by Tracy Ellen
I smiled around my donut. “Holy crap, that is good news.”
Had they the long engagement Anna always planned, Anna and Reg’s wedding party would have consisted of a dozen bridesmaids and groomsmen with all the bells and whistles, plus a reception for five hundred wedding guests. All of Northfield would have gone to Nevada.
Discovering she was pregnant and planning a month in advance for a wedding on New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas, their wedding party and guest list were practically one and the same. On such short notice during the holidays, very few people could take the time off work or had the extra money to go on a trip. If they could, most friends already had family holiday plans or vacations booked. Anna and Reg made the decision easy for everybody by not inviting anybody beyond best friends, family, and Luke’s new employee to their wedding.
Anna closed her eyes and clasped her hands tightly to her chest, swaying and smiling dreamily. “Do you want to hear the best news yet?”
Based on my best friend’s smile, it had to be sexual or food oriented. I hoped for the latter since I’d already warned her of the new no sex talk rule and I wasn’t kidding.
Seriously, could there be anything grosser than details about your brother in the sack?
Okay, other than your father or grandfather?
I didn’t think so either.
When Anna didn’t respond, I hoped she’d forgotten what she was saying or fell asleep, but after a bit of silence, she peeked at me expectantly.
“Oh, sorry. I thought that was rhetorical. What’s the best news yet?”
She crowed, “The best news is NanaBel has confirmed it’s alright for us to accept the baron’s gifts of airline tickets and hotel suites!”
Relieved to be wrong, I grinned. “That is the best news.”
She beamed at me, partially in exultation, but overall her happiness was based on sheer relief. Her exultation was understandable; the extra luxuries could only make the wedding trip more fun for us all, especially the brides and grooms. As for Anna’s obvious relief, I totally understood where she was coming from to worry if the baron’s generous gifts would be acceptable to NanaBel. The baron could be richer than God, but until NanaBel gave her nod of permission, none of us would accept a cent from him.
We had all grown up, including Anna, with my grandmother’s strict views against accepting help when we were perfectly capable of doing the job ourselves, and not being beholden to others outside the family--in any way. NanaBel’s agreement to the baron’s largesse only reaffirmed my suspicions that my grandmother held the baron in the highest esteem, and that he seriously did have more money than God. Although, I was not terribly surprised to have it verified the baron was wealthy. The dude owned a castle and threw annual Christmas balls, and that alone had to cost a pretty penny. But appearances could be deceiving.
With Anna’s news, I realized it was past time to find out if the baron was hiding any dirty little secrets behind those German rampart walls that could hurt my grandmother. A thorough financial and criminal background check was in order. I whipped out my phone and sent off a quick text to my financial geniuses, James Byrd and Charles Barkley.
“Who are you texting?” Anna brushed off her own question in her excitement. “Never mind, guess what else?”
I thought, ‘Aha! I knew my instincts weren’t off--food or sex, here it comes!’
Putting my phone down and a foot on the bottom rung of her stool to steady it from all her bouncing giddiness, I guessed, “Umm, you only have to sleep with the baron twice to pay him back?”
She spoke right over my comment, stars in her eyes when she clapped and screamed, “He’s insisting Stella and I both have wedding cakes done by Chef Jean-Philippe Maury, the chocolate wizard of pastry chefs. He’s world famous for his chocolates!”
“Yay!” I clapped along with her. I didn’t recognize the name, but a world famous wizard at anything had to be a good thing, plus it wasn’t sex talk about my brother. “Now tell me, who are in the wedding parties again?”
Anna’s mouth dropped open and she cast me a fulminating look, glaring for a full five seconds before she regained her ability to speak.
“Man, Junior, you may be my best friend, but that is precisely the sort of question that proves you have got to be the suckiest maid of honor alive.” She let out a disgusted breath. “Pay close attention because I’m only going to say this one more time.”
“Okay, thank you,” I replied submissively.
That earned me one last dirty look, and then Anna sat up straighter on her stool. “You at least remember NanaBel and the baron are meeting us in Las Vegas, right?”
I waved a languorous hand. “The names are vaguely familiar.”
Anna rubbed her hands together and dug into her favorite subject. “NanaBel will walk me down the aisle and give me away to Reg.”
“I love that.” I nodded with a smile.
Anna smiled back. “Me, too. You are my sucky maid of honor and Henry Stevenson is Reg’s best man. Ash Ramachandran is a groomsman, he’ll walk with Jazy, and Diego will escort Mac. Then Crookie will be paired with Tre J, John Smith with Pam, and Luke will be stuck with Kenna.”
Henry and Ash were friends of Reggie’s from way back, and Diego was family. After that, Reg was content to let Anna even the numbers with Crookie, John Smith, and Luke.
Anna was griping about my sister, Kenna. “At least Luke is strong enough to drag her ass down the aisle and keep her in line if she drinks too much. It may be the PC thing to do, but I still can’t believe Reg forced me to ask Kenna to be in our wedding.”
“I can’t believe you let him.” I was all for looking at the positive side of life, but then there was plain stupid. Kenna’s behavior was always a wild card at family events. She could be an angel or she could be a demon, and there was no way to know in advance which direction she’d be coming from. I couldn’t wait to see how Luke would handle my sister if she went squirrelly on him.
“I know,” Anna wailed, shoulders drooping almost as much as her lower lip. “Reg cornered me in a weak moment when I was nauseated. She’ll probably ruin my wedding. I’m so jealous Stella didn’t get any pressure like I did.”
Stella felt no compunction to ask Kenna to be part of her wedding. Stella had grown up seeing Kenna coming and going, but they had never been particularly close. On her part, I was sure Kenna was relieved not to be asked. I know I would be perfectly happy not to have to squeeze myself into Stella’s chosen bridesmaid dress that was tighter than a Chinese finger trap.
“Try not to worry.” I tried to cheer Anna up. “Think positive. At least the ex-cousin isn’t in your wedding, too.”
Anna nodded fervently. “I almost had a stroke when NanaBel hinted around. No lie, I felt myself starting to shake. Thank God she didn’t out and out ask me.” Her nose scrunched with wistful distaste. “Imagine those bare mega boobs bouncing like beach balls in one of my beautiful, off the shoulder bridesmaid dresses.”
I recoiled. “I won’t, and if you ever try and make me again, you’ll get punched in the face. Hard.”
“Aren’t you forgetting I’m the pregnant bride?”
“I’ll be very careful not to harm the baby or your wedding dress.”
“Gee, thanks, Junior.”
“No problem. Anyway, it’s going to be bad enough that Crazy is going to be in Vegas with Pam there, too.”
Anna slapped the island, the devilish chipmunk grin growing. “Why do I keep forgetting that John Smith tapped that while he was dating Pammie? God, I wish I hadn’t missed out on seeing Pam attack Candy at James Byrd’s party.” Her good mood evaporated and Anna frowned darkly. “Ever since I hooked up with your brother and he got me pregnant, I’ve been missing out on all the fun stuff.”
“Yeah,” I commiserated, “falling in love and building a family together doesn’t compare to hanging out with me and having ring side seats to a Saturday night cat fight.”
Anna sighed loudly. “It’s not that, so don’t
be snarky.” She shrugged a shoulder, her mouth curving down while her finger nervously picked at the label on her water bottle. “Sometimes, I’m just a little sad. Not because of everything that’s happened between Reg and me, but because it happened so fast. We have no one to blame but ourselves--well, I can blame your brother’s condom--but I wish we’d had more time to be a couple together first. You know, go out for a few months, screw like bunnies, and then work up to the engagement.” She chuckled and met my eyes. “Can’t you see me getting all pissy when Reg took too long to propose?”
I smiled faintly and shrugged as I regarded Anna levelly across the island. She looked away. There was a deep groove of discontent between her eyes while she stared off. My friend was a romantic at heart. Like all romantics, she could angst over ideals. When you look at life as a series of big pictures it’s too easy to overlook the smaller details. I believe finding joy in the everyday ordinary moments in your life is what leads to consistent personal happiness. If you’re waiting for once-in-a-lifetime events to define your happiness, you could be in for a long wait.
But hey, I’ve been wrong before.
Anna sighed again. “We could have had my dream wedding and then become parents in a year or two.” She pushed the ripped paper bits into a pile. “And then there’s me feeling like complete crap for weeks and being a bitchy, crying mess…”
When she didn’t say anything more, I said softly, “I get that. It’s been a tough month for you both, but admittedly tougher for you with the barfing and whatnot.”
Anna nodded rapidly in acknowledgment. “I agree, but try telling Reg that. Lately, he’s gotten quiet when we’re alone and I get the impression he thinks I’m a whiny bitch.”
I asked, “Do you want my opinion or should I be smart and shut up?”
Anna grinned. “I’ll let you know after you tell me.”
Her grin soon faded when I went on, “Well, not to be Ms. Happy here and blow sunshine up the butt of your pity parade, but I’m so glad you’re past the sick stage and into the radiantly glowing stage. I also happen to think your Las Vegas wedding to my brother may not be the blow out you’ve dreamed of since you were six months old, but it will be beautiful because you’re marrying the man you love. You have a lot to be thankful for, little mama, so buck the duck up, will you?” Over her affronted gasps, I stuck out my hand. “Oh, and I swear to God to try my best not to be such a sucky maid of honor. Shake?”
Anna shook my hand while spouting indignantly, “That’s great, but my God, can’t I even wallow for one lousy minute when my life goes crazy and get some sympathy? Is that too much to ask?”
I raised my hands. “I’m not into giving fake sympathy. Have I ever hidden my lifelong viewpoint on looking up a dead horse’s arse? It’s a no win situation.”
“You are an arse,” Anna stated baldly.
“So what’s your point?”
We both laughed.
I patted her hand. “What’s true is you’re a lucky woman. Your married life is going to begin differently from your girlish dreams, but it’s going to be wonderful.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “It better be.”
I laughed and asked energetically, “What about Stella’s wedding party? What’s going on there?”
“Your cousin Layla is so furious that she can’t come.”
“Yeah, that’s rotten timing my uncle booked a surprise cruise for their family over the holidays.” I smiled thinking of Layla. The way she complained about their family trip you’d think she was going to be a galley slave instead of a guest on a Mediterranean cruise ship.
“Okay, so Eric George’s parents are walking him down the aisle, and then Eric George’s baby sister, Lucy, is their flower girl.”
“How baby is baby?” I asked in alarm, visions of a demanding toddler screaming for three straight days in Vegas.
She sniggered. “Don’t worry, Lucy’s a civilized seven or so. Mac and Diego are giving Stella away. And since Stella’s smart enough not to have a maid of honor, you’ll walk down the aisle with Luke.”
“You are worse than a dog with a bone,” I muttered, but was pleased to hear Luke was my escort at one of the weddings.
Anna didn’t hear me, off in wedding world. “Jazy, Sammy, and Kate will be escorted by Eric George’s three friends--Dietrich, Quan, and Marty.”
Sammy and Kate were best friends of Stella’s and also her age, which was under the legal age to drink in Las Vegas. I liked them both and was happy for Stella’s sake that they were able to come.
My life had been a confusing whirlwind of wedding festivities, nightmares, and murders the past few weeks, so I asked tentatively, “Umm, have we met these friends of Eric George’s yet--Peter, Paul, and Mary?”
“Oh my God, you are always going to call Dietrich, Quan, and Marty that now, aren’t you?” Anna’s laughter rang out as she shook her head. “Nope, we haven’t, Your Majesty, but they’re probably teenyboppers like Stella and Eric George.”
We grinned at the idea of Jazy walking down the aisle with a pimply-faced boy barely past puberty.
Anna looked at me and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said about me having sex with the baron. You are totally repulsive. Isn’t the baron an old geezer like around seventy-seven?”
“Money makes even old geezers handsome.” I nodded wisely at her twisted mouth of disgust.
“Oh, okay, Confucius, but I am so telling your grandmother what you said.”
“Then I’m telling her that you said a man of seventy-seven is an old geezer. She’s seventy-five.”
“Go ahead,” Anna said with a triumphant smile as she patted her stomach. “See this? I’m carrying my very own get out of jail free card these days. I can say or do anything and not be held accountable.”
“I applaud your efforts to make hay while the sun shines, but remember, Missy,” I motioned my coffee cup in her direction, “you won’t be knocked up forever and I’ve got a hellaciously long memory.”
“Since we’re talking about knocked up, what about your Tarot card fortune Darcy read last night? Geesh, Darcy knows her stuff. I had no idea that’s what the Empress meant, did you? Earth Mother, Goddess of Fertility, ruled by Venus--how many times did you re-cut that deck, anyway?”
“That Tarot deck was marked,” I declared roundly, as I gave the selections in the bakery box another intense look over. “I refuse to give credence to any fortune, especially the one Darcy read for me last night. She knows me, for Pete’s sake.” For good measure, I added decisively, “I think Tarot card readings are for lame asses, don’t you?”
“Uh huh, sure,” Anna replied skeptically. “Well, I hope you’re right because I heard Darcy predict you should ‘beware a dangerous man in your immediate future’.” Anna did an exaggerated body shudder and cradled her tummy protectively. “Speaking for me and this little nugget in here, I’m already sick and tired of dangerous shit going down in your past.” Cocoa-brown eyes narrowed as she warned, “I do not want any more of that type of excitement in the present or the future. Definitely not in Vegas, do you hear me?”
“Oh, I hear you, my craven Anna Axelrod-to-be,” I replied soothingly. Holding up a chocolate éclair in her honor, I toasted, “Here’s to uninteresting times at my best friend’s wedding.”
Anna held up her water bottle, patted her baby bulge again, and responded with fervor, “Three for one, and one for all!”
Chapter VII
“Thankful For You” by TobyMac
Tuesday, 12/18
9:55 AM
“Hey, what about us? We want in on the Musketeers, too,” Jazy called out from the foyer. I’d left the door unlocked and she came into the kitchen, followed by Tre J, Mac, and Stella. “Happy birthday, Sister.” Jazy heaved a big package wrapped in newspaper comics across the island towards me and motioned to Anna, “Watch this and learn!”
Jaz whirled on Tre J and shouted, “En garde, pussycat!”
I stopped the
present from sliding off the side of the island, and then Tre J’s gift, too, while they both unsheathed invisible swords and started air-fencing their way across the dining room.
Anna yelled back at my little sis, “What part of three Musketeers was not clear to you two nutjobs?”
Mac was balancing a beverage holder with eight large cardboard cups. Without pausing in stride, she hip checked the fencing Jazy out of her pathway to the kitchen.
Jazy’s stocking feet slid out from under her at Mac’s unexpected bump from behind. I winced seeing Jaz go down in the splits. I hoped the yoga classes had limbered her up enough, but Tre J took advantage. She stabbed her imaginary sword through Jazy’s stomach and then stepped on her, pinning her to the floor with one size eleven foot backed up by two hundred pounds of muscular curves. Whooping a battle cry, Tre J flourished her imaginary weapon while a laughing, cursing Jazy promised paybacks.
Used to commotion whenever my family got together, I had been covertly watching Stella. My niece moped behind her mother and barely acknowledged the ruckus. My eyes’ dark circles had nothing on her dark circles. Hunched over a tad, she lugged a Bel’s Books tote bag full of beautifully wrapped presents. She was sadder than Santa’s little elf dragging ass after a hard night on the town.
Mac grimaced over at the swashbuckling girls still squabbling in the dining room as she placed her load of drinks on the island. Sitting down with a grateful sigh of relief, my oldest sister smiled across the island and made kissy noises with pursed lips.
“Hello, birthday girl. Diego has a store meeting this morning, but sends his brotherly love. And, ta-da,” she removed a drink, pushing it over to me, “here’s a triple shot latte to start your day the over caffeinated way.” She shared an arch glance with Anna while she distributed more drinks. “We thought you could use the extra boost after a couple nights in a row with spooky Lukey doing scary things like eating dinner together and canoodling in front of the TV.”
