Rock Solid

by Lisa A. Olech

  “Take it easy there, M&M. You’re entering three days of open bar. Pace yourself.”

  She bumped him with her hip. “I’ll behave. Don’t worry about me. Is Cynthia’s Grandma Winnie still trying to pinch your ass?” Em tweaked his side and remembered he was ticklish.

  Jeremy jerked away. “Stop it! I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You haven’t been dragged around for the last week. Golf, a stag luncheon, brandies, and cigars with Daddy and the senior Weatherby’s. They even took me skeet shooting.”

  “How’d that go?”

  He shrugged. “The skeets won.”

  Em laughed. “I’m sorry. Cheer up, by this time tomorrow you’ll be Mr. Cynthia Weatherby.”

  “Very funny.” Checking his watch, he sighed. “I thought this thing was supposed to start half an hour ago.”

  Em peeked over her shoulder toward the door. “I think we’re waiting for the minister.”

  Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Great. Oh, I forgot to tell you—”

  “Let me guess, the Reverend broke his what’sis and you need me to fill in.”

  “No, smart ass. Cynthia’s Uncle Lester is anxious to meet you.”

  It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Do I want to know why?”

  “He wants to talk to you about your art. Lester’s life partner, Phillip, is a huge Vega fan and somewhere along the way your name came up. They asked me about you, and I told them how great you are. They want to meet you.”

  Emily groaned.

  “It’s not as bad as all that. They’re great guys. Huge art collectors. They were very impressed when I showed them your pictures.”

  She frowned. Jeremy didn’t have any photographs of her work, did he? “What pictures?”

  He flipped a hand over his shoulder. “The ones from the show you did. A while ago.”

  “From high school?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.” He nodded.

  Em gasped. “You’re kidding, right?”

  A ruddy cheeked man clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry I’m late. We need to move this along if we could. Ladies, could you please go line up in the foyer? Gentlemen, I’m going to position you at the altar first and describe your ushering duties later. Jeremy, can you come with me?”

  Emily leaned close to Jeremy’s ear and growled, “Remind me to kill you later.”

  “You can’t kill me. I’m the groom.”

  The rehearsal lasted more than an hour. How difficult was it to step, pause, step, pause? The flower girl had a meltdown because she couldn’t wear her princess gown and glittery pink shoes NOW. The three-year old ring bearer flung the white, ribboned pillow like a Frisbee and threw himself face first onto the aisle. After he crawled into a pew to lie along the kneelers, the Reverend suggested the “real” rings be held by the best man. Just in case.

  Three of the groomsmen had pre-gamed the rehearsal and were already way past drunk and obnoxious, and the mother of the bride might or might not have taken one too many Valium. Was it time to send in the clowns?

  Dinner afterward was a lovely three-hour affair with speech after speech dedicated to the lovely couple. Emily didn’t have to kill Jeremy, this wedding would do it for her.

  Making her way back to the party after escaping into the ladies’ room, two handsome older gentlemen stopped her as she passed the bar.

  The first man was fit, tanned and silver haired. His eyes were blue blue blue. “You’re Emily Baskins, am I right?”

  “Yes, I am, and I’m guessing you’re Cynthia’s Uncle Lester.”

  “I am. Lester Grimm. I’m delighted to meet you. This is my partner, Phillip Bosworth. We’ve heard so much about you.”

  Phillip stood shorter than Lester, but had a similar build.

  Emily shook their hands. “Yes, Jeremy mentioned he talked to you.”

  “We chewed the boy’s ear off at dinner the other night. We heard you’re an artist. We’re such art snobs, but we love discovering fresh new talent. Jeremy’s very complimentary of your work.”

  Phillip asked, “Do you really work at Vega Studio?”

  “Yes, I’m interning there this summer.”

  “His work is intense. We love him.” Phillip gushed like a fan.

  Emily smiled at his enthusiasm. I love him too. “His work is very powerful.”

  Lester bobbed his head in agreement. “I understand he’s quite demanding of his artists. If you’re part of his studio, he must think highly of your work. We saw a few photos. They looked ancient, however. We’d love to see some of your newer work. Would that be possible?”

  “I think I can arrange that.”

  Phillip raised an eyebrow at Lester and the two exchanged a quick smile. “We have a dear friend, Margo Abbot, who puts together a small show every season down in Cohasset to showcase upcoming artists. We’d be happy to pass your name along.”

  “That’s very nice of you. I’d appreciate that. I might be able to show you some recent work right now. I don’t travel with my professional portfolio, but I always have my sketchbook with me. I believe I have a few photos tucked in there. It’s out in my car.”

  “Oh, how wonderful.”

  The three drunken groomsmen were heading in their direction. Emily had already heard enough about how one had thrown up in the bushes behind the church but was getting his second wind. “I’ll run and get those. Be right back.”

  When she brought the half dozen prints back, Lester and Phillip became even more animated. “We have to show these to Margo.”

  “I have copies. You can keep those if you’d like.” Emily flipped one over. “My name and contact information is on the back.”

  Phillip grabbed Lester’s arm. “Where’s the closest fax machine?”

  Lester laid them out on the nearest table. “Take a picture of them with your phone. We can text them to her.”

  “What a good idea. You’re so techno savvy.” Phillip hugged Emily. “I’m very excited. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear from her.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  At eight the next morning, Trixie’s Pixies was a beehive of activity. It was all hands on deck. Cynthia, her mother, Grandma Winnie, twelve bridesmaids and the flower girl were all in line for hair and makeup. Trixie had supplied pastries, juice, bottled water and several bottles of champagne to serve her clients. It was lovely. The shop looked great. Trixie had outdone herself.

  Cynthia was frightfully pale in her glittery “Here Comes the Bride” sweats, but she was putting on a brave face. Suzanne did her hair first. A photographer was busy capturing every curl of every eyelash. The wedding of Senator Weatherby’s only daughter was sure to be the lead story on tomorrow’s society page.

  Bridget was in charge of doing the bride’s makeup. Trixie teased Grandma Winnie’s hair, and Angel was on Bridesmaid Number Two when Emily dropped into Suzanne’s chair.

  “How you holding up?” Suzanne rubbed Em’s shoulder.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Does the dress fit?”

  Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t had time to try it on.”

  “What? What if it’s horrible?”

  “What difference does it make?” Em swept the room with a hand. “Look around. Fit or not, I’m going to look like the poor adopted second cousin.”

  Suzanne stood behind the chair and fluffed Em’s hair. “Nonsense. I’m going to make you gorgeous.”

  The bells over the door rang, and a delivery man armed with what appeared to be three dozen white, long-stemmed roses came into the shop. “I have a delivery for…” he checked his notes, “Miss Cynthia Weatherby?”

  The photographer went wild. Her flash blinded the poor guy.

  “Over here, over here!” bridesmaids chirped.

  Cynthia raised her hand. The man handed her the beautifully wrapped bouquet tied with a wide silver ribbon before adding a small wrapped box to the delivery. “I’m to give this to you as well. Have a nice day, and
congratulations.”

  She read the card on the flowers, but everyone knew who they were from. “Today you’ll make me the happiest man on earth. J.” The entire room of women breathed one collective swoon. Cynthia started to cry.

  “Open the box!” “What’s in the box?” “Oh, dear, isn’t he the sweetest…” “Rip the paper!” “Show us!” “He’s so romantic!” The group gasped as Cynthia cracked the lid of the small blue box, held up a stunning pair of diamond drop earrings, and proceeded to ruin her perfectly applied makeup.

  “Shit.” Suzanne swore behind Emily and squeezed her arm.

  Emily grinned at her in the mirror. “I know. Bridget’s going to have to clean her up and start all over.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. This must be killing you.”

  Em caught her mother watching her too, with a pitiful expression. “I’m fine. Stop it. Just do something with my hair and let me get out of here.”

  “I bet if Trixie knew about a certain someone, she wouldn’t be feeling so miserable for you right now.”

  “B.B.B. You pinkie swore!”

  Suzanne whispered, “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Good. Don’t.”

  She spun the chair around so Emily couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror and grabbed a small barreled curling iron.

  “What’s that for?”

  Suzanne gave her a snarky smile. “It’s my magic wand. Sit back and relax. This won’t hurt a bit.”

  All around Emily, hairdos were upped, cheeks were blushed, mink bits were glued to eyelids. Bridget had finished with the bride, and Cynthia was beautiful. Her makeup was flawless once more. Bridget had pinned tiny crystals into her hair. Cyn wore her new earrings and looked every bit the bride. Glowing. She was glowing.

  Grandma Winnie walked past Suzanne’s chair and patted Em’s hand. “Very pretty.”

  Emily peeked back at Suzanne. “Winnie thinks I’m pretty? What are you doing up there? It’s taking you forever. I don’t have that much hair.”

  “Will you stop fussing at me and let me work.” Suzanne doused her in hairspray. “I’m ready to work on your face next.”

  Em’s makeup didn’t take long at all. Suzanne promised no smoky eyes or contoured cheeks. A little eyeliner here and some mascara there. Putting a simple rose gloss on her lips, she handed Emily the tube. “Here, you’ll need to reapply later.”

  “Thanks. Am I done?” Emily tried to look at the mirror.

  Suzanne held Em’s chin and looked over her face in a final appraisal. “Yes, you’re done. Jeez, you’d think I was torturing you.”

  “You are.”

  Suzanne turned the chair.

  “Nice.” Emily leaned closer to the mirror. “Very nice. You’re a miracle worker.” Emily’s hair swept back and up slightly on the sides. Somehow Suzanne had created a soft piece-y texture and half curls on the top with several pale tips brushing one cheek. The bridesmaid mandatory pink crystal heart hair clip graced the other side. What were truly astounding were Emily’s eyes. “What did you do to my eyes?”

  “You hate it.” Suzanne sighed and placed her hands on her hips.

  “No, I like it.” Emily peered at her reflection. “Is that glitter?”

  “Yes. Don’t panic. The light plum eye shadow I used had a tiny hint of shimmer, but the color brings out the green in your eyes.”

  “It sure does. They look really green.”

  Suzanne held her hands palm up. “Hello? Behold the wonders of makeup.”

  Em puckered her mouth. “I like the lips too. This shade should complement the dress quite well.”

  “She likes it, she really likes it. I may faint.”

  Trixie came up behind her. “Nice job, Suz. Em, you’re lovely.” She looked around the room. “You’re all lovely. I’m sorry I’m not going to see you walk down the aisle.”

  The photographer took that moment to snap a picture of Emily and blinded her with the flash. “Son of a—! There’ll be pictures, Ma. Eight million pictures.”

  ****

  Emily had never observed the use of so many pushup bras, pantyhose and industrial strength undergarments in all her life. Thirteen women trying to get dressed in the same hotel suite resembled something akin to twenty raccoons fighting in a gym bag, but once they’d all figured out whose shoes were whose and zipped each other up, they all looked great.

  Bracing herself, Emily stepped into her gown and slid it over her hips. The length seemed right. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. One of the other girls came over to do her zipper. Em held her breath. Here goes nothing. The zipper went up. Oh my God. The dress fit. Holy cow, did it fit. Like a pink “evening blush” glove. It hugged her hips and nipped in at the waist. She had a shape. The top gave her a little lift and showed a hint of actual cleavage.

  “Wow, Emily, you look so pretty.”

  Em spun around. Cynthia stood behind her. The maid of honor fussed with her veil.

  Cynthia was a bride wearing the princess gown of every little girl’s dreams. The beaded bodice and frothy skirt dusted with crystals was made for her. She looked like she’d stepped out of the pages of a fairy tale. “Oh, Cynthia…look at you.”

  “Do you think he’ll like it?” Cynthia plucked at her skirts.

  “You’ll knock him out.”

  Cynthia squeezed her hands and gave her a watery smile. “I’m a nervous wreck.”

  “Don’t be.”

  Cynthia’s tears were contagious and three bridesmaids and her mother started sniffing behind her.

  “Stop it. You have nothing to sniffle about. Didn’t you hear, you’re making him the happiest man on earth.”

  The bride gave her a hug. “Thank you for that. Thank you for being here. It means a lot to Jeremy to have you in the wedding, and it means even more to me.”

  Emily smoothed the front of her skirt. “Who knew ‘evening blush’ was my color?” She dabbed at the corner of Cynthia’s eyes. “You’re getting a really great guy.”

  “I know I am.” She held her hand. “Will you do me one more favor?”

  Emily fluffed the sides of her veil. “Sure, name it.”

  “Will you go check on him for me?” She handed Em an envelope. “Give him this?”

  Emily looked at the swirly words “To Jeremy, my love” and nodded. “I’ll see he gets it.”

  The men were dressing on the next floor up. When she knocked on the door, it was answered by one of the drunken three. He only wore boxers. “Whoa, what do we have here? Hey, guys, look at this. We’ve got a defector from the other team.”

  Emily put a hand in the middle of his chest and shoved. “Move aside, idiot. I’m here on a mission from the bride.”

  “Of course, your highness.” He bowed as she passed.

  The men’s suite smelled like a cross between a brewery and a gym sock. Garment bags with the rental shops tags were thrown over chair backs and the bed. None of the men seemed in too big a hurry to get dressed even though the limo was supposed to be taking them to the church in less than an hour.

  Emily scanned the room. No Jeremy. “Where’s the groom, guys?”

  “Oh, he’s in there.” One of them pointed to a closed door. “I think he’s practicing his vows or something.”

  “Or he’s still puking,” said another.

  Oh jeez. Emily tapped on the door. “Jeremy? It’s Em. Can I come in?”

  “Come on in.”

  Emily slipped into the bedroom. Jeremy sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in the darkened room, breathing into a paper bag.

  “Oh, sweetie, what are you doing?”

  “What—does it look like I’m doing? I’m hyper—hyperventilating.”

  Oh jeez! Em opened the drapes and sat beside him rubbing his back. “It’s going to be okay. Take nice, deep breaths.”

  “How’s Cyn?” The brown paper sack crinkled in and out.

  “Right at the moment, better than you.” She kept rubbing his back. “Want to tell me what’
s going on?”

  “I’m getting married in less than two hours.” His voice was muffled.

  “Hence, me in a pink dress.”

  Jeremy stopped freaking out for a second to look at her. He lowered the paper bag from his mouth. “Ems…You’re beautiful.”

  “If you think I’m something, wait until you get a load of your soon-to-be wife.”

  He looked at her like she’d just promised him a puppy and a new bike. “Really?”

  “She’s going to knock your socks off.”

  The paper bag was back. He was shaking his head. “I’m never going to make it.”

  “Sure you are. Why are you so worked up?”

  “I’m not good enough for her, Ems. I’ve spent this last week surrounded by the legacy that is Weatherby. These are wealthy, powerful people who expect me to keep Cynthia in that lifestyle. I’m a poor kid from New Hampshire. I’m doing okay for myself, but I can’t compete with that.”

  “Who’s asking you to—Cynthia?”

  “No, of course not. Cyn’s not like that.”

  Emily brought him a glass of water from the bathroom. “Then who’s pressuring you?”

  “No one’s pressuring me, exactly, it’s this unspoken thing.” Jeremy waved a hand and took a drink.

  “Sounds like it’s you creating all this pressure.”

  “Cynthia is special, Ems. Maybe she deserves better.”

  Emily put her hand on his shoulder “There is no one better than you. There’s only one thing she needs and you’ve already given it to her.” She sat beside him again and nudged him with her shoulder.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your whole heart.”

  Jeremy looked at her and heaved a deep sigh. “She does have my heart.”

  “And don’t ask me why, because you can be a royal pain in the ass, but she’s crazy about you, too.” Emily held up the envelope. “She wanted me to give this to you.”

  Jeremy took the envelope and stared at the message on the outside. He flipped it over and popped the flap. Emily laid a hand over his and stood. “If you’re okay, I’ll leave you to read that in private.”

  “I think I’m going to be fine now, thanks to you.”