Mother of the Bride (49 page)

“Why am I not surprised? Where the hell are they, d'you suppose?”

“In the hot tub, last time Mother snooped.”

“Let's kick 'em out. I have a bottle of brandy in my suitcase. We'll have a couple belts and a soak and sleep like babies.”

Which Gwen did, for almost an hour in the hot tub. Cydney sat in bubbles up to her neck, watching Gwen snore
with her mouth open and her head tipped back against the tub. Oh, to have her camera.

“My camera!” Cydney howled, smacking a hand to her forehead.

“What?” Gwen sloshed awake, spilling a tidal wave out of the tub.

“My camera is in my Jeep. How can I take the wedding pictures?”

“With mine. Come on.” Gwen groped bleary-eyed for a towel. “Let's go get it before my bones turn to total mush.”

They dripped inside and wove up the gallery stairs, half-lit from the megaproof brandy. Except for the grandfather clock ticking outside the R&R room, the house was still. At Bebe's bedroom door, Gwen paused.

“Did you hear Bebe and Aldo come in?” she whispered.

“I couldn't hear a thing over the bubbles and your snoring.”

“Should we check on her? Make sure she's okay?”

“Bebe is sound asleep,” Cydney said firmly, sticking to her resolve not to worry. “We are not snooping, Georgette Junior.”

“Old poop.” Gwen gave her the raspberry and hiccuped.

It was almost 3
A.M.
when Cydney dumped Gwen's forty-pound bag of photo equipment on the blanket box in her room, rolled up the sleeping bag, tossed her pillows on her bed and fell onto them face first, asleep.

She woke up with her head buzzing from the brandy. Her travel alarm said 8:07. Why was she awake this early? Cydney dragged into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and took up a hair pick, braced herself and blinked in the mirror. For once, her hair didn't look like a fright wig.

It's an omen, she decided as she pulled on jeans and buttoned her oversized white shirt. A joyous portent for Bebe's wedding day.

And the sun was shining. She sat down in the wing chair by the window to tie her Keds, lifted the lace curtain and smiled at the blue sky. The puffy clouds and the happy-face sun thawing the frost on the grass.

That's when she heard Gwen scream.

Cydney leaped to her feet and ran. Out of her room and down the hall, nearly colliding with Gwen as she came tearing out of Bebe's bedroom. Cydney caught her by the shoulders and spun her around.

“Cyd! Oh God.” Gwen clutched her arms in fingers like talons. “Bebe isn't in her bed. They must've had an accident. Call 911!”

“Did you look in Aldo's room?”

“Aldo's room!” Gwen wrenched free and raced across the hall.

Cydney wheeled after her, her stomach dropping like a stone when Gwen pushed the door open and she saw Aldo's rumpled but empty bed.

“Don't scream.” Cydney clamped a hand over her sister's mouth. “Have you been downstairs?”

Gwen shook her head, sucking air between Cydney's fingers.

“They could be in the kitchen eating breakfast.”

Gwen clawed Cydney's hand off her mouth. “Or stuck in a ditch somewhere, hurt and helpless.”

“Bebe doesn't go to the bathroom without her cell phone, Gwen. Don't jump to conclusions. Where's Mother?”

“Asleep. I heard her around four give Dad a pain pill and tell him she was going to bed with her mask and her earplugs.”

Thank God, Cydney thought. “Go look downstairs,” she told Gwen, pushing her toward the gallery. “I'll wake Gus.”

But first she went back to Bebe's room. She had no idea why, until she saw a white envelope tucked into the bottom of the dresser mirror.

“Oh no,” she moaned, her heart sinking.

“Oh no, what?” Gus yawned behind her, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Did somebody scream or was I dreaming?”

“It was Gwen.” Cydney looked at him, leaning puffy-eyed in the doorway in his sweats and T-shirt. “We can't find Bebe and Aldo.”

“What's that stuck in the mirror?”

“I don't know. I'm afraid to look.”

Gus shuffled past her and plucked the envelope out of the mirror. He raised it to his nose, peered at it and handed it to Cydney.

“It says, 'To Mother and Uncle Cyd.' “

“Oh no,” she moaned again.

“We'd better find your sister.”

Gwen was in the R&R room, hysterically flinging pillows off the couches just in case Bebe and Aldo were hiding under the cushions.

“I can't find them,” she said tearfully. “Call 911.”

“This was stuck in Bebe's mirror.” Cydney held up the envelope. “It's addressed to you and me.”

Gwen grabbed it and tore it open, took out a folded sheet of paper and froze. “I can't.” She passed the note to Cydney. “You read it.”

“I think you should sit down.” Gus lowered Gwen onto the brown corduroy sofa and sat down on the oak table in front of her.

Cydney sat down beside him, her knees quivering. She thought she knew what was coming, unfolded the note and read aloud:

“Dear Mother and Uncle Cyd—If you're reading this, Aldo and I have eloped. I hope I can talk him into it once we get Herb off. I just can't take any more yelling and screaming and punching each other.

“I know none of you meant to fight like cats and dogs. I don't blame you, Uncle Cyd, for throwing pizza in Mother's face. You were defending me and Louella and Mamie. And I don't blame you, Mother, for wanting me to look beautiful and sophisticated in
Vogue,
but that's your world, not mine. I wish you'd been able to see that.

“Tell Grampa thank you for bawling me out for pretending to be stupid. Tell him I won't do it anymore. I just hope Aldo will still love me.

“Tell Gramma George it's okay to return the wedding
dress she bought me. And tell her I'll call her when we get back from Las Vegas.

“I think I can talk Aldo into this, if I tell him we can get married in one of the wedding chapels and then rent a car and go to Yellowstone. He'll get to climb rocks, so he'll like that.

“He won't like hurting Uncle Gus. Any more than I like hurting you, Mother, and you, Uncle Cyd, and Gramma and Grampa. Or disappointing Louella and Mamie and Sarah and Cloris and her sisters.

“Thank you all for working so hard to make everything so beautiful for the wedding. You deserve a party, so cut the cake and eat it and toast yourselves—and me and Aldo, if you aren't too mad at us—with that really expensive bottle of champagne Grampa brought from France.

“We love you all very much. Honest. Love, Bebe and Aldo.”

“Shit!” Gwen flung one of Aunt Phoebe's cushions across the R&R room and sucked a calming breath. “They're okay. They're alive. That's the main thing. I can kill them when they get back from Las Vegas.”

Cydney felt sick, glanced at Gus. He gave her a thin smile.

“I could kick myself for the pizza,” she said to him miserably.

“You were provoked,” he said, and glanced at Gwen. “No offense.”

“None taken. I
should
be kicked for the wedding dress.”

“I'll kick you,” Cydney offered. “If you'll kick me.”

“How about,” Fletch said, “we take turns kicking each other?”

Cydney looked up at her parents standing in the doorway in their nightclothes, her father's arm around her mother. His left eye was black, his nose covered by a giant, flesh-colored Band-Aid. Georgette wore her hairnet, and her sleep mask on her forehead.

“I guess you heard me read Bebe's note,” Cydney said dismally.

“Every word.” Georgette crossed the room, sat down on the
couch next to Gwen and smiled weakly at Gus. “I'm so sorry, Angus. I'm afraid this is all the Parrish family's doing.”

“Not quite, Georgette. I wrote the Grand Plan to Wreck the Wedding, remember, and I behaved like a total jerk in Kansas City. I think there's plenty of blame to go around.”

“The only person who's lily-white in this is Aldo. Not the brightest crayon in the box, Gus, but he's a good kid.” Fletch came around the back of the couch and sat down on Gwen's other side. “I hope this is the last trick my granddaughter pulls on him to get her way.”

“Back off, Dad,” Gwen snapped. “After last night's fist-fight I would've run out of here screaming, too.”

“I feel fine, Gwen, thanks for asking,” Fletch said, miffed. “My nose is cracked in three places and it hurts like a sonofabitch.”

“Stop it, you two. Let's don't start again,” Georgette said tiredly. “It's just eight-thirty. If we split the guest list and start calling, we should be able to reach everyone who's driving down from Kansas City.”

“I'll help,” Fletch volunteered. “Then I think we should do what Bebe said and throw one hell of a party for the Crooked Possum folks.”

“I think we should stick to the original plan and have a wedding.” Gus took Cydney's hand and smiled. “What do you think?”

“You mean our wedding?” She blinked at him, surprised. “You mean today? Here? This afternoon?”

“You said you wanted to be married at Tall Pines, but you didn't want to copy Bebe. That's not a problem now—Bebe bailed.”

“Oh Gus, I'd love it.” Cydney sighed. “But we don't have a license.”

“So we'll get one on Monday and have a do-over.”

“Ado-over?” she laughed. “You mean two weddings?”

“Yeah. Two weddings.” Gus grinned. “And two anniversaries. That way I'll have a shot at remembering at least one of them.”

“Will Sheriff Cantwell marry us twice?”

“If I try to wiggle out of the second one, he'll lock me up and force-feed me Mamie's prickly pear jelly. What do you say?”

“Yes.” Cydney kissed him and turned to face her family.

Her father grinned, then winced. Because it hurt, Cydney guessed. Her mother and Gwen simply stared, wide-eyed and openmouthed.

“Cydney,” Georgette said dazedly. “When did this happen?”

“While you and Herb were in Arkansas, Mother.”

“Don't blame Cydney, Georgette.” Gus swung his arm around her and jostled her against him. “Blame it on strip Ping-Pong.”

Fletch threw his head back and roared. Gwen gave a startled but delighted laugh. Her mother flushed, then smiled, took Cydney's face in her hands and smacked a kiss on her mouth.

“Will you play 'The Wedding March' for me, Mother?”

Georgette's eyes filled with tears. “Of course, darling.”

“Dad? Will you give me away?”

“You bet, honey.”

“Will you be my matron of honor, Gwen?”

“Nope.” Her sister grinned. “But I'll shoot the wedding pictures.”

“Quickly, everyone.” Georgette rose and clapped her hands. “First to the phones to call Bebe's guests. Then breakfast.”

“I'll get my cell phone.” Cydney stood up, but her mother pushed her down beside Gus.

“You are the bride. You do nothing. Today, we are your slaves. Gwen. Start on the guest list. Fletch. Get on the phone and order us a limo. We're all clearing out of here after the ceremony so Cydney and Angus can spend their first wedding night alone in their own home.”

Georgette swept them away and shut the pocket doors.

“My slaves.” Cydney grinned at Gus. “I'm going to enjoy this.”

“You deserve to, babe.” Gus kissed her on the nose. “I need to have a word with your father and call Elvin before breakfast.”

“You do?” She tipped her head at him curiously. “Why?”

“It's a secret. You aren't mad 'cause I blabbed ours, are you?”

“Let's see. I get two weddings, three slaves, and you for the rest of my life.” She wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully, pursed her lips and then grinned. “Nope. I'm tickled pink.”

Elvin said the same thing when Gus got him on the phone.

“Why, I'd be tickled pink to marry you and Miss Parrish. Twice I'd be tickled pink, hoss. 'Gratulations. You're smarter'n I thought.”

“Thanks, Elvin. Be here in half an hour.”

Elvin made it in twenty minutes, which gave him time for French toast and coffee, but cut short Gus and Cydney's farewell till four o'clock.

“I'm about to be whisked upstairs for a day of extreme pampering. Gwen managed to pry Domino away from Misha to help.” Cydney climbed on the bottom step of the foyer stairs and wound her arms around his neck. “I wonder if I can get Gwen to feed me grapes.”

“Don't push your luck, babe. The honeymoon won't be near as much fun if you're in a body cast.”

She laughed and kissed him. Gus collected Elvin and Fletch and set off in Elvin's cruiser with the lights flashing. Traffic gave way and they sailed into Springfield, where Gus bought Cydney a plain gold band—Fletch knew her size. Fletch bought a ring for Cydney to slip on Gus' finger.

“I told her it would look better in your nose,” Fletch said.

He and Elvin laughed. Gus grinned and moved to the diamond case. He bought her a pair of 2-carat earrings and a 5-carat bridal set.

“For the do-over,” he said to Fletch and a grinning Elvin.

When they returned to Tall Pines, the house was awash in women. Mamie grabbed Gus by the face, pulled his head down and kissed him.

“Your bride's cuter'n a bug's ear, Gussie. Her sis is still a witch that starts with a
b,
but I won't tell her so till you two is married.”

Cloris and her sisters fluttered him into the kitchen. They
sat him down and fed him lunch, cut his sandwich, stirred his coffee and told him how beautiful Cydney looked already.

“The French girl gave her a facial,” Cloris said in her chirpy little voice. “And a manicure she said was French, too.”

“Do brides still do the something old, something new thing?”

“Oh my,
yes,
Gus. It's tradition.”

“Would you take this to Cydney?” He reached in his pocket for the broach he'd slipped into it earlier, a small gold, openwork heart studded with seed pearls. “It was Aunt Phoebe's.”

“I'll be right back.” Cloris fluttered away and came back sniffling. “Miss Phoebe's pin is Cydney's something old. Her something new is what she's wearing for the wedding. Her something borrowed is Bebe's veil. Sarah fixed it up real pretty to match her outfit. Miz Parrish gave her something blue. A star sapphire on a gold chain.” Cloris plucked a hankie from her cuff. “Mr. Parrish gave it to her on their wedding day.”

Her sisters sighed. Mamie's bottom lip quavered.