The Chapel Wars (18 page)

“And winter break is so stupid. It’s the last night so we’re all supposed to have fun, it’s like a law of society. It was almost as bad as Christmas.”

I sniffed. “Christmas wasn’t the greatest.”

“At least I got
Battle at Devil’s Creek
.” He looked down at his nails. “You got a juicer. What was Mom trying to tell you with that?”

“I don’t know. Eat your vegetables?”

“It’s like she doesn’t even know you. It just sucks when it feels like the people you see every day don’t know you.”

“But we want to. You get that, right?”

James wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. “Is that the Cranston kid in the car?”

“Don’t.” I picked at a piece of grass. “We’re talking about you. No one knew where you were. That’s scary, James.”

“
I
knew where I was, okay? Why does it matter if anyone else does? I mean, Mom leaves town and Dad has Lenore watch us because it’s an off weekend? Lenore? You’re more mature than her.”

Two weeks off of break and we’d stayed with Dad once. His apartment was even smaller than ours, but it’s nice to be asked. Then again, he might be entertaining female friends like hair girl from Bridal Spectacular.

“So did Dad take you ice blocking here sometime and you wanted to have a good memory?”

“No. Stupid. It’s not like that old movie with the Rosebud sled that Dad loves.” James pulled five fireworks from his cargo
pocket. “I was going to explode that ice cube, but it was too slick. The fireworks kept sliding off the top.”

I stared at my brother. “Now that sounds stupid.”

He shrugged. “It was. Plus, I got worried I’d blow my hands off. Mrs. Georgia would kill me if I couldn’t play piano.” He hopped up. “Okay. Let’s go home.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to say you’re sorry or explain yourself?”

“Sorry for what? If you guys would have stayed out late like you were supposed to, you wouldn’t have even known I was doing anything.”

“But we didn’t. Because we totally care about you.”

“Blah-blah-blah. You’re too sentimental since Grandpa died. Come on.” James shoved the fireworks back into his pocket and ran down the hill.

Too sentimental? Me?

Dax slid over so I could get in the back by him.

“Where do you live?” Lenore asked Dax.

“Henderson.”

“You’re kidding.” Lenore pulled the car into the street. “That’s thirty minutes away.”

Dax closed his eyes, his complexion stone white. “I see intelligence runs in this family.”

“I’m hungry,” James said.

Lenore slapped the steering wheel. “You almost gave us a heart attack, and now you think we’re getting food?”

“Wendy’s is open late,” Dax said.

We got Frosties and talked about ice blocking and other outdoor adventures while we drove Dax home. My siblings didn’t mention how Dax smelled or how hard he laughed. Dad finally sent us all frantic texts around 1:30, saying his phone was in the car. We didn’t ask where he had been. I wrote a curt
Everyone is fine
and asked Dax to pass me some fries.

Somewhere near Dax’s freeway exit, I put my head on his shoulder. He slid his arm around me and whispered, “Your grandpa was right. What he said in his letter.”

The letter. Dax had never told me what fateful words Grandpa Jim wrote to him. Maybe he did take a truth serum and all would be revealed.

“What did he say?”

“You’re a fixer.”

“I’m not fixing you, if that’s what you think.”

“Not me. Your brother.”

“What else?”

He kissed the top of my head. “And that you’re wonderful. But I already knew that.”

“Dax—”

“I know. I bombed tonight. But I’m a fixer too. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Hey, Lenore,” James said from the front seat.

She flicked him an annoyed glance. “What.”

“Happy Fake New Year!”

Lenore snorted. James sat back in his seat, grinning out the window like he’d said the funniest thing ever.

I wasn’t sure how this next year was going to go … with the chapel, with my family, with Dax. But my Frosty was good and the night was clear with the Strip all lit up, and I thought, I don’t know, maybe everything would be fine.

Fine wasn’t asking for too much, was it?

You don’t hear many songs about January weddings, or January anything for that matter. Despite our best efforts, we were lucky to get two ceremonies a day at the chapel over the next three weeks. The upside was I had lots of time at work to get all my upcoming homework projects done so I could be free come February.

Most of our customers were in town for conventions, and there were lots of requests for theme weddings. Minister Dan dressed like Elvis more often than Minister Dan now, and although I was getting sick of the jumpsuit too, I didn’t really know what else to do. If it was May, it wouldn’t be a problem, but the cold truth was no amount of advertising could produce brides when tourists weren’t here to get married.

I was at Grandpa’s desk … my desk, going through some numbers Donna had set out for me. James slammed my door
shut behind him. He paced for a second before jamming himself into a chair, his breathing deep and angry.

“What can I do for you, little brother?”

“When were you going to tell me about Angel Gardens?” he asked.

“Angel Gardens? There’s nothing to tell. I sent them three couples last week. They should love us right now.”

“Well, they don’t. They’re dropping us. No more business with Rose of Sharon.”

I pushed back my chair. “What, why? How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been working there.” James thrust his hands into his jeans and came up with a fistful of bills. “I’ve been playing piano there for two months now. Trying to help out the family.” He threw the money on the desk. “When I went into work today, they said they hoped I stayed on now that they were going to be under new owners.”

“Someone bought Angel Gardens?”

“Not some
one
. Some jerk. Some Victor Cranston.”

“But … why?”

“Why don’t you go ask your stupid boyfriend?” James wiped his nose with his sleeve. “He should be telling you this stuff. Angel Gardens sends you a buttload of customers. Now that’s gone. What are you going to do about it?”

I hurried around the desk. “James. Not so loud.”

“Oh, what, you don’t want anyone to know your secret?” He drew his fist back like he was going to punch my desk, but stopped himself and instead swiped everything off. The
stapler, files, hole puncher, and pencil jar all came crashing down. “Start caring.”

I grabbed his arm and squeezed. “Don’t tell me I don’t care.”

James wrenched his arm away. “Fine. You care. But about the wrong things.”

It wasn’t true. I worked there all day. Every day. All I did was work there in that tiny little chapel. I hadn’t really hung out with my friends in months, had only seen Dax in our cracks of time. I was living the life of a twenty-something workaholic.

James picked up the wad of cash. “There’s six hundred dollars here. Use it however you want. I’m just saying … we can’t lose this place. If we lose the chapel, then what else is left, you know?”

I grabbed my brother into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to spit on you if you hug me any more.” He shook me off. “Sick.”

“I think Therapist Whitney would say that throwing six hundred hard-earned dollars at your sister is a sign you want a hug.”

“The only hugging stuff we’ve talked about was to make sure I don’t punch people who do it.”

“I’m going to visit Victor Cranston.” I strode to the door. “I don’t know what he’s doing.”

“But Dax might, right?” James’s voice cracked, his cheeks all cherubic innocence.

I paused. “Yeah. He might.”

Minerva at Cupid’s Dream said Victor and Dax were on location at a destination wedding. Luckily, the destination was the Stratosphere, which was across the street.

The Stratosphere was the stark exclamation point on the rambling sentence of the Strip. There was a revolving restaurant, an observation deck, and all sorts of stupid thrill rides. When it got windy, they had to close because the concrete swayed. I took the elevator up over one hundred floors of the space-needle-shaped tower, hoping I didn’t miss the Cranstons. Hoping a little bit that I did.

Victor was in a cheap button-down shirt with a purple bow tie. He was intent on the ceremony, intent on uniting two idiots together before they professed their love by sky jumping off a building. The Stratosphere had its own wedding chapel; I didn’t know how Victor weaseled clearance to do a ceremony up there.

I held my breath before waving to get Dax’s attention. Did he know what was going on? Was he keeping it from me?

Things had been good since Fake New Year’s. Dax and I didn’t talk about that night again. Anytime I tried to bring up the things he’d said about his dad, he shrugged his lopsided shoulders. I saw now why he was lost; I just didn’t know if he ever wanted to be found. He was convinced he killed his dad, and who was I to say otherwise? I wasn’t there. I could only be here, now, with the Dax that formed in the wake of that tragedy. It made me wonder, if I’d met Dax a few months earlier, when my life was on its mundane, set course, would we still have clicked?

He loped around a group of tourists. I didn’t want to ask him
the questions I needed to ask. I didn’t want there to be any questions between us, nothing between us, not even air.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Did you know? About Angel Gardens?”

Dax’s face was blessedly confused. “No. What’s Angel Gardens?”

“It’s that reception hall down the block. Your grandpa bought it. You didn’t know?”

“What are you talking about? What did my grandpa buy?”

I flung my arms around Dax. My heart felt like it was going to strap on a cord and jump off the Stratosphere with that couple. My guy-I-was-dating had not sold me out to his grandfather. And he wouldn’t sell me out. He wasn’t like that. He was a Cranston, but he wasn’t.

Victor finally noticed us. I don’t know what possessed me—spitefulness, courage, honesty, or a mixture of all—but I grabbed Dax’s face and kissed him like the world was ending. Dax froze at first, then melted into my kiss. Those sky jumpers had the right idea. High-altitude kissing is amazing,

“You haven’t kissed me like that since … ever,” he said. “Are you trying to send a message to my poppy or is this, like, our two-month anniversary and I don’t know it?”

“That depends.” I smiled. “Are we together?”

“Of course we’re together.” He looked surprised. “Why, you aren’t kissing other guys like that, are you? I’m worried your lips would fall off.”

“Your grandpa is coming over here.”

“I’m sure to congratulate us.” He glanced back at his fuming grandpa. A flock of tourists blocked his route. “This isn’t some rebellion against your parents, is it?”

“It sort of is. Do you have a motorcycle, by the way? Could you rent one just to meet them?”

“We actually have one at the chapel. The bride and groom ride it down the aisle for our fifties ceremony.”

“Then never mind.”

“So I didn’t know about the Palace Angel.”

“Angel Gardens.”

“Whatever. And you’re my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” I swallowed. I had never been a girlfriend. “Okay.”

“That sounds convincing.”

“Yes,” I said formally. “I am Daxworth Cranston’s girlfriend.”

“And I am the boyfriend of Holly Nolan.”

“Officially.”

“Should I buy us plaques?”

I patted his arm and stepped away. “You might not want to watch this part. Although this is fun talking about your grandpa before he’s in earshot.”

“Fun for you.”

Victor glowered before us. Sweat slid down his face, which was now purple, to match his bow tie. “What are you doing?” Victor screamed. “Why are you kissing this Nolan slut?”

Dax stepped in front of me. “Poppy, careful with your language. This is … Holly is my girlfriend.”

Victor’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Mine probably did too. We’d only officially established that title, oh, seventeen seconds ago, and now he was proclaiming it to the world? To his
family
?

“What, and you had to tell me that
here
?” Victor asked. “In the middle of a ceremony?”

“We need to talk,” I said.

“Oh, we’re going to talk.” Victor snarled at Dax. “Go take care of the couple. They’re on the ground waiting and we’re supposed to provide chocolates and champagne once they get their safety harnesses off.”

“Be nice to her,” Dax said.

“Daxworth, I swear—”

“I don’t ask you to do much, Poppy. Do this.” Dax turned to me. “You good?”

I gave him a feeble thumbs-up. “Good” was a vague word, wasn’t it? Shaking and sweating and panic attacking were probably not labeled “GOOD” too often. Why did I think confronting Victor Cranston a thousand feet in the air was a
good
idea?

I counted to twelve before I said anything. “Victor. You know why I’m here.”

Victor stormed over to the elevator and poked the button. “To neck with my grandson? You have about two minutes until these doors open and I push you in.”