Marrying Mr. Right

by Cathy Tully

  After the clerk and Cara disappeared into one of the dressing rooms, Missy took a deep breath then sat on the sofa provided for the bride’s family. In front of the couch stood a full-length triple mirror and a small stage where the bride would stand while she modeled gown possibilities. A voice inside Missy’s head screamed, enjoy yourself! Don’t let Vinnie unnerve you.

  When he returned from the john, he sat next to her. Right next to her. With barely an inch between them. An entire sofa available and he had to sit this close? What was with him?

  “So, this is a big day.” In a ritual of motion, he rubbed both hands on the legs of his jeans. “I didn’t think I’d be nervous. Must be...pre-wedding jitters.”

  Why was he so nervous? All he has to do is just show up the day of the wedding. Sure, giving his baby away is going to be hard, but honestly, suck it up, she told him silently. I’m the one with a list so long I can’t keep track.

  Mega annoyed, Missy cleared her throat. “We should talk about a budget.”

  He nodded, barely meeting her gaze. “Whatever Cara wants, she’ll have.”

  Missy wanted to choke him. Mr. Cheapskate speaks. The man who saved bubble wrap and cardboard boxes until their garage screamed for help, claiming when they sold the house, they’d need it for packing. Had she just entered the Twilight Zone? “Excuse me?”

  He nodded and gave her that stupid smile again. “Whatever our little girl wants—within reason, of course.”

  “Who are you and what did you do with the real Vincenzo Giuseppe Modesto?”

  He didn’t have a chance to answer because Cara entered the room in an absolutely stunning strapless gown with tiny pearls embossing the bodice.

  “Wow,” Missy said.

  “Do you like it?”

  “You look like a princess,” Vinnie whispered.

  Missy glanced at him. Had he read her mind?

  Cara frowned. “It almost feels like a prom dress. I don’t think it’s the one.”

  The saleswomen nodded. Cara hiked up the gown so she wouldn’t trip on the hem and followed her back to the dressing room.

  Missy watched Vinnie swallow hard. “I’m not ready for this,” he muttered. “Wasn’t she sixteen yesterday?”

  As melancholy for past times ripped through her, Missy took another sip of the now warm soda. “It seems like that, but she’s a grown woman.”

  Over the next hour and a half, Cara tried on a plethora of gowns, but nothing pleased her. This one was too fussy. The next featured an open back that plunged all the way down to her butt. At that one, Vinnie groaned under his breath. Silently, Missy agreed, but applauded his sense to keep quiet.

  “So how are things at the shop?” he asked during one interminable lull in the process.

  “Busy. Very busy.”

  “Busy is good.”

  Missy frowned. “Since when?”

  She scolded herself for the sarcasm-laced question. But seriously, when they were still together, he’d made it a practice to complain about how much time she spent at the shop.

  When his eyes, dark as night, captured hers, her stomach did a flip flop. Would she ever not get this tingly feeling when he was around? Would she ever become immune to his charm?

  “I owe you an apology, Miss. You were right about many things.”

  Man, she was so screwed.

  ****

  From Vinnie, an apology was the same as taking a bullet to the heart. “I’ve been busy building my business. I even joined the Chamber of Commerce.”

  Missy told herself to stop being so judgmental. They were legally separated. He didn’t have to please her and she didn’t have to approve of what he was up to. Just get through each day.

  Vinnie chuckled. “Don’t look so shocked. People can change. Anyway, those monthly meetings have increased business for me and I’ve had to hire more help.”

  Increased business? Hiring help? He hadn’t changed. He’d morphed into a completely different man. In the past, business came to Vinnie in small increments. Having done the bare minimum to get by had been enough. Now he went out and found clients? Like a vacuum sucking up dirt? It was all too much for her to absorb.

  The silence between them dissolved when Cara entered wearing the gown of all gowns. Eggshell in color, the bodice featured satin covered buttons that went all the way down, past her delicate waist, and sported a cathedral train comprised of multiple layers of lush satin. Other than the lace sleeves, the only embellishments on the dress were iridescent pearls scattered across the bodice.

  Eyes burning, Missy reached into her pocket. Damn. Hadn’t Val said to pack lots of tissues? In this gown, Cara looked like a bride. Her daughter’s eyes met hers and Missy couldn’t help the tears sliding down her cheeks. Vinnie handed her a white handkerchief. Missy dabbed her wet cheeks. “You look...gorgeous.”

  Cara turned to study her reflection in the mirror from every angle. “I feel regal and grown up. I’d like this to be the one, but I’m not sure. It’s a little more than what I thought we’d spend.” She turned toward her father. “Daddy? What do you think?”

  Missy saw Vinnie’s throat working overtime. He pulled another handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. “Cost isn’t a concern,” he croaked. “If this is the dress you want, it’s yours.”

  A huge smile covered Cara’s face. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Mom?”

  Missy nodded.

  Their daughter squealed like a teenager. “Thank you both, so much.”

  Vinnie nodded and Missy blew Cara a kiss before she lifted the hem of the dress and almost skipped back into the dressing room.

  “That dress costs six thousand dollars,” Missy hissed.

  “Do you have the heart to tell her it’s too expensive?”

  She blew out a deep breath. She hadn’t. The look of delight on Cara’s face was worth the price. “No.”

  “I’ve been putting extra money away. I had a feeling she and Dan would get married this year.” His eyes met hers. “They’re the same age as us when we were married.”

  “Well, life is different now. Don’t expect any grandchildren anytime soon, either. She’s already read me the riot act on that topic.”

  “Good. She needs to get her career on track first.”

  She glanced at him. What the hell was he shoveling? They'd not been married six months when he announced he wanted to start a family. If Missy hadn’t made absolutely certain she was protected, she swore he would have gotten her pregnant that same night.

  “We do have the money we were saving for her since she was little,” she reminded him.

  “I know, but we’ll probably need all that to pay for the reception. Let me buy her this dress, Miss. It’s my last time.”

  That was one thing about Vinnie. He may have been cheap on everything else, but whenever Cara had an occasion that required a special outfit, like a prom, she got what she wanted, no questions asked.

  Missy warmed. Sentimental slob.

  Vinnie walked out to the reception desk to write a check for the deposit on the dress. When he returned, Cara came in from the dressing room, back in regular clothes and face glowing. “The saleswoman assured me the dress is in stock and will be ready in four weeks.”

  “Okay. Now we need to talk about the venue,” Missy said. “I can’t find any place to have the reception.”

  “Mom, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we have the wedding at our house?”

  Missy’s eyes bulged. “Our house? Will it hold that many people?”

  “Dan and I made our guest list last night, and his mom faxed him hers. Together we only have one hundred people.”

  Over the past few days Missy had calculated the number of guests she would invite. There were fifty on her list, but that didn’t include those who Vinnie would like to invite. She glanced at him. “I’ve only got a handful of people to invite. How about you?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Probably twenty or thirty.”

/>   “That makes one hundred and eighty people.”

  Vinnie cupped a hand over Missy’s shoulder. “That doesn’t mean they’re all going to say yes.”

  She pushed his hand off. “That’s true,” she said, “but how will we fit them in the house? Even if only one hundred come, I don’t know if we can manage.”

  “Isn’t there someone we can hire to plan this?” he asked. “What do you call them? Event planners or something?”

  Missy recalled that Val’s niece used a planner for her wedding. “I’ll get some names from Val after I get home.”

  “So, no worries,” Vinnie said in his usual all is fixed tone as he led them to the door. “Hopefully Val’s contact will be able to take on our wedding. Let’s get some lunch. I’m starved.”

  Cara exited the bridal store first. Before Missy could follow her through the revolving doors, Vinnie leaned in and asked, “Did you like the roses?”

  Chapter Three

  Sunday morning found Missy at the kitchen table, frantically making lists. They would need a DJ, a photographer, a videographer, a wedding cake, invitations, a florist. Well, at least that was one box she could check off. The Flower Box would handle the floral arrangements.

  She’d placed a call to the wedding planner Val recommended an hour ago and prayed she would hear back from him today. She wouldn’t be able to relax until the venue was settled.

  Val came in through the kitchen door and stopped in her tracks. “Looks like a bomb went off in here. What’s with all this crap all over the place, Miss Anal Retentive Neat Freak?”

  Hugo ambled over to sniff Val’s leg as she moved a pile of boxes from a chair and sat at the table. “What war are we up to launching?” she asked as she toyed with a stray piece of ribbon. “How’d the dress hunt go?”

  “Better than I thought it would. You know how hard it is to shop with Cara. That kid wrestles with the color of a tank top. I thought we were in for a full day of it, but she found what she wanted at the first store.”

  “How did Mr. Cheapskate handle seeing his baby all in white?”

  Missy didn’t flinch beneath her friend's scrutiny. “Surprisingly well. He even went so far as to offer to pay for her dress.”

  “Holy crapola! Did he win the lottery or something?”

  “He said he thought Cara and Dan might get married this year so he’d been saving.”

  Val’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Are you sure you took Vinnie with you and not some clone?”

  Missy laughed then blew out a deep sigh. “Yup. I’m pretty sure it was him.”

  “I’m not sure I like the look in your eye, kid. What gives?”

  Missy tried her damnedest to act like it didn’t bother her. “Rat bastard looks good.”

  “Yeah well, so do you,” Val retorted. “Even better since he left, if you ask me.”

  That was Val. Always there for her. Missy smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, girlfriend. Did you hear back from the wedding planner yet?”

  “Not yet, so I thought I’d start with some preliminary lists of what we’ll need for this shindig. You know I like to stay organized.”

  Val rose from the table to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Don’t bother with any of that.”

  Per his usual routine, Hugo plodded to his dog bed in the corner of the kitchen and let out a mighty groan before he flopped to his belly. As always, he kept one eye open on his mistress...just in case.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Trust me,” Val said. “Antoine will take care of everything.”

  “If he takes this job.”

  “Did you tell him I referred you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then he’ll take the job. Trust me, he works on a referral only basis.”

  Before Missy could reply, the phone rang and she found herself leaping for the cordless. “Hello?”

  A high-pitched squeal emanated from the receiver. Missy winced. The last thing she needed was the Pillsbury Dough Boy’s incessant giggle dominating the wedding preparations. Her nerves, already at an insane peak, kicked up a notch. “Thank you for returning my call so promptly.”

  After giving him the basics, along with her address, she hung up, then glanced at Val. “He’ll be here in the morning.”

  “I told you. He’s dependable, has excellent taste and is the epitome of an organizational rat.” She gave out a dramatic sigh. “Unfortunately, he’s a picky priss.”

  ****

  Bright and early the next morning Antoine Franc strutted through Missy’s house, writing furiously on a small, pocket-size notepad as he surveyed the surroundings with a disdainful sneer. Unfortunately, after one look at the man, Hugo took a clear dislike to the snooty French man. Growling at Antoine the instant he entered the hallway, the dog lifted a leg and peed on him.

  Antoine jumped back, turned several shades of puce and shrieked, “These slacks are pure wool!”

  Missy hauled the dog up under her arm like a football. “I’m so sorry. I’ll happily pay for the dry cleaning.”

  Though Antoine’s curses remained limited to French, Missy figured they meant the equivalent to, “Bet your ass you’ll pay, lady.”

  After banishing the dog to the garage, Missy re-entered her home and found Antoine in the living room. Tall and aesthetic in appearance, not a hair out of place and immaculately dressed, he reminded Missy of the bleached blond, light in the loafers guy from that reality show several years in the past that showed straight men how to dress.

  After assessing the layout of the first floor, he waved his hand in an effete manner and sniffed. “First, we move the furniture out.”

  Missy felt her eyes bulge in their sockets. “To where?”

  “A moving van will take it away.”

  “But without furniture, where will the guests sit?”

  “We will bring in tables and chairs.”

  Her head began to spin with this man’s demands. “We’re moving all the furniture out to bring more furniture in?”

  “Of course. Chairs and tables will be brought in for the cocktail hour.” He must have seen the alarm on her face because he quickly added, “Madame Modesto, please do not worry yourself. This house will be beautiful when I get done.” He stood perfectly erect as a large, confident smile covered his chiseled features, reminding her of a marble statue she’d seen in Rome a few years ago.

  Despite her fears, Missy exercised reason. They had to plan a wedding and had less than four weeks to pull it off. If she didn’t take a step back and give control over to Antoine, she’d have a nervous breakdown.

  “I will return tomorrow with my assistant and an electrician.”

  Missy’s voice rose to a squeak. “An electrician?”

  His mouth tightened into a rigid slash. “I am afraid we will need additional outlets if we are going to set up a tent off the dining room.”

  Dollar signs danced an intricate Tango before her eyes. “T-t-t-tent?”

  “The tent where your guests will have dinner and the DJ will have his set up.” He glanced around the entrance foyer. “This is a lovely home, but it is not big enough for one hundred and eighty guests. The tent will seat everyone comfortably. Trust me.” He patted her arm and exited before her lips could form another word.

  Missy collapsed into the Queen Anne chair by the telephone table in the foyer. At this rate, she’d need to take out a second mortgage to pay for the wedding. Rubbing the fingers of one hand over her throbbing temple, a picture of Antoine and his perpetual fussing flashed before her eyes, followed by that of her lumbering ex-husband. For the first time in days, a smile creased her lips.

  Never mind the price. Wait until Vinnie, who’d always been a bit of a homophobe, got a load of Antoine. Maybe this craziness would turn out to be something to laugh at after all, because Vinnie’s expression would no doubt be priceless.

  ****

  When Missy returned home after work that night, feet aching from standing all day, all she wante
d was a hot bath and a cup of tea. The joy of her life met her at the door. Once she was in her usual spot at the kitchen table, Hugo took his place on her lap. “What a day,” she moaned, absently rubbing his neck. Hugo snorted.

  “You didn’t like Monsieur Antoine.”

  With a groan, he leaned into the rub. “Well, suck it up, pal, because he’ll be here tomorrow morning and you can not pee on him again.”

  Hugo leaned up to lick her chin. The hum of the refrigerator filled the empty space. “Do you understand what I’m telling you? We need him to help with the planning because I can’t do it all.”

  He swiveled on his butt to curl up on her lap while she blew out a deep, cleansing breath. It was so good to be home, with someone who understood her, loved her no matter what. “Then it’s understood. When Antoine comes back, you’ll stay in the garage.”

  Hugo lifted his head and looked at her, his big eyes filling her with guilt. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I can’t have you ruining his entire wardrobe. Paying for this wedding is costing enough.”

  Clearly disgusted, the dog hopped off her lap and walked to his doggie bed on the other side of the room. “Thanks for the support, pal.”

  Hugo snorted. Whoever said dogs didn’t understand us had no idea what they were talking about. Missy flipped on the stereo in the living room, tuned into her favorite seventies music and headed upstairs to wash the crud of the day off.

  After a hot shower, Missy returned downstairs where she answered the ringing doorbell. When she found Vinnie on the other side, she quickly ran her hands through her damp knotted hair. Why hadn’t she checked her appearance before opening the door? And why had she slipped into her oldest jogging suit?

  Because it’s the most comfortable thing you own, dummy.

  Of course he looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of Esquire. “Hi. I hope it’s not too late.”

  “No. Not at all.” She’d called him earlier and left a message. Wanting to fill him in on the wedding planner, she assumed he’d call, not show up unannounced.

  Vinnie’s eyes grazed over her. Missy zipped the velour jacket closed. Swallowing hard, she opened the door for him to enter. Inside, Vinnie bent to greet Hugo. The dog leaned into Vinnie’s hand, enjoying a good long scratch. For never having met him before, Hugo was behaving very well.