“Um. Rodney?” I smiled at the Danielses and waved to them. “Your parents are here.”
Mrs. Daniels waved back at me, and the General nodded as they reached the front door. I’d only met Rodney’s family a few times—his older brother and sister had both followed their parents into the military. His sister was in the JAG Corps, and his brother was in the air force, stationed in Japan, which meant he had to miss the wedding. Even if you didn’t know Rodney’s dad was a three-star general, you’d get it from just a few minutes in his presence. I somehow always found myself standing up much straighter when I was around him.
“Charlotte,” he said, crossing the threshold into the house and giving me a quick, firm handshake. The General shook everyone’s hand—if he was feeling particularly emotional, he might give you a pat on the shoulder as well.
“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Daniels said, giving me a quick cheek kiss and then patting my hair and straightening the sleeves of my sweater.
I smiled at her automatically. “Can I help with your bags? How was your flight?”
“I’m perfectly capable of handling the luggage, though I appreciate the offer to assist,” the General said. “And we had a bit of turbulence as we crossed the Great Plains. It lasted, what, twenty minutes, Rose?”
“About that,” she replied, nodding. I shut the door behind them as they greeted their son with a handshake and a hug, respectively.
“Liz!” Rodney’s mother said, smiling at her sister and going to hug her, but Liz just pointed at Rodney.
“Did you know about this?” she asked. “About Jimmy being welcomed to this wedding?”
“Well, here’s the thing,” Mrs. Daniels started.
“If everyone could please reset,” Jill yelled from the family room. “We need to get this wrapped up.”
“What’s going on?” the General asked.
“Good Morning America,” I said. “It’s just a rehearsal.” Mrs. Daniels looked more confused than ever, and I took a breath to explain just as my phone rang.
I pulled it out of my pocket and saw that it was Bill. I slid my finger over to answer immediately, realizing a bit too late that I never had checked in on him and asked how things were going at the Inn. But maybe he was just calling to tell me that everything was fine, that everything had been sorted out, and that there were no problems whatsoever. “Hi, Bill,” I said, taking a few steps away from the Danielses.
“Hey, Charlie,” Bill said, sounding slightly out of breath and stressed enough that my hopes that things were okay were immediately dashed. “Um . . . can you come help? There’s . . . a little bit of a situation.”
CHAPTER 10
Or, You Better Run, You Better Take Cover
* * *
YOU’RE WRONG,” I SAID TO Bill.
“I don’t think I am.”
“It shouldn’t go there.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. That’s absolutely the wrong place for a koala.” I said this with a great deal of confidence, like I was somehow an expert in marsupial placement. But honestly, in the last twenty minutes, I felt like I’d become one.
We were in the party room of Indoor Xtreme, the extreme sports place that had opened when I was in middle school. For a while in sixth grade, it was the place to have your birthday party—there was a paintball course and a skate ramp and rock climbing. The party room was where the pizza-and-cake portion of all the birthdays I’d attended here had been held, and apparently in the last few years, this hadn’t changed—because this, Bill had found out, was the spot where Clay was going to be having his ninth birthday.
As soon as we’d wrapped up with GMA, I’d driven over to Indoor Xtreme. And even though Bill had prepared me, I didn’t quite get it until I stepped into the party room and saw just how fully Clementine had messed up. In the neon orange and green room, with phrases like “Xtreme Attitude” spray-painted on the walls, were Linnie and Rodney’s decorations. There were blown-up photos of the two of them through the years, delicate peach and gray streamers, and an oversize card where people could write well-wishes to the couple. The decorations could not have looked more out of place with their setting, and we’d taken them down as quickly as possible. We’d been about to leave when the girl who seemed to be in charge of things told us, without looking up once from her phone, that we were welcome to leave Clay’s decorations behind, but that Indoor Xtreme had a one-setup-per-party policy, so decorations for the birthday party Bill had brought from the Inn were just going to remain in the pile where he had left them.
And even though this was entirely Clementine’s fault, it felt wrong to leave this Clay kid with his birthday decorations in a heap. So Bill and I had started decorating the party room for him and hadn’t gotten very far before we’d had a serious disagreement about antipodean animal placement.
“I think he looks good,” Bill said, straightening the cardboard koala cutout that he’d placed near the door. “He’s welcoming everyone inside.”
I shook my head. “He’s going to get crushed. There’s going to be a stampede for the pizza and soda and he’ll be the first casualty. Trust me.”
Bill smiled at me and took a step back. “Are you sure this isn’t just the wallaby fight all over again?”
“I was right about that,” I said as I picked up the koala and moved him so that he was presiding over the gift bags, which we’d arranged in neat rows. “Nobody’s going to get that but you.” Bill had insisted on taping the wallabies over the door so that people would see them as they left. “It’s a walla-bye,” he kept repeating. “Get it?”
“Didn’t you ever go to a birthday party here?” I asked, changing the angle of the koala. “I would have thought you’d be familiar with the pizza stampede.”
Bill smiled but shook his head. “There’s was a place kind of like this in Putnam when I was a kid, so we kept it local.”
“And you said you lived in Albuquerque too, right?”
Bill raised an eyebrow at me. “Good memory.”
I shrugged. “I work on the school paper—it means you get really used to remembering details.”
“Journalism? Is that your major?”
“Well, I’m just finishing up my senior year now,” I said, angling the koala once again. “But next year . . .” Unbidden, an image of the state-of-the-art newsroom at Northwestern flashed into my mind, but I pushed it away. “I’m going to Stanwich.”
“Oh.” His eyebrows flew up. A second later, though, he smiled at me and went back to twisting the streamers with the Australian flag on them, but it was like he’d been about to say something, then stopped himself. It was amazing how quickly you could learn these kinds of things about another person when you’re trapped together in a small room filled with Australian paraphernalia.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly, climbing down from the ladder and moving it forward a few feet. “Just—J.J. told me you were going to Northwestern.”
I rolled my eyes, wishing J.J. would stay out of my business. “Well, I’m not. I got accepted there, but I’m going here.”
“Got it.” Bill nodded, then reached up and gave the streamers another twist. “Well, it’s too bad. If you were in Chicago too, we could hang out and you could lecture me some more about koalas.” I smiled at that as Bill descended the ladder. “Think we’re good?”
I looked around the room. Basically, it looked like Australia had thrown up on it. There were animal pictures and photos of Australian landmarks everywhere you looked. Who knew why this Clay kid loved Australia so much, but clearly he did, and would not be disappointed when he saw his birthday decorations. “I think we’re good.”
Bill folded up his ladder and we started gathering Linnie and Rodney’s decorations, carefully loading them into a giant Where There’s A Will canvas bag—it seemed like Bill’s uncle sure was into his monogramming. “Thanks so much for helping out, Charlie,” Bill said as he slung the bag over his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done this w
ithout you.”
“And if you had,” I said, picking up the two largest blown-up pictures, the ones that hadn’t fit in the bag, “you would have put all the marsupials in the wrong place.”
I heard Bill laugh as he followed me out the door. As we crossed the main Indoor Xtreme floor, I saw how much things had changed since we’d gotten there. It was practically deserted when I arrived, but now the techno music was thumping, there were kids on the skate ramp and bike jumps, and there was a long line for the paintball course. My hands were full and I couldn’t reach into my pocket to check my phone, but I realized school must have let out for the day—which meant I needed to hurry if I was going to make it home and get ready for the Pearce in time.
“I’m going to have to get home before going to the museum—will you be able to get these set up at the Inn?”
Bill nodded. “Not a problem.” And even though he was carrying much more than I was, he somehow managed to pull the door open for me. I’d just stepped outside when my phone rang. I suddenly remembered I hadn’t gotten back to Siobhan when she said she needed to talk to me, and felt a wave of guilt hit me. But it wasn’t Siobhan—my sister’s contact picture was flashing across the screen as I answered the call.
“Hey, Lin.”
“Where are you?” she asked, her voice high-pitched and stressed out.
“Um, I’m heading back now,” I said, exchanging a glance with Bill, hoping something else hadn’t gone wrong with the seating arrangements. “Everything’s fine with the rehearsal dinner decorations!”
“Forget the decorations,” Linnie snapped, and I didn’t respond, even though I had a feeling she would not have been happy if her rehearsal dinner had been Australia-themed. “Did you know about this?”
“About what?”
Through the phone, I could hear Linnie take a breath, like she was trying to calm herself down. “About the dog.”
CHAPTER 11
Or, Bankruptcy
* * *
I STARED AT THE BEAGLE, who was sitting in the center of the front hall, staring steadily back at me. Then I looked from Danny, who was next to me, to my sister, who was pacing in front of the door, her arms folded across her chest. “This isn’t good.”
The dog looked like he was just a little older than a puppy—his face still had that soft roundness to it, and his paws seemed a little oversize. He was brown, with black and white spots and long, swinging ears that seemed too big for his head. He had a wet, black nose that was twitching as he looked around, like he was trying to figure out where, exactly, he had landed.
“You think?” Linnie asked, then sneezed. She’d gotten me up to speed on the dog situation while I drove home. He’d been dropped off by a volunteer from a shelter two towns over. Apparently, it was GMA’s idea to have a beagle standing in for Waffles during our interview. He was a rescue, and up for adoption—there would be information on the GMA website and across the bottom of the screen about how he could be adopted. They’d even named him Waffles to appeal to die-hard GCS fans. Jill had apparently cleared this with my mother months ago, who had forgotten to mention any of it to us. I was fine with a beagle at the interview, and happy that it might help a dog find a home. What I didn’t understand was why he was here on Friday when the interview wasn’t until Sunday.
“But why is he here now?”
“That’s what I asked,” Linnie said. “But the shelter’s not open on Sundays, and Saturdays are their busiest days, so they decided to drop him off early.”
“But . . .” I looked at the dog—Waffles, apparently. He didn’t seem to be acting like a typical dog. He wasn’t running around, or wagging his tail, or begging for treats. He was just sitting there, staring at me. This wasn’t normal dog behavior, was it? “We have a dog now?”
“It seems that we do.”
“Maybe he can count as your something borrowed,” I said, and I saw my brother start to smile before he cleared his throat and put on a more serious expression.
“At least it seems like he’s housebroken,” Danny said, bending down to ruffle the top of Waffles’s head. The dog just stared at Danny, looking a little affronted, like his personal space had just been invaded.
“I didn’t need this on top of the tent thing.” Linnie ran her hands through her hair.
“What tent thing?”
“Apparently Clementine ordered the wrong kind,” Danny said, shooting me a look. “But Will’s taking care of it, and there’s a new one coming tomorrow.”
“So that sounds good,” I said, trying to put a good spin on this for my sister as I silently cursed Clementine. “Will can handle everything tomorrow. And this way, there’s less of an opportunity for dad to sabotage it.”
Linnie gave me a tiny smile just as the alarm let out a single, long beeeeeeeep. It wasn’t as loud as it had been this morning, but it was still loud enough to make me cover my ears instinctively. The dog leaped to his feet and ran in the direction of the kitchen, squeezing in through the gap in the swinging door.
“Oh god, the stupid alarm,” Linnie said, stalking toward the kitchen.
“How’s everything else going?” I asked, turning to my brother.
“Except for the dog and the tent?” Danny asked with a laugh. “It’s good.”
My phone started to buzz in my back pocket, and I pulled it out—and saw that it was the paper’s news editor. “Hey, Ali.”
“Where are you?” she hissed, keeping her voice low.
“I told you I couldn’t make the editorial meeting,” I said, but a second later I felt my stomach drop. I had texted Ali to tell her that. Hadn’t I?
“No, you didn’t,” she said, her voice getting a little louder. “We’ve been waiting for you for half an hour!”
“Look, I’m sorry,” I said, very aware that Danny was standing a few feet away from me and could hear every word of this conversation. “But you can run the meeting, can’t you? I mean, if you’re going to be editor in chief next year . . .”
“But . . . did you just forget?” She sounded more baffled than mad now. “I mean—”
“My sister’s getting married and I’m dealing with some family stuff,” I said, taking a few steps away from my brother. “But I’m sure you can handle things. And we can talk through the final issue on Monday.”
There was a long, loaded pause before Ali spoke again. “Sure,” she said, and even though I couldn’t see her, it was like I could practically hear her rolling her eyes as she hung up.
I dropped my phone in my pocket and turned to see my brother looking at me, his arms folded over his chest. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, but in a way that clearly meant something. “I just think—”
Beeeeeeeeeep. The sound came from the kitchen again, and this time it didn’t stop. Danny headed toward the kitchen, and I followed behind him—but stopped short once I crossed the threshold.
There were just too many people in the room.
My dad and J.J. were by the door, hunched over the alarm panel, which was still making the low, loud beeping sound. Linnie was standing at the island with Max. Mrs. Daniels and Aunt Liz were sitting at one end of the kitchen table, and the General was on the other end. He had a pair of reading glasses on and was methodically filling out place cards. If the sound of the alarm was bothering him, it wasn’t apparent to me, as he continued to write steadily. I didn’t see my mom or Rodney, which was a good thing, since I was pretty sure we were at capacity.
“What did you do?” Linnie yelled at J.J., her hands clamped over her ears.
“Nothing,” J.J. yelled back. “I’m trying to fix it.” He stared at the panel for a moment, then smacked the side of it. The alarm immediately shut off, the flashing lights on the panel going dark, but a second later, I realized I could still hear the eeeeee sound.
I looked around and saw the dog standing under the kitchen table, his head back, howling softly, making a noise that wasn’t exactly the sound of the alarm, but was more like he was harmon
izing with it.
“Is that the dog?” Linnie asked, walking over to him, then promptly sneezing three times.
Maybe it was just Linnie getting closer, or maybe it was her sneezing, but at any rate, Waffles stopped howling mid-note and retreated under the kitchen table, near Mrs. Daniels’s feet, turning around twice before lying down, resting his head on his paws, and looking out into the kitchen, like he wasn’t quite sure about this place and wasn’t about to take his eyes off us if he could help it.
“Nicely done,” my dad said, clapping J.J. on the shoulder.
“It’s going to be fixed, though, right?” Linnie asked. “We’re not just going to rely on J.J. hitting this thing in the middle of the wedding?”
“The alarm company promised they’d send someone first thing in the morning,” my dad assured her. “It’ll be fixed way before the wedding.” Linnie nodded, then sneezed three more times.
“I thought you were only allergic to cats,” Danny said, crossing to the fridge and pulling out a can of Coke. “Is it dogs now too?”
“You’re allergic to cats?” Max asked, and Linnie nodded.
“But I’ve never had an issue with dogs. We were dog sitting for a friend last month, and I was fine.”
“Maybe you’re getting sick,” J.J. volunteered, and my dad shot him a look.
“I’m not getting sick,” Linnie said, glaring at him.
“Of course not,” Danny said, whacking J.J. on the back of the head as he came over to the fridge. “I’m sure it’s just . . . seasonal allergies.”
“Right!” I jumped in. “It’s probably just the . . . pollen.”
“You’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
The kitchen door swung open and Brooke stepped into the kitchen. “Danny?” she called, looking around. She had changed out of the outfit she’d been in when she arrived this morning and was now wearing a cream-colored dress with lace sleeves, her hair pulled up into a knot, and another pair of four-inch heels, this time in pale pink. My brother gave her a wave, and she started across the kitchen toward him, but stopped when she spotted the dog.
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