Cupid's Revenge (5 page)

“Chloe, I’ll write a poem for your wedding,” Althea said. “A nice long one.”

Feeling cowardly, I gobbled my half of a sandwich (Blue got the rest) and announced I had to get back to work. Alex got the quickest kiss on record and the hissed advice to find some urgent work to do elsewhere. If he stayed I figured that he was either insanely brave or too stupid to marry.

I passed Daddy’s Donuts on the way downtown, inhaling all the way. I love the way the shop smells on a cold day. Surely that is what heaven smells like, at least part of the time. Had I been less upset I might have stopped and picked up a fritter to go. As it was, I knew it would give me indigestion. Besides, I had been eating a lot of fatty foods recently. If I didn’t stop I would end up fitting in Grandma Boston’s wedding dress.

Tomorrow I had a half-day off. Usually I love having free time when everyone else is at work. But not just then. Maybe I would lie and say I had to work. After all, our first Valentine’s Day was rushing down on us, an avalanche of pressure, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to give Alex except to get his parents out of town. And maybe to arrange for my mother to take a six month cruise on a boat with no communications center.

I needed help and was not too proud to ask for it.

Taking a risk on being rebuffed, I pulled my cart over and phoned Mary Elizabeth.

“Mary Elizabeth, this is Chloe.”

“Hello, dear. Are calling about that new pomegranate moisturizer? It’s going fast.”

“No, at least not at the moment. Um, my mom kind of made a premature announcement about Alex and I getting engaged and Rosemary looked like someone slapped her in the face with a smelly fish.”

There was a pause.

“I see. By premature, do you mean that you aren’t actually engaged?”

I squirmed. We hadn’t given details to Mary Elizabeth either.

“Well, we were going to announce it on Valentine’s Day— at the Sweethearts Ball because it would be romantic,” I added mendaciously. Mary Elizabeth is a Sweetheart of long standing. “Anyhow, I just wanted to warn you that you may be getting a phone call from Rosemary. Right after she calls Gwen and unburdens.”

Mary Elizabeth actually snorted.

“I take it Bob is fine with the news?”

“He seems to be. I think he had already guessed. I mean, Alex and I are living together and he bought the duplex next door. It can’t be that big a shock.”

Mary Elizabeth snorted again.

“It’s a pity that your grandmother isn’t alive. She could have fixed this.”

I didn’t ask which grandmother she meant. Grandma Boston, to whom I owe my strange talent, had had a reputation for being a witch. Her favorite trick— or the one other people talk about most— was her ability to afflict people with laryngitis. It was all psychological, of course, but it would be handy to know how she did it. Unfortunately, Grandma Boston is in heaven knitting spangled sweaters for stars like Liberace and Elvis.

Mary Elizabeth and I said goodbye. Feeling that I needed a stronger ally I called Dad. Dad was free to take my call— I had a feeling that he often was free since he was big on delegation— and explained what had happened.

Unlike Mary Elizabeth, Dad was laughing.

“You’ve got to hand it to your mother.”

“I’d like to hand the whole mess to her,” I muttered.

“Any hope that Rosemary will heal quickly from the shock?”

“I don’t know. I am trying the Christian Science approach right now and hoping things will fix themselves given time and space.”

“So lots of praying?”

“I think we are past prayer and have moved on to wailing and gnashing of teeth. I am also thinking of taking up hard liquor until they leave.” Dad laughed harder. “So, want to come to dinner tonight and play human shield?”

“No,” he said frankly. “But I will since I need Alex of sound mind and body until my website is done, and you are my only child. Also, it’s a good idea to know your adversary before you ignore them. I think I need to know Bob and Rosemary better if they are going to be butting in on our lives with any regularity.”

Dad was a man after my own heart. And he had Alex staked out as his own property, the son he’d never had.

“Thank you,” I said earnestly and then decided I really did need to get back to work. My engagement was a personal crisis I would handle on my own time.

I called Alex before I started for home. He didn’t sound as harried as I expected and I found out that was because he had heeded my warning and left the storage facility right after me. He had some non-news. Elvira Lewis was in charge of publicity for the Sweethearts Ball, but she was out of town with a daughter who had just had twins. No one was sure who Elvira had assigned to make posters and flyers this year, but inquiries were being made.

I could barely remember Mrs. Lewis. I hadn’t had much to do with her after she retired from the cafeteria at the elementary school. She had always been kind of tatty looking with strange, patchy brown and black hair that grew to different lengths. Someone had started a rumor in junior high that she has worked at Three Mile Island when it had a meltdown. It was also believed that she had a glass eye though no one could say why.

“Dad is coming to dinner,” I told Alex. “And I don’t feel like cooking so I was thinking of picking up Chinese. Does that sound good?”

“Yes. And maybe we’ll be spared tonight after all.”

“Really? Why?”

“Mary Elizabeth has invited Mom and Dad to dinner and promised she would try and keep them late.”

“Bless her,” I said. “But I’ll get extra pot-stickers in case they come home early.” Pot stickers are doughy smiles of happiness— as long as you turn them smiley side up.

It was good that I planned ahead because Alex and Dad were ravenous after their hard work on the website.

Bob and Rosemary came home around seven. They used the door on our side of the duplex, though they had a key and could have entered through the other side. Rosemary wasn’t crying but looked forlorn and her steps actually dragged as she headed for their side of the duplex. I knew she was waiting for Alex to say that he took it all back and we weren’t actually getting married.

Blue put her head in my lap and I fondled her ears, comforted but not happy. I really couldn’t wait for Bob and Rosemary to go home. I wasn’t used to people who were ready to fling their emotions around at the drop of a hat, especially when they were guests in someone else’s house. Had they no understanding of the rules for being a guest?

Well, of course Rosemary had no understanding. She had brought her cats without asking.

No, Rosemary was not the make and model of mother-in-law that I would have ordered, but she came with Alex. It was a package deal. And I wanted Alex. Didn’t I?

“Chloe? I don’t like that stare. What are you thinking?” Alex whispered.

“
Your son is your son until he takes a wife
…” I murmured, thinking of a poem my mother had told me. I bet Rosemary knew that one too and was panicking.

It also explained why Alex’s sister was the way she was. Gwen had probably learned her behavior at her mother’s knee.

“Damn it,” I said as the connecting door closed quietly after Bob and the crying started again.

Dad gave a low whistle.

“What?” Alex didn’t look happy either.

“She fights dirty,” Dad said.

The quicksand of unhappiness would swallow Rosemary if she didn’t come around and quickly. And that would bother Alex. Something had to be done. I hated paying the blackmail, but I didn’t feel like I had a lot of choice.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I told Alex.

Signing in resignation I picked up the phone and dialed my mother. I told her to bring all of Althea’s bridal magazines and something sweet to eat.

We would give the glossy bridal pictures a chance to bring Rosemary under their spell. If being allowed to help with the planning of her son’s wedding didn’t cheer her up then nothing would, and I could wash my hands of her and still sleep nights.

“You don’t have to do it,” Alex said. “I know you don’t want this. She’ll get over it in a few days.”

I could tell he didn’t believe this.

“Families aren’t always about getting what you want,” I said as I hugged Dad goodbye. He’d had enough wedding talk when Althea got married. He had already told me to just let him know when, where and what to wear. “And it will make Mom happy too. And if it gets too ridiculous we will just run away to Vegas.”

I wasn’t joking.

“Would you rather do that?” Alex asked. Dad paused. He looked enthused about this idea too.

“Yes. But we’ll save it as the threat of last resort.” I exhaled. “Do we have any more wine? I need a drink.”

Chapter 7

I turned the pages on the magazine with movements that were a little jerky. My motor skills were being influenced by too much stress and late-night caffeine. Alex had talked me into coffee instead of wine since alcohol tends to lower my inhibitions and I have a tendency to be extremely truthful when under the influence. I had to agree that the situation called for tact, not truth.

Mom and Rosemary kept showing me dresses while Bob and Alex pretended to watch a basketball game while buried in feline bodies. Both women were of the Valentine Fantasy Princess school of couture and I had a bad feeling that I could end up looking like something that belonged on a box of truffles if I listened to them. I smiled and nodded anyway.

I was using my own magazine to help hide my face. I had stopped looking at dresses and was instead looking at a picture of a vast lawn with a Jaguar parked in the middle of the expanse of velvety green. It was very peaceful. I would like to own a Jaguar someday, but it will never happen. We simply aren’t a match. I can look. I can admire. I fantasized about standing there on that lawn and running my hands over the long, sleek hood. But the car just stared back, unmoved, knowing I was not Jaguar material. I will always own sensible, dog-friendly vehicles. I will never have a velvet lawn either. I might not even get to have peace and quiet.

These dresses Mom and Rosemary were picking were even more wrong for me than the car.

I began humming
His Yoke Is Easy, His Burden Is Light
. Only I had substituted ‘noose’ for ‘yoke’. ‘Her’ for ‘His’ and ‘blight’ for ‘light’. I was as bad as Althea sometimes, but it amused me.

“That’s pretty, dear,” Mom said. “What is it? Were you thinking of using it for a bridal march?”

“It’s from The Messiah,” I said and opted not to explain the rest. I glanced over at Alex and could see he recognized the music. I just hoped he didn’t guess what I had been thinking.

“I know what’s wrong,” I said suddenly, having conceived a wonderful lie. Not always, but sometimes, I can slip one past Mom. If it’s a white lie and I use verbal sleight of hand when I deliver it.

“What, dear?”

“These are all winter dresses and I was thinking of having a wedding when the weather is nicer. So we could be outside, at least for the reception.”

“A summer wedding?” Mom asked, torn between having a chance to do something different from her sister whose daughter had had a winter wedding, and the chance to get me married right away. After all, you never knew when disaster might intervene and we would be short a groom.

“Or maybe early autumn,” I said, knowing that it would make Rosemary happy if she had several months of breathing room. After all, Alex might come to his senses or be abducted by aliens or something. I could be hit by lightning or meet a rap star and move to Hollywood.

“Autumn.”

“And I don’t want to pick a dress until we have a venue. Imagine trying to drag a train through autumn leaves or up or down stairs. So I think we need to start scouting sites and get some new magazines with summer dresses. Mom, I know you are very busy with getting ready for the Sweethearts Ball, but maybe if we get the gazebo done early, you and Rosemary could start looking at sites. The Falls might be nice. Think of the pictures.” Uh-hu, like I would get married at the scene of my most embarrassing Office Bill safety lectures.

Alex smiled at me, knowing what I was doing. Mom looked at me too. I don’t know what conclusions she was drawing, but she smiled agreeably and said: “Of course, dear. It’s hard for a working girl to make time for things like this. Leave it to us.”

“Thanks.” I made sure to smile at both Mom and Rosemary. “I’m sorry for bailing out on you. But it’s been a long day and I have an early morning tomorrow. I’m going to hit the hay.”

“And I should get going,” Mom said. “We need to get that gazebo done and that means an early morning for me too. Chloe, maybe we could all meet for lunch out at The Falls.”

“Okay.” Oh boy. Oh yeah. Oh joy. Waterfalls in February. That would be swell.

Alex yawned convincingly so Rosemary and Bob had no choice but to say that they were tired too. I noticed that Rosemary did take one of the magazines with her, which I took as a good sign. Maybe the drastic therapy was working.

*  *  *

The whole wedding situation was keeping me from investigating our Valentine saboteur, so I left early the next morning— with Blue— to visit some friends and neighbors and scope out the neighborhood where Mrs. Graves lived. I wasn’t worried about the saboteur going after the gazebo again. Volunteers were there all day and since the fire Emmett Spalding was being vigilant at night. That didn’t mean that our culprit wouldn’t try something else though. The acts had been spiteful and vindictiveness didn’t always burn itself out after an act of protest or two.

Mom called at eight and reminded me that I was meeting her and Alex’s parents at noon to assess The Falls as a potential wedding site. This was make-work. There was absolutely no way I was going to be married in the same place where I had tripped on a skateboard and toppled into a fountain. People I knew had seen me! There was even video. Why hadn’t I thought of some other plausible location for the wedding? One indoors with a coffee bar.

The morning was frustrating. My interviews with the neighbors availed me nothing, except a whole lot of congratulations on my engagement and questions about when the wedding would be. Blue likes attention, but by ten I had had it with chit-chat.