The Bridesmaid (8 page)

“Oh, I’m aware,” Abby said. “Normally I’d tell you to run while you still could, but I don’t think Carol would appreciate that, so all I can do is say . . . good luck.”

She held out her hand to him and Tucker shook it with a smile. “Thanks,” he said.

Abby grinned. “You’re gonna need it.”

Save the Date, Pardner!
We’re gettin’ hitched!
Carol Marie Beaumont has lassoed herself a groom in
Tucker Clint Robb.
The ceremony will take place August fifteenth
at the Dove’s Roost Chateau
Watertown, Massachusetts
Be there or be hog-tied!

• 5 •

Till Death Do Us Part

Abby padded downstairs in her oversized Lockport Academy T-shirt and went directly for the fridge. Her eyes at half-mast, she reached in for a can of pineapple chunks and her hand hit something gooey. Frowning, she pulled back her custard-covered fingers and looked inside the refrigerator. The entire second shelf was filled with desserts—chocolate mousse, raspberry tart, custard cups and strawberry trifle, among other things.

“What the . . . ?”

She shoved the trifle and custard aside and dug into the back for her smoothie ingredients. When she slammed the door a moment later, a note that had been taped to the fridge fluttered to the floor. Abby bent to pick it up with her free hand.

Carol—
Congratulations on your engagement!

May I suggest one of our signature desserts
to complement your wedding cake? I’m
leaving these samples with your parents,
but we can make anything your imagination
desires. Feel free to give me a call!

Sincerely,
Cheryl Martin
Delectable Desserts

Abby dropped the note on the counter. Unbelievable. If there was one rule her parents always adhered to it was that wedding business never invaded the residence. That was why they always worked on favors in the catering kitchen and had designated an office as the craft room downstairs. But apparently now that Carol was the bride, all rules were off.

Abby turned to dump her things on the counter, but it was covered with bridal magazines, their pages book-marked with Post-it notes. Sighing, she used her elbow to shove them out of the way and knocked over an open box in the process. It hit the floor and little vials of confetti exploded from inside, showering the tile with silver wedding bells, pink hearts and white doves.

Abby groaned loudly, dropping the pineapple, the carton of yogurt and a tray of ice on the counter. She picked up the box and used her arm to swipe the confetti toward the side of the room. It was way too early to be breaking out the vacuum.

Taking a deep breath, she peeled a banana and then tossed it along with the rest of the ingredients into the blender. It wasn’t until the grinding noise started to wake her up that she realized how quiet it was. Too quiet.

She stopped the blender, her hand still holding the lid down. Wasn’t it Sunday? And if it was Sunday, wasn’t it big breakfast day? So where exactly was the big breakfast?

Just then she heard the voices, heated and strained, coming from outside. They got closer and closer to the front door until it finally burst open and suddenly the room was full of noise. Her father, her mother, Carol and Tucker were all talking over one another as they entered the house.

Tucker placed a big brown bag of bagels on the counter and leaned toward Abby.

“You’ll want to run,” he said under his breath. “Now.”

“What’s going on?”

“Like I know? They’ve been arguing about color schemes for the last forty-five minutes,” Tucker said. “Honest to God I’ve never even heard of some of the colors they’ve brought up. I mean, what’s cerise?”

Abby was about to answer, but her mother’s voice cut her off.

“Red? How can you even think about red, David? This is a summer wedding!” she cried.

“Red is her favorite color, Phoebe,” her father replied, leaning back into the counter. “Isn’t it, Carol?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“What about an all-white wedding? If everything was just covered in white it would be just—”

“Boring. Just boring is what it would be.”

“Like red is so original?”

“At least it has
something
to do with our daughter!”

Carol pushed her hair behind her ears and her ring twinkled in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Abby just could not get used to that rock. It seemed so out of place on her sister’s finger.

“Do we really need a color scheme? Can’t we just mix it up? Have it be sort of au naturel?” Carol said, looking innocently hopeful. Both her parents turned toward her.

“But, Carol! You have to have a color scheme!” they said in unison.

Ooookay. Time to bail,
Abby thought as the argument escalated. She reached for a travel coffee mug, poured half the smoothie into it, and inched around the perimeter of the kitchen until she got to the stairs. Tucker shot her a helpless sort of smile.

“Sorry,”
Abby mouthed.

“Save yourself,”
he mouthed back.

Abby turned and bolted up to her room. Maybe Tucker wasn’t so bad after all.

That afternoon Abby returned home from a long run to find a wedding in progress. The bride was just starting down the aisle in the backyard, so she slipped as quietly as she could through the side door, then headed up to her room to call Delila.

She was just sitting down with her cordless when Carol burst into her bedroom, the color high in her cheeks.

“Hey. Knock much?” Abby said.

“Sorry.” Carol closed the door. “I need to talk to you.”

Abby put the phone aside, intrigued. This was high intensity stuff, whatever it was.

“Abby, I have never seen Mom and Dad like this,” Carol said. She pushed her hands through her hair as she paced the area rug in front of Abby’s bed. “First it was color schemes, then they moved on to invitations and place cards and whether to invite Donny and Beth and if so, whether we should have an open bar. . . .”

Abby stifled a laugh. Donny and Beth were the raging alcoholics of the family who just
loved
to make a scene at any and all functions.

“It’s not funny!” Carol said. “I’m telling you, you should have seen them! I think my wedding is going to kill their marriage.”

Abby chewed on her lip. “Come on, Carol. Don’t you think you’re being just a little dramatic?”

“No! No I don’t!” Carol sat down on the bed and pulled one leg up on top of the blankets, then started gnawing on her already gnawed fingernails.

“Okay, stop doing that before you draw blood,” Abby said, putting her hand over her sister’s.

“Sorry,” Carol said. She pulled her angry, red pinky free and sucked on it. “You have to help me, Abby. You have to help me plan the wedding. If Mom and Dad do it, they’re going to kill each other. I swear it’s like this whole thing has set off some kind of latent power struggle between them. They’re not themselves.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute,” Abby said, pushing herself off her bed and backing up slightly. “You want me to
plan
your
wedding
?”

“Well, not the whole thing,” Carol said. “I just need your help taking some of the responsibilities off Mom and Dad.”

“But Carol . . . you said all I had to do was show up. I hate weddings. You know this.”

“I know,” Carol said. “Which is why
you
know I wouldn’t ask unless I thought it was important. Abby . . . I just want to have a nice wedding. And it would be great if our parents made it through it in one piece.”

Abby saw the sadness and hope in her sister’s eyes and felt herself caving. The last thing she wanted in this world was to plan a wedding, let alone her sister’s premature, ill-advised one. But how could she turn down a face like that from the person she loved most in the world?

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and dove. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Oh! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Carol cried. She hugged Abby so tight, she could barely breathe.

“I wouldn’t thank me yet,” Abby said as she finally extricated herself from her sister’s freakishly strong grip. “I’m sure I’m going to suck at this.”

“Not possible,” Carol said.

Abby couldn’t help but smile at her sister’s confidence. “Oh, and hey! I get to pick out my own maid of honor dress,” she said.

“That’s a given,” Carol told her. “I promise.”

She squeezed Abby’s hand, gave her one last grin and walked out the door. From the yard Abby heard the string quartet break into the classic bridal recessional.

Abby wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

“Okay, the first thing I need you to do is come up with a song list,” Carol told Abby. It was later that evening and the two sisters and Tucker were sitting under the stars in the backyard, kicked back on lawn chairs. Carol had a fat, spiral-bound book titled
The
Ultimate Wedding Planner
on her lap. It was already jam-packed with budget lists, graphs and tear sheets from magazines.

“You guys don’t want to do that yourselves?” Abby asked. “It’s
your
wedding.”

“Yeah, but beyond Sarah McLachlan and the Beatles, I’m musically challenged,” Carol said.

“What about you?” Abby asked Tucker.

“I’m all about Tim McGraw,” he said, arms crooked behind his head.

“Okay, I’m on the music!” Abby announced, widening her eyes. She uncapped the pen and got to work. “No ‘Celebration,’ no ‘Hot, Hot, Hot.’ No . . .”

“Put down songs they
can
play,” Carol said with a laugh.

“Oh. Right,” Abby said.

She glanced over at Noah’s van, which was sitting in the delivery parking lot. He had gone inside fifteen minutes ago to collect the cake plates from that day’s wedding and had yet to return. Her heart had been pounding ever since he’d shown up.

“I’m going to go make a phone call, sweetie,” Tucker said, getting up and pulling out his cell phone.

“Who ya callin’?” Carol asked.

“Oh, just my dad. He left me a message earlier. Something about the tuxes,” he said. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

As Tucker walked in through the back door, Noah came out. Abby suddenly felt like she was on the verge of collapse. Good thing she was already sitting.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she replied.

“Can I talk to you?” He tilted his head toward the van.

“Sure.” Abby somehow squeezed the word through her windpipe.

This was her chance. She was going to study Noah for any and all signs of crushing.

Just keep it cool,
she told herself, wiping her palm on her jeans.
Act normal.

“So you decided to give this whole wedding thing a shot,” Noah said as they walked. “I just wanted to say I think that’s really cool.”

“Thanks.” Abby studied his eyes, looking for some sign of the feelings Christopher had mentioned.

Nothing.

“What’s that?” Noah asked, glancing at the pad she still clutched in her hands.

“Oh, song list,” Abby said. “I’m working on what
not
to play. I have many ideas on the subject.”

Noah smiled. “Need any input?”

He didn’t touch her or move closer to her or execute any of the acknowledged flirting techniques. He just stood there and looked at her. Abby tried not to drown in disappointment.

“Please. She’s already sucked me into this nightmare,” she said, finding her voice. “You should save yourself.”

“And you should accept help when it’s offered,” Noah replied. “It’s only gonna get crazier.”

“Good point,” Abby said, noting that his hair was mussed and his shirt was stained from the bakery. If a guy liked a girl, wouldn’t he clean himself up before coming to her house? “Okay. You want to come up with the songs they’re
allowed
to play? I can’t seem to think of anything.”

“Done,” Noah said.

“Thanks. I’m feeling totally clueless,” Abby said.

“Well, that’s nothing new,” Noah joked.

“Ha ha,” Abby said, her face burning. Christopher was so off. These were not the words of a person in love. Or even in like.

“I’ll e-mail you or something,” Noah said, getting in the van.

“Cool,” Abby said.

“Anything for you, Ab.”

Abby sighed as Noah backed up and headed down the driveway.
Maybe Christopher
is
right.
A breeze lifted her hair off her neck and she shivered.

“Carol! I’m gonna go get a sweater!” she called out, glad for an excuse to be alone for a few seconds and refocus her brain.

“Okay!” Carol replied.

Abby jogged inside, down the hall to the residence and up the stairs. She was positively giddy.

Okay, calm down. Noah gives you one nonsarcastic remark and suddenly he’s in love with you? Not likely,
she told herself.
You’re basing most of this on an observation by
Christopher Marshall. This is the same person who thought
Frankenstein
was a true story.

She was about to head into her room when a voice froze her in her tracks.