Wedding Bell Blues (4 page)

Cal shook his head. “Better wait until tomorrow. The first day she’s out, you’ll need to stay with her all the time.”

“I’m not doing anything in particular—she can hang out with me.” Plus it would give him something to do besides bugging Janie Dupree.

Cal pushed himself to his feet. “Mom might not appreciate that, seeing as how we’re supposed to pick her up at the airport in a couple of hours. And then take her to dinner with Docia and her mom and dad.”

Pete grimaced. He would vastly prefer spending the day with a stressed-out greyhound to spending it with his mother. But he was the best man, and the best man supported the groom in his duties. All of his duties, apparently. “Okay, tomorrow it is.”

Cal thumped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, bro. I knew you’d come through. Come on, I’ve got some greyhound pamphlets for you.”

Pete closed his eyes for a moment, counting to ten. This just got better and better. “Pamphlets. Of course you have pamphlets. Lead away, Calthorpe, lead away.”

Docia came into the bookstore around noon, par for the course these days. Janie was surprised she’d made it in at all, given that The Wedding was less than a week away.

She wore a pale yellow cotton dress—full skirt, halter top, very un-Docia. Janie thought she could count the number of times she’d seen Docia in a dress without running out of fingers. She was usually more a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of girl.

“What’s up?” She kept her voice chipper. Docia looked like she was headed for the gallows. These days Docia looked like that a lot.

“Oh the usual. Flower arrangements. Wedding arch. And my mother-in-law-to-be, whom I’ve never met, is arriving in San Antonio at two.” Docia took a deep breath and gave a bright, totally artificial smile to a passing customer.

“She’ll love you,” Janie said automatically.

“I don’t know. From what Cal and Pete have said, she’s sort of difficult. Love may be asking too much—I’ll settle for tolerate.”

Janie slid an arm around her shoulders—not the easiest thing to do since Docia was almost nine inches taller. “She’ll love you, Docia. Trust me. This is all going to be terrific.”

Docia sighed. “I swear, Janie, I had no idea what I was getting into when I told Mom she could run the wedding. This whole production has gotten bigger than most grand operas. Maybe we should just have hightailed it to Vegas.”

“That would have broken your mama’s heart.” Janie picked up a stack of books from a customer and began clicking the cash register. “And mine. Besides, this way you get to meet all Cal’s brothers at once.”

“All of them except the oldest. Cal wouldn’t invite him. I guess none of them have forgiven him for being such a bully when they were growing up.”

“Pete seems…nice.” Janie kept her voice neutral. Actually, Pete had seemed nicer this morning, but who knew how long that would last?

Docia smiled. “Pete’s great. Once you get to know him.”

Janie wasn’t sure how well she wanted to get to know Pete Toleffson. Even if he had apologized this morning, he’d still been a jerk last night. On the other hand, he had great shoulders, especially in those T-shirts he usually wore.

“Oh, I meant to ask you—” Docia half-turned again, “—is Otto coming to the wedding? He hasn’t RSVPed yet.”

Janie yanked her unruly thoughts away from Pete Toleffson’s shoulders. Otto’s shoulders were equally broad and sort of her property. “Yes, I think so. I’ll remind him the next time I see him.”

Janie tried to remember if she’d mentioned the wedding to Otto last night. They’d gone to the movies—some comedy with a lot of men who were apparently obsessed with bodily fluids. Otto had laughed so hard he’d had to wipe away tears. Janie had dozed off about two-thirds of the way through.

“Janie, are you sure you want Otto at the wedding?” Docia’s eyes were suddenly sharp.

Janie managed a slightly tight smile. “Of course. I need somebody to dance with, after all.”

The bell above the door tinkled, and Docia’s mother, Reba Kent, bustled into the shop. Docia groaned, softly.

Reba was wearing a sky blue tunic over white slacks, her dangling earrings jingling as she moved. “Honey babe, don’t you look yummy! Come on now, we need to check on those place cards before the boys get back with Mrs. Toleffson.”

Docia grabbed her purse from behind the counter and started toward the door. Just before she went out, she turned back to Janie, the corners of her mouth slipping up in a dry smile. “You know, kid, there are a lot of dance partners out there. Maybe you should think about it.”

Janie watched the two Kent women sail down the street toward Reba’s Mercedes. A lot of dance partners
were
out there. But sometimes she thought Docia had grabbed the last good one.

A multi-car collision on Highway 281 made Cal and Pete late in getting to the San Antonio airport, but Pete was pretty sure their mother would have found something to be unhappy about even if they’d gotten there an hour early. Mom wasn’t big on traveling, no matter how good the cause. Leaving Iowa always struck her as a somewhat subversive idea, particularly leaving Iowa for Texas.

They found her sitting in a leather chair in the baggage claim area. Pete had a few moments to study her before she saw them coming. She had on one of those outfits she always wore when she traveled—mint-colored knit slacks and a long white blouse with bright green flowers, a purse the size of Dubuque slung over her shoulder. Her baggage was heaped at her feet—a series of tapestry-covered suitcases decorated with fluorescent tape so that she could find them on the baggage carousel.

She looked up then and saw them, her face slowly smoothing out of a frown into a tight smile. Pete figured she was glad to see them, sort of. Maybe.

Cal gave her a quick hug, patting her on the back. “Sorry, Mom, a wreck on the highway closed down some of the lanes, and we got held up. We tried to call your cell.”

His mother waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I never turn it on when I’m traveling. I don’t want to forget to turn it off on the airplane. They make such a fuss about that.”

Pete sighed. No point in explaining she was supposed to turn the phone back on again once the plane landed. He kissed her cheek dutifully. “Hi, Mom.”

His mother took a quick inventory of his outfit, her smile becoming even tighter. “Well, you certainly look comfortable!”

He managed not to grimace. Cal had put on khakis and a knit shirt. Pete still wore the jeans and souvenir T-shirt from Myrtle Beach he’d put on that morning.

Call it a statement. With his mother, of course, it was more like a call to battle.

He gathered a couple of her suitcases together. “How was your flight, Mom?”

“Oh, fine. Of course, I had a middle seat. But that’s all right, it all worked out. I had a nice man on the aisle to talk to. The woman in the window seat went to sleep, but I can’t sleep on airplanes.”

She gathered up her spring coat, which she carried even though the temperature outside hovered in the mid-nineties. Pete wondered if she didn’t trust the weather forecast or if she didn’t trust Texas. Probably some of both.

“Let me carry something.” Cal reached over and picked up a large shopping bag.

“Well, just don’t look inside,” his mother cautioned. “It’s your wedding gift from Aunt Roslyn. Since she can’t come all the way down here herself, she sent it with me.” She took up a position between the two of them as they walked out the door, looking deceptively small and vulnerable between two towering hulks.

“Aunt Roslyn didn’t feel like wrapping her present?” Pete negotiated the crosswalk between taxis and shuttle buses, heading for the parking lot. “Doesn’t sound like her.”

“No, it’s wrapped,” his mother explained, “but Cal shouldn’t see the present before his fiancée does. They should see it at the same time. It’s a present to both of them. It wouldn’t be right for him to look at it without her.”

Pete debated pointing out that seeing a wrapped package before it got to Docia didn’t strike him as much of a betrayal. But what did he know? He wasn’t the one getting married.

“Oh, Cal, there’s another problem I needed to talk to you about.” His mother’s voice hadn’t really changed, but Pete heard a new undertone that set the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

Cal apparently got the same message. Pete saw his shoulders stiffen. “What’s that, Mom?”

“Erik’s invitation still hadn’t arrived by the time I left.” His mother’s lips thinned in a tight smile. “Maybe you’d better send him another one. Or call him. That would be better at this point.”

Cal unlocked the SUV and began lifting suitcases inside the back. “I didn’t invite Erik, Mom. I haven’t spoken to him in over five years. I don’t see any point in asking him to my wedding.”

Cal’s jaw had taken on a rigid set. Pete’s shoulders tensed too.

“Well, I just thought this would be a good time for the two of you to work out your differences.” His mother’s eyes had a hard brightness that said she wouldn’t back down on this one. “It’s a family occasion, after all.”

Pete had a sudden memory of fourteen-year-old Erik holding eight-year-old Cal by the back of his shirt, laughing at Cal’s attempts to get loose.

Twelve-year-old Pete had grabbed the first thing his hands touched and whacked Erik across the back of his head with it. Unfortunately, the first thing his hands had touched was a large plastic Easter bunny. At least the surprise had made Erik drop Cal on the lawn rather than the sidewalk. But then both Cal and Pete had collapsed, giggling at the sight of the decapitated bunny’s head hanging from Erik’s shoulder.

Erik hadn’t seen the humor, of course. He’d beaten the crap out of them both. Typical.

Cal sighed and turned to face his mother. “Mom, we can’t work out our differences. Erik’s not any more interested in having a relationship with me than I am with him.”

His mother’s smile was gone, her lips taut. “Erik’s changed. He’s trying to make up for things he did when he was younger. And he’s your brother. You need to give him a chance.”

“Come on, Mom.” Pete snapped the trunk closed. “Time to get back to Konigsburg.”

His mother turned her head quickly, giving him a narrow-eyed look that would have sent him running for cover when he was ten years old. Then she sighed, moving on to her next topic. “All right, all right, let’s go. How are you feeling now, Peter? Are you taking your pills like the doctor told you to? What about the stomach problems?”

Pete opened the door for her. “Yes, ma’am. I’m doing fine.” Or he would be, once he got this wedding business over and got back to work.

Chapter Three

Otto arrived at seven to take Janie to dinner with Docia and Cal’s families at Brenner’s. Seven was around thirty minutes late, and five minutes before Janie would have been ready to go without him. She felt an emotion oddly like regret as Mom opened the front door to let him in, beaming.

She took a moment to study him. He must have showered after afternoon football practice. His short, reddish brown hair still glinted with moisture.

He might have been ten years beyond his days as the star quarterback of Konigsburg High, but Otto still looked like a football player. Janie figured he always would, even when his metabolism slowed down. His shoulders were broad, his chest rippled with muscle, his stomach was gorgeously flat.

He was maybe a hair over six feet, significantly shorter than Pete Toleffson, but Pete’s arms weren’t the size of tree limbs, like Otto’s were. All in all, Otto did a good job of filling out his green golf shirt, his broad shoulders and chest stretching the waffled knit. His thick forearms were dusted with light brown hair that Janie happened to know also covered his impressive pecs. For all she knew, it covered more than that, but she hadn’t found out yet.

The question was, did she want to?

A lot of women did. When Otto took her to the movies or to the Silver Spur to dance, hungry eyes watched him when the other girls thought she wasn’t looking. Most Konigsburg females undoubtedly believed she was one lucky lady.

Janie mentally gritted her teeth. She
was
one lucky lady. Otto was a catch. They’d been dating now for almost three months, and she knew he wanted to take their relationship to the next level because he’d told her so in exactly those words.

Janie wasn’t sure why she didn’t quite feel like doing that. After all, the number of months for her current dry spell was now stretching into double digits.

Maybe because making out with Otto hadn’t inspired much more than annoyance when he slobbered in her ear, although she’d also had a vague ache around her stomach. It could have been desire, but it could also have been the nachos they’d shared earlier.

Janie sighed. Her mother would tell her she was being silly. Her friends would tell her she was being picky. Well, some of her friends would tell her that. Janie had a feeling Docia wouldn’t.

Docia had found her prince, although she’d had to put up with a lot of toads before she did. Docia’s wedding was a daily reminder that princes were out there somewhere, and a daily reason not to settle for less.

“You ready to go there, sweet thing?” Otto’s voice sounded like his throat had been buttered, particularly around Janie’s mother.

“Yes, I am.” Janie gathered her clutch bag and a butter yellow stole she’d picked up at the weaving shop downtown. Her white strapless sundress splashed with bright red poppies always made her feel perkier than usual, particularly since it didn’t look like something she could wear to church on Sunday.

Otto hadn’t really noticed the dress. Or anyway, he hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe he wasn’t into perky.

“Oh Janie, don’t you look lovely.” Her mother gave her a quick hug.

Well, a mother compliment was better than no compliment at all. On the other hand, her mother had said more or less the same thing when Janie had headed off to her senior prom in the Disco Drama dress that still ranked as her biggest fashion disaster.

Otto cocked an eyebrow. “Nice dress.” He sounded like he’d just noticed she had clothes on.

Janie gripped her purse more tightly and headed toward Otto’s glistening black monster truck. The row of chrome lights on top of the cab glittered in the setting sun.