Chapter 2
“I’ll go first.” Emily Downey was wearing a wool tweed jacket with a color-coordinated tam that matched her cool, composed, very self-assured aura.
“You always do.” Chelsea Downey, who looked decidedly more frazzled in jeans with tattered pockets and a lace shirt, rolled her eyes.
“A right I’ve earned fairly.” Emily frowned.
“What? For meritorious service earned in the line of duty?”
“I deserve a gold medal for tolerating my younger siblings.”
“Just because you’re the oldest-“
“And wisest.”
Chelsea huffed and dropped the conversation, her attitude clearly indicating that her sister wasn’t worth the energy it would take to continue the fight.
No stress at all. Ian felt a rush of sympathy for Edith Downey, and not for the first time. “Why don’t we start with the exact times and dates you’ve chosen for your ceremonies?”
The brides-to-be rattled off the dates they’d each selected, declining to mention the reported drama that had surrounded their decisions.
Emily was all business. Chelsea had the look of a lovesick teenager. Both sisters had curly red hair and freckles, but that was where the similarities ended as far as Ian could tell.
“So tell me a little about yourselves and your beaus as well as what sort of time frame might work for your joint sessions.”
“How many do we have to come to?” Emily looked irritated.
Her apparently equally disgruntled younger sister started to speak no more than a half-second after she finished. “Both Greg and I work full time, Saturdays, too. The only day of the week we have free is Sunday.”
He’d hoped the women would go along peaceably so he wouldn’t have to play the required card, but it didn’t appear that was going to happen. “Best to get the sessions over quickly then. I’m sure your weekends will only get busier as you near the dates of your weddings.”
Both women looked at him as if trying to gauge the depth of his resolve and evidently resigned themselves to the inevitable.
“I’ll have to check with Benjamin, but we could probably drive up next Saturday.” Emily looked at her younger sister. “So you can have Sunday.”
“How big of you.” Chelsea agreed to speak to Greg, then went on to map out tentative dates for all three sessions. But she was still pouting when they were finished.
Truth be told, Ian wasn’t wild about giving up a months worth of Saturdays and cramming one more commitment into his already exhausting Sunday schedule either, but no one seemed to appreciate his sacrifice. That said, pre-marital counseling sessions ranked high on the list of the pastoral duties he enjoyed most. Talking to prospective brides and grooms, no matter their age or situation was infinitely more fun than dealing with the aftermath of a death or divorce, and much more challenging and rewarding than sitting with the ladies at Missionary Society or their weekly quilting sessions. He’d always preferred proactive measures to reactive, and counted the task of equipping couples for a long, happy partnership to be a great honor.
“So, tell me a little about the men you’ll be marrying.”
“I’m sure once you meet Benjamin, you’ll agree that he’ll be the perfect husband.” Emily raised an eyebrow in Chelsea’s direction.
Chelsea responded with a huffy, “And you’ll see how deeply in love Greg and I are.”
Ian looked from one sister to the other. Was Chelsea trying to imply that Benjamin and Emily weren’t marrying for love? Come to think of it, he didn’t recall the word being mentioned by either Emily or her mother. It would be very interesting to meet Benjamin.
“What does Benjamin do? And Greg? How long have you known one another? Any previous marriages or children from prior relationships that I should know about?” He’d wait to ask the more personal questions – whether or not the couple was having pre-marital sex, or even living together, what their points of contention were, how they communicated, if they agreed on how to spend money – when he was alone with each couple. Some of it would be covered in a questionnaire he’d send home with the women, to be filled out by each individual in the relationship and placed in a sealed envelope, for his eyes only.
Once again, Emily spoke first. “Benjamin is a doctor. A cardiologist.” Her tone was almost gloating. “We’ve known each other since last December.”
It was left to him to do the math. Emily obviously knew the public relations business well, as she should, since it was her career. December of last year sounded infinitely longer than the mere four months it had actually been. He made a note for his file. Based on what he knew from friends who’d pursued medicine as a career, there were probably no prior relationships – the poor chap most likely hadn’t had a moment to himself in all the time he’d been in school, residencies and internships.
“Chelsea?”
Chelsea squirmed and fidgeted in her chair. “Greg is, well, um, Greg is, well, I’m not sure which of his jobs he would consider his actual career.”
Emily rolled her eyes. Chelsea, who was sitting beside her and focused on Ian, didn’t notice.
“Why don’t you start with the one he enjoys the most.”
A smile lit up her face. “He loves playing with his band, and writing music – they play old time rock and roll. Like the Beatles and the Monkees, plus their own stuff. And they’re really, really good. It’s just that, by the time they divide their earnings between the four of them, and buy the equipment they need and transport everything to the gigs they get – well, he just doesn’t make that much being a musician. But he’s really, really wonderful at it, and he’s got so much talent that I support his efforts to make it in the music business 100%. And someday, I’m positive he’s going to get a break and...”
A definite worry. But Ian couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “He has a second job?”
“He’s a bartender at the Bump and Grind, which is a really nice, upscale pub on Barrie Street, if you’re at all familiar with Dumbarton. He can get more hours if he needs to, but that would mean working weekends, and that’s when his band is usually playing, so...”
Chelsea glanced at Emily, and then back at him, her eyes pleading with him to let it drop. Judging by Chelsea’s nervousness, he could probably guess the answer to his questions about previous relationships or children. And that’s why he nodded reassuringly instead of asking.
“And we’ve been together for three years.” It was Chelsea’s turn to flaunt it now, and she did. “We’ve just been waiting because, well, we wanted to save up some money before we..., and wait until I’d graduated from law school before...”
“I understand,” Ian said. Both relationships were obviously more complicated than Edith had led him to believe. And it was clear that he needed to stop asking questions until he had each of them one on one.
He stood and smiled. “Thank you so much for coming by today, then, ladies. I’ve got a packet for each of you with the questionnaires I mentioned on the mobile, and directions on how to fill them out. Please call to confirm your next appointment once you’ve had a chance to speak to Benjamin and Greg, and hopefully, we’ll see you both weekend after next.”
Emily pursed her lips and resumed looking smug.
Chelsea looked visibly relieved. “We’re done then? Because Greg is waiting for me out in the car.”
Emily was the first to stand and shake his hand. Chelsea followed suit.
They both started to exit. But instead of going first, Emily hung back and let Chelsea walk out ahead of her.
“He’s got two – that we know of,” Emily whispered as soon as Chelsea had walked far enough to be out of earshot. “Charlie is two. Gretchen is a year and a half. Da and Mum don’t know.”