by Jean Stone
But a wedding with eighteen attendants?
If Lily married Frank she wouldn’t have that many attendants, because Lily didn’t have many friends. Jo, Elaine, and Sarah kept her quite busy enough, when they were around.
Lily stood and welcomed the young woman. “We can handle anything,” she said, not knowing if it was true. If the others didn’t like it, it would serve them right for leaving her in charge. It would serve Sarah right for going over to the meadow to test the Gilberts’ daisies; it would serve Elaine right for going next door to work on early food preparations; it would serve Jo and Andrew right for going to get their marriage license because, unlike Lily, they had no reason not to.
She guided Teri Higgins to the navy chairs and they both sat.
“I’m Lily Beckwith,” she said. “My partners aren’t here right now, but I’m sure I can help you. Now, what’s this about eighteen attendants?”
Teri Higgins smiled. Her hair was simple and straight; her eyes were large and a nice shade of blue. Her face was scrubbed clean, its pinkness seemed quite natural. Lily stopped herself from squinting to determine how simply gorgeous she would look if she could spend a day gussying up at Laurel Lake Spa.
“I’m the kindergarten teacher at West Hope Elementary,” Teri said.
Which, Lily supposed, would account for why she hadn’t gone to Laurel Lake: She couldn’t possibly have the time, let alone the cash. Hopefully the man she would be marrying could pay for Second Chances services.
“I was married when I first got out of high school,” Teri continued. “I was divorced six months later. I hope that qualifies me as a second-time bride, because I really need your help.”
“Well,” Lily said, “yes, of course. Though we really don’t ask for credentials. We like to think our business is more for mature brides than about the number of husbands under their belts.”
Teri scowled a little.
“Mature,” Lily said, “you know, over twenty-one.” She twisted one of her blond curls and wondered if the woman would recognize her comment as a joke.
“Then I certainly qualify,” Teri said with a half smile. “I’m marrying Joe Daley,” Teri continued. “He’s the fifth-grade science teacher. So it’s all right that this is his first wedding?”
Did teachers make more in fifth grade than in kindergarten? “It’s fine,” Lily replied. “But you do know our services aren’t cheap?”
Teri lowered her eyes. “I hoped we could work something out. When you hear the rest of my story.”
Lily blanched. Did the woman want a wedding free of charge? She checked her watch. She might as well listen, she supposed. There was nothing else to do. “Why don’t you tell me about your eighteen attendants,” Lily said. “I guess we should start with that.”
The young woman brightened. “They’re my students this year. I hope it will be okay. They’re only five, you know.”
If she’d been drinking wine or tea, Lily supposed she would have sprayed it across the elegant showroom. Did she mean five years old? Eighteen five-year-olds in a wedding? One flower girl and one ring bearer often stretched the bounds of what was tolerable. But Lily didn’t flinch. “Do you mean the attendants you’ve selected are only five years old?”
“Yes. Except the Dudley twins. They’re six. They were adopted by Hannah and Ray Dudley. The twins are from Russia.”
This was way more information than Lily could digest. She pressed her fingers to her temples; she felt a headache coming on.
“When do you want to get married?” Lily asked, hoping that by the wedding date the kids would at least be six, the Dudleys, seven.
“This spring. Actually, we’ve picked the first weekend of June.”
“This June?” Her words squeaked out. Didn’t the teacher know that June was only weeks away? Of course, Lily could not say yes. The first weekend of June simply was too soon. They were too booked between now and then, and Jo and Andrew’s wedding would be the week before….
“From what I understand,” Teri said, “it’s one of only two weekends each year that Tanglewood allows weddings.”
Tanglewood? Now she wanted Tanglewood? Lily was about to laugh when the woman said, “It’s because of one of the children. Tiffany Lupek. Tiffany had leukemia.”
Lily felt the blood drain from her face. A five-year-old with leukemia. A bride without money.
“Ever since I told the kids I was engaged,” Teri went on, “Tiffany had said she wants to see me as a bride. I’d like to give her this happy memory for when she’s in the hospital, when she needs a pick-me-up. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
For maybe the first time ever, Lily felt she’d been rendered speechless. Even overworked Sarah or all-business Jo wouldn’t turn down this request, would they? She considered banging on the wall to ask Elaine’s opinion but decided that would look unprofessional.
“Well,” Lily said, “I’m not sure we can work it out, but I can ask around. Check the venue. Talk with my partners.” She knew that Frank “knew people” at Tanglewood. She knew he was “connected” to most people in the Berkshires, because he was a good guy, he was one of them. She felt a tug of envy for the venerable life he’d had while she’d been merely playing at being a grown-up, never having done much of anything for anyone. She smiled at Teri Higgins. “I’ll do my best.”
The young woman returned the smile. “It would be so wonderful. But without your help, I’m sure I couldn’t do it. Eighteen five-year-old attendants would be far too much to handle on my own.”
Yes, well, Lily could understand that. She could not imagine handling one five-year-old, let alone a squadron. There were reasons why there had been no children from any of her three marriages. She’d told her husbands that she couldn’t stand any little darling under the age of eighteen. She never admitted it was because she was too scared of being a mother, too frightened of building a perfect little family, only to have it disappear, go poof, in a single moment when a drunk driver met it head-on. There had only been one substitute for children—a noisy, sulfur-crested cockatoo in Lily’s second marriage. Thankfully, when husband number two returned home to Mama, Tweety went with him.
She thought about Frank’s ex-wife, how she’d walked out before they’d had any kids. He would have been a great father; he had such a patient, gentle nature. “You’re not like Sondra, are you?” his mother had asked.
Lily quickly cleared her throat, wondering why on earth she was thinking about all that right now.
“Now, about your fee…” Teri continued, but Lily waved her hand.
“We’ll talk about that later too. If we can make this work.”
They would not charge her, of course. How could they? The others might be annoyed, but Lily could cover the costs from her allowance.
The pair stood up and Lily shook Teri Higgins’s hand. But it wasn’t until the kindergarten teacher had left the shop that Lily realized this wedding could help her procrastinate another week, help her turn her life into a whirlwind, so she wouldn’t have to deal.
The children are keeping me so busy, she’d say to Frank if he pressed her for an answer to his proposal.
Eighteen fittings!
Imagine that!
9
Tiffany Lupek has leukemia. How could I say no?”
A moment ago, Lily had stood head-to-shoulder next to Sarah (Sarah was so much taller, with black hair to Lily’s blond, the two like salt and pepper, pale face and Cherokee). They had stood and oohed and ahhed over Jo and Andrew’s marriage license, the paper that now certified they could be man and wife.
When the oohs and ahhs were done, Lily had told them about Teri Higgins and her requests. Now the three of them had turned to Lily, each with a cheerless look that said it was too late in the day for one of Lily’s pranks.
“Well,” Lily repeated, “how could I say no?”
“She’s not kidding,” Andrew said.
“Oy,” Sarah said, as if she were Jewish and not half Native American.
“But we’re so busy, Lily,” Jo said.
“And you’re talking about the week after our wedding,” Andrew added, waving the license once again as if it proved they couldn’t possibly comply.
If Elaine were there instead of preparing the decorations for the daisy wedding cake, maybe at least she would have stuck up for Lily. “Well, I said we’d try to make it happen, so I guess it’s up to me. Not that any of you cares, but I’ve already decided to donate all our time. I’ll pay the expenses out of my own pocket.” It wouldn’t be the first time Lily footed the bill.
None of them took her bait, none jumped in and said, Oh, Lily, that’s okay. We’ll do it together.
She jumped off the corner of Jo’s desk where she’d been perched and said, “In fact, I can get started right now. I’ll find Frank and have him help me enlist Tanglewood.” With a quick wave good-bye, Lily chirped, “Toodles,” and walked out of the shop.
As she crossed the street and then the town common, none of them called out for her to come back; none said they would help. Lily wrapped her arms around her middle, lowered her gaze to meet the sidewalk, and wondered what on earth she’d done, and why, lately, she seemed to screw up everything she did.
Frank was working late; he probably had gone home first to make sure his parents had their dinners before he went back to the antiques store. Lily stood outside the old town hall, surveying the brick exterior that no doubt had once been red but now was brown—not unlike the way Tiffany Lupek had once been healthy but now was sick, or how Frank’s mother had once been vibrant but now was not. Passages, Lily supposed, in brick and mortar, flesh and bones.
Lily knew she should be grateful for having been spared the trauma of tending to a sick child or aging parents. She might have had Aunt Margaret to take care of, but her aunt died without a fuss when she was seventy—though her boyfriend at the time thought she was sixty-three. When it came time for the death certificate, Lily had no choice but to spill her aunt’s secret in the funeral home so the records would match and the insurance company would release payment for her “final” arrangements. Aunt Margaret had been stricken with a quick, fatal aneurysm while Lily was at a hot-mineral-springs spa somewhere in Bulgaria. Margaret never had to endure a slow, withering death, and Lily had not had to watch her skin turn brittle and translucent or see her eyes grow dim and disinterested in life.
Nor had Lily needed to worry about whether or not a person she loved was being well cared for, as Frank had to do now, which was why he was working late, burning the responsibility candle at both fraying ends.
Lily wondered if she should suggest that he get someone in to help or if that would be considered interfering. She had no real experience with protocol in families.
With a small sigh she ascended the worn concrete stairs that sagged a little in the middle from thousands—no, probably millions—of footsteps over a hundred years or more, the way she supposed an old mattress sagged when a couple had been married forever and spent their nights in sweet embrace, a couple such as Frank’s parents before his mother had been moved into the living room and onto the rent-a-bed.
Frank was sitting in a dark maple chair that had a high, spindled back and casters on the bottom. His gaze was fixed on a computer screen that looked out of place on the antique wooden desk.
“I’ve come to rescue you from the perils of adulthood,” Lily said as she pranced toward him.
He turned to her with a tentative smile. Sometimes Frank looked at her that way, as if he was unsure what to make of her. She wondered if he’d have more confidence if she ever managed to say yes, if they ever married.
“How’s your mother today?” Lily asked as she leaned down and kissed the top if his cute, balding head.
“Tired,” he said, removing his glasses and wiping his brow. “She loved seeing you last night. But now I’m worried about Dad.”
Lily had never liked it when people referred to their parents as plain “Mom” or “Dad”—not as “my mom” or “my dad”—as if they had conceived everyone in the world. But Frank was in distress, so she wouldn’t correct him. “Why?” she asked. “Did he eat too much last night?” She hoped she didn’t sound off-putting or flippant. She didn’t want to take her irritation at her friends out on the one who least deserved it.
“No,” Frank replied, not blanching at her words. “But he hardly sleeps now, he’s so worried about Mom.”
Lily had been with Reginald, of course, during his brief illness. But she hadn’t really worried; she’d let Antonia do that. She remembered now that Eleanor had begun to say something about Brian, then had drifted off. Families worried about one another, Lily supposed, when they were sick or in some sort of trouble. Few worried about the ones who assumed responsibility for the others. “It isn’t fair that you have to be the one in charge,” Lily said, her anger sparking once again. “It’s not right that your brother doesn’t have to help.”
“He can’t do much from jail, Lily.” His tone took a slight edge.
“I know, my darling,” she said, softening her voice. “But I hate to see you fretting so. It’s frustrating because I know I can’t help.”
He took her hand and kissed it but didn’t say anything.
“There is someone I have been asked to help, though.” She spun around and dropped onto his lap. “A little girl with leukemia. Well, I’m not going to help her, exactly. It’s her kindergarten teacher. Imagine, to be five years old and to be so sick.”
“Lily,” Frank said, “what are you talking about?”
He seemed a bit weary, but she was getting used to that. So Lily told him about the wedding and the eighteen five-year-old attendants and the fact that the bride wanted it at Tanglewood the first weekend in June. Then she asked if he might have some pull with the events people over there, because the notice was so short and surely they were booked.
For the first time since Lily had walked in, Frank broke into a smile. “You do have a way of cheering me up. Where do you get your energy?” Then she giggled and he touched her cheek and said, “I’ll make some phone calls in the morning.”
Though Lily was the one who needed the favor, it was nice that, because she needed Frank, he might feel better too. She’d never understood why that was how things often worked.
Then she kissed him on the mouth and he kissed her back and she ran her hands over his chest and he said he knew another way that she could cheer him up and she said she’d be happy to help out with that too.
It was after eight when Lily left Antiques & Such, leaving Frank to finish up his work before going home. But as she closed the door behind her and headed for the concrete stairs, an enormous figure stepped out of the dusky shadows.
She gasped. Her heart fluttered in her throat.
“Lily?” a man’s voice asked.
She recognized him then. Still, it took a second for her scare to settle down. “Sutter,” she said. It was Sutter Jones, Sarah’s Cherokee lover, the attorney who had moved his practice from New York to West Hope and, specifically, onto the top floor of the old town hall in a small office space he now rented from Frank. It was Sutter who had reunited Sarah with her mother, and brought immeasurable joy into Sarah’s life. “You startled me. Are you working late like Frank?”
“West Coast business,” he said.
She wondered if his voice was so deep because he was so tall, if the sounds of his words had to come all the way from the bottoms of his feet up to his mouth.
He nodded toward the window that glowed from the light of Frank’s computer screen. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s okay,” she said, “but it’s difficult right now. His mother is so sick…”
Sutter, a man of only necessary words, simply nodded. It occurred to Lily that most people over forty, except her, probably understood what it was like to worry about someone else.
She nodded back, then said, “Well, good night,” and went on her way, glad that Sutter hadn’t arrived a half hour earlier a
nd caught her making love to Frank on the old Victorian settee that he’d bought from an estate up in Williamstown for half the price that he now asked.
10
It wasn’t much of a celebration when one considered the magnitude of what Andrew and Jo had done that day: gone to the town hall, sworn that they were of sound mind and legally free to marry each other, signed their names in the town clerk’s big book, and accepted the piece of paper, notarized and sealed, that said they could, indeed, trust each other and become man and wife.
It wasn’t much of a celebration, just meat loaf and peas and mashed potatoes, which Andrew made while Jo stayed late at Second Chances, tying up loose ends for the Gilberts’ wedding. She always had so much more work to do than he did; it was embarrassing sometimes.
The evening might have been more festive, partylike, maybe even sexy, but Cassie and Marilla sat at the table too, passing plates and looking somber when they weren’t giggling, the moods of adolescence swinging back and forth like the pendulum of their old cat clock.
When he’d showed them the crisp, newly notarized license and declared that he and Jo were “now fit to get married under the laws of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts as certified by the town clerk of West Hope,” he knew he sounded like a goof. But Andrew was, after all, as proud of the certificate as he was of the fact he hadn’t told Jo that he went to her house last night, that he hadn’t relapsed into insecurity.
But while Marilla had feigned interest in looking at the license, Cassie merely gave it a sideways glance as she scooped another mouthful of peas.
The rest of the meal passed like the pendulum again, until they finished and Jo said, “The meat loaf was delicious.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to make a wonderful wife, aren’t I?” He’d said it to get a chuckle out of everyone, but when no one laughed, he felt oddly uncomfortable. “It was a joke,” he said and, God bless weird little Marilla, she giggled again.
