A Wedding on Primrose Street (Life In Icicle Falls Book 7)

by Sheila Roberts

“Who knows, Dot? Maybe one of these days you’ll be getting married,” Muriel said. She smiled at Olivia and James. “Yours was certainly one to remember.”

  “Who would’ve guessed when I came to Icicle Falls for Christmas that I was going to find a treasure at the Icicle Creek Lodge,” James said and kissed her hand.

  “Gag me,” muttered Dot.

  “I do love weddings,” Muriel said with a sigh.

  “And your wedding to Waldo was beautiful,” Olivia told her. “The girls as your bridesmaids, the horse-drawn carriage after the ceremony, that lovely reception at the winery—it all went off beautifully.”

  “Boring,” Dot scoffed. “Much more fun to have the kind of wedding Pat had.”

  “What happened at your wedding?” asked Tilda.

  “Well, it was an adventure...”

  Pat Wilder and Ed York

  “Katie, I really don’t think you want to be hosting a wedding when you’re so close to having a baby,” Pat Wilder said to her daughter.

  Pat and Ed had come over to Seattle for Christmas to gather together their children and announce that they were getting married. No one was surprised, as Ed had been pursuing Pat for two years and during the past few months they’d been almost inseparable. Now Pat and her youngest daughter were sitting in Katie’s kitchen in her new house, enjoying morning lattes. “Of course I do. The baby’s not due for two weeks.”

  “Yes, but with first babies you never can tell.”

  “Oh, Mom, I’ll be fine. Anyway, we got this all decided yesterday. We need to have it here, because my house is larger than Amanda’s or Kevin’s. And besides, one of the reasons we got it was so we could have lots of family parties.”

  “Yes, but not when you’re expecting,” Pat objected.

  “What, like you never did anything when you were expecting? Come on, Mom. I remember you working at the bookstore clear up until the day Kevin was born.”

  “We should move the date up. How about a wedding in March?”

  Katie waved away her concerns. “I’ll be fine. Anyway, I love the idea of a May wedding.”

  Still... “I think we should stick to the plan and get married in Icicle Falls, at Roberta’s Primrose Haus. The pass should be okay by the middle of March.”

  “Come on, Mom. We’re just gonna invite family, right? So, let’s have it here. You guys don’t need to spend all that money.”

  “It’s not as though we can’t afford it.” If the real reason her daughter was offering to host was to save her money, well, that was just silly.

  “Don’t spoil our fun.” Katie pushed the plate of scones closer to Pat.

  Anything to do with entertaining was fun for Katie. In addition to holding down a job as a loan officer and planning her dream home, she honed her culinary skills by hosting a monthly supper club.

  Unable to resist, Pat helped herself to a second scone. “I don’t like the idea of you girls going to all this trouble.”

  “For you? You’ve gotta be kidding. Anyway, like we told you last night, it won’t be that much trouble. We’ve got Manda doing the cake and helping me with dinner, and Shelly doing the flowers. I mean, what’s the point of having a sister-in-law who’s a florist if you can’t get wedding flowers out of the deal, right?”

  “You’re the best,” Pat said, suddenly teary-eyed. “All of you.” What had she done to deserve such great kids? They were always there for her, first when she lost her husband, and now, when she was about to take a new one.

  “We’re glad to see you so happy,” Katie said.

  Ed had great kids, too, and they’d all be together celebrating as she married a wonderful man. And soon there’d be another grandchild in the family. Did it get any better than that?

  She and Ed arrived at Katie and Craig’s house early in May, a good two weeks before Katie’s delivery date. Even that seemed to be cutting it close, but Katie had insisted both she and the doctor had calculated accurately. No baby until the end of May.

  Pat’s daughter-in-law had transformed Katie’s living room with a profusion of flowers, mixing orchids, stephanotis, roses and baby’s breath with delicate ferns and lilac ribbons.

  Pat’s daughter Amanda showed up with the granddaughters, Adele and Katherine, all dressed up in lilac dresses and ready to stand as junior bridesmaids along with Ed’s granddaughter, Clarissa. Both Pat’s daughters would be dressed in a dark, rich purple and would act as matrons of honor while her son, Kevin, had claimed the honor of walking her down the stairs and giving her away.

  Amanda set the cake out on Katie’s dining room table. It was a lofty, three-tiered fondant masterpiece, shaped like a pile of wedding presents, with the “wrappings” done in varying shades of purple. “How’s that for gorgeous?” she said.

  “The best cake you’ve done yet,” Pat said, hugging her. Amanda indulged her creative streak by decorating cakes. Pat sometimes wondered where her daughters got their culinary creativity. It sure hadn’t been from her.

  Now Ed was by her side, slipping an arm around her waist. “Look at that cake. Wow. That must have been a lot of work.”

  “Nothing’s too much work for you, Ed,” Amanda said and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush.

  “Nothing’s too much for my bride,” he said and gave Pat a squeeze.

  Apparently, since he was taking her to Fiji for their honeymoon. Fiji. In her wildest dreams Pat had never imagined herself going to such an exotic place. Her first honeymoon had been on the Oregon coast and that had seemed pretty darned grand. Other than trips over the mountains to Seattle and a jaunt to Disneyland when the kids were little, she’d remained rooted in Icicle Falls. And she’d been perfectly happy to stay that way, running her bookstore and hanging out with her friends. And, of course, seeing the kids whenever possible.

  But Ed was determined they were going to enjoy life a little. “I love Icicle Falls, too,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t slip away once in a while. Our businesses can survive without us for a couple of weeks now and then.”

  She’d hated the idea of taking off with Katie’s delivery close at hand. She didn’t want to miss seeing her grandbaby born, and she wanted to be on hand to help Katie.

  Katie had overridden those concerns. “Craig’s got two weeks’ maternity leave. You can come help later, after he goes back to work.”

  “Just don’t have the baby early,” Pat had retorted. “I don’t want to miss seeing our little Cristabelle enter the world.”

  “I promise. I’ll keep my legs crossed until you guys get back,” Katie had said with a laugh.

  Pat wasn’t so sure about that. The baby had already dropped, which meant delivery could be anytime. And today, in spite of smiles, Katie looked tired.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” Pat asked, watching her daughter press a hand to her back and grimace.

  Katie immediately smiled. “I’m perfectly okay.”

  No, she was exhausted. “I knew we shouldn’t have let her host this,” Pat whispered to Ed as they moved into the living room.

  “I’d like to have seen you stop her.”

  The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the first guests, Ed’s daughter, bearing a foil-covered food platter, and her family. “We’re so happy for you two,” she said to Pat and hugged her. “And wow, look at this great house,” she raved to Katie. “I heard you guys designed it yourselves.”

  “Well, we had an architect working with us,” Katie said modestly as her husband took everyone’s coats. “Come on. I’ll show you the kitchen.”

  The doorbell rang again, bringing in another in-law with her two sons in tow. And once again, there was much hugging and happiness and oohs and aahs over Katie’s new house.

  Half an hour later, the house was full and the minister had arrived, and it was time for the ceremony to begin.
No one in either family had been gifted with musical talent, so the bridal march, the theme from the movie Somewhere in Time, was played on a CD player. Kevin, six feet of young and handsome, escorted Pat down the stairs to the stone fireplace, with its mantel brimming with flowers, where the minister and the rest of the bridal party waited for her. Ed was gazing at her as if she was some young calendar girl. Ah, love was truly blind. And there were her lovely daughters, one of them smiling, the other... Katie didn’t seem very comfortable.

  “Are you all right?” Pat whispered as she took her place next to Katie.

  “I’m fine.”

  She didn’t look fine.

  Pastor Jim, who’d come over the mountains to do the honors, smiled at the happy couple. “Ed and Pat, we’re all gathered here to celebrate your love, and I thank you both for allowing me to be part of this special day. It is indeed a special thing when God brings love into our lives.”

  Oh, yes, it was. Who knew she’d find love again? And with a fellow Icicle, someone who appreciated life in Icicle Falls as much as she did.

  “And I must say,” Pastor Jim continued.

  “Oh, no,” Katie interrupted.

  Pat glanced over at her daughter, who was frowning at her hardwood floor.

  “I think my water just broke,” Katie said miserably.

  “Oh, my God,” said her husband. “Babe, don’t panic! Where’s the suitcase? Where’s the car keys?” Without waiting for an answer, he dashed up the stairs toward their bedroom.

  “Okay, Jim, we both ‘do,’” Ed said. He turned to Pat. “Let’s get this girl to the hospital.”

  “You can’t stop the ceremony,” Katie protested miserably.

  “Sure we can,” Ed told her. “We already signed the license. That makes it legal, right, Jim?”

  “Sure,” said Pastor Jim. “We know you ‘do.’”

  “Well, then, there you have it.”

  Katie’s husband was running back down the stairs now, taking them two at a time. “Let’s go, let’s go!” And then he, the man who swore he’d never be like some TV fool, panicking and out of control on the big day, grabbed his wife’s arm and propelled her out the door, forgetting her overnight case.

  Ed grabbed the forgotten case, and he and Pat fell in behind them.

  “But the food,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry,” said her sister, who’d returned from the powder room with a towel. “Everything’s in the fridge. Come on, girls. Get your coats.” To the guests she said, “Make yourselves at home. We’ll be back. Eventually.”

  Ed’s daughter waved her away. “Don’t worry about us.”

  “Bring Pastor Jim,” Katie insisted. “You can finish the ceremony at the hospital.”

  * * *

  “And did you?” asked Tilda.

  “Actually, we did. It was quite a memorable day,” Pat said, smiling at Ed. “And we got back from our honeymoon in time for me to help Katie with the baby.”

  “That’s a great story,” Tilda said. “Not as good as my mom’s, though,” she added, giving Dot a mischievous look. “My dad fainted at our wedding. I guess it was hot in the church.”

  “Your cousin should never have told you about that,” Dot grumbled.

  “I still think it’s pretty funny,” Tilda said.

  “Yeah, funny,” Dot said, clearly not amused.

  Later that evening, as the champagne flowed and the couples started dancing, only Muriel and Dot remained at their dinner table.

  “Tilda and Jamal are a nice couple.”

  “Oh, they’re not dating. Just friends, although I’m sure he’d like to be more. But it’s awkward, being partners and all. At least, that’s what Tilda says.” Dot shook her head. “I swear, at the rate she’s going, I’ll never have any grandchildren.” Dot looked enviously at Muriel’s daughters and their husbands—and children. Samantha’s toddler was adorable, with chestnut hair and big brown eyes. Cecily’s stepdaughter was equally darling. Both girls were dolled up as though they were ready for a magazine shoot. And Cecily, who was now pregnant, had that glow that belonged to expectant mothers.

  “I’m sure she’ll find someone soon,” Muriel said comfortingly.

  “I doubt it. Tilda’s a tough cookie. She’s not every man’s cup of tea.”

  “Tilda’s special. She just needs a man as special as her.”

  Dot’s only reply to that was a cynical harrumph.

  “I do believe there’s someone for everyone. Life is so much sweeter when it’s shared.”

  Dot gave her champagne glass a tipsy inspection before downing its contents. “I miss Duncan.”

  Muriel sighed and stared at her empty glass. “I miss my husbands, too. Sometimes I wish I could turn back the clock, have one more day with each of them. They were both such wonderful men.”

  “Duncan was a good man, too.” Dot scowled at her empty glass. “I wish I could say the same for that piece of garbage I married the first time.”

  “I’m sorry your first marriage had to end so...sadly,” Muriel said diplomatically. There’d always been rumors about Dot’s first marriage. She’d tried not to listen to them. Yes, Dot could affect a tough exterior when she wanted to—it wasn’t hard to see where Tilda got her tough-cookie facade—but Muriel couldn’t imagine her really killing her first husband.

  “No loss,” Dot said. “Duncan more than made up for it.” She shook her head. “Although he did get a case of cold feet right before we said ‘I do.’”

  “Some men get a little nervous about commitment.”

  Dot frowned. “This was more than that.”

  Muriel blinked, unsure what to say.

  Dot shrugged. “I may as well tell you.” She pointed a finger at Muriel. “But you’re the only person I’m telling. If you ever tell another living soul, Muriel, I swear I’ll pull that dyed brown hair of yours out by the roots.”

  “I don’t gossip,” Muriel said, as offended by the insinuation as she was by the reference to her dyed locks.

  “I need more champagne,” Dot said. “You might, too. Gosh,” she said as she poured them each some, “once in a while I look back at those days and wonder if I’m the same woman who lived that life. If Duncan hadn’t come along, who knows what kind of bitter old broad I might’ve become.”

  “Ah, but he did. Come along, I mean.”

  Dot sighed. “Yes, he did. I had a flat tire on Highway 2 and he pulled over to help me. Told him I could handle it just fine on my own but he insisted. He said...”

  Dot and Duncan Morrison

  “A pretty woman shouldn’t have to get all dirty changing a tire.”

  Dot eyed her rescuer with a cynical eye. His red hair and freckles and sloped nose made her think of Howdy Doody. With that boyish face he looked as though he was all of twenty, and his physique—or rather, lack thereof—had her wondering if he could even lift a grocery bag, let alone jack up a car. But he set to work proving that he did indeed have some muscle.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” she noted as she lit a cigarette.

  “Nope. Well, not yet, anyway. I just bought a place in Icicle Falls. I’m going up to sign the papers.”

  “Yeah? I live in Icicle Falls.”

  He grinned at her in a way that would’ve been positively lecherous if he hadn’t looked like Howdy Doody. “You do?”

  She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t get any ideas, bub. You’re too young for me.”

  “I doubt that.” He bent down to remove the lug nuts. “How old are you?”

  “You never ask a woman her age. That shows how young and wet behind the ears you are.”

  “Okay, then, let’s try this. I’m thirty-five. Does that make me too young?”

  Dot was thirty-two. It made him just ri
ght. But she wasn’t sure he was her type. She preferred her men bigger, more manly. More muscled.

  Wait a minute. She’d described her first husband. And what a poor excuse for a husband he’d been, the rotten, drunken bully. Of course, when she’d first met Corey with his hot rod and his pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve of his T-shirt, she’d thought he was the coolest thing this side of James Dean.

  Oh, yeah. He’d been cool, all right. Too cool to keep any job for longer than six months. Too cool to take her anywhere but the tavern for a beer and some pool. And once his friends showed up, she was always relegated to watching.

  None of that had bothered her, though. No, what did bother her was how mean he got after a few drinks. Heck, how mean he got even cold sober whenever she didn’t agree with him or do what he wanted. And when she insisted they pay bills instead of blowing money on football bets and booze and old beaters to fix up, well, then he got really mean. The day she lost the baby and he said “Just as well. We can’t afford a kid” was the day she stopped loving him. The day she told him she wanted a divorce and he slapped her and told her not on her life was the day she vowed she’d leave him. But first she’d make him pay.

  “Have you ever hit a woman?” she asked Mr. Scrawny Duncan Morrison.

  He gaped at her. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Of course not. Nobody who’s a real man hits women.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not what my first husband thought.”

  “Your first husband sounds like a winner.”

  “Yeah, well. He’s gone now.”

  Duncan nodded approvingly and pulled off the tire. “Moved away?”

  “Permanently. He’s dead.”

  For a moment Duncan stood there with the tire in his hands as if trying to take in her story. “Gosh, what happened? Car accident?”

  “Camping accident.”

  “Wow, that’s...”

  “What he deserved.”

  He looked a little shocked by that, but then he nodded as if he’d somehow sorted it out in his mind. “So, you’ve been a widow for how long?”

  “Three years. I came back here after the dust settled and bought a restaurant in town.”