A Wedding on Ladybug Farm (4 page)

“But we pulled it off,” Bridget reminded her.  “The first one was only a three-week notice.  Forty-five days is practically forever.”   

“The point is,” Lindsay said, “everything is all mapped out.  Send out invitations, lock down menu, get license, get rings, order wine, order flowers, meet with officiator
…”

“What about bridesmaids
’ dresses?” Bridget said, searching the spreadsheet.  “Where do we come in?”

“It’s on there, it’s on there,” Lindsay assured her impatiently.  “Now, if you’ll look on page two
…”

Cici reached to the center of the table and thumbed through the papers there.  “When did you have time to do all this?  What got into you all of a sudden?”

“Dominic’s
children
are coming,” Lindsay said, and the way she widened her eyes at them made it seem as though the emergency should be perfectly self-explanatory.  “And according to Dominic, his daughter Cassie is the most organized, detail-oriented person in the western hemisphere, not to mention his favorite child—well, if parents are allowed to have favorites, which I’m not sure they are—and I’m not going to have her thinking her dad is marrying some kind of flake.  Or worse, that I don’t want to marry him at all!  She’s bound to be pestering him for updates, and I want him to be able to tell her everything is under control and right on schedule.  And when she gets here I am going to be cool as a cucumber and she’s going to find everything is shipshape, right on track, bright as a new penny, running like a Swiss clock!”

She paused for breath and Bridget added loyally, “She’s also going to find that her dad has wonderful taste in fiancé
es.”

Lindsay gave a decisive nod of her head.  “Damn right.”

Cici took a deep, thoughtful breath. “Well then.  We’d better get busy painting the shutters.”

“And the trim in the dining room,” Bridget reminded her. “And we’ve got to do something about that hole in the carpet Rebel chewed when we brought him in during the ice storm last winter.”

“You need to take down the drapes in the front room, too,” Ida Mae said, whisking away, “and shake out all the dust mites.”

“The chandelier needs to be taken apart and washed in vinegar water,” Lindsay added, scribbling on her spreadsheet.

“I’ll tell you what you need,” Ida Mae declared, whisking harder.  “You need to ask that man of yours whether he even wants to move into a houseful of women.  He might have a thing or two of his own to say about the whole thing, did you ever think of that?”

Cici and Bridget turned incredulous stares on Lindsay.  “You mean you haven’t even asked him what he wants to do?” Cici said.

Lindsay hesitated. “Well, not in so many words,” she admitted.  “Things have been a little up in the air, you know, but we always had an understanding we’d live here, of course we did.”  But even as she spoke a slight uncertainly came into her eyes and she looked from Cici to Bridget.  “Didn’t we?”

“We did,” Bridget agreed, looking mildly distressed for her friend’s sake.  “But maybe he didn’t.”

Cici gave a small shake of her head.  “A gentleman likes to be asked, Lindsay.”

Lindsay looked momentarily taken aback, and she glanced distractedly over the papers that were spread across the table between them. “Well,” she said in a moment, gathering confidence, “this is what this meeting is for.  First we come up with a plan, then we get his approval. Right?”

Cici and Bridget nodded agreement, but Ida Mae made an unintelligible sound as she slammed the bowl to the soapstone countertop with a clank. “Where’s that dad-blasted mixer?” she muttered, and stomped off into the pantry.

Lindsay gave her departure only the mildest of curious glances, then turned back to the papers.  “So,” she said, picking up her pen.  What are we going to do with the dog?”

There was a thud, a crash, and an ear-piercing yowl from the pantry, followed by Ida Mae’s declaration, “I’m gonna skin me a cat!”

Bridget leapt to her feet just as a blur of black and white fur exploded from the pantry.  “Ida Mae, are you all right?”

Ida Mae appeared a second later, her iron curls quivering with righteous vengeance, a wooden spoon raised threateningly over her head.  “That cat broke my best mixing bowl!”

“Well, thank goodness he didn’t break your hip, is all I can say.”  Cici pushed back her chair as Bridget lunged after the kitten.  “Bridget, you’ve got to do something about that cat.  He’s always pouncing on people and getting underfoot—somebody’s going to trip over him and get hurt!  I’ll get a broom.”

“Don’t hit him with a broom!” cried Bridget, alarmed.  She crouched down on the floor, trying to block the kitten as it skidded around a corner of the work island.  She missed.  “He’s only a kitten!  Here, kitty, here, Snowflake. ”

Cici gave her a sour look.  “I meant I’ll get a broom to clean up the mess.  The mess
he
made.”

Lindsay said, “Snowflake?  Where did you get Snowflake?”

“I’m trying it out.” Bridget scooped up the kitten, who responded with another angry squawk of protest, and cuddled it against her chest protectively.  “You know, soft as a snowflake.”

The first name Bridget had chosen for the new kitten was Ratatouille, which was cute until she realized the abbreviation was “Rat
,” or worse, “Ratty.”  Since then she had been through more kitten names than Lindsay had wedding dates, and none of them seemed to suit.

“Menace is more like it,” Cici muttered, moving toward the broom closet.

“Hellfire is better,” said Ida Mae, glowering as she tossed the spoon into the sink.  “Whoever heard of animals in the house, anyway?  Hair all over everything, shredding the furniture to ribbons … Miss Emily would have a fit.”

“Well, good thing it’s not Miss Emily’s furniture,” Bridget retorted.  The kitten, as slippery as an eel, squirmed and wriggled to get down, but she held on tight.  “He’s too young to be left out at night.  Besides, Rebel hates him.”

“First good sense that dog has ever shown,” Cici said, grabbing the broom and dustpan.

“Ladies, please,” Lindsay said, “could we get back to the problem at hand?”

The clatter of broken pottery came from the pantry, and Ida Mae flung open a cabinet door, stretching for the flour canister.  “Well, it ain’t night now, and you can just get that creature out of my kitchen while I’m trying to make something fit to eat.  Filthy animals.  I never heard the like.”

“This is a
five thousand-square-foot house,” Bridget went on, holding onto the kitten with both hands now.  “Six bedrooms, six bathrooms, and at least three rooms we don’t even have a name for!  I think there’s room for one little four-pound kitten.”

“Not to mention a husband,” responded Lindsay.  “Ida Mae, be careful!  Let me help you with that.” 

The flour canister threatened to tip over as Ida Mae dragged it toward the edge of the shelf and Lindsay bounded to her feet to help. Just then Cici pushed through the swinging door from the pantry with a dustpan filled with the shards of the broken mixing bowl.  The door caught Lindsay’s bare foot just as she walked into it and she squealed in pain, staggering back into Cici as she bent over to grab her injured limb. The broken pieces of the mixing bowl clattered to the floor and Cici cried, “Oh, Lindsay, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”  Bridget reached out to steady Lindsay and the kitten launched itself from her arms and into the air, sailing across the countertop to land on Ida Mae’s shoulder just as she was tilting the heavy flour canister off the shelf.

The flour canister exploded on the floor, spraying a volcano of flour into the air, covering countertops, faces, dishes
, and clothing—not to mention the kitten—in a fine white ash.  Ida Mae reached around and plucked the kitten off her shoulder.  Bridget grabbed him before she could fling him across the room and snatched up a kitchen towel, trying to wipe the flour off his fur.

“
Now
he looks like a Snowflake,” Cici observed, and then turned to Lindsay.  “Lindsay, I didn’t know you were there!  Is it bad?  Oh, be careful!” She grabbed Lindsay’s arm just in time to prevent her from stepping back onto a shard of broken pottery. 

“Look at this mess!  Just look at it!” declared Ida Mae.  “I told you what would come of having animals in the house! I told you!  There goes my angel food cake.  And what am I supposed to do with all these egg whites now?  They won’t whip up
; they’ve got flour all in them.”

“We’ll put them back together with the yolks and make a nice quiche,” replied Bridget distractedly.  She gave up trying to clean the wriggling kitten and carried him to door.  He sprang from her hands and across the yard as soon as she opened it. “Lindsay
, are you okay?  Should I get the first aid kit?”

“Do you see?  All we have to do is talk about a wedding and this is what happens!”  Lindsay hobbled across the room and sank into her chair, bringing her injured foot to rest on her knee.  “It’s the curse of Ladybug Farm.”

“There is no curse,” Cici said, kneeling beside Lindsay. “Is it bleeding?  Broken? Let me see.”

Lindsay gingerly probed her bruised big toe, groaning out loud.  “It’s already starting to swell.  I’m supposed to try on shoes today!”

“I’ll get an ice pack,” Bridget said quickly.

There was a light knock on the back door and Dominic came in.  “Good morning, ladies.”  He paused, glanced around at the flour
-covered kitchen, and remarked, “Doing some baking, I see.”

Bridget, leaving a clean swath of skin across her face as she pushed back her hair, turned from the freezer with a quick smile.  “Good morning, Dominic.  I was going to make pancakes.”  She cast a swift glance around the disaster area and added, “It might take a minute.”

“Thanks, but coffee is fine for now.”  He moved toward the coffee pot, dusted flour off a mug, and poured a cup.

Lindsay buried her face in her hands. Cici patted her knee reassuringly.

Dominic looked at Lindsay.  “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

Lindsay mumbled something unintelligible into her hands, and Cici, with only a moment’s hesitation, spoke up.  “Family meeting,” she said decisively, and stood.  “You’re invited.”

Lindsay dropped her hands from her face, staring at her.  Ida Mae made a satisfied sound in her throat, and Bridget hurried over with the ice pack.  Dominic looked surprised, but then, with barely a hesitation, brought his coffee over to the table. Lindsay mumbled, “I think I broke my toe.”

Bridget handed Lindsay the ice pack and sat down. 

Dominic said with concern, “Do you want me to take you to the ER?”

“She’s fine,” Cici said, and Lindsay glared at her.  “Have a seat.”

He did, glancing at the papers.  “What’s all this?”

“It’s our wedding plan,” Bridget said.

Cici sat down, folded her hands atop the table, and leaned forward earnestly.  “Dominic,” she said, “I know Lindsay’s been meaning to bring this up, but I think she’s a little nervous so I say let’s just get it out in the open.”

Lindsay objected, “Cici!” and Dominic kept his expression guarded.

“This doesn’t sound good so far,” he said.

“But it is,” Bridget assured him.  “At least, we hope it will be.”

Lindsay said, “Cici, really …”

Cici ignored her.  “Dominic, we just want to say that we’re really happy you’re marrying us—I mean, Lindsay, of course—and want you to know that our house is your house.  When we first decided to buy this place there was a lot of paperwork, but it’s really not as complicated as it looks.  We’re a family now, and you’re the best thing that ever happened to us—I mean, to Lindsay, of course—and we want you to
be part of it.  So we really hope that you’ll consider moving in here when you and Lindsay are married, and making Ladybug Farm your home.”

Bridget nodded in satisfied agreement.  Lindsay sank back in her chair, her expression a mixture of astonishment, humiliation, and relief.  Dominic’s lips twitched with amusement as he looked from one to the other of them, and he said, “Why
, I do believe that’s the sweetest proposal I’ve ever heard.”

Ida Mae clattered the broom and dustpan as s
he swept up the broken pottery.  Bridget tossed over her shoulder, “Ida Mae, leave that.  I’ll get it in a minute.”

Ida Mae clattered louder.

“We should have talked about this in private,” Lindsay apologized.

“And a lot sooner,” added Bridget.

“But now that we’ve got a countdown going,” Cici said.

“To the wedding,” Bridget clarified.

“There really isn’t a lot of time to get these things settled,” Cici finished. “No pressure, of course.  But we want to make sure you know you’re welcome here.”

Dominic nodded, smiling.  “Thank you.” 

He sipped his coffee.  Lindsay looked at him questioningly.  Bridget glanced at Cici, who seemed to have nothing more to offer.  So Bridget said helpfully, “It’s a really big house.  You won’t even know we’re here.  And there’s plenty of room for your animals.  We can fence off part of the pasture for the horses, and I’ve always wanted a house dog.”

“That’s very kind,” Dominic said.

Lindsay looked a little uncomfortable.  “Of course, you have your own things, with a lot of memories, and we never talked about what you’d want to do with your house … maybe you want to stay there, I can understand that.  Of course, that might work too,” she added, gaining confidence, “if we commuted back and forth.  I mean, at this age, there’s no such thing as a conventional marriage, is there?  We can make our own rules. Whatever works, right?”