The Wedding Pact Box Set

by Denise Grover Swank

  Megan lay back down and held up her itinerary. Florist 9:00 a.m. Photographer 10:00, Orchestra director 11:00, Lunch at noon, Pick up wedding and bridesmaids’ dresses at 1:30. She was exhausted from just looking at the list. But the fact that her mother was dragging her along made it ten times worse.

  Did Libby and Blair know about the one-thirty appointment? Hopefully they’d agree to come. Gram definitely wasn’t enough moral support. Megan needed more people on her team.

  She picked up her phone again and called Libby. “Hey, Libs. Did my mom tell you about picking up the bridesmaids’ dresses today?”

  “Um . . . yeah. She mentioned it last week.”

  “I don’t suppose you planned on showing up?”

  “Seeing how you weren’t engaged when she called, no.”

  “Do you think you can . . . ?” If either of her friends could take off work, it was usually Libby. As a professional photographer, her schedule was usually more flexible.

  Libby groaned. “Lucky for you, I don’t have any appointments today. What time?”

  “One thirty. At Sherri’s Bridal.”

  “Yeah,” she muttered. “I remember. I’ll be there.”

  “You’re the best!”

  “I know,” she laughed. “And you owe me.”

  Megan stared up at the ceiling. “How come you aren’t asking me why I’m picking up my wedding dress when I’m not even getting married?”

  “Maybe you should be asking yourself that question. See you at one thirty, Megs.”

  What was Libby suggesting? She’d only just met Josh; her friend couldn’t think she’d actually marry him. The dress was paid for, wedding or not. Hopefully Megan would get married for real someday and she could use it. She loved the dress. Truth be told, wearing it was what she’d been looking forward to most about the wedding.

  The knowledge struck her again, sticking to her skin like crazy glue—the whole wedding was already bought and paid for . . . no take-backs. Her parents were out a ton of money. The guilt of lying hung over her, sucking her energy away. Or was it the thought of spending the day with her mother?

  As if on cue, her mother called up the stairs. “Megan!”

  Megan rolled onto her stomach, releasing a long, low groan into her comforter. Only an act of God would get her through this day without strangling her mother.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Megan was tired, cranky, and starving. Which was more than pathetic since she’d just left a restaurant after having lunch. Megan’s mother had ordered for her while she was in the restroom. And even though Megan had asked her to order a cheeseburger, she wasn’t all that surprised when the waitress served her a garden salad with fat-free dressing on the side.

  Megan’s mouth dropped open, and she sought her mother’s attention, which wasn’t hard since Nicole was watching her like a hawk. “What happened to my cheeseburger?”

  “You’re not a teenager anymore, Megan,” her mother said, picking up her fork. “You’ve gotten . . . hippy.”

  Gram had been quiet for most of the morning, but her interest perked up. “Megan’s a hippie?” She looked into Megan’s eyes. “Do you smoke the weed?”

  Megan couldn’t stop her chuckle. “No Gram, I don’t smoke the weed. And contrary to what Mom thinks, I don’t hug trees even if I do try to save them in the Amazon.” She lifted her eyebrows and dared her mother to press the issue.

  Surprisingly, her mother ignored the taunt and picked at her own salad. When the waitress came to take away their empty plates, Megan ordered a slice of cheesecake, but her mother insisted they were running behind schedule and there wouldn’t be time for her to eat it. In a burst of defiance, Megan ordered it to go and told the waitress to put it on a separate bill so her mother couldn’t use the cost against her later.

  Now here Megan sat, in the back seat of her mother’s Lincoln, eating her cheesecake with a plastic fork, offering bites to her grandmother who was in the front passenger seat.

  “Don’t get any crumbs on that seat, Megan Nicole,” her mother said in a tight voice. “I just had the car detailed two days ago.”

  “I’m not five years old, Mom,” Megan said as she took a bite, a tiny piece falling off her fork and onto the seat. Megan glanced up at the rearview mirror to see if her mother had noticed, while brushing away the crumb. Rather than helping, her maneuver smeared the creamy filling across the leather.

  Oh, crap.

  She dug a tissue out of her purse, trying not to giggle.

  She was in brighter spirits when her mother pulled up to the bridal shop. Libby was standing on the sidewalk waiting for them.

  Megan gave her a tight hug. “I love you, Libs!”

  “You owe me drinks later for putting up with Knickers twice in less than twenty-four hours,” she whispered in Megan’s ear.

  “Deal.”

  They went into the shop, Gram’s outfit drawing looks from other shoppers at the strip mall as she shuffled to the door. She wore a red sequined vest over a black T-shirt with the words “Momma’s Home Boys” printed in a sparkly red. Her black capris and red flats completed the outfit. When one middle-aged man’s jaw dropped, Gram winked and said, “Give me your number and I’ll set up a naked yoga session with you.”

  Megan’s mother hustled her into the bridal shop and immediately took charge, going up to the counter and announcing they had arrived for their one-thirty fitting. The clerk took them to a viewing area and told them to have a seat.

  After Megan’s mother got Gram situated in an overstuffed chair, she glanced at Megan and Libby, then at the door. “Where’s Blair?”

  Megan suppressed a sigh. “She couldn’t get off work.” She’d known better than to ask.

  “What?” her mother screeched.

  “She has a very important job, Mother. She’s a big-deal attorney.”

  Her mother scowled. “This takes precedence.”

  “I’m sure the woman whose cheating husband tried to steal her house out from under her thinks differently.”

  Libby sat up straighter. “I’m going to see Blair tonight, so I told her I’d pick up her dress, Mrs. Vandemeer.”

  “What if it needs additional alterations?”

  Libby waved her hand as though it were a non-issue. “She’ll be fine.”

  To Megan, it was obvious Libby’s bright smile was forced, but her mother didn’t seem to notice. “Well, let’s hope so. I’d hate to see Megan’s wedding ruined over an ill-fitting bridesmaid dress.”

  Libby started to giggle, but Megan stomped on her foot to shut her up. Of course, she knew what Libby was thinking. The dress was the least of Knickers’ concerns at this point.

  The employee emerged from the back, her face beaming. “Your dresses are in the dressing rooms. If you’ll follow me . . .”

  Libby went into a room by herself while the employee followed Megan into the larger dressing room.

  “Did you bring the proper undergarments?”

  Megan opened her purse and pulled out the bag with the strapless bra. Her mother had given it to her before they got to the store, presuming she’d forget one. It annoyed Megan that Knickers was right, even though there was a reason for it—Megan had packed thinking she wouldn’t need one.

  Once she had her bra on, the employee handed her a crinoline slip and Megan hooked the side, staring in the mirror in confusion. “I didn’t think my slip was this full.”

  “This was the one purchased.”

  Megan let it go. She had bought the dress eight months ago; maybe she’d forgotten.

  The woman unzipped a bag and told Megan to lift her arms so she could put the dress over her head. “But face the wall first. I want you to turn and look in the mirror, so you can get the full effect.”

  Megan did as she was told, surprised that the dress felt much heavier than she remembered. When she turned to face the mirror, she realized why.

  “This isn’t my dress.”

  The employee’s eyes widened in fear. “I’m
sorry, Ms. Vandemeer. I’m afraid it is.”

  What did that mean? “No. It most certainly is not.” Megan’s voice was firm as she took in the ball-gown-style dress covered in silk fabric roses and half a million crystals. It looked like fairies had puked all over it.

  “Let me try to get this zipped up, and I’ll check on it.” The woman sounded panicked as she fought the zipper. “If you could take a deep breath.”

  Megan took a deep breath as the woman continued to struggle behind her. “I look just like Cinderella gone wrong.” Then it hit her. Surely, her mother didn’t . . . “What size is this dress?”

  “A six.”

  Megan picked up the skirt in her hands, ready for war. “Open the door.”

  The woman held it open, looking like she wanted to crawl under a chair as Megan stormed out into the viewing area.

  “Oh!” her mother squealed when Megan emerged. “The dress is gorgeous!”

  Gram, who’d leaned her head back in the chair, let out a soft snore.

  Libby stood on the small stage, her eyes alight with horror, although Megan wasn’t sure which dress had induced that reaction. Her friend was wearing a pale pink ball gown with a full crinoline skirt.

  “What are these?” Megan asked, dropping the skirt with one hand and waving between Libby and herself.

  Her mother looked surprised by her question. “Your dresses.”

  “But these aren’t the dresses we ordered!”

  Gram jerked awake. “What did I miss?”

  Her mother shook her head in confusion. “I told you I decided to have a princess theme.”

  “You said that was for the decorations!”

  “I presumed you realized it meant your dress as well.” She narrowed her eyes. “Turn around. Why isn’t your dress zipped all the way?”

  “Maybe because you ordered a size smaller than I actually wear!”

  Her mother looked exasperated. “Most brides diet before their weddings, Megan!”

  “Well, I’m not getting married!” Megan shouted.

  As if on a puppeteer’s orders, their mouths dropped open in shock.

  “What?” her mother asked.

  Libby rushed toward Megan and hugged her arm. “She meant she’s not getting married in this dress.”

  But Megan was done. The dress was the last straw. “No, Mom. That’s not it at all.”

  Libby tugged on Megan’s arm and pulled her toward the dressing rooms.

  Megan resisted. “No, it’s time to tell her the truth.”

  A cell phone rang, and Megan’s mother rolled her eyes and reached into her purse. “I don’t have time for hysterics. Libby, try to talk some sense into her while I take this call from the caterer.” She stood and walked out the front door.

  “Megan, I really need to talk to you,” Libby said in a low, insistent voice.

  Gram, who had been taking in the whole scene like it was prime-time reality-TV drama, watched them intently but didn’t say a word.

  Libby tugged again and Megan let her drag her into a large fitting room at the back of the store, where there were a couple of chairs and a full-length, three-paned mirror.

  “What are you doing?” Libby whisper-shouted.

  “I’m doing what I should have done in the first place. It’s time to tell her the truth.”

  Libby stood in front of her, blocking her path. “Stop, Megan. Think this through.”

  “That’s exactly what I should have done yesterday afternoon when I woke up with a fake fiancé.” Megan leaned into Libby’s face. “I can’t believe I’m in the middle of this!”

  “I know. I know,” Libby said, rubbing her arm in a soothing gesture.

  Megan sank into a chair, her massive skirt flopping up in her face. “She canceled my dress, Libby. My beautiful dress.”

  Libby sat in the chair next to her, shoving Megan’s massive crinoline pile out of the way. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s the only thing I wanted out of this wedding. This thing’s about to swallow me whole and suffocate me.”

  “Megan, I shouldn’t have to say this, but that’s a pretty sad statement—your dress being the only thing you wanted, I mean, not the fact that this new dress is suffocating you. Although, that’s pretty bad in and of itself.” Libby shook her head, her rich, dark waves rustling against her taffeta bodice. “You shouldn’t have agreed to marry what’s-his-name if you weren’t excited about it.”

  She closed her eyes. “I know.”

  “What were you thinking anyway? He was a total jerkwad.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

  Megan leaned her head back against the top of the seat. “It doesn’t matter anyway. What do I do now?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I suppose I should tell Mom what’s really going on.” She sat up again. “She might actually kill me. If so, you can have my granddad’s old cameras.”

  Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Including the old Brownie?”

  “Yep. That one, too.”

  Libby seemed to think about her answer before responding—perhaps trying to decide whether letting Knickers kill Megan was worth the vintage camera—but when she finally answered, she sounded more cheerful. “Honestly, Megs, at this point what does it matter if you tell her now or if you wait for Josh to break up with you tonight?”

  Megan looked at her friend, her face blurry through her tears. “Because it’s dishonest.”

  Libby took Megan’s hands in hers. “And Knickers was dishonest when she changed our dresses. Can you imagine if you were actually getting married and we had to wear these things?”

  Megan shook her head and laughed wryly. “No. I can’t.”

  “So we just accept what she did with the dresses, and I’ll tell Knickers you’re coming with me. We’ll get a drink to help you prepare for tonight. It’s your big Vandemeer family reunion, right?”

  “Yeah,” Megan said in surprise. “How did you know?”

  “Knickers FedExed the itineraries to Blair and me.”

  “Of course she did.” Megan smiled in spite of herself.

  “Follow the path of least resistance. Let Josh break up with you later. You’ll be the victim instead of the party pooper.”

  “Party pooper?” Megan cocked her head. “Really?”

  “This wedding is a twenty-five-thousand-dollar party, isn’t it?”

  Megan groaned. “Don’t remind me. In fact, she’s added so many embellishments since last fall, it’s probably double that by now.”

  When she and Libby reemerged in the viewing room, Megan’s mother had returned and was grumbling something about chicken.

  “Is it free-range chicken?” Gram asked.

  Megan’s mother scrunched her nose in confusion. “I don’t know.”

  “I saw a special report on one of those news shows the other day, and now I’ll only eat free-range chicken. They pump those other birds full of hormones. I’ve been eating a lot of chicken lately, and I woke up with a hot flash the other night.”

  “That explains something about Gram’s libido,” Libby said under her breath.

  “Mom—” Megan’s mother clenched her jaw, “—for the tenth time, it wasn’t a hot flash. Someone accidently turned the air conditioner off.”

  “Well, I’m still only eating free-range birds. Are they free-range?”

  Megan’s mother waved her hand. “Yes, it’s free-range chicken. They’re arriving from Wyoming tomorrow, then checking into their hotel rooms later.”

  Megan about fell over. Her mother made a joke!

  Gram smiled. After spending all day with the older woman, Megan knew her game. Gram wasn’t senile—not even a bit. She was egging Knickers on.

  They got back to the task at hand. Libby’s dress fit, so she disappeared to remove it while Megan’s mother tried to convince the alterations person to finish altering the dress before the next morning. At first the store employe
e claimed it wouldn’t be possible, but Nicole got her way the same way she usually did—by bullying everyone around her. Finally, the girl promised that the dress would be ready by noon the next day.

  Guilt flooded through Megan as she watched the exchange. She didn’t feel too bad about inconveniencing her mother, but the employee was obviously going to have to put in some overtime to accommodate her mother’s demands. She started to say something, but Libby put her hand on Megan’s arm, stopping her. With lips pursed together, she slowly shook her head.

  Remarkably, Knickers didn’t protest when Megan announced she was leaving with Libby. “I had hoped to get your hair done today, but they can’t fit you in until tomorrow. So go have some fun.”

  Megan gaped at her for a moment, then took off before her mother changed her mind. Gram gave the two younger women a longing look as they headed to Libby’s car.

  “Just remember to be home by five, Megan,” her mother called after her.

  Megan felt amazingly free and lighthearted as Libby drove away in her Volkswagen convertible. But instead of going out for a drink, Megan suggested they go shopping. She hadn’t planned to attend any wedding festivities, so she’d brought the bare minimum in terms of dress clothes.

  A few hours later, Libby pulled into the driveway and stared at the house. “Do you think Josh is back?”

  Megan gave her a look of surprise. “I guess not. Dad’s car isn’t in the driveway.” She’d been thinking about him all day, though she wasn’t about to admit she was disappointed he wasn’t back yet. If he was breaking up with her tonight, they only had a few more hours together. She couldn’t bear to think about it.

  “Do you think Knickers would have a fit if I come in and hang out for a while?”

  “I think she’ll get over it,” Megan said cautiously. “Why?”

  “Do I have to have a reason? I miss you. I haven’t seen you since last fall . . . and before that it had been two years.”

  “Sorry. Of course you can come in. Blair’s just made me paranoid, I guess.”

  “Unlike Blair, I approve of Mr. Sexy-in-a-Pair-of-Jeans.”

  Megan saw the curtain in the living room window shift. “I don’t think we can get away with sitting in your car until Josh shows up, which means we better go in.” Megan reached for the door handle. “I’m sure Mom’s got something for me to do.”