Marriage Can Be Murder -- Every Wife Has A Story (A Carol and Jim Andrews Baby Boomer Mystery) (8 page)

A brief word of explanation may be in order here, in case any of you jump to the conclusion that Stroll Weekend consists of throngs of people crammed on Nantucket’s picturesque Main Street dancing wildly to that popular 50s song (and dance), “The Stroll,” by The Diamonds. Let me assure you no such activities are part of this annual event.

Nantucket Stroll is held the first weekend in December, and is the official beginning of the island’s holiday season. There’s a holiday house tour, craft shows, Victorian carolers who serenade visitors all over town, the Festival of Trees, and a community carol sing. Santa and Mrs. Claus arrive via Coast Guard vessel at Straight Wharf, then parade up Main Street to the delight of children and adults alike.

Tiffani and I reacted at the same time. “But that’s only three months away,” I protested. “I’ve always wanted to go to Stroll, but….”

“I’m not sure I can pull something together that quickly,” Tiffani said. “Most brides plan at least a year ahead. Give me a minute to think.” My mind was whirling with all the things that had to be done. But I remained quiet. I hope you’re all proud of me.

I snuck a look at my daughter, and her mouth was set in that stubborn line I know all too well. Which meant that her mind was made up, and that was that.

Tiffani finally spoke. “The only way that we can make this work is to go to Nantucket this weekend and make decisions. We’ll need Mike and Marlee there, too. Is that possible?”

Without waiting for an answer (I do like that trait in a person), she continued, “Meanwhile, I’ll send out some e-mails and make some calls. I think I can pull some strings and book rooms for everyone at Grey Gull Inn. The owners are colleagues of mine.”

She rummaged in her briefcase. “Here’s a high-speed ferry schedule,” she said, handing a brochure to Jenny. “I advise you to call and make a reservation for this coming weekend right away. And while you’re at it, make reservations for Stroll weekend, too. The fast ferry books up quickly. Text me with your plans.”

She stood up gave Jenny a little hug.

“See you on Nantucket.”

I was feeling dazed at how fast this wedding planning was progressing. If I was completely honest with myself (something I don’t do that often – reality is definitely overrated), part of the reason was that I wasn’t running the show.

In case I haven’t made that crystal clear, let me say that I Always Run The Show. Sort of. Or at least have input into running the show.

Whatever.

How was I going to talk Jim into leaving for a Nantucket getaway in just a few days? Jim is a planner. And a bargain shopper extraordinaire. The term spontaneity was not in his vocabulary.

But this was for Jenny, I reminded myself. I knew he’d do anything to make her happy.

Nancy gave Jenny and me quick smooches and headed off in another direction – toward the dessert station, I think. I was relieved to get rid of her. I know that sounds harsh, but it was true. Especially if she figured out that Tiffani the Cinderella Wedding Planner was also Tiffani the Home Wrecker. I couldn’t deal with her drama on top of my own.

Jenny grabbed my arm and pulled me into a corner. “All right, Mom. What’s going on? Why are you hiding Tiffani’s real name?”

I took a few minutes to bring Jenny up to speed on Nancy’s woes, finishing with, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just didn’t want to spoil your wedding dreams. These things happen. But, thank God, not to us.”

So far, anyway.

“Now I get it, Mom. This is weird. But there’s no reason why Nancy will find out who Tiffani really is. I mean, it’s not like she’ll be going to Nantucket with us.”

Jenny narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t invite her, did you?”

“I don’t have to invite her,” I said. “She may just show up. Just like she did today. After all,” I said in defense of my best friend, “she’s going through a terrible time, and she thinks of you as a daughter. Mary Alice and Claire do, too. Remember, you were the first girl born in our happy little group. As a matter of fact, you were the first baby, period.”

Jenny sighed. “I’m going to think positive thoughts. And concentrate on Mark. I’m so lucky to be marrying him. I never thought when we were sitting side by side in grammar school that we’d end up a married couple someday.”

She grabbed my hand. “Come on, Mom. Let’s check out some of these vendor booths, and then find Dad and Mark.”

By the time we had made the complete circle of the wedding show, another hour had passed. Jenny and I had sampled wedding cakes, wedding cupcakes (the new craze, I’m told), custom-made wedding cocktails (that’s a signature drink made just for one particular couple), and a wide assortment of hors d’oeuvres and appetizers. The last, I was assured by many wedding caterers, was guaranteed to please any impatient guest who’s waiting for the bridal party’s photography session to end. In fact, I also learned that some brides and grooms these days offer “heavy” hors d’oeuvres, and when the guests are full, skip right to dessert. I wasn’t sure Jim would go for that – he’s a meat and potatoes kind of guy – but it was something to think about.

We talked to florists, makeup artists and hairdressers (with apologies to Deanna, who didn’t have a booth at the show). Strolling musicians. Pianists and jazz quartets. Dance bands. Dee-jays. Limo companies. Dentists who specialized in cosmetic procedures (I couldn’t believe that one). Photographers. Videographers.

When I asked one videographer who was extolling the necessity of his services if couples could put their wedding video on a pay-per-view television channel and make a few bucks, I earned a dirty look from my darling daughter. “It’s a way to share the wedding with people who can’t attend, Mom,” she said. “And a way to remember the details of the wedding after it’s over. Not a way to make extra money. You should have figured that out.”

Hmm. Well, yes. I had to admit that made sense. But I was only making a joke.

Part of me wondered why we were bothering checking out all these vendors when Jenny and Mark were firm on wanting a small wedding. But I do hate to miss anything, and we were here already, so what the heck?

And, of course, we checked out tux stores and bridal gown stores. The choice of gowns was completely overwhelming. There were so many styles to pick from, I couldn’t see how Jenny would narrow down the choice.

“Jenny, these are all so beautiful and you’d look gorgeous in any one of them. I never realized there are other color choices besides white,” I said, rummaging through one of the racks. “Look, there’s ivory, blush… my gosh, is that one red?”

“I have a plan,” Jenny said. “Don’t worry.” I raised my eyebrows.

“It’s called a budget. Mark and I have discussed this, and we both agree that it’s silly to spend thousands of dollars on a dress I’ll only wear once. I’m hoping to find a gown from the sample rack. They’re a lot cheaper.”

“Dad and I don’t want you to scrimp on something this important. We’ll pay for you to get exactly what you want. No arguments.”

Jenny dragged me over to another rack where more gowns were displayed. “Check out this price tag, Mom. Then you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

I read the tag twice. “This one says seven-thousand dollars. That’s outrageous. It must be a typo.”

“No typo, Mom. Some people don’t bat any eye about spending that much on a wedding gown. We think it’s ridiculous.

“Don’t worry, though. You’ll be an important part of my dress decision, and I promise not to walk down the aisle in a gunny sack to save money.

“Now, let’s go find the guys and get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

Chapter 11

Who are all these tacky people, and who invited them to my party?

“Now that you’ve seen all the things that go into planning a wedding these days, do you understand why we hired a professional planner?” Jenny asked me.

“Can you imagine dealing with all those details, especially for a destination wedding? We’d go crazy. It’s a rotten coincidence that our wedding planner is involved with Nancy’s husband, but there’s nothing we can do about that. Tiffani is very good at her job, and right now her job is planning our wedding. Her personal life is her own business. Ok, Mom?”

My mouth was full of delicious take-out from Seafood Sandy’s, my favorite Fairport fish restaurant, so all I could do was nod my head in agreement. I often hate it when someone else is right, but this time, I couldn’t argue. Because my sensible daughter was, well, making sense.

It was Saturday night. Mark, Jenny, Jim and I were gathered around the center of the Andrews house, the kitchen table, decompressing from all we had seen at the bridal show and enjoying a delicious meal that I didn’t cook. Lucy and Ethel snoozed contentedly at my feet. (I always feed them first, so they don’t beg at the table.)

“I thought the show was fun,” said Jim, taking a break from devouring his fisherman’s platter to add his opinion. “I didn’t expect to enjoy myself as much as I did. Right, Mark?” he said, giving his son-in-law-to-be a slap on the back.

Mark reddened. “Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you talked to the wedding planner,” he said to Jenny. “I feel like I let you down.”

“Where were you two all afternoon, anyway?” I asked Jim. “Jenny and I circled the ballroom a few times and couldn’t find you.”

To my surprise, Jim blushed, too. “There was a lingerie fashion show we checked out,” he mumbled, his mouth full of food.

“What?” Jenny and I both said at the same time.

With the aplomb of someone who’s spent years in public relations, Jim attempted to put a positive spin on his confession.

“We knew you two would never have the time to see everything at the show,” Jim said. “We were sitting at the bar sampling champagne when someone from Cinderella Weddings came in and announced there was a fashion show starting in the next room.”

“We didn’t know what kind it was until we got there,” Mark said. “And once we got there, well…”

Humph.

“Did you buy me anything?” Jenny asked.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Mark shot back with a grin.

All righty, then. Time to move things along. In my usual organized way, I had prepared an agenda for this dinner meeting.

“Now that we’ve been to a bridal show and met with the wedding planner, I think we all have a good idea of what’s involved in putting an event together. Of course,” I frowned, “we have the time crunch as well as the destination issue. Even Tiffani thought those were a bit of a challenge.”