He gave them a friendly nod. “Hi, there.”
“Cool stuff,” Drake said, gesturing around him.
“We try. You interested in booking a river rafting trip?”
“Actually, we came to talk about booking a raft for June,” Laney said.
“Smart to do that now,” said the guy. “June is a high-demand month.”
“We want to get married on one,” she explained.
“Serious?”
“Serious.”
“Hey, Mick, come on out here!” he called. He thrust a calloused hand at Drake and then Laney. “I’m Darrell.”
A man who looked her grandpa’s age emerged from a back room. He was tall and skinny and he had dark hair shot with gray. Judging from the salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning.
“These guys want to get married on one of our rafts,” Darrell told him.
The old man nodded. “Never had anybody get married on a raft before.” He rubbed his grizzled chin, contemplating. “You wanna go down the river on it afterward?”
“Sure,” they both said.
“Well, come on down and I’ll show you what we’ve got.”
The rafts were definitely rustic. Laney could almost see her mother cringing. But they could fix one up with flowers and it would look great. Anyway, it would be fun to shove off on the raft after the ceremony, better than a horse-drawn carriage. They could meet everyone at the reception after.
Details were discussed, and Drake laid down a deposit, and then it was time to visit Primrose Haus.
He wasn’t quite so enthusiastic about that. “It’s kind of old-lady looking,” he said as they pulled up in front of it.
“It’s a Victorian. It’s supposed to look old,” Laney said, and suddenly she was aware of the garlic fries gurgling around in her tummy.
“Hey, I’m okay with it,” he said. “It’s just, well, it’s not Vegas.”
She sighed. “You’re right.” Obviously, he was still stuck on Las Vegas.
“It’s not too late to change your mind, you know,” he said.
Yes, it was. “This will be great,” she insisted.
“Which one of us are you trying to convince?”
“I don’t need convincing,” she said and rang the doorbell. Nobody came. “That’s strange. There are cars out here.” One of them was a PT Cruiser with a gingerbread boy and girl painted on the panel, along with the words Gingerbread Haus, the bakery that was going to do her cakes.
She rang the doorbell again. A moment later the door was opened by Daphne, one of the women she’d met when she came up with her mother. She was somewhere around Mom’s age, a little bigger in the butt and boobs but really pretty with perfectly highlighted hair and perfect makeup. She reminded Laney of those older models you sometimes saw on the cover of People with headlines like She’s Turning Fifty and Still Turning Heads.
The woman gave her the kind of friendly uncertain smile people used when they were sure they should know you but couldn’t remember who you were.
Laney introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Laney. My mom and I were up here last month. June wedding.”
“Oh, of course, and this must be your groom.”
“This is him,” Laney said, hugging Drake’s arm.
Drake reached out and shook her hand. “Hi, I’m Drake.”
“I’m Daphne. Come on in.”
“I thought maybe I could show Drake around,” Laney said.
“Oh, sure. We’re setting up for a wedding this evening, so things are a little crazy, but I’d be glad to give you the tour,” Daphne told her.
“Super. Thanks,” Laney said and followed her inside. Behind her she was aware of Drake looking around, and she began to see the decor through his eyes. Fussy girl-stuff like you might find in a museum or on an episode of her mom’s favorite show, Downton Abbey. Laney had liked it when she and Mom came up, but now she couldn’t help wondering how comfortable her groom and his friends were going to be here.
“This is where we usually have our receptions before the nice summer weather hits,” Daphne said, opening a pocket door and showing them a huge room with a crystal chandelier. Fancy chairs were scattered around the room, and there was a fireplace with a marble mantel at one end.
A table clad in white linen and edged with flowers had been set up in another corner, and the older lady Laney and her mom had met earlier was helping the woman who owned the bakery set up a wedding cake on it.
“It’s like a castle,” Drake said, and Laney wasn’t sure whether or not he meant that as a compliment.
Their voices echoed across the room, catching the older woman’s attention. She smiled and made her way over to them. “Well, hello. I do believe this is one of our brides.”
“It’s Laney,” said Daphne. “And Duke.”
“Drake,” Drake corrected her, and she blushed.
“Of course. Drake. Great name.”
“Thanks,” he said in a tone of voice that asked if it was so great why didn’t she remember it.
“Let me show you the grounds,” Daphne said next and led them outdoors.
It was too early for much of anything other than the primroses to be in bloom; even so, the grounds were impressive, with statues and a fishpond and that rose arbor Mom had wanted them to get married under. The rose arbor would be nice once it had flowers blooming but Laney preferred something more exciting.
Like a Pirates of the Caribbean–style ship.
No, like a raft on the river. “By summer it’ll be gorgeous out here,” Daphne said, “with the lavender and honeysuckle and the lilies and peonies.”
Drake didn’t say anything, so Laney filled in the empty conversational space. “It’s really pretty.”
“The whole house is,” Daphne said with a smile. “My mother’s held a lot of weddings here, including mine.” Her lips slid down at the corners. “And my daughter’s,” she added, bringing the smile back full-force.
Her wedding must not have turned out so well. Laney sneaked a look at her left hand. No ring. That sucked.
That won’t ever be Drake and me, she told herself. They’d been together long enough to feel confident it would last. He was kind and fun. He knew that she was grumpy in the morning, that she could get pissy when she was PMSing and that she wasn’t very good with money. And he loved her anyway. He knew what turned her on and what turned her off. And she knew what turned him on. (Anything!) She’d learned that he was easygoing but also anal about saving money, and they’d already talked about having a budget when they got married. Ick. But it was probably a good idea because he wanted to budget for big things, like cross-country camping trips and a house. And if it made him happy, then she was willing to write down how much money she spent at her favorite clothing consignment shop. Right now he was trying to act all chill, but she could tell he wasn’t excited about having their reception here. “You don’t like it,” she said once they were back in the truck.
“It’s okay.”
“Just okay?” How could they have the reception here if he didn’t like the place?
“I don’t think that house is really us.”
What was really them? Tents and log cabins and houses with modern colored-glass lights hanging from the ceilings. Old leather furniture and flea-market coffee tables.
And mountains and rivers. “Did you like the idea of the raft?”
“Oh, yeah!” He turned to face her and pulled her to him. “Hey, if you want to get married up here and have the reception at that house, then that’s what we’ll do. I want you to be happy.”
“I want you to be happy, too.”
“You know what—you’re the bride and it’s more important for you to be happy.” It was such a Drake thing to say.
She
hadn’t sent out the wedding invitations yet. Like he’d said, it wasn’t too late to change her mind. Two different images battled there—one of her stepping off a raft in her beautiful dress and coming to a big reception with all her friends and family at the fancy Victorian, the other of her and Drake in Vegas. The two of them, their parents and a couple of friends, no one to clap when they walked down the aisle or dance at their reception or blow bubbles as they ran for their car. But there would be glitz and glamour and excitement. She gnawed on her lower lip.
“Hey,” he said, touching his forehead to hers. “If this is what you want, this is what we’ll do.”
It was what she wanted, what she’d always wanted. She’d gotten sidetracked with the idea of going off to Vegas and getting married on the Treasure Island wedding ship. But this was the wedding she’d dreamed of when she was a little girl. Mom was right. If she abandoned that vision, she’d be sorry.
Still, she didn’t want Drake to have any regrets, either. She gave him one last chance. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I love you, babe. I want our wedding to be your dream come true.”
How had she lucked out, finding such a great guy? She thanked him and kissed him, then said, “Okay, let’s do it.”
With the issue finally settled, they went on to enjoy the amenities of Icicle Falls, eating dinner at Zelda’s, one of the town’s most popular restaurants, going dancing at the Red Barn and learning how to two-step. Although Drake had poked fun at country music, he’d enjoyed himself and even talked about getting a cowboy shirt, which made Laney laugh.
“Yeah, gauges and cowboy shirts really go together,” she teased.
“They could,” Drake insisted. “Why not?”
That was Drake, always full of crazy ideas. Was getting married on a raft going to be enough for him?
Chapter Twenty-One
Roberta, Letting Go
Mayor Del Stone dropped by on Monday to discuss his daughter’s wedding, armed with a last-minute to-do list from his ex-wife in Oregon. “Mandy wanted me to check on a few things,” he said as they sat down in Roberta’s parlor with coffee and raspberry coffee cake. (Del never turned down a treat and he had the girth to prove it.) “She said she sent you an email yesterday, but hadn’t heard back.”
Roberta checked her emails twice a day. “I didn’t see anything.” Of course, Del’s wife had sent her so many over the past few weeks she wouldn’t have been surprised if one had fallen through the cracks.
“She changed the recipe for the nonalcoholic punch.” He handed over a piece of paper with a recipe printed on it.
That had been in a previous email, and Roberta already had it in the Stone-Woodhouse file. “Yes, I’ve got that,” she said politely.
He nodded and consulted his list. “My daughter changed her mind about the flowers. She wants stargazer lilies and...” He squinted. “Stepha—”
“Stephanotis,” Roberta supplied.
“That’s it.” He beamed as if he was a teacher and she an exceptionally bright student.
“Stephanotis symbolizes marital happiness.” Daphne had carried it in her bridal bouquet at her third wedding. Obviously, it took more than flowers.
“Anyway, can you let Heinrich know?”
“Certainly.”
“Mandy wants to make sure we can all get here for pictures at two instead of three. She thinks three will be cutting it too close.”
“That’s fine,” Roberta said.
“And she wants to make sure all the decorating will be done by then.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“Okay, what else?” He consulted his list. “Oh, and you’re ordering an extra case of champagne, right?”
“Yes, Del, that’s been done.”
He nodded, looking the slightest bit sheepish. “Mandy is a perfectionist. I tried to tell her you’ve got everything under control, but she doesn’t listen to me.”
Roberta could understand why. Del was something of a blowhard and it wasn’t worth listening to two-thirds of what he said. And, if you asked Roberta, he wasn’t the most competent mayor the town had ever had. If he was, the potholes on Pine Street would’ve been fixed by now.
Still, he’d managed to glad-hand enough people to get himself reelected. And his daughter’s wedding was going to be the social event of the season. Every member of the Icicle Falls Chamber of Commerce had been invited as well as the mayor of Portland, all the Icicle Falls town councillors and even a state representative. This was definitely an important wedding.
“Del, you know you’re in good hands with us. No need to worry.”
At least, she hoped not. Her bunion surgery was scheduled for Wednesday and there was no way she’d be up and around by the wedding. But Lila would be covering for her. Daphne was going to help, too.
Daphne. Was she ready for prime time?
Roberta thought back to the mishaps that had occurred since her daughter had come aboard the SS Wedding Special. She’d better postpone her surgery. Daphne wasn’t hopeless, of course, but if she was going to be helping with the business as she kept insisting, she needed a few more weddings under her belt before taking on one of this magnitude.
Roberta assured Del again that everything would go smoothly and, after one more serving of coffee cake, showed him to the door. Then she got on the phone to the surgeon’s office, informing the receptionist she’d like to postpone her surgery.
Wouldn’t you know? Daphne picked that very moment to come home. “What are you doing?” she demanded as she set a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.
“Let me call you back,” Roberta said and ended the call. She felt like a child caught doing something naughty, which was ridiculous.
“Why are you canceling your surgery?” Daphne asked. “You’ve been waiting to get this done for a month.”
“I don’t think this is a good time.”
“Why on earth not?”
Here was where it got sticky. How did she tell her daughter she didn’t trust her not to make a mess of this wedding without sounding as if she didn’t trust her? “There’s simply too much going on.”
Daphne’s big blue eyes narrowed. “I saw Mayor Stone driving away just now. Was he here talking about the wedding?”
“Er, yes.”
“You don’t think Lila and I can handle this alone.”
“It’s an important wedding, Daphne. I think I should be there.”
Daphne sighed in disgust. “Mother, we can handle this.”
She would have Lila there, and Lila was the soul of efficiency. But if Daphne happened to spill appetizers on the mayor’s daughter...
“I promise not to go anywhere near the bride with food,” Daphne said, reading her mind. “Or anyone else, for that matter. I’ll stay in the kitchen and help the caterers plate the dinner. And I won’t go near the cake,” she added, managing to smile at her mishap.
Roberta could smile now, too, although at the time she hadn’t been smiling. They’d had to call Cass and make a slapdash substitution. But Cass had pulled it off. Besides, anyone could trip. Although Roberta never had.
“Mother, you need this surgery. There’ll never be a convenient time. You’ll always have weddings booked and each one will be important.”
But probably not as important as this one.
“I know it’s hard to delegate, but if you could bring yourself to trust me, I promise it’ll all be fine. Everything’s already ordered and organized. What could go wrong?”
Any one of a hundred things. However, Daphne was right. It wasn’t easy to get in with the surgeon Roberta had scheduled. If she gave up this date, she’d probably be sorry.
“You can’t do everything yourself,” Daphne said gently. “It’s not good business. That’s why people have assist
ants.”
“All right,” Roberta said. “I’ll let you girls handle it.”
“Good.” Daphne’s tone of voice implied that it was about time Roberta came to her senses.
As if Roberta had no grounds for concern. Well, then, let Daphne demonstrate her efficiency. “You can start by checking with Ed York to make sure he got my message about ordering another case of champagne.”
Daphne already had her phone out and was typing on it. “Done,” she said a moment later.
The quickness of it made Roberta blink. “And I’ll need you to go over to Lupine Floral and see what they can give us that incorporates stargazer lilies and stephanotis instead of roses.”
“I can do that.”
Wait a minute. What was she thinking? She could do this herself. “On second thought, I’ll look after the flowers.”
“Mother,” Daphne said sternly. “I can go over there. You must have other things to do.”
Actually, she did. She had a pile of paperwork waiting for her and several calls to make.
“Trust me,” Daphne urged.
“All right. I do have several other things I need to take care of today.”
“Then take care of them. I’ve got this covered,” Daphne said. She kissed Roberta on the cheek and then went back to putting away groceries.
“Thank you, darling,” Roberta said.
As she went to her little office, she reassured herself that Daphne could indeed handle this, then tried not to think about how she’d neglected to order the invitations for her own daughter’s wedding on time.
That was then. This is now, she told herself. Her daughter had emerged from her latest romantic rough patch and had her wits about her once more. All would be well.
But maybe Roberta should still postpone that surgery.
* * *
In the end, Roberta had her surgery on the original date. Daphne drove her over the mountains to Virginia Mason in Seattle and brought her home again, where she did an excellent job of caring for Roberta, as well as keeping the house running smoothly. They set Roberta up in the back parlor on the sofa with her foot propped on pillows (and Milo to keep her company) so she wouldn’t have to use the stairs.
A Wedding on Primrose Street (Life In Icicle Falls Book 7) Page 22
