The ceremony began and my interest waned. Things dragged on forever, making me wish I’d brought a book or Bridget to keep me company. By the time it ended, I was happy to get out.
My plan to reclaim my wife and make a run for it didn’t happen. Part of Charli’s bridesmaid duties involved sticking around to have her photo taken. She didn’t look pleased, and who could blame her for not wanting photographic evidence of the day? I kept a safe distance as the photo shoot got under way in the church gardens. Four photographers clicked away at the bridal party. Perhaps realising it was as close as she’d ever come to being sought by the paparazzi, Jasmine relished every second of it.
Charlotte did not. As soon as she could escape, she picked up the hem of her dress and bolted toward me, waving her bouquet.
“Quick! Let’s go!”
I couldn’t help laughing at the urgency. “Are you sure you can leave?”
She hooked her arm through mine and tugged me toward the parking lot. “Yes. We don’t have to be at the reception until six.”
The second we pulled out of the parking lot, Charli lost the hat and dumped her bouquet on the back seat.
“Where are we going, Coccinelle?”
“Well, let’s think about this for a second,” she began. “We’re baby-free, have two hours to kill and I’m dressed like a whore. Where do you think we should go?”
I glanced at her and was met by a wicked smile. “Somewhere quiet?”
“Yes.” She giggled. “Take me to the café and I’ll make you coffee.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind, Charlotte.”
“I know,” she replied still laughing. “But if you think I’m putting this dress back on for a third time, you’re mistaken.”
* * *
I’d never seen the town so quiet. Stores were shut and the main street was deserted. The Tate wedding was a big deal to everyone in town except us.
The café was closed too, but it had nothing to do with the wedding. The owner had chosen spending time with his grandbaby over making a living that day. Going to there must’ve been pre-planned. I’d never known Charlotte to hide keys in her bra before, but that’s where she pulled them from. I didn’t question it. I’d never known her to wear chicken hats before that day either.
Time alone with Charli was a rare treat. It was the first time she’d been away from Bridget for any length of time and I could tell that she was itching to have her back.
“Do you think she’s okay?” she asked quietly.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I assured her. “Alex hasn’t called us and she’s too young to start fires or steal cars.”
Charlotte slid a cup of coffee across the counter. “Bridget wouldn’t do that.” She looked so pretty when she smiled but I was still fighting the urge to lurch forward and wipe the thick makeup off her face. “She’s going to be a good girl.”
“You think so?”
She walked around the counter and levered herself onto the stool beside me. “I think she’s going to try to be good,” she clarified. “It might take her a while to get it right.”
I reached for her hand and held it in place on my knee. “She’ll work it out.”
“In the meantime, she’ll probably put her father through years of hell,” she warned. “Are you prepared for that, Boy Wonder?”
I took a sip of coffee. “Nope. That would require planning. I don’t make plans. Whatever will be, will be, right?”
August 20
Charli
The reception was at the restaurant at the vineyard. When I heard that it had been closed all week in preparation, I knew it was going to be extreme.
I made sure Adam got us there on time. My first ever bridesmaid job was nearly over, and I’d come close to pulling it off like a pro. We walked into the small foyer to find Lily standing near a table of gifts, marking off names on a clipboard. The look of concentration on her face led me to believe she was taking the task very seriously.
“Do you need to see our invitation, Lily?” queried Adam as we approached.
She looked up and smiled. “No. Just your gift.”
Her businesslike approach was almost scary. I wondered if she would’ve turned us away if we’d shown up empty handed.
“Of course,” said Adam dryly. He reached into his welt pocket and produced an envelope.
“Just a card?” she asked, taking it from him.
“Don’t worry,” he said, continuing with the run of sarcasm. “There’s a cheque in there.”
“Not a very personal gift,” she harrumphed.
When it had come to choosing a gift, I couldn’t think of a single thing to give them beside his-and-her hair straighteners. Adam argued that they’d already have them, so we were back to square one. It highlighted the fact that we weren’t friends. I tolerated Jasmine and Wade bewildered me, which made serving as an attendant at their wedding positively bizarre.
Adam leaned close to her and spoke quietly. “It’s a big cheque, Lily.”
Instantly appeased, she stepped aside and let us proceed.
Adam started laughing the second we got through the door. I knew why. At the head of the room stood two giant gold thrones. I shushed him, trying desperately hard to hold back a giggle of my own. It was cheesy, self indulgent and very Jasmine.
I was pleased to see that there was no bridal table. The other bridesmaids were scattered around the room and there didn’t seem to be a seating plan. Adam and I found a small table near the window and hurried to claim it. No one paid us any attention, which was wonderful. All eyes were on the happy couple perched on their thrones like the king and queen of sparkles and trash.
Even Nancy, the Pomeranian, had made the guest list. The little dog was scurrying around the room in a tutu that covered the worst of her bald patches.
Meredith kept approaching the bride to tug on the hem of her dress or position her better while the hired paparazzi continued clicking away.
Jasmine was in her element, and I felt happy for her. As vulgar as they were, she’d worked tirelessly for months to pull her wedding plans together. Wade seemed to relish the attention too. I watched him for a while. The stupid grin on his face was permanent, and every minute or so he’d charge his glass and wink at random people.
People milled around, shuffling from table to table for a switch in conversation. We stayed put, dealing only with those who approached us. Floss joined us for a while and we both made an effort to appear interested as she gushed about her new granddaughter-in-law. A few others stopped to chat, mostly to Adam. He’d come a long way in the past few weeks. He was no longer considered a blow-in from out of town with a funny accent. He’d met a lot of people, mainly because of the bank renovation, but I was surprised when Spanner Padgett approached our table and greeted him like an old friend. Spanner had gone all out that day. He was wearing a tie with his flannelette shirt.
As soon as he’d gone, I quizzed Adam. “How do you know Spanner?”
Adam leaned back in his chair, his dimple deepening. “Spanner and I go way back,” he replied, making me laugh. “And his brother, Brick.”
* * *
I barely ate any of my dinner. The food was fine but I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the sight of the bride and groom on their thrones, eating their first meal as a married couple off TV trays on their laps.
“Charlotte,” murmured Adam, drawing my attention back to him. “You’re staring.”
“I know.” I gave a nod toward the happy couple. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”
He dropped his head and laughed. “Never in my life.”
Jasmine and Wade eventually climbed down from their thrones to cut the cake. It was the highlight of my day. The three-tier monstrosity with the white icing and edible glitter had been teasing me all evening.
“Can we leave now?” asked Adam.
“No chance,” I told him. “They’re about to cut the cake. I’ve been waiting hours for a piece of that bad boy.”
“If it’s a bad boy you’re craving, I could –”
“Stop right there.” I cut him off, inciting a blinding half-dimpled Décarie grin. It confirmed that his intended sentence wasn’t wedding-friendly.
Adam didn’t have a chance to speak again. A waiter sidled up and placed two massive hunks of cake in front of us.
We stared at our plates. The cake didn’t look so appealing any more. It looked like road kill.
“How do you think they made the cake pink?” I whispered, turning the plate full circle.
“Beet juice,” Adam stated.
“Beetroot juice?” I was aghast.
He shrugged. “That’s how Ryan makes pink cake.”
As confused as I was, I didn’t ask for an explanation. I just pushed the cake to the centre of the table, suddenly unenthused by the prospect of eating it. When Nancy the dog approached a short while later, I figured I’d give her a treat. I broke off a morsel of cake and fed it to her under the table. Apparently, Nancy had a thing for cake. Within minutes, she’d polished off the whole piece. “Are you going to eat that?” I asked, pointing at Adam’s plate.
He slid it across. “Knock yourself out.” I continued feeding the little dog until Adam’s plate was nearly cleared. “I’m not sure you should give her any more, Charli,” he warned.
“Why not? It’s a celebration. She deserves a treat.” I hadn’t always been kind to the ugly little pooch. In fact, I’d often laughed at her misfortune. Nancy was Jasmine’s baby. I wouldn’t like it if Jasmine was mean to my baby.
Adam pointed out that it was an unlikely scenario. “Your baby doesn’t have an overbite.”
“No,” I agreed, grinning. “But she is bald.”
With two slabs of sickly sweet pink cake under her furry belt, Nancy scurried away and headed for Jasmine. She jumped up on the self-proclaimed queen’s lap and that’s where she stayed while Wade made his ridiculous speech.
Adam had trouble keeping a straight face from the first line.
“Our love is like a murial painted on the wall of life...” Wade began.
Jasmine was so focused on her new husband’s declaration of love that she didn’t notice Nancy retching on her lap. By the time she did it was too late. The little beast had thrown up a massive slab of pink cake on her stark white dress. Jasmine’s bloodcurdling screams suited her new look perfectly. She looked like she’d just been stabbed.
Nancy took off. Meredith and Wade ran to Jasmine’s aid and the room erupted into sympathetic gasps and groans.
Not so long ago, I would’ve been thrilled by such a turn of events. Not anymore. I felt terrible. I’d inadvertently ruined tramp-Barbie’s dream wedding.
August 20
Adam
I had to laugh, which meant it was time to leave. Charli didn’t protest when I pulled her to her feet. In fact, she didn’t say a word until we were out of the room.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” she choked, wide-eyed and worried.
She looked absolutely horrified and I felt the need to reassure her. “It wasn’t your fault,” I lied.
“It was ninety percent my fault.”
It shouldn’t have mattered but I was interested to know how she’d worked out the ratio of blame. “Who’s responsible for the other ten percent?”
She widened her brown eyes. “Did you see her bouquet? Putting foxgloves in your wedding bouquet is begging for trouble.”
“Of course,” I agreed.
“I need to make this right, Adam.”
I was used to crafty, criminal Charlotte who would’ve taken great delight in using Nancy as a Pomeranian weapon of mass destruction. The girl with me didn’t look too delighted. I could see her mind ticking over as she tried coming up with a way of atoning.
“We’ll pay for the dry-cleaning,” I offered.
Her head whipped up. “No! Then she’ll know it was us.”
I overlooked the fact that she’d implicated me her crime. She wasn’t completely reformed. Charli might have been remorseful, but not remorseful enough to own up.
“So, what’s your plan, Charlotte?”
She put her hand on my shoulder to steady herself while she took off her heels. At first I thought it was so she could run faster, but she walked to the table of gifts, shamelessly swiped a bow off one of presents and tied it around her shoes.
“Shoes?” I asked incredulously. “That’s your atonement?”
She positioned her impromptu gift on top of the pile. “They’re not just shoes. They’re twelve hundred dollars worth of awesome and Jasmine will love them.”
The level of fascination I felt for this girl was practically a disability. I stepped forward, gearing up to kiss her half to death. The embrace was cut short when the not-so-happy couple appeared in the doorway. Jasmine was gripping the skirt of her dress and puffing like a fire-breathing dragon. Wade looked suitably terrified.
“Charli,” she huffed between blubbers.
I glanced at Charlotte, immediately noticing the trapped expression on her face.
“Oh, Jasmine,” she said pitifully. “I am so sorry.”
Both of us stared at the huge stain on her dress. Jasmine stalked toward us, looking so menacing that I pulled Charli closer to my side to protect her if it turned physical. But Jasmine wasn’t heading for Charli. She made a beeline for the gift table.
“Louboutins?” she squealed. “You’re giving me your Louboutins?”
Charli stiffly nodded. “I know you like them.”
Jasmine glanced down at Charli’s bare feet before unceremoniously launching herself at her. Charlotte tried wriggling free, and for a moment, it looked like she was having a punch-up with a marshmallow. Finally Jasmine let her go. “You’ve just made this day the happiest day of my life!”
She tore the bow off the shoes-of-awesome and swapped them with her own. The puke on her dress was forgotten. Her tears were now tears of joy. It was unfathomable.
“I really love you, Charli,” she declared. “And you, Adam. I really love you. And your little baby,” she added as an afterthought.
“We love you too, Jasmine,” replied Charli in a strange monotone voice.
The bride squealed, gathered up her filthy dress and took off back into the reception to show off her shoes. Wade made no attempt to follow her. “Thanks, Charli,” he said. “That was a really nice thing to do. She was really upset when Nancy chundered. I wasn’t looking forward to spending the rest of the night being her escape goat.”
Charli half smiled. “No worries, Wade. Congratulations, by the way.”
Wade thanked her and headed off to find his bride, leaving me alone with mine. “Did he just say escape goat?” I whispered in her ear.
“Yes.” She chuckled. “Yes he did.”
December 2
Charli
After five long months, the bank renovation was finally finished. I hadn’t visited the bank often during its revamp. It wasn’t the best place to hang out with a baby who’d developed a fondness for putting things in her mouth. But now Bridget and I had the honour of being the first to see it. Adam started bombarding us with builder’s jargon at the door. I wasn’t interested in hearing that the antique mortise lock on the door had had to be sent to the mainland for restoration. I didn’t even know what a mortise lock was.
“So it opens and closes now?” It was the best I could come up with.
He smiled. “Yes, it does.”
“Awesome. Can we go inside, please?” I asked impatiently, bouncing Bridget on my hip.
Adam stretched out his arms and Bridget mimicked him, giving him permission to take her. Baby transfer complete, Adam opened the door and ushered me in.
It took me a long time to find the right words to describe the place. It was completely transformed. The hardwood floors were so dark they looked almost black. The dull lacquer was in keeping with the age of the building, and was offset perfectly by the stark white walls.
Everything looked per
fect and, more importantly, authentic.
I stood in the centre of the main room, trying to notice every detail.
“What do you think?” asked Adam.
“I think you’re amazing,” I declared, turning to face him. “I love it.”
“I love it too.” Well deserved pride saturated his tone. He dropped his head, speaking only to Bridget. “What do you think, Bridge?”
Supremely comfortable in her father’s arms, her little legs were wildly kicking.
“I think she’s impressed,” I told him.
“I want to show you something,” said Adam, holding out a hand. “A surprise.”
He led me through to the back room. Near the old vault was a paint-spattered tarp. In my experience, any surprise hidden under a tarp was a good one. “What is it?” I asked eagerly.
“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” He spoke slowly but there was underlying excitement in his voice.
As expected, the big reveal wasn’t dragged out very long. He pulled the tarp away revealing a painting set up on an easel. I leaned down. Instantly I knew it was one of Gabrielle’s masterpieces. It took me a bit longer to work it out – too long for Adam. He explained, rushing to get the words out. “I know the plan was to sell this place once it was finished, but I have a better idea. I think it would make a great gallery to display your work.”
I kept my focus on the painting. It was a picture of the outside of the bank, complete with a sign at the door.
“Galerie Décarie,” I announced, leaning to get a closer look.
“If you don’t like the name, you can call it whatever you want.”
I hoped my poker face had improved since the last time I’d attempted it.
“Well?” he asked nervously. “What do you think?”
“What do you think?”
“I think there’s a fine line between encouraging and pushing where you’re concerned,” he replied. “In my experience, you tend to resent pushing and ignore encouragement. I’m trying to work out which line I’ve crossed.”
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