Wedding Bell Blues

by Meg Benjamin

  Cal’s veterinary clinic was at the top of a small rise just off a shaded residential street. A large, blacktopped parking lot filled the space behind it, spilling over into the lot next door. Right now the lot was packed with pickup trucks and SUVs—apparently, the veterinary business was booming.

  Pete swung through the door. At the front counter a middle-aged brunette in multicolored scrubs was taking information from a woman with a vicious-looking poodle. The dog gave him a threatening glance, growling low in its throat. He gave it a wide berth.

  A large crowd, mostly female, sat in the waiting room clutching their pets, a wide variety of dogs in various shapes and sizes, most of them yapping. The women’s eyes seemed to follow Pete as he walked across the room, although he had a feeling he wouldn’t catch anybody looking directly at him if he turned around.

  The brunette glanced up and grinned. “You’ve got to be Cal’s brother,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the general din. “Unless there’s a convention of large, hunky men in town.”

  Pete nodded at her. “I’ll accept the large part, anyway. Pete Toleffson, best man in training.” He extended a hand.

  She gave it a quick shake. “Bethany Kronk. I’m actually a bridesmaid myself, bless Docia’s soft heart. Cal’s waiting for you in the back—through there.”

  Pete headed for the door, feeling several pairs of eyes boring into his back as he did. He didn’t normally get this kind of reaction. Probably just curiosity about Toleffsons, or more likely about Cal and Docia.

  The back of the clinic was a hall lined with doors. From behind one, he could hear more muffled barking. Cal leaned against one of the doorjambs, watching him approach and grinning.

  This whole happiness thing was really getting out of hand. Pete might have to punch him.

  “Hey, bro, you got here fast!”

  Pete shrugged. “What’s up?”

  “Got a mission for you.” Cal started down the hall toward the door with the barking.

  “Doing what?”

  The barking grew louder as Cal opened the door. Inside, Pete saw a row of cages filled with dogs, a few barking enthusiastically as they saw people. The room was bright with sunlight, the concrete floors immaculate, everything white and gray and sterile.

  Pete raised his voice to be heard over the barks. “Patients?”

  Cal nodded. “Most of them. A few are being boarded. Then we’ve got some adoptees.” He stopped in front of one cage as Pete stepped up beside him.

  A dog stared back at them, silently, eyes wide. Its ears were flat against its head, tail tucked between slender legs.

  “Greyhound?”

  “Right.”

  The greyhound was an odd combination of brown and white, almost in stripes. “What’s wrong with its color?”

  “Nothing.” Cal raised an eyebrow. “It’s called brindle—they’re supposed to look like that.”

  The dog turned wary eyes on Pete, as if he’d been judged and found wanting.

  He sighed. “So what do you want me to do? Clean its cage?”

  Cal shook his head, opening the cage door. The greyhound moved toward him tentatively. “She’s an ex-racer. I’m adopting her. Only I can’t take her home until after the honeymoon.” He reached forward and rubbed the dog’s ears.

  “Can’t she wait? You’re only going to be gone a couple of weeks.”

  The greyhound moved into Cal’s hand, letting herself be stroked. He leaned forward to murmur into the dog’s ear, then turned back to Pete. “Greyhounds are sensitive. They need a lot of reassurance. Particularly ex-racers. They’re not used to being outside a box.”

  Pete had a sudden sneaky feeling he knew what was coming. “You want me to take her back to the apartment.”

  Cal nodded. “You can keep each other company until the wedding—I’ll find somebody else to take over until we get back from the honeymoon. If you take her home with you now, I can still be around to help out if you need it.”

  Pete gave the greyhound a long look. The dog stared straight ahead as Cal rubbed her ears, almost frozen in place. The Toleffsons had grown up with a succession of noisy strays who couldn’t have stood that still if their lives depended on it. The greyhound looked like she’d bathed in Novocain.

  Pete scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Cal, I’m not much of a dog man.”

  “Since when?” Cal narrowed his eyes. “You’re the one who used to smuggle Granger into bed with him every night. Hell, you had the flea bites to prove it.”

  Which, of course, was how his mother had figured out who was hiding the mostly coon hound under the covers.

  “Well, Granger was Granger. This one… What’s her name anyway?”

  Cal looked down at the greyhound’s head. “Pookie’s Pleasure.”

  There was a moment of total silence.

  “You made that up,” Pete snapped.

  Cal shook his head. “So help me. It was the dog’s racing name. Pookie was the owner’s girlfriend, or anyway that’s what they told me at the rescue center.”

  “You can’t honestly expect me to call a dog ‘Pookie’, Calthorpe.” Pete folded his arms across his chest. “It would be an offense to the memory of every dog we ever owned.”

  Cal shrugged. “Hey, I own a dog who was originally named Señor Pepe. Sometimes you get stuck with other people’s idiocy. If you don’t like the name, you can always try calling her something else. See if she answers.”

  The greyhound shifted her feet, then glanced up at Pete. Her eyes looked like obsidian, dark and shiny. After a moment, she reverted to frozen again.

  “Why is she standing so still?”

  “Greyhound stress behavior.” Cal rubbed along the dog’s shoulders again. “She’s frightened, but she doesn’t want to show it. She’s been chasing a mechanical rabbit since she was a pup, with a lot of yelling. This is probably the first time she’s ever been in a relatively quiet place. Plus it’s the first time she’s been off a regimented schedule.”

  The greyhound’s shoulders shuddered lightly underneath Cal’s fingers. She raised her wary black eyes to Pete again, questioning.

  He sighed. “Okay, I’ll do it. Does she have a leash?”

  Cal shook his head. “Better wait until tomorrow. The first day she’s out, you’ll need to stay with her all the time.”

  “I’m not doing anything in particular—she can hang out with me.” Plus it would give him something to do besides bugging Janie Dupree.

  Cal pushed himself to his feet. “Mom might not appreciate that, seeing as how we’re supposed to pick her up at the airport in a couple of hours. And then take her to dinner with Docia and her mom and dad.”

  Pete grimaced. He would vastly prefer spending the day with a stressed-out greyhound to spending it with his mother. But he was the best man, and the best man supported the groom in his duties. All of his duties, apparently. “Okay, tomorrow it is.”

  Cal thumped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, bro. I knew you’d come through. Come on, I’ve got some greyhound pamphlets for you.”

  Pete closed his eyes for a moment, counting to ten. This just got better and better. “Pamphlets. Of course you have pamphlets. Lead away, Calthorpe, lead away.”

  Docia came into the bookstore around noon, par for the course these days. Janie was surprised she’d made it in at all, given that The Wedding was less than a week away.

  She wore a pale yellow cotton dress—full skirt, halter top, very un-Docia. Janie thought she could count the number of times she’d seen Docia in a dress without running out of fingers. She was usually more a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of girl.

  “What’s up?” She kept her voice chipper. Docia looked like she was headed for the gallows. These days Docia looked like that a lot.

  “Oh the usual. Flower arrangements. Wedding arch. And my mother-in-law-to-be, whom I’ve never met, is arriving in San Antonio at two.” Docia took a deep breath and gave a bright, totally artificial smile to a passing customer.
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  “She’ll love you,” Janie said automatically.

  “I don’t know. From what Cal and Pete have said, she’s sort of difficult. Love may be asking too much—I’ll settle for tolerate.”

  Janie slid an arm around her shoulders—not the easiest thing to do since Docia was almost nine inches taller. “She’ll love you, Docia. Trust me. This is all going to be terrific.”

  Docia sighed. “I swear, Janie, I had no idea what I was getting into when I told Mom she could run the wedding. This whole production has gotten bigger than most grand operas. Maybe we should just have hightailed it to Vegas.”

  “That would have broken your mama’s heart.” Janie picked up a stack of books from a customer and began clicking the cash register. “And mine. Besides, this way you get to meet all Cal’s brothers at once.”

  “All of them except the oldest. Cal wouldn’t invite him. I guess none of them have forgiven him for being such a bully when they were growing up.”

  “Pete seems…nice.” Janie kept her voice neutral. Actually, Pete had seemed nicer this morning, but who knew how long that would last?

  Docia smiled. “Pete’s great. Once you get to know him.”

  Janie wasn’t sure how well she wanted to get to know Pete Toleffson. Even if he had apologized this morning, he’d still been a jerk last night. On the other hand, he had great shoulders, especially in those T-shirts he usually wore.

  “Oh, I meant to ask you—” Docia half-turned again, “—is Otto coming to the wedding? He hasn’t RSVPed yet.”

  Janie yanked her unruly thoughts away from Pete Toleffson’s shoulders. Otto’s shoulders were equally broad and sort of her property. “Yes, I think so. I’ll remind him the next time I see him.”

  Janie tried to remember if she’d mentioned the wedding to Otto last night. They’d gone to the movies—some comedy with a lot of men who were apparently obsessed with bodily fluids. Otto had laughed so hard he’d had to wipe away tears. Janie had dozed off about two-thirds of the way through.

  “Janie, are you sure you want Otto at the wedding?” Docia’s eyes were suddenly sharp.

  Janie managed a slightly tight smile. “Of course. I need somebody to dance with, after all.”

  The bell above the door tinkled, and Docia’s mother, Reba Kent, bustled into the shop. Docia groaned, softly.

  Reba was wearing a sky blue tunic over white slacks, her dangling earrings jingling as she moved. “Honey babe, don’t you look yummy! Come on now, we need to check on those place cards before the boys get back with Mrs. Toleffson.”

  Docia grabbed her purse from behind the counter and started toward the door. Just before she went out, she turned back to Janie, the corners of her mouth slipping up in a dry smile. “You know, kid, there are a lot of dance partners out there. Maybe you should think about it.”

  Janie watched the two Kent women sail down the street toward Reba’s Mercedes. A lot of dance partners were out there. But sometimes she thought Docia had grabbed the last good one.

  A multi-car collision on Highway 281 made Cal and Pete late in getting to the San Antonio airport, but Pete was pretty sure their mother would have found something to be unhappy about even if they’d gotten there an hour early. Mom wasn’t big on traveling, no matter how good the cause. Leaving Iowa always struck her as a somewhat subversive idea, particularly leaving Iowa for Texas.

  They found her sitting in a leather chair in the baggage claim area. Pete had a few moments to study her before she saw them coming. She had on one of those outfits she always wore when she traveled—mint-colored knit slacks and a long white blouse with bright green flowers, a purse the size of Dubuque slung over her shoulder. Her baggage was heaped at her feet—a series of tapestry-covered suitcases decorated with fluorescent tape so that she could find them on the baggage carousel.

  She looked up then and saw them, her face slowly smoothing out of a frown into a tight smile. Pete figured she was glad to see them, sort of. Maybe.

  Cal gave her a quick hug, patting her on the back. “Sorry, Mom, a wreck on the highway closed down some of the lanes, and we got held up. We tried to call your cell.”

  His mother waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I never turn it on when I’m traveling. I don’t want to forget to turn it off on the airplane. They make such a fuss about that.”

  Pete sighed. No point in explaining she was supposed to turn the phone back on again once the plane landed. He kissed her cheek dutifully. “Hi, Mom.”

  His mother took a quick inventory of his outfit, her smile becoming even tighter. “Well, you certainly look comfortable!”

  He managed not to grimace. Cal had put on khakis and a knit shirt. Pete still wore the jeans and souvenir T-shirt from Myrtle Beach he’d put on that morning.

  Call it a statement. With his mother, of course, it was more like a call to battle.

  He gathered a couple of her suitcases together. “How was your flight, Mom?”

  “Oh, fine. Of course, I had a middle seat. But that’s all right, it all worked out. I had a nice man on the aisle to talk to. The woman in the window seat went to sleep, but I can’t sleep on airplanes.”

  She gathered up her spring coat, which she carried even though the temperature outside hovered in the mid-nineties. Pete wondered if she didn’t trust the weather forecast or if she didn’t trust Texas. Probably some of both.

  “Let me carry something.” Cal reached over and picked up a large shopping bag.

  “Well, just don’t look inside,” his mother cautioned. “It’s your wedding gift from Aunt Roslyn. Since she can’t come all the way down here herself, she sent it with me.” She took up a position between the two of them as they walked out the door, looking deceptively small and vulnerable between two towering hulks.

  “Aunt Roslyn didn’t feel like wrapping her present?” Pete negotiated the crosswalk between taxis and shuttle buses, heading for the parking lot. “Doesn’t sound like her.”

  “No, it’s wrapped,” his mother explained, “but Cal shouldn’t see the present before his fiancée does. They should see it at the same time. It’s a present to both of them. It wouldn’t be right for him to look at it without her.”

  Pete debated pointing out that seeing a wrapped package before it got to Docia didn’t strike him as much of a betrayal. But what did he know? He wasn’t the one getting married.

  “Oh, Cal, there’s another problem I needed to talk to you about.” His mother’s voice hadn’t really changed, but Pete heard a new undertone that set the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

  Cal apparently got the same message. Pete saw his shoulders stiffen. “What’s that, Mom?”

  “Erik’s invitation still hadn’t arrived by the time I left.” His mother’s lips thinned in a tight smile. “Maybe you’d better send him another one. Or call him. That would be better at this point.”

  Cal unlocked the SUV and began lifting suitcases inside the back. “I didn’t invite Erik, Mom. I haven’t spoken to him in over five years. I don’t see any point in asking him to my wedding.”

  Cal’s jaw had taken on a rigid set. Pete’s shoulders tensed too.

  “Well, I just thought this would be a good time for the two of you to work out your differences.” His mother’s eyes had a hard brightness that said she wouldn’t back down on this one. “It’s a family occasion, after all.”

  Pete had a sudden memory of fourteen-year-old Erik holding eight-year-old Cal by the back of his shirt, laughing at Cal’s attempts to get loose.

  Twelve-year-old Pete had grabbed the first thing his hands touched and whacked Erik across the back of his head with it. Unfortunately, the first thing his hands had touched was a large plastic Easter bunny. At least the surprise had made Erik drop Cal on the lawn rather than the sidewalk. But then both Cal and Pete had collapsed, giggling at the sight of the decapitated bunny’s head hanging from Erik’s shoulder.

  Erik hadn’t seen the humor, of course. He’d beaten the crap out of them both. Typical. />
  Cal sighed and turned to face his mother. “Mom, we can’t work out our differences. Erik’s not any more interested in having a relationship with me than I am with him.”

  His mother’s smile was gone, her lips taut. “Erik’s changed. He’s trying to make up for things he did when he was younger. And he’s your brother. You need to give him a chance.”

  “Come on, Mom.” Pete snapped the trunk closed. “Time to get back to Konigsburg.”

  His mother turned her head quickly, giving him a narrow-eyed look that would have sent him running for cover when he was ten years old. Then she sighed, moving on to her next topic. “All right, all right, let’s go. How are you feeling now, Peter? Are you taking your pills like the doctor told you to? What about the stomach problems?”

  Pete opened the door for her. “Yes, ma’am. I’m doing fine.” Or he would be, once he got this wedding business over and got back to work.

  Chapter Three

  Otto arrived at seven to take Janie to dinner with Docia and Cal’s families at Brenner’s. Seven was around thirty minutes late, and five minutes before Janie would have been ready to go without him. She felt an emotion oddly like regret as Mom opened the front door to let him in, beaming.

  She took a moment to study him. He must have showered after afternoon football practice. His short, reddish brown hair still glinted with moisture.

  He might have been ten years beyond his days as the star quarterback of Konigsburg High, but Otto still looked like a football player. Janie figured he always would, even when his metabolism slowed down. His shoulders were broad, his chest rippled with muscle, his stomach was gorgeously flat.

  He was maybe a hair over six feet, significantly shorter than Pete Toleffson, but Pete’s arms weren’t the size of tree limbs, like Otto’s were. All in all, Otto did a good job of filling out his green golf shirt, his broad shoulders and chest stretching the waffled knit. His thick forearms were dusted with light brown hair that Janie happened to know also covered his impressive pecs. For all she knew, it covered more than that, but she hadn’t found out yet.