Marriage Matters (25 page)

* * *

“I want to be in the picture,” Mary Beth cried, stomping her feet.

June was horrified. Sand flew up around Geoff’s child like some sort of natural disaster. The girl sniffled and heaved, staring at them with clenched fists, as an unsightly strand of snot ran down the front of her face.

Typically, June made it a rule to avoid children but for her future grandchild, she thought she could make an exception. Heavens, she’d thought wrong. Mary Beth had done nothing but cry and carry on since she’d arrived. Chloe had wasted several precious minutes of their photography session trying to calm down the girl, while the sun continued to dip lower and lower in the sky.

“We need to keep shooting,” June called, running her tongue over her front teeth. “Chloe, please come stand here with us.”

The group had its back to the water, while small waves crashed gently against the shore. Every now and again, a tiny spray of icy water slapped June on the legs but it was worth it. The pictures would be gorgeous,
if
they actually had enough time to take them.

As soon as Chloe rushed back to the group, June said, “Okay. Now, everyone smile.”

Mary Beth wailed, kicking sand in their general direction. Some of it landed on June’s shoes.

Geoff must have heard her huff, because he turned those pretty green eyes on her. “I’m sorry, June,” he said. “I am so sorry about all this.”

June sniffed. If Geoff were truly sorry, he would have called an emergency nanny half an hour ago. At this point, sorry wouldn’t cut it. She wasn’t trying to be selfish, but this engagement photo meant the world to her. Not only was it with her entire family, but it was June’s first engagement photo ever.

It was hard to believe that she and Eugene had skipped this important step but back then, it had seemed like the right thing to do. There simply wasn’t time for such a thing. With him slated to ship out, they were lucky to get the wedding preparations completed. In the interest of both time and money, they decided to skip it.

June had regretted that decision for years. There were moments where she would have given anything to look through a photo album and revisit that magical period, just before she and Eugene had become husband and wife. The fact that this time she had the opportunity to share the experience of marriage with her entire family . . . Well, that was a blessing too precious for words. June was determined to take full advantage of each and every detail and, finally, have the wedding of her dreams.

However, this bothersome child was quickly turning her dream into a nightmare.

As though on cue, Mary Beth screamed,
“Wahhh!”
from her place in the sand.

“Mary Beth, honey,” Chloe called, her voice strained. “Look at your daddy smile for the camera.”

June let out a hearty sigh. Fluffing her hair, she breathed in the soothing scent of the tea rose perfume she had worn for the occasion and pasted a beatific smile on her face. She hoped that, when the pictures were printed, her eyes would not betray the fact that she found the situation ridiculous.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, June turned to see a pleading look in her granddaughter’s gray eyes. “Why don’t we just let her be in one picture?” Mary Beth’s cries had become borderline hysterical. “Seriously. It won’t hurt anything.”

Hearing this suggestion, Mary Beth stopped crying. Instantly.

What a little fraud.

“Absolutely not,” June said, forcing her voice to remain cheerful. “Mary Beth, when
you
get married, you’ll have your very own engagement photos. And . . . everyone smile!”

“I want to get mawwwwwwied,” Mary Beth bellowed.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh.”

The pitch was at a frequency that made even the photographer cringe. June put a finger to her ear and was grateful that Charley didn’t wear a hearing aid. The sound might have brought him to his knees. As it was, the top window of one of the nearby skyscrapers undoubtedly had a hairline crack.

“Geoff, we need to—”

“Chloe, just smile for the—”

“June, why can’t we just—”

“That’s it.”
Charley’s voice boomed across the beach like dynamite. “That’s enough!”

Everyone, including Mary Beth, fell silent.

“Mary Beth, get over here,” Charley ordered. “Right now.”

June preened. Finally. A man who could take charge of the situation.

Mary Beth stuck her thumb in her mouth and stomped through the sand toward Charley. She stood in front of him, her eyes bright and teary. He bent down to one knee without any trouble, which is something June loved about him. The man was fit. No doubt about that.

“Do you want to be in the picture?” Charley demanded.

Mary Beth nodded.

“Well, come on then.” Charley lifted her up and put her on his shoulders.

June’s mouth dropped open. “But . . . But Charley,” she sputtered. “This is
not
what I planned for. This is—”

“This is life, June. Sometimes, you’ve just got to work with what you got,” he said. “Now, everyone smile! We want that sunset.”

As the photographer snapped away, June was devastated. Had she not made it clear that Mary Beth was
not
to be in the picture? Yes, the girl had finally stopped crying but her shoes were swinging back and forth, practically kicking sand into June’s face. Oh, everything was ruined. Ruined! Didn’t Charley understand?

Just as she was ready to call off the whole thing, Charley leaned forward and brushed his lips against her ear. “It’ll be okay, June,” he said, his voice gentle. “Trust me. You just have to be patient.”

Well, if it didn’t just turn out that the man was right. Just as the sun started to set, Mary Beth got bored with it all and decided she would rather play in the sand. The little girl skipped away from the group and started to build a sand castle. The photographer burst into action.

“Quickly. Quickly, please,” he shouted, directing the group to line up along the shore.

Charley pulled her close. “You see?” he said, giving her that perfect smile. “Sometimes old Charley knows exactly what to do.”

Spontaneously, June turned to kiss him as the photographer fired away.

Forty-nine

T
hat night, lying in bed, June could hardly sleep. The idea of having a real engagement photo had left her too excited for words. The moment the proofs were ready, she planned to get copies framed for all three couples and commission a painter to put the entire scene on canvas. Maybe even large enough to hang over the fire. Rolling over, she smiled in anticipation.

“June,” Charley groaned. He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. “Are you alright? You’re flipping around like a fish in a frying pan.”

“Oh, good.” June was delighted. “You’re up. Shall we make breakfast?”

Charley’s arm reached for the alarm clock. In the moonlight shining through the window, June could see the silhouette of his arm hair. For some reason, it struck her as a beautiful sight.

“Breakfast,” he murmured, then let out a sigh. “I don’t know that 4:38 in the morning is my ideal breakfast time, June. We might not want to sell my house. It sounds like I’m going to need somewhere to sleep.”

June snuggled up against him, delighted to feel the warmth of his body pressed against hers. He’d been so wonderful today. So strong and handsome, handling Mary Beth the way he did.

“I’m sorry I’m keeping you up,” she told him, “but I’m just so excited. The pictures were wonderful and I’m just so happy this is all coming together. The wedding’s going to be perfect.”

“Yes,” Charley mumbled. “Let’s go to sleep. Let’s dream about it.”

“You know . . .” June reached over and rubbed his back. His muscles were firm beneath her hands. “It’s so strange to think that Kristine has already been married for twenty-five years. I feel like I was just watching her walk down the aisle. Time is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

June thought back to the sight of her daughter as a young girl, stepping so nervously into the church. Kristine’s neck had been bright red and splotchy with nerves, but the moment she laid eyes on Kevin, a glow seemed to light her from within. She’d walked down the aisle, her eyes locked onto his.

“Things seem to be going well for those two.” June turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m glad I talked to him. He made the right choice going to Italy with her.”

“He sure did.” Charley’s voice was half asleep.

June nodded, her feather pillow shifting with the movement. “But I almost strangled Geoff today. He’s been so good for Chloe, but after seeing something like that . . . I’d hate to think I had a hand in orchestrating something that wasn’t quite right.”

Charley opened one eye. “What do you mean, orchestrating something?”

Oops.
June had not meant to tell Charley—or anyone—that tiny little fact about Chloe’s engagement.

“Oh, nothing.” June rolled over, pulling the high-thread-count sheets up to her chin. “Is it really four in the morning? We should get some rest.”

There was a pause and the bed shifted. Charley leaned over and clicked the chain of the bedside lamp. The light was as bright as any police interrogation room.

“June . . .” Charley’s eyes were tired but serious. “Did you have a hand in that engagement?”

Fiddlesticks. The man was too smart for his own good.

June let out a huge sigh and sat up in bed. “Not a
hand.
But I might have . . . planted the seed.”

“What?”
Charley roared.

For heaven’s sake. How could a man who claimed to be exhausted achieve that type of volume?

“You don’t need to get so worked up about it,” she said. “I just . . . When I realized who Chloe was dating, I might have mentioned to Rue that Chloe had fallen in love with her grandson. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Is that all?”

June wiggled her toes under the blankets, wondering if she should get up and end this conversation this instant. “Well . . . I might have . . .”

“You might have
what
?”

Goodness, the man was pushy.

June sighed. “I might have
mentioned
to Rue that it would be a good idea for him to propose or that Chloe might move on. But I certainly didn’t think he’d do it that quickly. I think that must have been Rue’s doing.”

“June!” Charley sounded shocked.

“What?” She fidgeted. Her fiancé was giving her a look that she didn’t like. “The man would have proposed to her with or without my help. He clearly adores her.”

“You don’t know that.” Charley’s forehead was lined with worry. “Why rush things? Why did you have to butt in?”

“Because I like Rue,” she said.

“June, it doesn’t matter who
you
like. It matters who Chloe likes.”

“Chloe likes him,” June insisted. “She’s engaged to him!”

“Because of you.” Charley grabbed the glass of water he kept on the bedside table at night and took a drink. Shaking his head, he set it back down. “That poor girl.”

June’s heart rate seemed to increase. “Charley, it will be fine,” she insisted, feeling her palms start to sweat. “Sometimes people need a little something to push them along. This is a good thing. It . . .” June’s voice trailed off. Oh, dear. Charley was looking at her as though she were a stranger.

“Charley.” June panicked. “Do you still love me?” The thought that he might not made her entire body go weak with fear.

“Of course I do!” Charley pulled her close, and she pressed her face against the strong outline of his chest. “June, you are a remarkable woman,” he said. “But you are a meddler. You’ve meddled enough. You need to let your family make their own decisions.”

June shook her finger at him. “You have no right. You cannot tell me what I can and can’t do when it comes to my family.”

Charley caught her finger. Gently, he lowered it. “I most certainly can and I most certainly will. Because, unless I am mistaken, they are my family now, too.”

Well.

“I want you to ask yourself,” Charley said, “if this is the best situation for Chloe.”

“Of course it is,” June cried. “She loves him. Charley, she said yes.”

Charley shook his head. “He proposed to her in front of her family. It was spontaneous and romantic. I think it would be difficult for any young woman to say no to that.”

June felt sick inside. “Should I tell Chloe?” she whispered. “Let her know the truth?”

“Don’t you dare,” he said. “It would break her heart.”

Reaching over to the bedside table, he flipped off the lamp. The room descended into darkness. For some silly reason, tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Reaching out, she fumbled under the blankets until she felt Charley’s hand, strong in hers.

Charley gave her hand a firm squeeze. “June, I want you to make me a promise,” he said. “I need you to put the trust and confidence in your family that they are capable of doing the right thing. That means you have to stop making decisions for them. You need to stop meddling. Do you promise?”

“I promise,” she whispered.

June thought about her granddaughter. The way her gray eyes had gotten big at the Drake as June soared through the plans for the wedding. She hoped that Chloe sincerely loved Geoff and wasn’t just caught up in the excitement, like Charley seemed to think. If that was the case, her granddaughter would be facing a life of unhappiness and it would be all June’s fault. The thought made her heart ache.

Leaning against Charley once again, she whispered, “Please tell me everything’s going to be okay.”

“I most certainly will not,” he said. “I don’t know that and I’m not going to lie to you.”

Just as June felt like her heart might break into a million pieces, he reached over and gently touched her face. “But I can promise you one thing.” His voice was strong and serious. “No matter what happens, I’ll be there. You can always count on that.”

Fifty

S
tanding on the sunny sidewalk, Chloe cupped her hands over her eyes and peered into the window of the cake shop. That afternoon, June had scheduled a cake tasting for the three brides-to-be. Chloe gaped in delight at the five-tiered creations with dramatic turrets of whipped cream.

“I can’t believe they actually let you just come in and eat cake. For
free
,” Chloe said. “Geez, if I would have known that, I would have slapped on some cubic zirconia and pretended to be engaged a long time ago.”

June laughed. She seemed to be hovering a little close to Chloe’s elbow. “You alright?” Chloe asked, giving her a funny look. Her grandmother was staring up at her with dark, troubled eyes. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Everything’s fine.” June fiddled with the bright pink cashmere balls dangling from her scarf. “In fact, that’s what I wanted to ask you. Are things going well? With you and Geoff?”

“Of course.” Chloe turned back to the window. The scallops of pink frosting looked particularly delicious. “He’s busy, I’m busy, Mary Beth’s a handful . . . the usual. Why?” As June cleared her throat, Chloe got the picture. “You want gossip to take back to your mahjong group! Forget it. My relationship with Geoff is my business. It’s private.”

“Yes, I know that,” June said. “I certainly don’t want to meddle.”

Chloe snorted.
That would be the
day.

“I just . . .” June’s voice seemed troubled. “I just wanted to make sure you’re happy.”

Chloe peered at her. Her grandmother looked unusually distressed. Behind her carefully applied makeup, her eyes looked drawn and tired. “Grandma, is . . . is everything okay with you and Charley?”

“What?” June demanded. “Please. We’re like carrots and peas.”

“Hi, guys,” Kristine called, rushing down the sidewalk. Her camel-colored wool coat billowed behind her like a cape. “Sorry I’m late! Things were busy at the store.” She kissed them both on the cheek. “What did I miss?”

“These cakes,” Chloe said, pointing.

Kristine looked at the cake in the window. “Oh, my gosh,” she laughed. “They didn’t let you do this type of thing when your father and I got married.”

“Me neither,” June said. “Back in my day, we had to think about whether or not our husband would even return to us alive, not what kind of cake we’d eat. The three of us are very, very lucky. We should respect this experience.”

A somber silence fell over the group. Then, June grinned.

“And just so you know . . .” She lowered her voice and gave a furtive look around. “There are all sorts of bakeries in this city. This doesn’t have to be our only stop. We can hit each and every one.”

Kristine laughed, linking her arm with Chloe’s. “Sounds like a plan.”

Inside, the scent of buttercream and spun sugar infused the air. Chloe stopped and breathed it in, before taking an eager look around. The shop was brightly lit, with a glass-covered pastry display case up by the cash register and extravagant photographs of all different kinds of wedding cakes lining the walls.

Chloe felt a twinge of disappointment. When June had first told her about the appointment, she described the bakery as something out of
Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.
This looked like a normal bakery.

June spoke to the girl at the front desk and then beckoned. “Come on,” she said. “They’re ready for us.”

A woman in a white apron and chef’s hat stepped out from a swinging door that must have led to the kitchen. The woman’s cheeks were rosy and the patch on her apron read
Carolyn
in blue embroidery. “You must be the three brides here for the tasting,” she said, smiling at them. “Follow me.”

Pushing open a door with a floral mural painted on it, the three of them followed the pastry chef into a side room. As they walked in, Chloe felt a flash of excitement.
Yes.
This was exactly what she’d imagined.

The room was painted a pale cotton candy pink, with bright lavender accents and shabby chic pastel chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Display tables filled the room, covered with white tulle that spilled to the floor like spilt containers of sugar. On top of the display tables sat the most extravagant wedding cakes Chloe had ever seen.

The most impressive one sat in the center of the room. A seven-tiered cake with white frosting, it was embellished with gold-embossed trim, pastel fondant and fresh roses. It looked like the very cake that would have inspired Marie Antoinette to blurt out her famed quote.

“Wow . . .” Chloe breathed, looking at her mother. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

Kristine smoothed back her red hair and surveyed the room. Chloe could almost see her wondering if she needed a guidebook to navigate a place like this. “No,” she said. “This is a first.”

“Isn’t it marvelous?” June’s eyes were bright. “I was half tempted to have our ceremony here.” Off Kristine’s eye roll, she said, “I know, I know. You’re right. Everyone would be too busy admiring the cakes to pay attention to the brides.”

Kristine exchanged a look with Chloe. “That’s not exactly what I was thinking,” she murmured, “but I’ll just let her keep living the dream.”

“You ladies look around and enjoy,” Carolyn instructed, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll go prep the samples.”

As Chloe’s eyes struggled to find somewhere to settle, they landed on a cake in the far corner. It was an oval creation with elegant ivory frosting. Understated white piping added flair to the bottom of each layer, while a forest-green ivy fondant wove up to the very top, to meet a lush bouquet of fresh red roses.

“Grandma,” Chloe said, walking over to it. She pointed. “This cake’s perfect for you. Roses, the garden . . . I think this might be your cake.”

June rushed over and studied it with a critical eye. “Maybe . . . maybe . . .”

“Chloe, look at this,” Kristine called.

Tearing her eyes away from the rose cake, Chloe headed over to see what her mother was looking at. On the way, she gaped at everything they passed. There was a gorgeous white cake with cornelli lace frosting topped off with a veil; a pink and silver heart-shaped cake standing upright and draped in red silk ribbon; a stately pulled sugar creation with pillars and votive candles propped between each layer . . . The options seemed endless.

“That’s adorable,” June said, admiring the cake Kristine had discovered.

“Isn’t it darling?” Kristine said. “Chloe, it’s perfect for you.”

The cake was three simple square layers with an elaborate fondant bow at the top. Its frosting was a pale Tiffany blue . . . just like the box that had held her engagement ring. Chloe smiled and said, “I should take a picture and text it to Geoff.”

“Take a picture?” June said, fondling the bow. “I’d just as soon eat it.”

“Mother.” Grabbing June’s hand, Kristine removed it from the cake. “You’re not supposed to touch anything.”

“Who says?” June demanded.

“Well,
I
don’t know.” Kristine gestured wildly at the tiny placards placed on practically every table. In neat black calligraphy, they read,
Please refrain from touching the cakes.

As Chloe laughed, a tiny sparkle over by the window caught her eye. Taking in a sharp breath, she rushed over to it and stared. A dramatic waterfall of pastel flowers cascaded down the side, but the thing that had caught Chloe’s attention was the fact that, when the light fell just right, its frosting sparkled with a pinkish blue, iridescent glow.

“That’s it,” she breathed. “That’s my cake.” As June and her mother approached, studying it in confusion, Chloe said, “This is it.”

“I don’t know . . .” June squeezed her hands together, making a face. “It’s pretty basic. I was thinking . . .”

There was a squeaking sound as Carolyn pushed a rolling cart into the room. It was weighed down with a lavish assortment of miniature cupcakes. “Here we are,” she sang.

“Carolyn, before we go any further,” Kristine said, “which cakes can you make sparkle?”

The pastry chef squinted. “Oh. We can do that to any of them. It’s very simple.”

Chloe’s heart danced. “Alright,” she said. “Get me a cake that sparkles and everything else is completely up to you, Grandma. And you, Mom.”

Kristine gave a half-smile. “Oh, I think we all know who’s running the show.”

June was busy examining a life-size cake in the image of a bride. At their laughter, she looked up. “What? Did I miss something?”

Carolyn set up the bite-size cupcakes on the white wicker table at the corner of the room. “I’ve brought out a variety of different flavors for you to try. The cupcakes are labeled, so keep track with the list on the notepad by your plate.”

Eagerly, Chloe took a seat at the table, followed by June, then her mother. The pastry chef had set out a glass of water for each of them, along with a napkin and a full place setting. To the side of each plate was a small silver bucket. It looked just like a spittoon at a wine tasting but Chloe had no idea what it was for.

“The bucket,” Carolyn explained, noticing her confusion, “serves as a receptacle. Many brides choose to take a tiny bite of cake and discard the remainder.”

June’s mouth dropped open. “They spit out the cake? Why?”

“They spit it out because they don’t want to get sick, Mom,” Kristine said, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. Chloe loved her mother’s new haircut. It made her look more fun, somehow. More relaxed.

Carolyn nodded, handing them each a piece of paper with a small pencil. “Use this to keep track as you go. If there’s a flavor combination you like, just give it a tiny star.”

Chloe looked down at the paper. In the chocolate column, there was a lengthy list: milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, German chocolate, black forest and hazelnut. Below that, the options were angel food cake, butter cake, pound cake, tres leches and (oddly) wedding cake. The specialty flavors included carrot, tiramisu and red velvet.

Many of the cupcakes were frosted with buttercream, whipped cream or raspberry chocolate. The carrot and red velvet cake were, of course, frosted with cream cheese.

Chloe’s eyes scanned the options eagerly. She hadn’t eaten any breakfast, in preparation for this little extravaganza. Suddenly, an idea struck her.

“Hey, Grandma,” she said, kicking June under the table. “Want to see who can eat the most without spitting?”

June already had a cupcake halfway to her mouth. Her face lit up. “I’ll most certainly win.”

“Chloe, we are not at the county fair,” Kristine said. “We are selecting cake for your
wed
dings.”

Chloe waved her fork. “Mom, you can either sign on as a judge or vacate the premises.”

June’s eyes surveyed the assortment of cupcakes. “I say we battle for the right to plan the bachelorette party. If I win, Bernice is doing it.”

A bachelorette party thrown by June’s friends? Even though Chloe’s grandmother was cooler than most, it didn’t mean her friends knew how to throw a good party. What would they do, knit?

“No way,” Chloe said. “My friends are in charge of that. Your friends do not know the first thing about throwing a bachelorette party.”

“Then you’d better win,” June cried.

Chloe grinned. “Done.” Dramatically, she reached for a square of dark chocolate cake. The cake was slightly spongy, with an earthy richness. The whipped cream frosting melted like a roasted marshmallow in her mouth. “Yum . . .”

June’s sharp eyes considered the cupcake in her hand, and she consulted with Kristine. “Should I stay away from the rich ones? Until she’s full?”

Chloe sank her teeth into the piece of tiramisu, sighing happily. “Doesn’t matter what you do, Grandma. I can eat cake for days.” The powdered cocoa on the tiramisu melded with her tongue like a kiss. It suddenly struck her that Ben would have enjoyed this tasting, since he liked tiramisu so much. Too bad they still weren’t really talking or she might have just brought him a cupcake.

“Pace yourself,” Kristine warned. “Old age and treachery beats youth and enthusiasm every time.”

June nodded. “That’s a fact.”

Chloe scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.” She surveyed the cakes, trying to decide which to try next.

June reached for a piece of red velvet. “That’s strange,” she said after biting into it. “I thought it was going to taste like strawberries, not cocoa.”

Kristine was in the middle of dropping the remainder of a vanilla cake into her bucket. Hesitating, she said, “It’s red velvet. Why would it taste like strawberries?”

“Because it’s red,” June said. “Duh.”

Kristine raised an eyebrow. “That’s like saying it should taste like ketchup.”

Chloe nodded. Through a bite of cake, she said, “Or blood.”

Reaching for another piece, she hummed a little tune. The dark chocolate cake dissolved in her mouth like a piece of fudge, then she tried a spongy-type thing. It was all delicious. So rich.

Kristine wrinkled her freckled nose. “I’m getting sick just watching you.”

Carolyn nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Chloe considered the plate of cupcakes and suddenly, she hesitated.

Oh.

She
was
starting to feel a little ill. The sugar had set in and her vision was a little less focused than it had been moments before, but June’s expression was gleeful. It was not the time to start slowing down.

Reaching for the hazelnut, Chloe took a deep breath and bit down. It tasted like burned caramel or the smell of wood. Taking a sip of water, she reached for the tres leches. Smooth and creamy, but wow. Super sweet.

A little too sweet.

“Yum,” Chloe cried. Discreetly, she wiped her forehead with her napkin. For some reason, she’d started to sweat.

“Delicious,” June proclaimed.

Ugh.
Chloe’s head had really started to pound. Would the carrot cake be lighter than the buttercream? The cream cheese frosting might be heavy. There was also a texture risk. If she felt a carrot or a piece of zucchini in her mouth right now, there was a very real possibility that she might gag.

Reaching for the buttercream, she brought it to her lips and hesitated. “Grandma, what number are you on?”