A Gala Event (2 page)

“You'd be right. The one bath is barely adequate for the three of us, and I can't imagine adding two more people to the mix. Why do you bring that up?”

“I've been thinking . . . I want to give you something special as a wedding present, and I thought maybe an overhaul of the plumbing of this place would be good. Are you horrified?” Seth looked uncharacteristically uncertain.

Meg was momentarily speechless, and then she burst out
laughing. “I love it! Nothing says true love like plumbing.” Seth looked bewildered, as if unsure of what she was saying, so she took pity on him. “Seriously, Seth, I think it's a terrific idea. What did you have in mind?”
And when will you find the time?
Meg added to herself.

“I was thinking that I could carve out a smaller bath from that niche in the master bedroom—shower only—without taking anything away from the main bathroom. Although all the pipes there definitely need to be replaced. And if I'm going to have things opened up anyway, I thought I could add a powder room directly beneath it at the same time.”

“That would be amazing, Seth,” Meg said, and meant it. “But we will have one functional bathroom throughout the whole construction process, right?”

“Of course. And everything that shows will be historically accurate, at least on the surface. I figured you'd want some say in picking out the fixtures. Whenever you have the time.”

“I love the way you think, Seth Chapin. I think it's a brilliant idea. And I have no idea how I'm going to match it.”

He smiled, clearly pleased by the success of his suggestion. “Don't worry about it. This is kind of a shared gift anyway—I'll be happy not to have to fight either you or Bree for time at the mirror while I'm trying to shave.”

“I haven't dared ask Bree what she wants to do about living arrangements. I'm sure she'd rather not intrude in our newlywed bliss, but I can't afford to pay her enough to rent someplace nearby. Or at least, I don't think I can. I won't know until after she's run the numbers for our sales and expenses. Are we really supposed to figure all this out in the next couple of weeks? Oh, and by the way, are we planning a honeymoon?”

Seth looked stricken. “Do you want one?” he said anxiously.

Meg burst out laughing at the look on his face. “If you could see yourself! Sure, you know me—I'm pining for a week in the Bahamas, with well-oiled pool boys bringing me endless fruity drinks with umbrellas in them.”

“Then you shouldn't be marrying a plumber,” Seth responded.

“Excuse me, a specialist in period home renovations with a growing client list,” Meg corrected him. “And don't worry about it. The idea of sitting here and catching up on the last six months' worth of . . . well, just about everything sounds like perfection to me.”

“Amen,” Seth said. “Although maybe we could try a restaurant or two.”

“Or a weekend in Boston?”

“Don't get ahead of yourself, woman!” he said in mock anger. Then his tone softened. “Happy?”

Meg smiled. “I am. Very. It will all work out.”

Meg's cell phone rang as they were finishing their coffee. She fished it out of her pocket to see the restaurant's number. “Hey, Nicky or Brian. What's up?”

“It's Nicky. Things are quiet at the moment, and we wondered if you wanted to come over and discuss wedding plans now?”

Meg checked her watch: just past three. “Sounds great—Seth and I were just talking about all the planning we still have to do. You want him there?” She looked up to see Seth shaking his head vigorously. “Or maybe we should rough out something and I can show it to him.”

“Either way is fine. So we'll see you in a few?”

“I'll be there.” Meg hung up and turned to Seth. “What, you don't want to talk about menus?”

“I trust you. And I eat just about anything, as you know. Just include something for the vegetarians and vegans and we'll be fine.”

“I don't have to have carrot cake, do I? Because there's a lot about traditional weddings that I won't miss, but I want an indulgent, over-the-top cake.”

“I'm not going to argue.” Seth stood up. “Well, those invoices are calling my name. See you at dinner. Don't go too crazy—but I haven't had a bad dish at Gran's since it opened.”

“I'll try to control myself, and I'll listen to Nicky's ideas. I agree—she's a great chef, and we're lucky to have her in town. Happy invoicing!”

“Yeah, right,” Seth muttered as he went out the back door.

Meg was beginning to understand why people eloped: it was so simple. She had never been all that interested in weddings, and the few friends she'd kept in touch with from her pre-Granford days seemed to be avoiding marriage altogether, although most of them had a partner of some description. Meg had considered the idea of living with Seth—briefly—but rejected it. The reality was, Seth was spending about ninety percent of his time at her house, but that was not the same as standing up and declaring your intentions to spend your life together in front of your friends and your community. She and Seth hadn't explored the concept in much detail—after all, he'd been married once before, and that hadn't worked out. He was surprisingly unbitter about the end of that relationship, and would only go so far as to say that he and Nancy had discovered that they wanted different things from their lives, and had parted on reasonably good terms. But he wanted the public declaration of their joining now, maybe more than she did.

In an odd way, Meg felt like she was marrying the town by marrying Seth. His Chapin ancestors had helped settle the town of Granford over two centuries earlier. Of course, her Warrens hadn't been far behind, but Meg hadn't grown
up in the town, the way Seth had. But Seth didn't just live in Granford—he helped run the place, as an elected selectman, which was an unpaid and occasionally thankless task.

But she'd never pored over
Brides
magazine, never oohed and aahed about dresses and table decorations. She hadn't talked any of this over with her mother, Elizabeth, but she had a sneaking feeling that Elizabeth was simply happy to see her getting married at all. Seth's mother, Lydia, who lived just over the hill, was equally laid-back about the whole thing. So it was up to Meg to make the myriad of decisions about what and where and how this was going to happen. She realized that in her mind she visualized one large happy party that happened to include a small element that would make Seth and her a legal entity in the eyes of the state and country. Whatever that meant. With a sigh, she stood up, pulled on her jacket, and went out to her car to drive the couple of miles to the restaurant.

The sight of Gran's, housed in a sturdy Victorian building perched on a low hill at the end of the town green, never failed to cheer her up. Meg was proud that she had played a role in creating it—not with the cooking (Nicky handled that brilliantly) but by figuring out a way to make it financially possible in a highly competitive area by involving local providers as partners. It had worked well, and the restaurant had been open a year now. It was even drawing visitors from the surrounding college-based communities like Amherst and Northampton, and that was high praise indeed from the local foodie community. She parked beside the building and walked up the front steps. Nicky opened the front door before Meg reached it.

“Welcome, blushing bride!” Nicky said, throwing her arms around Meg. “I'm so glad you chose us for this wonderful event.”

Apparently Nicky was more excited about the wedding than Meg was. “The blushing part I've got down pat—it's the ‘bride' part that still boggles me.”

“Ha! You and Seth are made for each other. Any dummy could see that.”

“Considering that I started my career in Granford with a murder in my backyard and by creating chaos at a town meeting, that's a small miracle. How've you been, Nicky? How's business?”

“Great, to both. Come in, sit down. I made some nibbles for us—this planning stuff is hungry work.”

Meg complied. “Will Brian be joining us?”

“Nah. I'll tell him what the plan is, and he'll make it happen. Besides, he thinks this is girly stuff.”

Meg smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion that Seth feels the same way. He's more or less said, ‘whatever you want.'”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I want a party where people have a good time.”

Nicky eyed her. “Oh, sure, no problem. We'll just order up a bunch of good-time supplies. Okay, let's start with the basics. The date is December fourth—that's a Friday. Why not Saturday or Sunday?”

“It was my grandmother's birthday, and she was one of my favorite people. I see it as kind of an easygoing event, after work for some people. I haven't invited a lot of people from out of town, so it will be mostly the people Seth and I know around here.”

“Well, since we're talking about Seth, that's the entire town. How did you narrow down the list?”

“It wasn't easy, believe me. I'm sure somebody's feelings will be hurt. Or I'll just blame it on you and Brian and those pesky fire regulations.”

Nicky grinned. “Okay, I'll take the heat. And I wouldn't
expect Seth to bend the rules about capacity, even for his own wedding.”

“Don't forget that the entire select board of Granford and the chief of police will be here, too,” Meg added.

“Exactly. We can't just stuff people in willy-nilly. The place might collapse. How're the RSVPs going?”

“About fifty percent so far,” Meg told her. “Not too many ‘nos' either.”

“Of course there aren't,” Nicky replied quickly. “People have been betting on when you two would figure things out for the past year—they wouldn't miss it.” Nicky got a faraway look in her eye. “Of course, we might be able to enclose the porch with removable panels and some portable heaters—that would give you some more capacity. But we'd have to be sure the porch can take the weight. I'll have to ask Brian about that.” Nicky made a note on the pad of paper she had brought to the table. “Okay, next. Sit-down or buffet?”

“Shoot, I don't want a formal thing with fancy tablecloths and six forks and three-foot centerpieces on the tables. Buffet is fine. And no assigned seating—let people sit where they want and with whoever they want.”

“Open bar? Champagne only?”

Meg sighed. “Rough me out some numbers on that, will you?” She knew that an open bar could get expensive, but it seemed stingy to offer guests only one option for liquid refreshment, and cash bars were kind of tacky for a personal event.

“What kind of food?” Nicky was as relentless as a drill sergeant.

“Buffet food?” Meg ventured.

“Hot or cold?” Nicky snapped.

Meg held up a hand. “Nicky, I love your food. Why don't you suggest a menu? And since this will be in December, I
guess there had better be some hot food in there somewhere. But not too drippy.”

“Got it.” Nicky made another note. “I'll e-mail you some choices. Decorations?”

“Well, it's after Thanksgiving, but I don't want a Christmas theme. Greenery?”

“How about pine boughs with a few nice red apples thrown in? That would look back to your harvest, and forward to the winter season.”

“Perfect. I'll supply the apples, if you'll tell me what you need.”

“Maybe a few real candles with hurricane globes—exposed candles always make me nervous, especially with greenery around. Too easy to tip over.”

“I hear you. Are we done yet?”

“Of course not. One big cake, or individual ones?”

“I told Seth I wanted an extravagant wedding cake. That's the one thing I remember from most of the weddings I've ever been to. Can you do that here?”

“Of course I can. Flavor?”

“Whatever you do best. And like to make.”

“Red velvet cake? With white frosting and red sugar apples?” Now Nicky had a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Fine. Wonderful. How much is all of this going to cost us?” Meg said.

Nicky looked at her directly. “I wish I could say it's on the house, since we both owe you so much. But the business can't take that. How about I charge you what the ingredients cost us? Of course, additional waitstaff will be extra. And the liquor, of course. But our labor will be our gift to you two.”

Meg was touched. “Nicky, that seems more than fair to me. Thank you.”

Nicky grinned. “Don't thank me until you've seen the
bill. But I won't load things up with filet mignon and truffles. Call it the best of New England, locally raised.”

“I love it. Is that all?”

“For now. I'll send you over a proposal, and we can fine-tune it. How's the harvest look?”

“Not bad, all things considered. We survived.” Despite a drought and an insect invasion and a small forest fire. “I'm hoping we can afford a pump for the wellhead this year, which will make our lives a whole lot easier in case we get hit by another drought.”

“And Seth's business?”

“Still kind of transitional, I guess. Plumbing jobs pay the bills, but his heart is in historic renovations, which are rarer. He's still getting his name out there. And then he gives time to things like the overhaul of the Historical Society, which he did pro bono. Have you been inside yet?”

“No time. But I have to say, I was impressed that it came in on time and on budget. That's unusual anywhere. And Seth must have had a hand in that.”

“He has a hand in just about anything that goes on in Granford.” Meg checked the time—nearly five. “Nicky, I must be keeping you from your own work. Don't you have to prep for tonight's meal?”

“I do, but I wanted to make sure I got things squared away with you. Like I said, we owe you big-time, and I'll do everything I can to make sure this event is something special.”

Meg felt the prick of tears. “Thank you, Nicky. That means a lot to me.”

Loud noises of clattering pans came from the kitchen, and Nicky stood up quickly. “Oops, gotta go. I'll get you that estimate later this week, okay?”

“That's fine. Thanks again.”

Outside on the porch, Meg took a deep breath of the
autumn air. There was a hint of smoke—were people already using their fireplaces? Should she have hers cleaned? Did they have any firewood?
Stop it, Meg! Just enjoy the moment, all right?
The town green looked lovely. The light was already fading, now that it was past five. The steeple of the white church at the other end of the green soared into the deep blue twilight sky. Meg noticed that there were lights on at the Historical Society just down the hill from it. Was it still open? It shouldn't be, but maybe Gail Seldon was trying to catch up on cataloging, or setting up the new exhibits. Renovation had been completed only a month or so earlier, and then they'd had to wait to install new shelving in the newly dug basement, and then they'd had to paint, and so on. So while Gail had gleefully assembled the Society's collections from the buildings across the town, where they'd been “temporarily” stored, some for as long as a quarter century, she still hadn't had time to update the cataloging so she knew what they had. But she also wanted to make the place welcoming, by arranging new exhibits that showcased the local historical objects. And somehow she had to squeeze in time for her husband and their two school-age children.

Meg decided to walk over and say hi to Gail, if it was indeed her. It could be one or another of the Society's board members, but she knew most of them as well. If it was Gail and she was alone, maybe Meg would have the chance to ask her about being matron of honor. Meg walked down the porch steps, then crossed the road and the length of the green.

Only a few of the lights inside were on—saving electricity?—and the door stood partially open. Meg rapped on it. “Hello? Gail?” she called out. There was no answering voice from inside, but Meg could hear a peculiar mewling sound. Human? Animal? She pushed the door open and stepped
inside, through the unlit foyer, into the single big room beyond. And stopped in her tracks.