Marrying Mr. Right (4 page)

“We do have the money we were saving for her since she was little,” she reminded him.

“I know, but we’ll probably need all that to pay for the reception. Let me buy her this dress, Miss. It’s my last time.”

That was one thing about Vinnie. He may have been cheap on everything else, but whenever Cara had an occasion that required a special outfit, like a prom, she got what she wanted, no questions asked.

Missy warmed. Sentimental slob.

Vinnie walked out to the reception desk to write a check for the deposit on the dress. When he returned, Cara came in from the dressing room, back in regular clothes and face glowing. “The saleswoman assured me the dress is in stock and will be ready in four weeks.”

“Okay. Now we need to talk about the venue,” Missy said. “I can’t find any place to have the reception.”

“Mom, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we have the wedding at our house?”

Missy’s eyes bulged. “Our house? Will it hold that many people?”

“Dan and I made our guest list last night, and his mom faxed him hers. Together we only have one hundred people.”

Over the past few days Missy had calculated the number of guests she would invite. There were fifty on her list, but that didn’t include those who Vinnie would like to invite. She glanced at him. “I’ve only got a handful of people to invite. How about you?”

He rubbed his chin. “Probably twenty or thirty.”

“That makes one hundred and eighty people.”

Vinnie cupped a hand over Missy’s shoulder. “That doesn’t mean they’re all going to say yes.”

She pushed his hand off. “That’s true,” she said, “but how will we fit them in the house? Even if only one hundred come, I don’t know if we can manage.”

“Isn’t there someone we can hire to plan this?” he asked. “What do you call them? Event planners or something?”

Missy recalled that Val’s niece used a planner for her wedding. “I’ll get some names from Val after I get home.”

“So, no worries,” Vinnie said in his usual all is fixed tone as he led them to the door. “Hopefully Val’s contact will be able to take on our wedding. Let’s get some lunch. I’m starved.”

Cara exited the bridal store first. Before Missy could follow her through the revolving doors, Vinnie leaned in and asked, “Did you like the roses?”

Chapter Three

Sunday morning found Missy at the kitchen table, frantically making lists. They would need a DJ, a photographer, a videographer, a wedding cake, invitations, a florist. Well, at least that was one box she could check off. The Flower Box would handle the floral arrangements.

She’d placed a call to the wedding planner Val recommended an hour ago and prayed she would hear back from him today. She wouldn’t be able to relax until the venue was settled.

Val came in through the kitchen door and stopped in her tracks. “Looks like a bomb went off in here. What’s with all this crap all over the place, Miss Anal Retentive Neat Freak?”

Hugo ambled over to sniff Val’s leg as she moved a pile of boxes from a chair and sat at the table. “What war are we up to launching?” she asked as she toyed with a stray piece of ribbon. “How’d the dress hunt go?”

“Better than I thought it would. You know how hard it is to shop with Cara. That kid wrestles with the color of a tank top. I thought we were in for a full day of it, but she found what she wanted at the first store.”

“How did Mr. Cheapskate handle seeing his baby all in white?”

Missy didn’t flinch beneath her friend's scrutiny. “Surprisingly well. He even went so far as to offer to pay for her dress.”

“Holy crapola! Did he win the lottery or something?”

“He said he thought Cara and Dan might get married this year so he’d been saving.”

Val’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Are you sure you took Vinnie with you and not some clone?”

Missy laughed then blew out a deep sigh. “Yup. I’m pretty sure it was him.”

“I’m not sure I like the look in your eye, kid. What gives?”

Missy tried her damnedest to act like it didn’t bother her. “Rat bastard looks good.”

“Yeah well, so do you,” Val retorted. “Even better since he left, if you ask me.”

That was Val. Always there for her. Missy smiled. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, girlfriend. Did you hear back from the wedding planner yet?”

“Not yet, so I thought I’d start with some preliminary lists of what we’ll need for this shindig. You know I like to stay organized.”

Val rose from the table to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Don’t bother with any of that.”

Per his usual routine, Hugo plodded to his dog bed in the corner of the kitchen and let out a mighty groan before he flopped to his belly. As always, he kept one eye open on his mistress...just in case.

“Why do you say that?”

“Trust me,” Val said. “Antoine will take care of everything.”

“If he takes this job.”

“Did you tell him I referred you?”

“Of course.”

“Then he’ll take the job. Trust me, he works on a referral only basis.”

Before Missy could reply, the phone rang and she found herself leaping for the cordless. “Hello?”

A high-pitched squeal emanated from the receiver. Missy winced. The last thing she needed was the Pillsbury Dough Boy’s incessant giggle dominating the wedding preparations. Her nerves, already at an insane peak, kicked up a notch. “Thank you for returning my call so promptly.”

After giving him the basics, along with her address, she hung up, then glanced at Val. “He’ll be here in the morning.”

“I told you. He’s dependable, has excellent taste and is the epitome of an organizational rat.” She gave out a dramatic sigh. “Unfortunately, he’s a picky priss.”

****

Bright and early the next morning Antoine Franc strutted through Missy’s house, writing furiously on a small, pocket-size notepad as he surveyed the surroundings with a disdainful sneer. Unfortunately, after one look at the man, Hugo took a clear dislike to the snooty French man. Growling at Antoine the instant he entered the hallway, the dog lifted a leg and peed on him.

Antoine jumped back, turned several shades of puce and shrieked, “These slacks are pure wool!”

Missy hauled the dog up under her arm like a football. “I’m so sorry. I’ll happily pay for the dry cleaning.”

Though Antoine’s curses remained limited to French, Missy figured they meant the equivalent to, “Bet your ass you’ll pay, lady.”

After banishing the dog to the garage, Missy re-entered her home and found Antoine in the living room. Tall and aesthetic in appearance, not a hair out of place and immaculately dressed, he reminded Missy of the bleached blond, light in the loafers guy from that reality show several years in the past that showed straight men how to dress.

After assessing the layout of the first floor, he waved his hand in an effete manner and sniffed. “First, we move the furniture out.”

Missy felt her eyes bulge in their sockets. “To where?”

“A moving van will take it away.”

“But without furniture, where will the guests sit?”

“We will bring in tables and chairs.”

Her head began to spin with this man’s demands. “We’re moving all the furniture out to bring more furniture in?”

“Of course. Chairs and tables will be brought in for the cocktail hour.” He must have seen the alarm on her face because he quickly added, “Madame Modesto, please do not worry yourself. This house will be beautiful when I get done.” He stood perfectly erect as a large, confident smile covered his chiseled features, reminding her of a marble statue she’d seen in Rome a few years ago.

Despite her fears, Missy exercised reason. They had to plan a wedding and had less than four weeks to pull it off. If she didn’t take a step back and give control over to Antoine, she’d have a nervous breakdown.

“I will return tomorrow with my assistant and an electrician.”

Missy’s voice rose to a squeak. “An electrician?”

His mouth tightened into a rigid slash. “I am afraid we will need additional outlets if we are going to set up a tent off the dining room.”

Dollar signs danced an intricate Tango before her eyes. “T-t-t-tent?”

“The tent where your guests will have dinner and the DJ will have his set up.” He glanced around the entrance foyer. “This is a lovely home, but it is not big enough for one hundred and eighty guests. The tent will seat everyone comfortably. Trust me.” He patted her arm and exited before her lips could form another word.

Missy collapsed into the Queen Anne chair by the telephone table in the foyer. At this rate, she’d need to take out a second mortgage to pay for the wedding. Rubbing the fingers of one hand over her throbbing temple, a picture of Antoine and his perpetual fussing flashed before her eyes, followed by that of her lumbering ex-husband. For the first time in days, a smile creased her lips.

Never mind the price. Wait until Vinnie, who’d always been a bit of a homophobe, got a load of Antoine. Maybe this craziness would turn out to be something to laugh at after all, because Vinnie’s expression would no doubt be priceless.

****

When Missy returned home after work that night, feet aching from standing all day, all she wanted was a hot bath and a cup of tea. The joy of her life met her at the door. Once she was in her usual spot at the kitchen table, Hugo took his place on her lap. “What a day,” she moaned, absently rubbing his neck. Hugo snorted.

“You didn’t like Monsieur Antoine.”

With a groan, he leaned into the rub. “Well, suck it up, pal, because he’ll be here tomorrow morning and you can not pee on him again.”

Hugo leaned up to lick her chin. The hum of the refrigerator filled the empty space. “Do you understand what I’m telling you? We need him to help with the planning because I can’t do it all.”

He swiveled on his butt to curl up on her lap while she blew out a deep, cleansing breath. It was so good to be home, with someone who understood her, loved her no matter what. “Then it’s understood. When Antoine comes back, you’ll stay in the garage.”

Hugo lifted his head and looked at her, his big eyes filling her with guilt. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I can’t have you ruining his entire wardrobe. Paying for this wedding is costing enough.”

Clearly disgusted, the dog hopped off her lap and walked to his doggie bed on the other side of the room. “Thanks for the support, pal.”

Hugo snorted. Whoever said dogs didn’t understand us had no idea what they were talking about. Missy flipped on the stereo in the living room, tuned into her favorite seventies music and headed upstairs to wash the crud of the day off.

After a hot shower, Missy returned downstairs where she answered the ringing doorbell. When she found Vinnie on the other side, she quickly ran her hands through her damp knotted hair. Why hadn’t she checked her appearance before opening the door? And why had she slipped into her oldest jogging suit?

Because it’s the most comfortable thing you own, dummy.

Of course he looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of Esquire. “Hi. I hope it’s not too late.”

“No. Not at all.” She’d called him earlier and left a message. Wanting to fill him in on the wedding planner, she assumed he’d call, not show up unannounced.

Vinnie’s eyes grazed over her. Missy zipped the velour jacket closed. Swallowing hard, she opened the door for him to enter. Inside, Vinnie bent to greet Hugo. The dog leaned into Vinnie’s hand, enjoying a good long scratch. For never having met him before, Hugo was behaving very well.

Vinnie’s lips formed a tight line. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

He stood. “I got your message and since I had dinner with Mom tonight, I thought I’d stop by.”

She nodded. Vinnie’s mother, Martina, sold her house and moved to a senior citizen building in town after the death of Vinnie’s dad five years before. Vinnie had dinner with her on a regular basis. He might have stunk to high heaven in the husband department, but as a son, he was devoted to his mother.

“How is Mom?”

Vinnie shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know her. Stubborn to the core. She doesn’t want to take the meds the doctor prescribed for her high blood pressure.”

“Anything I can do?” For all the years they were married, Missy had gotten along better with Vinnie’s mother than her own.

“Nah. I guilted her into taking the pills by reminding her of Cara’s wedding and how I wouldn’t come to pick her up if she hadn’t been taking her medication.”

Missy laughed. “She’s quite the character. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”

“That would be nice.”

In the background, KC and The Sunshine Band shook their bootie. A large smile creased Vinnie’s face. “Remember this? They played it at our senior prom.”

“I remember. You pulled a groin muscle that night, Mr. Travolta.”

He did a quick spin. “I’ve still got it.”

“What you’ve got they don’t have a name for.”

He reached out and turned her to face him. “Come on, admit it. I was hot.”

She swallowed hard.
Damn it, but you still are!
“Let go.” She pushed his hands from her shoulders and led him through the dining room into the kitchen. “Please excuse the clutter.”

Rolls of white wrapping paper, packages of tissue paper and spool after spool of ribbon lay on top the dining room table. On the floor and sideboard were dozens of boxes containing hostess gifts Cara had sent over from New York, which needed to be wrapped then stored in a safe place before Antoine started moving furniture out of the house. It was a monster of a task she decided to ignore for tonight.

In the kitchen, Vinnie spread out his long legs in front of him after taking a chair while Missy brewed a fresh pot of coffee. She could feel his stare slice right through her back.

“Cara tells me the wedding planner worked out.”

“He’ll do.” She handed him the coffee then proceeded to tell him everything Antoine said yesterday before, during and after he toured the house.

“This Antoine sounds like a real character.”

Missy laughed. “You could say that. He’s, uh, how shall I say this?” After a moment, she said, “Antoine is very...French.”

“Oh, well there you go.” He studied her face. “You seem stressed.”