Four Steps to the Altar

by Jean Stone

  Later in the morning, the kindergarten teacher and her groom-to-be stopped by to look at sample arrangements of the wildflowers, which was a problem because there weren’t any. Lily had forgotten about it.

  “Her fiancé’s mother died,” Jo said. “I’m sure you understand.”

  Like many brides and grooms, they did not really care, because their only interest was themselves and their day. It wasn’t as if they knew Lily. It wasn’t as if they knew Frank or his mother, because they’d each lived in West Hope only a few years.

  “Can’t you reach her on her cell phone?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Jo replied. There was no point in revealing that though, unlike Andrew, Lily had her cell phone with her at all times, she rarely turned it on. She felt the instrument was for her convenience, when she needed to speak with someone. “If someone wants me,” she’d said more than once, “they can leave a message.” Jo found it annoying and somewhat controlling but decided there were worse ways to be.

  “Will you be ready for the children Monday?” the bride asked, her lips pursed with expectation. “Lily said they could come in for fittings and rehearsals.”

  It was the first Jo had heard about it, but she said, “Absolutely. I’ll double-check it myself. And I’ll call you later. Perhaps I can have the flower samples here tomorrow afternoon—after Mrs. Forbes’s funeral.”

  “Well,” the groom said, “the day after tomorrow will be fine. Won’t it, honey?”

  The bride hesitated, then nodded. “Call me, please. Hiring wedding planners was supposed to make this easier on me.” She smiled through tight lips and Jo got the message. It marked the first time that she’d sensed any doubt from a Second Chances customer, and it did not feel good.

  “Tell Lily I’ll run interference for her tonight,” Andrew said to Jo just before they closed up for the night. “I’ll take Antonia out for dinner. It’s the least I can do, after upsetting her so much.” The truth was, in addition to hating that he’d upset Lily, he felt sort of sorry for Antonia, stuck out there at Wheatleigh with no apparent entertainment. Besides, he reasoned, spending the evening with Antonia would get him out of going to the Forbeses’ house.

  “I will,” Jo responded. “And I’ll also let her know that after Eleanor’s funeral, we really need her to get back to work. Lily gets sidetracked sometimes.”

  “Don’t we all,” Andrew replied, trying to sound nonchalant but doubting that he did. He hadn’t yet asked Jo to reset a wedding date; she’d probably say she still wanted to wait until after the trial was behind her, and he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear anything with the name Brian attached to it. In the meantime, he’d sidetrack himself by starting the magazine.

  29

  She seemed delighted to be in the company of a male.

  Andrew had brought Antonia to the Stone Castle for dinner. For the occasion the woman wore bright red lipstick, a sparkly blue dress, and a triple strand of pearls. He thought the dress might be a little fancy for the castle, but Martha Holland, the castle’s owner, was too kindhearted to flinch. Just as she was kind enough not to mention Andrew and Jo’s “postponed” wedding plans.

  Antonia set her sequined purse on the table next to the forks. “What is my sister-in-law up to, Andrew, that she bullied you into being in charge of me tonight?”

  He smiled. “First of all, Lily didn’t bully me into anything. This was my idea.”

  Antonia nodded and sipped from her water glass, leaving behind a crescent-shaped red tattoo.

  “I knew she’d feel obligated to go with the other women to the Forbes house tonight. Frank is our landlord at Second Chances, did you know that?”

  “She felt obligated but you did not?”

  “You know how females are about this stuff. They think they have to help. Frank’s father is still alive, so it’s just the two men. God forbid two men should be trusted to plan anything, let alone a funeral.” He thought he sounded humorous and convincing, that Lily would have been pleased.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ve decided to go home tomorrow.”

  Just then the waitress arrived and announced the specials for the day: some kind of white fish cooked with tomatoes and olives, butterflied lamb chops with mint jelly, spinach-and-goat-cheese-stuffed ravioli. She asked if they wanted wine but Antonia said no, she had a long ride the next day. Then she ordered the fish special and Andrew asked for the free-range chicken off the menu, all the while trying to decide how to change the old girl’s mind.

  “Lily will be disappointed if you leave,” he said after the waitress headed for the kitchen.

  Toying with her pearls, which Andrew suspected she did whenever she was thinking, Antonia said, “I’ve been here for three days. I’ve barely seen Lily. And when I do, she keeps looking at her watch. She doesn’t think I notice. She thinks that I’m demented, I believe. But I’m not demented, Andrew, and I don’t miss much. Clearly, Lily doesn’t want me here.”

  He had always admired a woman who could be direct. In recent years he recognized that was one reason why he’d been attracted to Irene Benson, John’s wife. He twisted on his chair. “She said you had a nice dinner last night with your assistant and your driver.”

  Antonia laughed. “Lily thinks I treat them like they’re peasants. She doesn’t have a clue that Pauline and Jonathan have been in love for years. I thought that coming out into the country would give them a long-awaited chance to have some time together without the daily monotony of living under my roof.”

  “And it would give you a chance to see what Lily’s up to too.”

  She laughed again. She had a hearty, engaging laugh. He wondered if Lily had ever heard it.

  “It’s unfortunate,” Andrew continued, “that Frank’s mother died right now. Lily feels obligated to help out. Once the funeral’s over, I’m sure she’ll be attentive. You might not believe me, but she’s been looking forward to your visit.”

  A gray-white eyebrow lifted. “Don’t bullshit me, Andrew. Lily didn’t even know I was coming until the night before I got here, so she hardly had the time to look forward to anything.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Lily’s been right about one thing—you are formidable.”

  Antonia raised her water glass. “Just so we understand each other.”

  Andrew shook his head. “But maybe you haven’t given Lily a fair chance either. Take a look at the rest of us—me, Jo, Sarah, and Elaine. We all have other people in our lives—family, you know? A mother or a father or a kid, someone we’re connected to. But Lily?” He shook his head again. “Lily has no one. No one but you, that is.” He hadn’t thought about that until then. He’d known there was a reason they tolerated Lily’s airheaded antics and her eccentricities; he hadn’t realized until he said it that maybe that was why.

  “Well,” Antonia said quietly as she lowered her pale eyes and straightened the linen napkin on her lap. “I have no one either, except for her, of course.”

  Andrew reached across the table and touched Antonia’s arm. “Now you have us too, if you want us, that is.” Then he felt all choked up inside, as if he were a girl. His eyes darted around the restaurant, searching for the waitress. He’d decided they should have a bottle of wine after all.

  30

  Lily picked out a silk suit that was not quite navy, not quite black. Black looked so dreadful against her ultrapale skin. At Reginald’s funeral she’d worn deep berry because it was autumn and he’d always liked her in red. She didn’t remember what she’d worn to her parents’ double funeral. The tranquilizers the doctor had prescribed were so strong she hardly remembered the service at all.

  She might have asked for a Valium or two now, had she known that the altar would be filled with lilacs, with the pungent smell reminiscent of pain and hurt and death. She might have insisted that she come with Jo, Elaine, and Sarah like they originally planned if she’d known she’d have to sit so close to the damn purple blossoms and the memories they triggered.

&n
bsp; But Frank had wanted her with him, and she didn’t know how to say no.

  Reaching the front of the old Congregational Church, Lily suddenly felt faint, light-headed. She gripped Frank’s elbow more tightly than she’d intended. “Lilacs,” she whispered.

  “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” he said. “Our neighbor Mrs. Harding volunteered them from her trees. We’re so lucky that they’re blooming now.”

  While Lily had tended to Antonia, Jo helpfully tended to the funeral flowers. Lily never thought to ask Jo what the flowers would be. And Jo would never have known the effect lilacs would have on Lily.

  With damp palms now and a dry mouth, Lily stepped into the pew before Frank and his father.

  The service took forever. Several townspeople, mostly women, said a few words about how gentle and kind Eleanor was, how much she had achieved for the church, the schools, the various charity drives over the years, the Heart Association, leukemia, the March of Dimes.

  Lily wondered what folks had said about her mother and her father; for the first time she felt cheated that she’d been medicated to “get through it.” She wondered if she’d felt as disconnected and as weak as she did now.

  She tried to breathe through her mouth, but then, instead of merely smelling the fragrance, she tasted the damn lilacs on her tongue.

  The minister talked about Eleanor’s family life, how she raised her two sons in the town of West Hope. He did not mention that Brian was a criminal.

  A lady stood up and sang “Amazing Grace.” A few sniffs could be heard inside the church, then Frank gestured to Lily that it was time to leave. Thank God.

  They filed behind the casket, which had been hoisted by six pallbearers from Gregorie’s Funeral Home, a huge spray of lilacs draped across the top. Lily held her breath as they moved down the aisle. She might have even made it if she hadn’t noticed Sondra.

  As they passed the pew where Sondra stood, the woman stepped into the aisle and planted a kiss on Ralph Forbes’s cheek, then another one on Frank’s. The magnanimous gestures no doubt were intended to give the audience something to chat about as they nibbled the ham sandwiches and shortbread cookies that would be served in the fellowship hall after the burial in the cemetery next to the church. (Lily had wanted Elaine and her father to make a proper buffet, but Frank’s father said no, this was what Eleanor had wanted.)

  Lily grasped Frank’s elbow more tightly. She nodded coolly at Sondra and kept her “Screw you” to herself. After all, they were in church.

  They walked past Jo, Elaine, and Sarah. Andrew, however, wasn’t there. She looked at Jo quizzically: Jo mouthed the word Antonia; Lily wanted to cry.

  Then, as their small procession continued behind the casket, someone opened the tall wood doors to the outside. The spring air was warm and welcoming, until a breeze swept into the narthex, catching the scent of the flowers on the casket and pushing the sweet and sickish smell at Lily in one tsunami swoop.

  Her head, her arms, her legs grew weak. She leaned her body against Frank’s, and then Lily passed out.

  “How much?” Antonia asked as Andrew poured more coffee from the vintage silver pot that was on the table in Wheatleigh’s breakfast room.

  He smiled. “If we each put up fifty thousand, that’s a hundred fifty, including Frannie’s share. The rest will be easy to raise from banks and investors, once they know we’ve made a personal financial commitment.” He’d had the brilliant idea sometime during the night, an awesome way to help out Lily and Antonia and the others too, including him. Maybe Antonia would be more inclined to warm up to Lily if the old girl had a purpose in her life other than going to another damn ballet that she probably knew every step to and every boring opera to which she probably could sing every note.

  He hoped the plan wouldn’t backfire and Lily wouldn’t excommunicate him from their small band of wedding entrepreneurs.

  “You need my money,” Antonia said.

  “Actually, we don’t. We’ll do it without you. But it would be nice to have you involved. And, to be honest, it wouldn’t hurt to have the Beckwith name connected to the magazine.”

  “Lily is a Beckwith. At least, God help me, legally.”

  He let the silence hang there a moment, hoping she’d recognize how foolish she had sounded, how “beastly,” as Lily would say.

  Antonia nibbled on a chocolate croissant, then plucked her linen napkin and dabbed the corners of her mouth. “I’ve never taken a single risk in my life, Andrew. I’m too old to start that nonsense now.”

  “Well,” Andrew replied, “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say maybe it’s time you started some kind of ‘nonsense.’ Before it’s too late to enjoy it.”

  Her eyes moved across the room, to the ornately carved mantelpiece that framed the nineteenth-century fireplace, to the floor-to-ceiling windows that invited the formal, outdoor gardens in. “Leonard Bernstein stayed here whenever he conducted at Tanglewood,” she said matter-of-factly, her chin now raised as if to let him know that she’d detached from his proposal and didn’t want to speak of it again. “He took the Aviary Suite, of course, because it is the most magnificent. His grand piano came with him, and his assistants set it up in the suite’s sitting room.”

  Andrew leaned closer to her. “Cut the crap, Antonia. You can’t intimidate me the way you intimidate Lily.”

  Antonia laughed, then looked back at him. “Between you and me,” she said, “if you were the one courting my sister-in-law, I’d have no trouble saying go ahead, marry the guy, I’ll let you keep your share of Reginald’s inheritance. But the fact is, I know next to nothing about this Frank Forbes, because she won’t let me get close enough.”

  So, Antonia had figured out Lily’s scheme.

  The old girl winked. “I’ve known from the day Lily showed up in New York that she had something going on. I sent my spies to follow her—Pauline and Jonathan, two lovers in cahoots with this old dame. They came to West Hope, then reported back to me that she was spending a lot of time with an antiques dealer. Which was why I changed my mind and decided to take her up on her offer of a visit to the country.” She smiled again, then sipped from her water glass. “While she’s abandoned me here, left me lounging with a book, Pauline and Jonathan discreetly resumed following our Lily. Did you know she’s spent the last few nights at Frank Forbes’s house?”

  Andrew shook his head and decided it was not his place to deny the accusations. “He’s a decent guy,” he said. “We all like him; maybe you will too. But in the meantime, the magazine is business.” He placed the copy of the business plan on the table in front of her. “Second Chances, the magazine,” he said. “I think that, like the wedding-planning business, the title Second Chances can refer to life as well as weddings. If you want to let it.”

  Antonia picked up the proposal and stood up. “I’ll be in my suite,” she said. “Tell Lily I’ve decided to stay another day.”

  Lily had never minded being the center of attention, but then, she’d never had a million people hovering over her whispering things like “Get water” and “Give her air” and “Should we call 911?”

  From the blurred edges of consciousness, Lily heard cell phones beep and ding, then a flurry of footsteps followed by hurried voices. There seemed to be confusion about the water: Should they take it from the baptismal font?

  The decision must have been no, because just then she felt something plastic press against her lips. She sipped; she opened her eyes; she saw Frank crouched over her in the aisle, holding a Poland Spring water bottle to her mouth. She wanted to ask whose bottle she was drinking from but decided it shouldn’t matter.

  “Lily?” Frank asked.

  Other voices hushed. She blinked. Her eyes gyroscoped to the knees and calves and feet that had gathered there. She noticed that the shoes were mostly polished, Sunday best.

  “Oh, Frank,” she said, raising herself up to a sitting position. “I am so sorry. I am so embarrassed.”

  “It’s okay,�
�� he said. “Would you like more water?”

  She shook her head.

  “She’s okay?” It was Ralph Forbes’s voice this time.

  “Yes, Dad,” Frank answered.

  “She’s okay,” Ralph said in a louder voice.

  “She’s okay,” echoed a few times in the church.

  A siren sounded softly in the distance. It grew louder, more intense, more “hurry up, it’s an emergency.” Lily knew it was for her.

  She shook her head. “Please,” she said, “I’m fine.” She tried to stand but realized that the casket was right there, right there with its sickish-sweet purple lilacs waiting to be laid to rest with poor Eleanor.

  “Frank? What can we do?” It was Jo, of course. Jo and Sarah and Elaine. Lily smiled. Of course they would be there. They were always there for her. She looked at them a moment. Jo and Elaine, of course, had known Eleanor and might like to stay for the graveside prayers and for the tea and sandwiches made by the church ladies. Sarah had, no doubt, come only to be supportive.

  “Please,” Lily said. “If you don’t mind, Frank, I would like to go home. Sarah, will you take me?”

  31

  Jo would have preferred to be the one to carry Lily out of there. She would have preferred to escape the reception after the service in the cemetery. Her mother and Ted were there. She clung, metaphorically, to them and to Elaine and wondered how soon was too soon to make a polite exit.

  She had had enough of the Forbes family. She’d served dinner the other night for Frank and Mr. Forbes; she’d run interference from well-wishers; she’d made arrangements for the flowers; she’d organized the reception, because her mother had done this a hundred or more times and helped tell Jo what was what.

  She wouldn’t have done more if she’d been Brian’s wife, or even Frank’s.

  Thinking about Frank, Jo wondered if later she should tell Lily how, in Lily’s absence, Sondra had stepped in without hesitation and circulated among the people—the way she was doing right now—as if she still was married to Eleanor’s older son.