Playing for Keeps (4 page)

Chapter Three

It is only the one thoroughly acquainted with the evils of war who can thoroughly understand the profitable way of carrying it on.

— Sun Tzu, The Art of War

I didn’t really understand why people had weddings.

Getting married—I was down with that. You found someone you want to live with forever (or at least for the next couple years) and you wanted to make a declaration. Getting married was like putting a brand on your spouse, only not as permanent because you could always rip up the papers if you got really pissed.

And then there were all the legal benefits of being married. If your husband won the lottery, you’d be entitled to half. Without the certified document, you wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if he wanted to run off and spend it on transvestite hookers.

But the wedding… I didn’t get why anyone would want to spend a fortune on a party that lasted only a few hours and was attended by a bunch of people no one really liked.

Back when I dreamed of marrying Kevin (that jerk), I wanted a wedding, but I was going to have a small garden wedding with only family and close friends. A small, elegant celebration of the love between us.

Small
apparently wasn’t a word in Nell’s vocabulary.

“I want the menu to be grand, with lots of choices. My fiancé‘s parents are vegetarian, so we want to make sure to accommodate them.”

“Vegetarian?” I gasped. “Does Daddy know?”

She elbowed me in the ribs. Hard.

This was bad. Daddy was a lieutenant colonel in the Marines until Mom died. He only decided to retire so he could be home with us instead of being deployed all the time. That was seventeen years ago, but he was still hardcore. He had beliefs, and one of them was that a good American ate beef.

I rubbed my side and tried to concentrate on what the caterer was saying, which was hard because of the prevailing scent of roasted lamb wafting through the office. It made my tummy gnaw on its own juices. I bet she piped in the aroma through the vents on purpose.

“That won’t be a problem.” The woman pulled out a file from behind her desk and flipped it open. “I have the perfect menu here that offers a large selection of vegetarian choices as well as meat.” She bared her pointy teeth at us. I think it was supposed to be a smile. “For the carnivores.”

Creepy. I knew there was something wrong with her the moment I saw her. She looked like she was auditioning to be a Stepford wife. She wore a pink suit à la the 50’s. I couldn’t decide if it was retro cool or just plain weird. Her hair was mildly bouffanted, and the kicker was I doubted she was much older than me.

Her office matched her: lots of pink and lace. Her desk was polished so finely I could see every pore on my face in the reflection.

I had a vision of what the buffet would look like if we hired her. Lace doilies and servers dressed like June Cleaver.

Nell didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Maybe she didn’t care about the doilies. “Great. How much would it be per plate?”

The caterer pushed a piece of paper toward us.

Oh. My.
God
. I almost fainted. I wondered if she had smelling salts stashed in her desk. No, smelling salts were Victorian. Martinis were the 50’s. I opened my mouth to ask for one—dirty with three olives.

Before I could speak Nell said, “That seems reasonable. We estimate about a hundred guests.”

A hundred people? Where was Nell going to find a hundred people?

Another flash of sharp teeth. “A hundred guests would be no problem at all. Our usual event size is between two and five hundred.”

“And you do wedding cakes as well, right?”

“Yes.” She added hastily, “At an added cost.”

“Would it be okay if I take the menu home and go over with my fiancé?”

“Of course. However, I’ll need a deposit as soon as possible to reserve the date.”

Okay, I was confused. Where were the samples? Wasn’t one of the perks of picking a caterer that you got to try their food free? I’d been looking forward to tasting cakes, too.

I waited until we were in Nell’s Lexus to ask her.

She just laughed as she fastened her seatbelt. “Betsy Taylor doesn’t give out samples. She gets her business by referral only. She’s the best caterer in Portland.”

Color me ignorant but I had doubts that was the way it was supposed to work. Maybe I was just disappointed she hadn’t fawned all over us. I’d been really looking forward to that. “Didn’t you think she was weird?”

“Anyone who wears a skirt is weird to you.”

I couldn’t deny that. I didn’t remember the last time I wore a skirt. Anyone who’d willingly put one on had to have a screw loose.

Nell glanced at me as she pulled onto the street. “You know as a bridesmaid you’re going to have to wear a dress.”

I grimaced. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“I don’t know what your deal is. You have great legs. You should wear short skirts.”

“Right. So I could look like a stork.”

“Maybe if you dressed like a girl for a change you’d get asked out.”

My hackles rose. “I get asked out all the time.”

“I meant by someone other than Wendell.”

She had me there.

Wendell was always pestering me for a date. Respectfully—he’d never do anything to offend me because he had a healthy fear of my father.

There were three reasons I’d never date Wendell.

1) He was ex-military. Been there, lived that. No thanks.

2) He was a bit possessive. Example: If he saw one of the other male students talking to me, he’d come over, stand behind me like my own personal secret service agent, and glare until the poor guy peed his pants and scurried away.

3) His knuckles dragged on the ground.

Fate would have to be cruel as to pair me with Wendell for the rest of my life.

I started to worry. “I dress like a girl.”

Nell rolled her eyes but kept them on the road. “You don’t. Not since that bastard Kevin broke up with you.”

I couldn’t deny it. I used to try harder back then. Sometime after Kevin (that jerk) dumped me, I stopped wearing makeup and fixing my hair in anything other than a ponytail.

“At least you don’t wear baggy T-shirts any more.”

I crossed my arms and pouted. Several months ago, Nell and Chloe ganged up on me. While I was in the shower, they collected all my clothes and burned them.
Burned them
. In the fireplace. Then they made me buy the clothes they selected. I
loved
all my old T-shirts. They were perfectly broken in.

Okay, I like the clothes they made me buy. I may still mostly wear jeans and T-shirts, but my jeans are fashionable and my shirts are cute. I was loath to admit it to my sisters, but my clothes really were flattering.

But I drew the line at wearing a skirt. I didn’t even wear dresses very often for Kevin (that jerk). “Maybe Chloe and I could wear pantsuits. Kind of like tuxedos but for women.”

Nell scowled at me.

“It’d be elegant.”

“Nice try, Gracie, but I already know what I want.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Resign yourself to it, babe,” she said, glancing sideways at me as she changed lanes.

She didn’t have to be so gleeful about it.

Maybe it was time to change the subject. “Were you really serious about inviting a hundred guests?”

“Of course. We have a lot of family and friends, and Riley needs to invite some of the people from his firm. It adds up.”

No kidding, it added up. To a fortune. They could take a trip around the world for a year with what they were going to spend on that caterer. “Have you called the church yet?”

She shot me a little girl smile. “I thought maybe you could do that for me. Please, Gracie?”

She wasn’t as good as Chloe but it still worked. “Sure thing. No problem. I’ll do it when I get back to work.”

“You’re the best.”

I snorted.

She screeched to a stop in front of the studio. “See you tomorrow. We’re hitting the florists.”

At least I’d have a reprieve before the dresses.

I was barely out of the car before Nell tore off. I shook my head. She wouldn’t make it to the wedding if she kept driving like that.

It was early afternoon and there was a kids’ class in session. I stopped to watch the munchkin kung fu, smiling at the parents who greeted me.

Daddy was teaching three-year old Rose McKenna to tumble. She stared at him with big trusting eyes, listening intently to his instruction.

I loved watching Daddy teach the little kids. He was a big bear of a man, tall and large. Not fat—he was in perfect condition even though he was sixty-two. You wouldn’t expect such a big man to be so gentle with tiny human beings, but that was what he was.

I walked over to Rose’s mom, Mena. Mena was a student as well, but she’d come to my dad already a black belt. Her husband Rio owned a chain of athletic clubs on the West Coast.

“Rose is so adorable,” I said softly to Mena.

She grinned at me. “She’s such a studious little thing. She gets that from her dad.”

“She gets her martial arts ability from you.”

“Your dad’s a great teacher, especially with the munchkins.”

We watched him praise the little girl and send her back in line. I leaned in conspiratorially. “Daddy complains about only having daughters and us being the banes of his existence, but truth of the matter is he likes teaching girls best. He thinks women are better fighters than men.”

“It’s one of the reasons I came here, because he treats women equally.” Mena glanced at me. “How come you don’t take classes?”

“If you knew what it was like at home, you’d know my training is constant.” Truthfully, before my mom died, Dad used to teach me things all the time, but after we’d been busy with Nell and Chloe.

Squeezing Mena’s arm, I walked back to my office. I sat my butt in my chair, pushed all other thoughts aside, and opened QuickBooks. I didn’t look up until Daddy walked in a couple hours later.

“Hi, baby.” He dropped onto the chair across from my desk.

“Hey Daddy.” I lifted my head, rubbing my sore neck. “Class over for the day?”

“Yeah.” He picked up the framed picture of Mom I keep next to my computer and stared at it. “You have fun with Nell today?”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

He smoothed the edge of the frame. There was a rough spot in the metal from when I dropped it a couple years ago when I was rearranging the office. “Your mother would have loved all the fussy details of Nell’s marriage.”

“Yeah, she would have.” She’d have made sure it was all perfect. She always said the details were what counted.

“You’re a good girl doing this for your sister. Your mother would have been proud of you.”

That boosted me, and I resolved I’d do a better job being enthusiastic about the whole affair. Who cared about creepy caterers and wearing some creampuff of a dress? This was about making Nell happy.

“We got the food squared away. The caterer came highly recommended, and the menu’s going to offer a lot of choices.” No way was I going to be the one to tell him Riley’s parents were vegetarian.

“Hmm.” He frowned at the picture and set it back on my desk. Leaning forward, he put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his hands. “What do you think of Riley?”

“Why do you ask?” I asked cautiously.

“Just wondering what your impression is. You have good instincts.”

“I do?” I sat up a little taller.

“‘Course you do. You’re my daughter.” He shook his head. “I don’t know about Riley. He seems nice enough but there’s something about him…”

I bit my lip. “Nell loves him.”

He snorted. “Nell falls in love more often than some people change underwear.”

True. Nell was impetuous. I envied her that. Nell never hesitated to experience life—she ran toward it with open arms. I got through life with more of a turtle philosophy: slowly, and ducking my head in when the going got rough.

He got up. “You staying much longer?”

“No, I’m going home soon. I thought I’d grill steaks for dinner.”

“You don’t need to make anything for me. I, uh, am going out tonight. See you later, Gracie.”

He shot out the door before I could open my mouth to ask where he was going. I heard the outside door latch shut seconds before his car zoomed down the street.

What was that about?

Looking at my calendar, I frowned. It was Thursday. Daddy never went out on Thursdays. He got together with the guys for poker on Saturdays and Mondays. Sundays in the Fall, too, because of football. But never Thursdays.

I finished what I was doing and shut down my computer. Half an hour later I got home in time to see Daddy drive off.

Was he wearing a dress shirt? I almost ran up the curb gawking at him. Daddy hasn’t worn a dress shirt since—well, since never. For Mom’s funeral, he wore his Marine dress uniform.

Seriously disturbed, I let myself into the house.

I tripped over Chloe’s backpack as I walked into the living room. There was a pile of laundry on a chair—clean or dirty, I couldn’t tell. The dirty dishes were still in the sink.

At least some things never changed, and the constancy was oddly reassuring.

Chapter Four

If circumstances are favorable, you should modify your plans.

— Sun Tzu, The Art of War

I called the church the next morning from work. “Hi. Who do I need to talk to about booking a wedding?”

“I can help you with that.”

“Great.” I breathed a sigh of relief. The woman sounded efficient and knowledgeable. I hoped she’d be able to tell me exactly what I needed to do.

“Are you a member of our church?”

“Uh, yes?”

A pause. “You’re not sure?”

“Well, we were all baptized there, but it’s been a long time since we’ve attended services. Does it make a difference?”

“We have a discounted rate for members, but you can still use the church even if you aren’t one.”

“Oh.”

“But since you were baptized here, you’d count as part of the parish.”