by Glynis Astie
She shook her head. “Sorry, girls. Teddy won’t give up the gun.”
The four of us stood there for a moment, staring at each other in disbelief.
Kate cleared her throat. “Did Charlie say how things went this afternoon?” Clearly she was hoping we had all been delusional and my dad had retained the knowledge (and the necessary physical abilities) for handling firearms safely.
My mom sighed. “Charlie said it was touch and go during the afternoon hunt. Dad really gave him a good scare…well, a few good scares.” She wrung her hands. “Girls, I’m not sure how well he can handle weapons anymore…”
As the gunfire continued, all four of us turned back towards the window to make sure my dad hadn’t blown a hole in anything (or anyone). Unexpectedly, Monique emerged into the fray carrying a foreign object. She carefully approached my father and began speaking to him, holding up the item for his inspection. (Was that a bowl of chocolate mousse?) My father grinned and promptly turned his gun over to Charlie.
We breathed a collective sigh of relief following my dad’s relinquishing of the weapon. Thank God! He had not shot himself or anyone else. (Now we only had to worry he would accidentally put himself in the path of someone else’s line of fire, but those odds were infinitely lower.) We turned our attention back to the window and watched Monique steer my father towards a small table located safely outside the shooting range, which was laden with coffee and desserts. I grinned uncontrollably. She’s a genius! The only thing that could draw my father’s attention away from such a manly activity was his need to fill his stomach with delicious treats.
Upon Monique’s return to the kitchen, the four of us thanked her profusely. I was so happy with her plan to save my father from himself, I hugged her! (A faux pas indeed, but it was totally worth it!) She had found a solution none of us had considered. It was so simple, yet it hadn’t occurred to any of us. We had every intention of keeping this brilliant strategy in our arsenal. Pun horrifically intended.
Chapter Twenty-Five
With the arrival of Saturday, I was both comforted and petrified. On one hand, I felt a great sense of ease that all weapon related activities were over. On the other hand, I had only one more day before my greatest performance of the entire trip. You may remember, my mother-in-law asked me to recite a fairly complicated French poem, from MEMORY, as part of our wedding ceremony. I had been working on this for the entire trip since Louis chose to spring this particular task on me after we had already boarded the plane for France. My husband is an incredibly sneaky man.
As you know, I’ve had LOADS of spare time in which to study my lines. It’s not like I’ve had anything else I needed to do, like meet each and every one of my new French relatives, learn their names, their children’s names, what they all do for a living and attempt to carry on a somewhat intelligent conversation with them. And it’s not like I had a list of activities I was expected to perform for my new mother-in-law as well as her brother and sisters and brothers-in-law. OK, Syd, calm down. I’m aware sarcasm isn’t an attractive trait in a lady, but after all the bullshit I’ve been put through, I needed to have a little tantrum. You can grant me that, right?
Now, let’s go back to this ridiculous poem. It’s two pages long and is chock-full of pronunciation pitfalls. I was doing my absolute best to memorize the words and remember how to pronounce them properly, but the harder I tried, the more hopeless it felt. One wrong twist of the tongue and you can completely change the meaning of a word. I suppose it doesn’t really matter anyway, since even if I manage to remember this monstrous poem, my accent is so bad, people probably won’t be able to understand me anyway.
The funniest part of this whole exercise is I have no idea what I have been asked to say. Louis has been so busy with his groom activities, he never had time to translate it for me. Though I have a somewhat passable French vocabulary, the majority of the words make no sense to me. This request from Simone could be the single most embarrassing thing she has asked me to do thus far. Instead of focusing on the astronomical level of humiliation this would likely result in, I kept reminding myself this was the LAST task in my long series of labors for my new French family. Unfortunately for me, it was also the most public and the most likely to be filmed. (You know one of Louis’ cousins will post it on YouTube. At least it would get a lot of hits…)
On the bright side, today’s activities should be fun. Uncle Luc has graciously offered a tour of his vineyard complete with a wine tasting session and lunch. Color me excited! There were dozens of wines just waiting to be savored and Luc has told me I may take home as many bottles as I like. Sweet!
I know what you’re thinking. I, too, have been concerned about my capacity for alcohol since that unfortunate incident on our flight to New York last year. You know, the time I brought Louis home to meet my parents for the first time? I was so nervous I drank way too much on the plane and kind of, well, passed out on the plane and woke up in the airport infirmary? Come on, you remember! We laughed about it, right? Yeah…I wish I could forget it myself.
In light of memories such as those, I’ve promised myself not to drink too much today. Tomorrow’s wedding is fraught with potential disasters as it is; I can’t add a wicked hangover to the mix. Even at my best, I always have the great potential for embarrassment. I’m just talented that way, I guess. Ahem. You have your marching orders, Sydney. Do not drink more than two glasses of wine (In total, of course. Those little tasting amounts don’t count as full glasses.) Absolutely no more than two glasses…
Fast forward to three hours later. Everyone in my family has imbibed too much except for myself and Kate. I’ve only had one glass of wine, thank you very much. I think my mom is in the worst shape, but the rest of them aren’t too far behind. Louis and his father have spent much of their time watching my parents in their drunken states, laughing themselves silly while my mom fights a massive case of the giggles and my dad slurs his way through his favorite “a rabbi walks into a bar” joke. I have no idea to whom he was telling this joke, since the only people in the vicinity were Louis’ aunts and had they understood what he was saying they would have turned bright pink.
I smiled, watching my family enjoying themselves (and being the outrageous Americans in my stead) and decided to take a moment to walk around the vineyard in search of a little quiet. Two minutes into my walk, I noticed a beautiful flower I thought Maya would enjoy painting. (She is a woman of many talents.) Since I had left my camera on the terrace, I took out my phone to capture the image.
Wait a minute. I have cell service here? I haven’t had service for the duration of our trip. There’s one cell tower in Le Caylar and it’s at the opposite end of the town. Not that it really mattered, since we had been running from one event to another and now nearly everyone I communicated with on a regular basis was here.
I scrolled through my missed calls list and found eight from the same number. Not good. I didn’t recognize the number, but there were three messages left from the person who had it, the last of which was yesterday. I accessed my voicemail and listened to the first message. I felt my heart stop. This can’t be happening. Oh my God. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!!! OK, get a grip, Sydney! You have to do something quick.
I sprinted back to the main house where lunch was in full swing. A quick assessment of the scene told me my mom was completely useless due to her inebriated state and Kate and Zoe were busy “handling” her. Nick was taking care of Sam and this kind of thing was not Charlie’s forte. WHERE was Maya? This was a fucking emergency!
I eventually located Maya, relaxing with a glass of wine while admiring the beautiful view of Luc’s vineyard. I raced over to her, grabbed the glass out of her hand and slammed it down on the table.
She stared at me angrily. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I was shaking from head to toe. “I need…I need…”
Her face instantly morphed into sincere concern. “Syd, calm down. Just breathe.�
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Tears immediately filled my eyes, while I tried to follow Maya’s advice. It took another five minutes of coaching from Maya, but I was finally able to form a coherent sentence.
“I’m sorry, Maya. I randomly found I had cell service while I was walking around the vineyard and there were a bunch of messages...” Shit! Keep it together, Syd.
Maya rubbed my back. “OK, what did the messages say?”
I bit my lip. “Um…well, it seems our photographer, Gretchen, has broken her leg. She won’t be able to make our wedding.”
Maya nodded. “Not ideal, but we can fix it. Did she leave you contact information for anyone who can cover for her?”
I exhaled slowly. “She left me a few numbers, but she hadn’t been able to confirm whether or not any of them were available. And who knows how much they charge?” Jesus Christ! The wedding is four weeks away! Where the fuck am I going to find a wedding photographer we can afford within that time frame? Who doesn’t suck? Because let’s face it, anyone who can take a decent picture was booked MONTHS ago.
I held my head in my hands and felt the tears rush down my face. I can’t believe this is happening. I had come so close to completing my French mission and had been looking forward to the reward of my beautiful Monterey wedding. The wedding I had been dreaming about for so long. And now I had no idea what kind of photographs I would have to remember it by. Why was this happening? Why?!?
I felt a hand on my shoulder and suddenly found Simone’s face filled with concern. I did my best to explain to her what had happened while Maya pantomimed taking pictures in the background. She must have thought we were a bunch of lunatics. But what else is new?
Once we had given the explanation our best effort, Simone took off in search of Louis who was currently touring the property with his uncle.
I turned to Maya. “We need to get back to the house. Our best bet is to get on the computer and start calling photographers. It will have to involve a lot of begging…”
Maya took my hand. “Syd, I think the best thing to do right now is to sit down and have some lunch. When is the last time you ate?”
I glared at her. “Who can think of food at a time like this?”
She smiled tentatively. “My friend, Sydney, can ALWAYS think about food. Besides. It’s six am in California. No one will be there to answer your calls for another three hours.”
I thought it over. She had a good point. I would be able to work much more effectively once I had some food in my stomach. Preferably of the chocolate variety.
I nodded. “OK. Let’s eat.”
She laughed. “There’s my girl.”
We arrived back at the luncheon to find none other than Nigel and Grace sitting with Charlie and Zoe. I ran over to Pip and nearly squeezed the life out of him.
He laughed happily. “So happy to see you too, Syd.”
Grace giggled. “Not as happy as he has been to see all this lovely food.”
I smiled at her and hugged her much more gently. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you two.”
In the midst of all the pre-wedding activities, I had completely forgotten Nigel and Grace were coming. They’d jumped at the opportunity not only to make a side visit to his family in England, but also to enjoy the experience of a French wedding. Before their own, that is. I surmised much of Nigel’s reasoning had something to do with Simone’s reputation for copious amounts of rich food.
Nigel tucked in to a large plate of meats and cheeses. “So, Sydney, you gorgeous girl, how has your trip been thus far?”
Zoe and Maya exchanged glances and tried not to laugh.
I smiled weakly at Nigel. “Well, Pip, it’s been… eventful.”
Maya smirked. “You can say that again.”
Grace regarded me sympathetically. “Are you alright?
I sighed. “I was.” I shook my head. “I just found out the photographer fell through for our Monterey wedding.”
Zoe and Charlie gasped.
I focused my gaze on them. “No kidding.”
Charlie coughed. “What happened to her?”
I rubbed my temples. “She fell through her roof and broke her leg.”
Nigel nearly choked. “What was she doing on her roof? And how did she fall through it?”
Grace whacked him in the back of the head. “Of course we’re concerned for another human being’s safety, but THAT is your question at a time like this?”
Zoe bit her lip. It was clear she was desperately trying not to laugh. But when you think about it, the whole situation was kind of comical.
I closed my eyes and began to shake with laughter. Pretty soon all six of us had tears of mirth running down our faces.
“Mon coeur? Are you OK?” Louis’ face registered a great deal of concern, not to mention confusion, with the situation in front of him. “My mother told me you were very upset by a phone call you received. Something about the wedding?”
I wiped the tears from my eyes. “I’m sorry, Bluey. I found cell reception in the vineyard and discovered we lost our wedding photographer.”
Maya giggled. “You mean she fell through.”
I bit my lip. “Yes, that’s true. She fell through.”
The entire group dissolved into laughter with the exception of my poor husband. In desperation, he turned to my brother for some sort of explanation.
“Ah, Charlie, would you please translate?”
Charlie collected himself. “Your photographer fell through her roof and broke her leg. She won’t be able to cover your wedding.”
Louis nodded grimly. “Did she refer us to anyone else?”
Zoe piped up. “That would be a BIG no.”
As the pieces fell into place, Louis began to understand the root of my hysteria. He glanced at his watch and came to the same conclusion Maya and I had thirty minutes earlier.
“OK, mon coeur, I will take you back to the house in an hour and we will get to work.”
I jumped up and threw my arms around him. “Thank you, Bluey.” I loved this man so much. He was going to help me fix this colossal disaster. And then everything would be OK.
Nigel’s voice cut through our tender moment. “You know, Syd, I have a friend who is a photographer.”
Six pairs of eyes focused on him with interest.
Grace snapped her fingers. “Edward!”
Nigel grinned at her. “Precisely.” He came over to me. “Ed just started his own business and is eagerly looking for work.”
I caught my breath. Could that be a glimmer of hope?
Grace joined her husband next to me. “Syd, I have seen Ed’s work. It is really beautiful. He would be brilliant for your wedding!”
I smiled ever so slightly. “But the question remains, is he available the day in question?”
Nigel took out his phone. “Hmm…no service. Syd, will you please show me the area where you discovered your bad news? Maybe we can change your luck.”
I grabbed Nigel’s arm and speed walked him to the necessary spot. Since it was nearly seven in the morning in California, on a Saturday no less, he sent both a text and an email to Ed attaching a photo of my pleading face for good measure.
Nigel put his arm around me as we headed back to the party. “Don’t worry, Syd, this is all going to work out.”
“I really hope so. Thank you so much for your help, Pip. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
We arrived back at the luncheon to find an exasperated looking Kate. Nick handed her a glass of wine along with plenty of assurance that one glass was completely fine given she had just nursed Sam. It really looked like she needed it. What in the world had my mother done to her?
I put my hand on her shoulder. “What happened, Kate?”
Her nostrils flared. “I was trying to keep our mother from making an ass out of herself.”
Uh oh. “Does this mean you weren’t successful?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not in the least. She danced barefoot all around the vineya
rd, singing her favorite Eurythmics song.”
I stifled a giggle. Mom really did love Sweet Dreams. She said it was a perfect example of what harmony should sound like. It seemed a little ironic her rendition of it caused such discord with her daughter.
Kate clenched her hands into fists. “Then she tried to get all Louis’ aunts and cousins to start a conga line. They must’ve thought she was crazy!”
I bit down hard on my lip as I pictured that scenario. I was so close to laughing, I was in physical pain. Apparently this was patently obvious to my poor sister.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “It’s not funny, Syd.”
I nodded and tried to appear serious. A rogue giggle came out and I quickly rearranged my features into what I hoped was an expression of empathy.
Kate glared at me. “NOT funny!” I guess I hadn’t been successful.
I watched my sister as she took a long gulp of wine. “Please forgive me. We no longer have a photographer for our wedding. I may be a little punchy.”
Kate put down her wine glass with far too much force, inadvertently splashing wine on the tablecloth. “What???”
I absently massaged my neck. “She broke her leg.”
Kate’s mouth fell open. “That’s it? Did she find you someone else? Your wedding is four weeks away!!!”
Tell me something I don’t know, Kate. “She has to stay off her feet for another month. And no, she didn’t find us a replacement.”
Worry washed over her features. “I’m sorry, Syd. That’s really awful.”
A voice addressed us from behind. “Do not despair, ladies.”
Kate turned around and beamed. “Pip! When did you get here?”
Nigel gave Kate a hug. “A little over an hour ago.” He patted his belly. “I’ve been enjoying the wonders of French cooking.”
I studied him hopefully. “Did you hear from Ed?” Was this guy that much of an early riser? I mean, it was seven-thirty in the morning for him.
