing that there was nothing to do but get it over with—everyone had too much to do to sit here for very long. “So, here’s the thing. We found someone to marry you.”
“What do you mean?” Linnie asked, looking at Max. She sneezed three times in succession, then shot all of us a look, like she was daring us to say anything about it. “Isn’t Max marrying us?”
“Wait, who’s we?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Me and Bill,” I said, then felt my face get hot as Danny shot me a look.
“Well, well, well.”
“No,” I said. “No wells. It’s his job. And I’m helping.”
“Sure,” Danny said, giving me a wink.
“Why isn’t Max marrying us?” Rodney asked.
I took a breath to answer as Waffles launched himself off the couch and ran across the room, looking straight up at the ceiling, a low, continuous growl sounding like it was coming from the back of his throat. “Waffles,” I said, a little half-heartedly, since I was pretty sure the dog didn’t know this was his name.
“What’s wrong with the dog?” Danny asked.
“I think it might be a ghost,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway . . .”
“Are you still talking about the ghost?” J.J. asked, appearing in the doorway of the family room, still holding his bow tie.
“Yeah,” I said, pointing at Waffles. “Look at him. What else could it be?”
“If it’s a ghost, why hasn’t it shown up before now?” Danny asked.
J.J. thought about this for a moment. “It’s a ghost that hates weddings.”
“Did my mom give you the sewing kit?” Rodney asked, and J.J. nodded.
“She did.” He looked around the room. “Now. Does anyone know how to sew?”
“Guys,” Mike said, rubbing his temples, “do I really need to be here for this?”
“Yes,” I said immediately. I looked at Linnie and Rodney. “And I think we should be aware of Mike’s condition and not, you know, yell or throw anything.”
“Why would we yell?” Linnie asked, her voice getting louder with every word. “Charlie?”
“My head,” Mike whimpered.
“What’s happening?” Linnie asked, looking hard at me.
I glanced at Max, who looked back at me pleadingly, like he wanted me to explain this for him, and I nodded and took a breath. “So, Max found out that you can’t perform marriages in Connecticut with online ordination,” I said, and across the room, I could see Linnie’s face pale. “You have to be a clergy member or a judge.”
“What?” Rodney asked loudly, and Mike flinched.
“If we could just . . . ,” he said, shaking his head slowly, “just not . . .”
“Sorry, Mike,” Rodney said, in a quieter voice. “But what?”
“Guys, this was totally my bad,” Max muttered. “I should have checked.”
“Or I should have,” Rodney said, running his hand over his eyes. “God. I should have verified this. If I hadn’t been so busy studying . . .” Linnie reached out her hand to Rodney, who took it.
“But it’s okay,” I said quickly. “Because we found a judge to marry you. It’s all set.”
“You did?” Danny asked, looking impressed. “Go, Chuck!”
“Okay,” Rodney said, looking like he was having trouble keeping up. “So . . . that’s good.”
“Who is this judge?” asked Linnie.
“Well, his name’s Ralph,” I said, “and he mostly does wills and estates, but he promised me that he’s able to do this. Legally, I mean.”
“A probate judge is marrying us?” Rodney asked, sounding horrified. I nodded.
“But he seemed really . . . um . . .” I hesitated, not wanting to lie to them on their wedding day. “Really competent,” I finally finished.
Linnie nodded slowly. “We’re getting married by someone named Ralph,” she said, like she was still trying to get her head around it.
“I’m just going to . . . check on something,” Max muttered, glancing up at the ceiling and then leaving the room, Waffles in hot pursuit.
“That dog is very strange,” Danny said, standing up as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “You okay?” he asked me, and I nodded as Danny headed out of the room.
“But how did you get him to agree to do it?” Rodney asked, looking at me, then shook his head. “How did you even find a judge on a Saturday?”
“It’s kind of a funny story,” I said. “Um . . . he sort of agreed to do it if he got to keep your suit.”
“My suit?” he echoed. “My wedding suit?”
“It is a nice suit,” J.J. said, clearly trying to be helpful.
“But . . .” Rodney looked around the room, like someone there might be able to explain to him what was going on. “This isn’t a fable—you’re not supposed to barter goods for services.”
“I know,” I said, “but the tailor gave him your suit by mistake, and then, when he put it on, he really liked it, so . . .”
“What am I supposed to wear?” Rodney asked, staring at me. “To my wedding, which is in a few hours?”
“Well,” I said, lifting the garment bag off the back of the couch, “We still have Ralph’s suit. You could always . . . um . . .” Rodney unzipped it and visibly flinched when he saw the suit. I poked J.J. hard in the side.
“Ow!” he said, glaring at me. “What . . .”
I nodded toward the suit, widening my eyes at him. “Um, it’s not so bad,” he said, finally understanding me. “I mean, it’s so . . . purple.”
“Mike?” Rodney asked, holding the suit out to him. Mike leaned forward to look at it, then groaned again.
“Why would you do that to me?” he asked, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “I’m feeling sick enough already.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing between Linnie and Rodney, neither of whom looked happy. “I just thought . . . you’d rather have a judge than a suit. That’s all.”
There was a knock on the family room doorframe, and I looked up to see the girl I’d seen earlier, the one with the camera bag. She was standing next to a guy with a goatee, who was carrying a professional-looking video camera. “Hi, all,” the girl said, with a broad wave. “Linnie, Rodney, we wanted to get both video and stills of the bridal parties getting ready. Maybe we’ll start with the groomsmen, since we’re still waiting on the girls’ hair and makeup?”
Linnie nodded, putting a very strained smile on her face. “We’ll be right there.”
“That’s my cue,” J.J. said, standing, then flicking Mike on the head. “Your cue too.”
“Gahhhh,” Mike moaned as he pushed himself up off the chair—I couldn’t help but notice it seemed to take him about three times as long as normal. J.J. slung his arm around Mike’s neck and pulled him from the room.
I turned to the other couch, where both Linnie and Rodney were looking shell-shocked. “You guys okay?”
“I just . . . ,” Rodney said, then shook his head. “Are there any more surprises coming our way?”
“Well,” I said, then cleared my throat, secretly hoping that maybe the two of them harbored a secret fandom I wasn’t aware of. “How do you guys feel about Journey?”
CHAPTER 19
Or, What’s the Worst That Could Happen?
* * *
OKAY, LINNEA, IF YOU COULD look in the mirror . . . Great . . . And all the bridesmaids, lean in around her . . . but don’t look at me. . . . Great . . . Okay one more . . .”