Wedding Bell Blues (33 page)

Pete glanced back at the people milling around in front of the winery, waiting for their rides to the Woodrose. Erik sat on the winery steps, blinking.

“I’m still having trouble believing it, Calthorpe. But I hope it’s true.”

“Yeah.” Cal nodded. “After what he did at the rehearsal dinner, I’m ready to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Pete blew out a breath. The rehearsal dinner. Where he hadn’t protected Janie the way he should have. “Right.”

Cal shook his head. “Look, Pete, take a day off, okay? The responsibility for the world’s happiness does not rest on your shoulders. The future can wait until tomorrow.”

“Everybody smile,” the photographer called.

Pete did his best.

Janie’s mouth hurt from smiling. She was also pretty sure her makeup had sweated off, and she was ready to shred the damn rose wreath that kept sliding over her eyes. She desperately wanted the photographer to stop, but Reba wouldn’t let him go until every last person had been photographed multiple times.

Janie wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, pushing the wreath back in place one more time.

“So when do I start throwing things?” Docia muttered.

Janie blinked at her. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, you know, the bouquet, my garter, my mother, the usual.” Docia grinned at her. “Relax, kid, it’s almost over.”

Janie sighed. “I’m just tired, I guess. And we all need to get over to the Woodrose.”

“Did I remember to admit you were right, by the way?” Docia took a deep breath. “This was a terrific wedding. Thanks for talking me into it. I would have hated Las Vegas.”

She reached down and gave Janie another enthusiastic hug. Janie didn’t think she’d been hugged by so many people in a single day since she’d been an infant. Her lungs were permanently compressed. “My pleasure,” she croaked.

“All right.” Reba clapped her hands. “Time to finish up and head to the Woodrose.”

“What about throwing my bouquet and my garter?” Docia frowned.

“You can do it at the Woodrose after you’ve changed.” Reba began making shooing motions toward the parking lot.

Docia put her hands on her hips. “I want to do it here, Mama.”

Reba put her own hands on her hips and frowned.

After a long moment, Billy put his arm around Reba’s shoulders. “How about if she throws the garter here and the bouquet there? That way you each get your way. Sort of.”

Docia grinned. “Fine with me. Where’s my husband?”

Cal emerged from the crowd of groomsmen. He’d loosened his tie and his hair was mussed. He looked more like Cal than he had all morning. “Present, ma’am. What do you need me to do?”

“Take off my garter so I can throw it to y’all.” Docia gave him a slightly feline smile.

Cal shrugged. “Okay. Put your foot on this chair, so I can get some leverage.”

Docia rested one foot on a chair, bending her knee gracefully. Cal started to slide her skirt up her leg, then stopped and swallowed hard. “Docia, you’re not wearing any stockings.”

Docia smiled again. “Yes, I know.”

“Then how do I remove your garter?”

“Oh, hubby dear—” Docia’s smile became positively incendiary, “—you don’t need stockings to wear a garter.”

Cal closed his eyes briefly and then slid Docia’s skirt to her thigh. The blue satin garter with its crystal accents glittered in the sun. He expanded it deftly and pulled it down over her foot.

Behind him, Wonder blew out a breath. “Well done, Calthorpe. Better throw it quick.”

“He doesn’t throw it, you dolt, I do.” Docia plucked the garter from Cal’s nerveless fingers and tossed it in the general direction of the groomsmen. They all stepped back as if something radioactive had landed in their midst.

Except for Pete, who caught the garter through reflex action. And then stood staring at it in a slightly confused way.

“Very good.” Docia grinned at him. “Now we can all go dance.”

Pete nodded slightly, still studying the garter as if it held the secrets of the universe. Maybe it did.

Janie wasn’t sure whose car she was supposed to ride in. Allie had taken her bakery van back to Sweet Thing, followed by Wonder. She had no intention of riding with Cal and Docia, particularly since they looked like they’d be stopping at Cal’s house before they got to the reception. Horace was driving Bethany and the Toleffsons in his SUV.

That left Pete. Janie took a deep breath. Time to start that conversation.

Or not. Reba took hold of her arm. “Come along, Janie, we need to get there before everybody else. We’ve got things to check on.” She pulled Janie along behind her toward her black Mercedes.

Janie looked back to see Pete staring after her, looking faintly annoyed. She tried to wave, but by then Reba was stuffing her into the back seat.

The Woodrose hummed with activity. Tables were scattered around the wide lawn behind the event center and an orchestra was setting up under a gauzy tent at the side. Waiters from Brenner’s unloaded trays of food under Lee’s watchful eye and cases of wine under Ken’s.

Reba kept her hand on Janie’s elbow, pushing her forward. “In here, sweetheart,” she chirped, shoving her through the door into the room that had been her command center.

Janie stopped, staring. Her dress was hanging against the far wall.

Only, of course, it couldn’t be her dress. Her dress had been shredded by Sherice. She walked forward slowly to run her fingers down the front. She couldn’t find any evidence of repairs.

“It’s a new one,” Reba said from behind her.

Janie turned. Reba was smiling so widely it looked like her face might split.

“I had my friend Coralee check the Market Center in Dallas. She found a place that had one in the right color. It may not fit quite as well.” Reba’s brow furrowed lightly. “The seamstress is supposed to be here, but she might be running late.”

She might also be lost in the gauntlet of catering trucks, musicians’ vans, and rented limousines bearing Reba’s guests. Janie didn’t care. The dress shimmered in front of her, pale lavender moonlight on a hanger. It would fit, she knew it would.

“I never did give that woman the sandals,” Reba burbled on, “so they’re still here. I don’t know what you want to do about something for your hair…”

Janie wasn’t listening anymore. Her fingers itched to unzip the dress and pull it on. Outside the door she could hear voices—Allie and Bethany heading for the dressing room. She turned and gave Reba a fierce hug. “Thank you so much!”

Reba smiled at her tearfully, brushing her bangs back slightly from her forehead. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now go be Cinderella.”

Wonder grumbled all the way down the stairs to the Woodrose back lawn. By then Pete had tuned him out. Yes, they were wearing tuxes. Yes, tuxes had been invented by some thorough-going sadist, probably female. Yes, they could have prevailed and insisted on wearing their blazers, looking and behaving like a bunch of frat boys, but Pete preferred to keep peace with Cal’s in-laws—or Cal’s mother-in-law, at any rate. Billy Kent didn’t appear to give a rat’s ass whether they wore tuxedoes or bib overalls as long as they showed up and behaved themselves.

He’d managed to swing by home and take a quick shower before he’d gotten dressed up. The tux was wool, of course, but lightweight.

On the other hand, it had a vest. He hadn’t worn a vest since his senior prom. He’d hated it then, and he hated it now. And he had a feeling he’d be sweating like a pig within an hour.

As they rounded the corner, heading toward the event center, Pete could hear an orchestra somewhere tuning up. Orchestras meant dancing.

He was going to have to dance with Janie.

He closed his eyes and stood still for a moment, remembering just what Janie felt like in his arms. Lordy, the vest wasn’t the only reason he’d be sweating.

“There’s Allie.” Wonder sighed. “Why is it the more clothes we have to pile on, the fewer women have to wear?”

Horace grinned. “Think of it as a tradeoff, boy. You may be miserable, but at least you can enjoy the view.”

Allie and Bethany both wore strapless satin dresses in a color Pete would call beige but that probably wasn’t. They both looked cool, sophisticated and gorgeous. Clearly they could both do better than the two steamy males at his side.

“Come on!” Bethany waved at them. “Docia wants to throw the bouquet.” She slid her hand beneath Horace’s arm, smiling. “Looking good, Doc.”

“You’re not looking too shabby yourself, ma’am.” Horace gave her a grin that was pure seduction, walrus mustache and all.

Pete wondered if there were any empty bedrooms available at the Woodrose, just for future reference, of course. “Where’s Janie?”

Bethany glanced at Allie, then shrugged, smiling faintly. “She’ll be along. Better get moving now.” She walked quickly toward a set of glass folding doors at the side of the event center. “Docia’s in here.”

As he stepped through the door, Pete caught sight of Docia. She was in a white satin wedding dress that looked skintight. Her feet and lower legs were encased in a cloud of translucent fabric, sort of like a mermaid ascending from the sea foam. She looked thoroughly pissed. Cal was keeping out of her way, probably for good reason.

“That’s quite a dress.” Pete tried to make it sound like a compliment.

“If you say I look like Cinderella, I’ll find something small and hard to throw at you,” Docia grumbled. “I thought everybody got dressed up in uncomfortable clothes for the wedding and then got to dress down for the reception. How did I get roped into this?”

“To please your mother. That’s how all of us get roped into stuff like this.”

“Thank you, O wise one. That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

“Docia, honey, where’s your veil?” Reba bustled into the room followed by an entourage of Woodrose staff and the photographer. “You need to get it on before you throw the bouquet.”

“Mama, I don’t do veils.” Docia smoothed down the wrinkles that had already developed in her dress. “Let’s get this show on the road. Where’s my husband? He hasn’t deserted this shindig already, has he?”

Cal slipped away from Wonder and Allie. “I’m right here. It’s okay.” He was grinning again. Oh, well, he probably had reason to at this point.

“Okay, where’s Janie?” Docia craned her neck, looking toward the French doors.

“I’m here, Docia, go ahead.”

Pete turned. Janie stood in the doorway. She was wearing a dress the color of summer twilight. Her skin glowed. Her hair had a dense blue-black sheen. She looked like she was wearing stardust. She turned toward him and smiled slowly.

Pete swallowed. He was in deep, deep trouble.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sherice stood beside her rental car, smoothing her skirt. She really wished she’d had time to go to San Antonio and pick up a real Versace dress rather than this knock-off, particularly since Lars would be cutting off her credit cards soon-—if he hadn’t already. Still, this outfit would do nicely for her purposes. A red the color of Marilyn Monroe’s lipstick, matte jersey that fit her like a second skin, cut low on top and high at the bottom. Perfect for her entrance into the reception.

She started up the path from the parking lot. Good thing she’d taken the wedding invitation with her when she’d left the motel. The security guards at the entrance to the event center hadn’t even blinked when she drove up, just motioned her through like any other guest.

She headed toward the French windows at the back. Best to avoid the receiving line, although she figured they wouldn’t want to make a fuss about her there in front of all the other guests. On the other hand, she didn’t want to give Billy Kent the chance to have her discreetly thrown out. Not until she’d done what she’d set out to do.

Not that she knew exactly what she’d set out to do. Too many possibilities!

She could walk in when the bride was tossing the bouquet. That would sure as hell ruin Docia’s aim. Maybe she’d hit one of the Toleffsons by mistake, preferably one of the males. Better yet, she could step forward as the best man started his toast. She’d love to see Pete Toleffson choke on his champagne. Or maybe she’d show up in the middle of the dancing. She could picture the floor clearing to let her through, everybody whispering, wondering who this gorgeous woman was. This gorgeous woman the Toleffsons had driven away.

Sherice tightened her lips to a thin line. The final scene in all these scenarios always featured Lars realizing what an asshole he’d been, what a loser he was to let her go.

Not that she wanted him back. Not even slightly. But she really wanted him to suffer.

At one point she’d considered trying to grab Daisy again. If she wanted Lars to suffer, that was definitely the way to go. But she figured she’d never make it this time. Mama Toleffson would probably snatch her bald-headed before she’d let that baby go again.

Sherice rounded the corner of the building, heading toward the back entrance, when she noticed someone sitting on the steps that led up to the glass doors. A very large someone. A very Toleffson someone.

She caught her breath. For a moment, she thought it was Lars, but the body wasn’t quite right. Taller, but softer somehow. She came to a stop a few feet in front of him as the man turned her way. Erik Toleffson. The prodigal son.

She shook her head. “What the hell are you doing here? I thought they’d drummed you out of the family. Or did they send you out to sit on the steps this time?”

Erik regarded her through narrowed eyes, his mouth spreading in a slow grin. “Afternoon, Sherice. I thought you might show up. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Sherice took a deep breath, assessing the situation. A frontal assault would work best, she decided. “I’ve got a right to be here. I’m still a Toleffson. My daughter’s in there.” She took a step forward. Erik didn’t move.

He nodded. “A concerned mother. Interesting approach. Of course, the dress doesn’t really work for that.”

Sherice folded her arms across her chest, careful not to loosen the double-sided tape that was holding her breasts in place. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

Erik shrugged. “Nothing, if you’re looking to replace Lars with a sugar daddy. It’s just not what most people think of as motherly, unless you’re planning on breast-feeding her during the afternoon.”