Marriage Can Be Murder -- Every Wife Has A Story (A Carol and Jim Andrews Baby Boomer Mystery)

by Susan Santangelo

  She rummaged in her briefcase. “Here’s a high-speed ferry schedule,” she said, handing a brochure to Jenny. “I advise you to call and make a reservation for this coming weekend right away. And while you’re at it, make reservations for Stroll weekend, too. The fast ferry books up quickly. Text me with your plans.”

  She stood up gave Jenny a little hug.

  “See you on Nantucket.”

  I was feeling dazed at how fast this wedding planning was progressing. If I was completely honest with myself (something I don’t do that often – reality is definitely overrated), part of the reason was that I wasn’t running the show.

  In case I haven’t made that crystal clear, let me say that I Always Run The Show. Sort of. Or at least have input into running the show.

  Whatever.

  How was I going to talk Jim into leaving for a Nantucket getaway in just a few days? Jim is a planner. And a bargain shopper extraordinaire. The term spontaneity was not in his vocabulary.

  But this was for Jenny, I reminded myself. I knew he’d do anything to make her happy.

  Nancy gave Jenny and me quick smooches and headed off in another direction – toward the dessert station, I think. I was relieved to get rid of her. I know that sounds harsh, but it was true. Especially if she figured out that Tiffani the Cinderella Wedding Planner was also Tiffani the Home Wrecker. I couldn’t deal with her drama on top of my own.

  Jenny grabbed my arm and pulled me into a corner. “All right, Mom. What’s going on? Why are you hiding Tiffani’s real name?”

  I took a few minutes to bring Jenny up to speed on Nancy’s woes, finishing with, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just didn’t want to spoil your wedding dreams. These things happen. But, thank God, not to us.”

  So far, anyway.

  “Now I get it, Mom. This is weird. But there’s no reason why Nancy will find out who Tiffani really is. I mean, it’s not like she’ll be going to Nantucket with us.”

  Jenny narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t invite her, did you?”

  “I don’t have to invite her,” I said. “She may just show up. Just like she did today. After all,” I said in defense of my best friend, “she’s going through a terrible time, and she thinks of you as a daughter. Mary Alice and Claire do, too. Remember, you were the first girl born in our happy little group. As a matter of fact, you were the first baby, period.”

  Jenny sighed. “I’m going to think positive thoughts. And concentrate on Mark. I’m so lucky to be marrying him. I never thought when we were sitting side by side in grammar school that we’d end up a married couple someday.”

  She grabbed my hand. “Come on, Mom. Let’s check out some of these vendor booths, and then find Dad and Mark.”

  By the time we had made the complete circle of the wedding show, another hour had passed. Jenny and I had sampled wedding cakes, wedding cupcakes (the new craze, I’m told), custom-made wedding cocktails (that’s a signature drink made just for one particular couple), and a wide assortment of hors d’oeuvres and appetizers. The last, I was assured by many wedding caterers, was guaranteed to please any impatient guest who’s waiting for the bridal party’s photography session to end. In fact, I also learned that some brides and grooms these days offer “heavy” hors d’oeuvres, and when the guests are full, skip right to dessert. I wasn’t sure Jim would go for that – he’s a meat and potatoes kind of guy – but it was something to think about.

  We talked to florists, makeup artists and hairdressers (with apologies to Deanna, who didn’t have a booth at the show). Strolling musicians. Pianists and jazz quartets. Dance bands. Dee-jays. Limo companies. Dentists who specialized in cosmetic procedures (I couldn’t believe that one). Photographers. Videographers.

  When I asked one videographer who was extolling the necessity of his services if couples could put their wedding video on a pay-per-view television channel and make a few bucks, I earned a dirty look from my darling daughter. “It’s a way to share the wedding with people who can’t attend, Mom,” she said. “And a way to remember the details of the wedding after it’s over. Not a way to make extra money. You should have figured that out.”

  Hmm. Well, yes. I had to admit that made sense. But I was only making a joke.

  Part of me wondered why we were bothering checking out all these vendors when Jenny and Mark were firm on wanting a small wedding. But I do hate to miss anything, and we were here already, so what the heck?

  And, of course, we checked out tux stores and bridal gown stores. The choice of gowns was completely overwhelming. There were so many styles to pick from, I couldn’t see how Jenny would narrow down the choice.

  “Jenny, these are all so beautiful and you’d look gorgeous in any one of them. I never realized there are other color choices besides white,” I said, rummaging through one of the racks. “Look, there’s ivory, blush… my gosh, is that one red?”

  “I have a plan,” Jenny said. “Don’t worry.” I raised my eyebrows.

  “It’s called a budget. Mark and I have discussed this, and we both agree that it’s silly to spend thousands of dollars on a dress I’ll only wear once. I’m hoping to find a gown from the sample rack. They’re a lot cheaper.”

  “Dad and I don’t want you to scrimp on something this important. We’ll pay for you to get exactly what you want. No arguments.”

  Jenny dragged me over to another rack where more gowns were displayed. “Check out this price tag, Mom. Then you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

  I read the tag twice. “This one says seven-thousand dollars. That’s outrageous. It must be a typo.”

  “No typo, Mom. Some people don’t bat any eye about spending that much on a wedding gown. We think it’s ridiculous.

  “Don’t worry, though. You’ll be an important part of my dress decision, and I promise not to walk down the aisle in a gunny sack to save money.

  “Now, let’s go find the guys and get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

  Chapter 11

  Who are all these tacky people, and who invited them to my party?

  “Now that you’ve seen all the things that go into planning a wedding these days, do you understand why we hired a professional planner?” Jenny asked me.

  “Can you imagine dealing with all those details, especially for a destination wedding? We’d go crazy. It’s a rotten coincidence that our wedding planner is involved with Nancy’s husband, but there’s nothing we can do about that. Tiffani is very good at her job, and right now her job is planning our wedding. Her personal life is her own business. Ok, Mom?”

  My mouth was full of delicious take-out from Seafood Sandy’s, my favorite Fairport fish restaurant, so all I could do was nod my head in agreement. I often hate it when someone else is right, but this time, I couldn’t argue. Because my sensible daughter was, well, making sense.

  It was Saturday night. Mark, Jenny, Jim and I were gathered around the center of the Andrews house, the kitchen table, decompressing from all we had seen at the bridal show and enjoying a delicious meal that I didn’t cook. Lucy and Ethel snoozed contentedly at my feet. (I always feed them first, so they don’t beg at the table.)

  “I thought the show was fun,” said Jim, taking a break from devouring his fisherman’s platter to add his opinion. “I didn’t expect to enjoy myself as much as I did. Right, Mark?” he said, giving his son-in-law-to-be a slap on the back.

  Mark reddened. “Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you talked to the wedding planner,” he said to Jenny. “I feel like I let you down.”

  “Where were you two all afternoon, anyway?” I asked Jim. “Jenny and I circled the ballroom a few times and couldn’t find you.”

  To my surprise, Jim blushed, too. “There was a lingerie fashion show we checked out,” he mumbled, his mouth full of food.

  “What?” Jenny and I both said at the same time.

  With the aplomb of someone who’s spent years in public relations, Jim attempted to put a positiv
e spin on his confession.

  “We knew you two would never have the time to see everything at the show,” Jim said. “We were sitting at the bar sampling champagne when someone from Cinderella Weddings came in and announced there was a fashion show starting in the next room.”

  “We didn’t know what kind it was until we got there,” Mark said. “And once we got there, well…”

  Humph.

  “Did you buy me anything?” Jenny asked.

  “You’ll have to wait and see,” Mark shot back with a grin.

  All righty, then. Time to move things along. In my usual organized way, I had prepared an agenda for this dinner meeting.

  “Now that we’ve been to a bridal show and met with the wedding planner, I think we all have a good idea of what’s involved in putting an event together. Of course,” I frowned, “we have the time crunch as well as the destination issue. Even Tiffani thought those were a bit of a challenge.”

  “But she said she could handle it, Mom,” Jenny said, putting her hand over Mark’s. “And we both want to be married on Nantucket during the Stroll weekend. Right, Mark?”

  He nodded vigorously. “Whatever you want, Jenny.”

  “Ok,” I continued in my best take-charge voice, “Tiffani wants us to go to Nantucket this coming weekend and settle some logistics.” I looked at Mark over my bifocals. “Will that work for you?”

  “I already put in for three days off,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

  Jenny beamed at him. Ah, young love.

  “Tiffani e-mailed me later today, Mom. She went ahead and made reservations for us to stay at the Grey Gull Inn. It’s right in the center of town, and one of the locations that might work for the wedding. She thought that if we all stayed there for a few days, we could get the feel of the place and meet the staff. But we’d look at other places, too. I really want to check out the Whaling Museum. That’s our number one venue choice.”

  I made a note to check out the Grey Gull Inn webpage. I was sure Jim would want to know their rates in advance. And if they were running any specials.

  “What about Mike and Marlee?” Jim asked. “They’re part of this wedding, too. Are they coming to Nantucket with us?”

  “I’m sure they’ll want to join us,” I said. “Let’s call them right now.” I was getting excited. The chance to be on Nantucket – one of my favorite places in all the world – with my favorite people, planning a dream wedding was, well, a dream come true for me. And I don’t care if that sounds hokey. Or redundant.

  Jenny took the phone out of my hand. “It’s all set, Mom,” she told me. “I forwarded Tiffani’s e-mail to them as soon as I got it and asked them to come. Mike responded immediately that they’d be there. He said Marlee was really looking forward to getting to know all of us better. Isn’t that terrific?”

  “Terrific,” I said, ignoring the fact that I wanted to be the one to invite them.

  Grow up, Carol. The kids are running this show, remember?

  I allowed myself a dainty sip of white wine before getting to the next item on my agenda. But Jim beat me to the punch.

  “Just how many people are you planning on inviting to the wedding?” he asked Mark and Jenny.

  I chimed in. Well, it was the next item on my agenda. “I know you’ve both said you wanted a small wedding, but have you given any thought at all to a guest list? I mean, there are some people that absolutely have to be invited.” I didn’t want to state the obvious ones: Nancy, Claire and Larry, and Mary Alice. (Not Bob, of course. He’d be, ahem, busy with the wedding planner.) But they were, after all, my friends. (Jim’s too, of course.) Maybe the kids wouldn’t want them there. Despite the fact that they’d all changed Jenny’s diapers back in the day.

  Jenny looked at Mark who, on cue, handed her a piece of paper. “We’ve gone round and round about this. We’ve decided to limit our guests to the immediate family. I have no idea about Mike and Marlee’s list, though.” She shoved the list toward me.

  Jim moved his chair close to me so he could peer at the list over my shoulder. It was a short list. Jim, me, and the two bridal couples. Mark’s father. That was it.

  “There are lots of other people who should be invited,” Jim said. “Tom Freemont, the editor of The Fairport News, and his wife Pat, for instance.”

  “And what about all our neighbors, Jenny?” I asked. “Most of them have known you since you were a toddler. And Nancy, and Mary Alice, and Claire and Larry? How can we not include them?”

  Jenny fixed me with a stare that reminded me of my own. “That’s exactly the point, Mom. Our wedding is not about people who should be invited. It’s about being surrounded by the people we really care about. And who really care about us.”

  I wanted to remind Jenny about how much she and Mike had relied on my friends over the years. How they’d been like additional parents. And that they all really cared about her and her brother.

  But I didn’t. I kept my big mouth shut and reminded myself for the umpteenth time that this was the kids’ wedding. They were calling the shots.

  If you don’t think that was hard for me, think again.

  “I can tell by your face that you’re not happy about this, Mom,” Jenny said.

  “We could always have a family party here after the wedding, Carol, and invite all our friends to come and celebrate the happy couples,” Jim suggested in an attempt to restore harmony.

  I had to admit, that was a good idea. Plus, we could combine it with our annual Christmas party.

  I’d mull that idea over later. After I came to terms with how little Jim and I (ok, I) had to say about this wedding.

  “Mom,” Jenny pleaded, “please don’t be upset that we want to keep the wedding so small. Maybe if I tell you what happened to me at a wedding I went to with my old boyfriend, Jeff, in California two years ago, you’ll understand why I…I mean, we...feel so strongly about this. It may even make you laugh.”

  I smiled a little. “Go ahead, Jenny. I could use a laugh right now.” Jenny relaxed in her chair. “Well, you and Dad both remember what a control freak Jeff was, right?” she asked us. She shot a quick glance at her fiancé. “I hope you don’t mind my talking about my old boyfriend, Mark.”

  Mark grinned. “I don’t mind at all. Talking about him makes me look even better to you.”

  “Jeff was a junior associate in his law firm then,” Jenny continued, “and he really wanted a promotion. So when the senior partner’s daughter was getting married, he wangled us an invitation. I was so nervous. We went to this posh hotel with all these bigwigs from the firm and their ultra-rich wives. I didn’t know a soul, but I tried to make the best of it. Jeff had given me strict instructions to mingle, and talk to as many people as possible. Especially about him. What a jerk.”

  My maternal instinct immediately kicked in. “Honey, what a terrible situation for Jeff to put you in.”

  Jim echoed me. “I never liked him,” he said. That wasn’t the way I remembered things, but in the interest of family harmony, I let his remark pass without one of my usual snappy comebacks.

  “Anyway, I walked around the room a few times, smiled at a few people, said hi, and made a real effort. But I was very uncomfortable. I decided that holding a glass of wine would give me something to do with my hands and make me feel less self-conscious, so I went outside to the bar to get a drink. I came back to the reception by a different entrance. There was an empty chair at a table near the door, so I sat down and introduced myself. I was amazed at how friendly the people at this table were to me, compared to the ones I’d met before.”

  She paused dramatically. “Here comes the punch line now. Jeff came to find me about half an hour later, and it turned out I was at the wrong wedding. The wedding I was supposed to be at was in the next room. And most of the guests were a bunch of stuffy people who had absolutely no connection with the bride and groom. They were business associates and clients of the bride’s father.

  “I made up
my mind right then that if I ever got married, I didn’t want my wedding to be like that. The only people who’d share in this special day were the ones who meant the most to me.”

  She looked at Mark. “To us.”

  To his credit, Mark jumped in to support his bride. “Keeping the wedding small is just as important to me as it is to Jenny,” he said. “It’s hard for me to talk about this, but the last time I was engaged,” he grimaced a little at the memory, “Patti’s mom was way over the top with the planning. It was a huge event, with no expense spared. Kind of like what you’d see on a reality television show. The guest list was more than four hundred people. Patti and I didn’t even know most of them. And when I wanted to invite a few of my college buddies, her mom and dad said they couldn’t afford to include any more people.

  “I should have stood up for myself right then and there, but I didn’t.” Jenny covered his hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “Then, the night before the wedding, Patti didn’t show up for the rehearsal. At first, I thought she was just late. She never was on time for anything. We all stood around the church for an hour waiting for her. Finally, a messenger arrived with a note for me saying she couldn’t go through with the wedding. That she was sorry, but it wasn’t going to work. I never felt so stupid in my life.”

  Wow. I knew Mark had been through a bad experience, but he’d never shared the details with Jim and me before.

  After hearing what Jenny and Mark had gone through, I felt petty. Small-minded. Selfish. Controlling.

  I vowed to be the most supportive parent any wedding couple could ask for. From that moment on.

  No matter what.

  Chapter 12

  You’ll always be my best friend. You know too much about me.

  I admit it. Sometimes my mouth has a mind of its own. If you’ve been hanging out with me a while, this will make perfect sense to you. If you haven’t, well, stick around for a few more chapters and you’ll figure it out.