Wedding Bell Blues

by Meg Benjamin

  He’d managed to swing by home and take a quick shower before he’d gotten dressed up. The tux was wool, of course, but lightweight.

  On the other hand, it had a vest. He hadn’t worn a vest since his senior prom. He’d hated it then, and he hated it now. And he had a feeling he’d be sweating like a pig within an hour.

  As they rounded the corner, heading toward the event center, Pete could hear an orchestra somewhere tuning up. Orchestras meant dancing.

  He was going to have to dance with Janie.

  He closed his eyes and stood still for a moment, remembering just what Janie felt like in his arms. Lordy, the vest wasn’t the only reason he’d be sweating.

  “There’s Allie.” Wonder sighed. “Why is it the more clothes we have to pile on, the fewer women have to wear?”

  Horace grinned. “Think of it as a tradeoff, boy. You may be miserable, but at least you can enjoy the view.”

  Allie and Bethany both wore strapless satin dresses in a color Pete would call beige but that probably wasn’t. They both looked cool, sophisticated and gorgeous. Clearly they could both do better than the two steamy males at his side.

  “Come on!” Bethany waved at them. “Docia wants to throw the bouquet.” She slid her hand beneath Horace’s arm, smiling. “Looking good, Doc.”

  “You’re not looking too shabby yourself, ma’am.” Horace gave her a grin that was pure seduction, walrus mustache and all.

  Pete wondered if there were any empty bedrooms available at the Woodrose, just for future reference, of course. “Where’s Janie?”

  Bethany glanced at Allie, then shrugged, smiling faintly. “She’ll be along. Better get moving now.” She walked quickly toward a set of glass folding doors at the side of the event center. “Docia’s in here.”

  As he stepped through the door, Pete caught sight of Docia. She was in a white satin wedding dress that looked skintight. Her feet and lower legs were encased in a cloud of translucent fabric, sort of like a mermaid ascending from the sea foam. She looked thoroughly pissed. Cal was keeping out of her way, probably for good reason.

  “That’s quite a dress.” Pete tried to make it sound like a compliment.

  “If you say I look like Cinderella, I’ll find something small and hard to throw at you,” Docia grumbled. “I thought everybody got dressed up in uncomfortable clothes for the wedding and then got to dress down for the reception. How did I get roped into this?”

  “To please your mother. That’s how all of us get roped into stuff like this.”

  “Thank you, O wise one. That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

  “Docia, honey, where’s your veil?” Reba bustled into the room followed by an entourage of Woodrose staff and the photographer. “You need to get it on before you throw the bouquet.”

  “Mama, I don’t do veils.” Docia smoothed down the wrinkles that had already developed in her dress. “Let’s get this show on the road. Where’s my husband? He hasn’t deserted this shindig already, has he?”

  Cal slipped away from Wonder and Allie. “I’m right here. It’s okay.” He was grinning again. Oh, well, he probably had reason to at this point.

  “Okay, where’s Janie?” Docia craned her neck, looking toward the French doors.

  “I’m here, Docia, go ahead.”

  Pete turned. Janie stood in the doorway. She was wearing a dress the color of summer twilight. Her skin glowed. Her hair had a dense blue-black sheen. She looked like she was wearing stardust. She turned toward him and smiled slowly.

  Pete swallowed. He was in deep, deep trouble.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sherice stood beside her rental car, smoothing her skirt. She really wished she’d had time to go to San Antonio and pick up a real Versace dress rather than this knock-off, particularly since Lars would be cutting off her credit cards soon‑—if he hadn’t already. Still, this outfit would do nicely for her purposes. A red the color of Marilyn Monroe’s lipstick, matte jersey that fit her like a second skin, cut low on top and high at the bottom. Perfect for her entrance into the reception.

  She started up the path from the parking lot. Good thing she’d taken the wedding invitation with her when she’d left the motel. The security guards at the entrance to the event center hadn’t even blinked when she drove up, just motioned her through like any other guest.

  She headed toward the French windows at the back. Best to avoid the receiving line, although she figured they wouldn’t want to make a fuss about her there in front of all the other guests. On the other hand, she didn’t want to give Billy Kent the chance to have her discreetly thrown out. Not until she’d done what she’d set out to do.

  Not that she knew exactly what she’d set out to do. Too many possibilities!

  She could walk in when the bride was tossing the bouquet. That would sure as hell ruin Docia’s aim. Maybe she’d hit one of the Toleffsons by mistake, preferably one of the males. Better yet, she could step forward as the best man started his toast. She’d love to see Pete Toleffson choke on his champagne. Or maybe she’d show up in the middle of the dancing. She could picture the floor clearing to let her through, everybody whispering, wondering who this gorgeous woman was. This gorgeous woman the Toleffsons had driven away.

  Sherice tightened her lips to a thin line. The final scene in all these scenarios always featured Lars realizing what an asshole he’d been, what a loser he was to let her go.

  Not that she wanted him back. Not even slightly. But she really wanted him to suffer.

  At one point she’d considered trying to grab Daisy again. If she wanted Lars to suffer, that was definitely the way to go. But she figured she’d never make it this time. Mama Toleffson would probably snatch her bald-headed before she’d let that baby go again.

  Sherice rounded the corner of the building, heading toward the back entrance, when she noticed someone sitting on the steps that led up to the glass doors. A very large someone. A very Toleffson someone.

  She caught her breath. For a moment, she thought it was Lars, but the body wasn’t quite right. Taller, but softer somehow. She came to a stop a few feet in front of him as the man turned her way. Erik Toleffson. The prodigal son.

  She shook her head. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought they’d drummed you out of the family. Or did they send you out to sit on the steps this time?”

  Erik regarded her through narrowed eyes, his mouth spreading in a slow grin. “Afternoon, Sherice. I thought you might show up. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Sherice took a deep breath, assessing the situation. A frontal assault would work best, she decided. “I’ve got a right to be here. I’m still a Toleffson. My daughter’s in there.” She took a step forward. Erik didn’t move.

  He nodded. “A concerned mother. Interesting approach. Of course, the dress doesn’t really work for that.”

  Sherice folded her arms across her chest, careful not to loosen the double-sided tape that was holding her breasts in place. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

  Erik shrugged. “Nothing, if you’re looking to replace Lars with a sugar daddy. It’s just not what most people think of as motherly, unless you’re planning on breast-feeding her during the afternoon.”

  Sherice felt like stamping her foot. All those Toleffsons were such smart-asses. “Get out of my way, Erik. I’ve got an invitation and I’m going in.”

  Erik pushed himself slowly to his feet, running his gaze over her without much interest. “You might want to think about that for a minute.”

  “I have thought about it,” she snapped. “Get out of my way.”

  “I know you believe this is the best kind of revenge,” Erik continued, not moving, “but you need to do a little analyzing here.”

  Sherice pressed her lips together, tapping her toe. One thing she didn’t want to do was think. On the other hand, she hadn’t been thinking clearly when she’d dumped Daisy on that picnic table so she could argue better. A crying baby just got in the way when she was trying to
make her point. Then Mama Toleffson had walked off with Sherice’s best bargaining chip.

  She blew out an irritated breath. “Look, I’m going in there. You can’t stop me.”

  He shrugged. “You’re right. I can’t. None of us Toleffsons can do much to you right now, although if I were you I’d try not to piss Pete off any more than you already have, seeing as how he knows most of the lawyers and judges in Des Moines.”

  Sherice shook her head. “So? I’ll get a lawyer from Ames or something. I’m not afraid of any of you Toleffsons, not even Pete.”

  “No, probably not. So how do you feel about the Kents?” His gaze flicked back toward the ballroom. “And the Brandenburgs?”

  Sherice had a faint sting of uneasiness. “Who are they? Friends of yours?”

  His grin became slightly lopsided. “Not really. I don’t have many friends here. They’re Docia’s parents. And from what I hear, they’re worth more than all the Toleffsons for several generations put together, in terms of money anyway.”

  “So?” She smoothed her skirt over her hips. “You’re all poor, so what? I’ve got no problem with Docia Kent’s family. It’s you Toleffsons who’ve been giving me grief.”

  “But Docia’s a Toleffson now.”

  Erik leaned forward slightly, and she found herself thinking of all the stories Lars had told her about him. All the things he’d done, things that made his straight-arrow brothers treat him like he was radioactive. For a moment, she almost wished she’d brought that big lummox Otto Friedrich with her.

  She straightened her spine. “What’s your point?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether you piss off the Toleffsons. Like I said, we can’t do much to you even if we wanted to. On the other hand, I figure you’re ready to trade up from Lars. Right?”

  Sherice blew out a quick breath, then raised her head defiantly. “You think I can’t?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. But does it make sense to go in there and make trouble, when you’d be screwing around with two of the richest families in Texas?”

  She dug her nails into her palms, trying not to listen.

  “You think the Kents don’t have long memories?” His voice was lazy. “You think Billy Kent won’t go out of his way to keep the woman who ruined his daughter’s wedding reception from cozying up to anybody in his tax bracket?”

  Sherice’s pulse pounded in her ears. Shit, shit, shit.

  “C’mon, Sherice.” Erik’s voice softened. “Think it through. Go on back to Des Moines and get your lawyer. Just let them have their reception.”

  For a moment—a very brief moment—Sherice was ready to do it anyway. The thrill of bringing everything down, causing the kind of scene where everybody ended up furious and in tears while she walked out in triumph. But then her practical self kicked in.

  He was right. Damn him.

  She turned on her heel, stalking back up the path, then glanced back over her shoulder when she reached the corner of the house.

  Erik still sat on the stairs where she’d left him, his large hands clasped in front of his knees.

  Sherice narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you helping them? They treated you like crap. Just like they treated me.”

  “Ah, but I deserved it,” he said. “And once in a while you get a chance to make up for shit you’ve done. This is one of those times.”

  Sherice sucked in a breath, feeling a hot flush of irritation. “And you figure that’ll happen to me?”

  Erik grinned at her again, leaning back against the steps. “If you’re lucky.”

  Janie managed to miss the bouquet Docia threw at her. It bounced once off the tips of her fingers, rather like a volleyball, and landed in Allie’s hands.

  Wonder turned slightly pale. So did Allie.

  Janie knew they were all trying to help, but she wasn’t sure why they thought giving her a bouquet to match the garter Pete had caught would change things. Pete had to go back to Des Moines. He had a job there, even if he didn’t like it much. He had family. He had responsibilities, and she knew only too well how seriously he regarded them all.

  It had been a lovely fantasy, but fantasy time was over now. She had to be a grown-up again. And she didn’t mind too much. Really.

  Janie bit her lip. Maybe if she repeated that mantra enough times it would take care of the hollow feeling in her chest.

  The reception line passed in a daze. Janie fielded compliments on her dress from most of the Konigsburgers, along with a few piercing looks from those who still thought she was cheating on Otto. She also got some interested looks from the out-of-town guests, mostly the men but also a few wives. She ignored them all. She’d already decided the afternoon was going to be her one turn in the limelight, or rather in the light that reflected from Docia and Cal.

  Docia glowed, partly from joy and partly from irritation that she’d gotten stuck in the Cinderella dress in spite of her best efforts. Janie was so happy for her that her heart contracted every time Docia laughed.

  Happiness, she assured herself. That pain in her heart was happiness.

  The reception dinner was lavish—beef in some kind of elaborate sauce with an array of vegetables so tiny they might have been grown by gerbils. Janie ate almost none of it. She sat next to Cal, who had his own plate of seared sea bass, with Lars on her other side. Whatever they said was lost on her. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t even hear most of the time, given the orchestra sawing away in the background. Her stomach had rolled itself into a tight little ball.

  She drank water and avoided the champagne that everyone else was pouring down lustily. She had a feeling champagne would make her maudlin, and this was a joyous occasion. The only people who got to cry were Reba and Mrs. Toleffson, although Mrs. Toleffson looked thoroughly dry-eyed from where Janie sat.

  Allie’s cake was a marvel of engineering and imagination, cantilevered layers dripping with flowers and curlicues and filled with a butter cream that was guaranteed to raise a person’s cholesterol by twenty points. Even the groom’s cake was a spectacular concoction of carrots and pineapple and raisins and cream cheese. Janie was sure it would have tasted terrific if she’d been able to choke down a bite.

  After the last dish had been removed, Pete got to his feet, holding his champagne glass in front of him as the orchestra ground to a halt. “I’m supposed to make a toast, but I’m not much good at this.” He sighed. Everyone in the tent stared up at him expectantly.

  “To Docia and Cal.” He raised his glass. “May you have the kind of wonderful life together you both deserve.”

  All around her people raised their glasses, nodding and smiling. Janie gulped down a swallow of champagne, then pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to hold back the panic rising in her throat.

  What had she been going to say? She couldn’t remember her toast. She tottered to her feet, bracing one fist on the table in front of her, her champagne glass extended in the other.

  “Docia,” she said, her voice trembling, “you’re my best friend.”

  Docia looked up at her intently, her eyes suspiciously bright.

  “Cal—” Janie turned to him, “—you’re the nicest man I’ve ever met.”

  Cal stared at her, his forehead furrowing.

  “Here’s to you both.” Janie took a deep breath. “You make us all believe in the power of possibilities.” She took another gulp of champagne, managed a thin smile for the crowd, and sat abruptly.

  Lars put his hand on her shoulder. “That was beautiful, Janie. Are you okay?”

  Janie nodded, biting her lip. She really was okay. Really. Okay.

  “Janie.” Docia stepped behind her chair and hugged her again. “Oh, Janie.”

  Janie wanted to tell her to stop it, that she was tired of being hugged. But somehow her voice seemed to have deserted her. Somewhere in the background the orchestra was beginning to tune up again.

  “Oh god,” Docia moaned, “time for the dances.” She turned to Cal. “Did you tell your mother,
you’d be dancing with her?”

  “She’ll figure it out. Come on, babe, we get to lead off.” He grabbed Docia’s hand and turned toward the dance floor that had been set up in the adjoining tent.

  “Slow down,” Docia snapped. “I can hardly move in this getup as it is.” She gathered up a handful of chiffon and took a couple of teetering steps. Cal grinned and swept her up into his arms, carrying her toward the orchestra tent as she squealed.

  All around Janie, people moved toward the sounds of music. She sat staring at her now-empty champagne glass. She wasn’t sure just when she’d chugged the contents, but the champagne was undoubtedly all gone now.

  “Janie?”

  She looked up. Pete stood watching her. “You promised to dance with me, remember? That was a beautiful toast, by the way.”

  She blew out the breath she’d been holding. “Thanks. Yours was nice too.” She stared back at her glass again. Her brain was a little woozy all of sudden.

  “Dance?” He said again. His forehead was slightly creased.

  “Dance.” She nodded. “Sure, I can do that.” The afternoon sunlight reflected off the edge of her champagne glass as she stared, dazzling her.

  “Or we could go back inside the inn and see if we can find an empty bedroom,” Pete added casually.

  Janie stared up at him. His mouth was solemn, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Okay,” she murmured. “Let’s do that instead.”

  It only took three tries to locate an empty room that was also unlocked. Since Reba and Billy had reserved the entire Woodrose Inn, Pete figured they wouldn’t invade anyone’s privacy as long as he didn’t see anything in the room that reminded him of Reba. Late afternoon sunlight poured through the lace curtains, flickering shadows across the floor. The bed was king-size, fortunately. Pete locked the door behind them and threw on the deadbolt for good measure.

  Janie stood framed against the windows, her moonlight dress shimmering. She was wearing the most beautiful piece of clothing he’d ever seen, and he was going take it all off her anyway. He was a lust-crazed beast, and it didn’t bother him a bit.