You’re Invited Too (24 page)

I steal a glance at Mom. “We?” I murmur.

“Yup.
We.
I'd be honored to be your assistant. If you'll have me, that is.”

Assistant? All this time I've been hoping that Mom would hire me back to her company (even if I might not accept because of RSVP, it would still mean the world to be asked) and now
she
wants to work for
me
? For a second it feels like I've landed in Oz, but it was a hurricane that (almost) hit yesterday, not a tornado.

“Me too! I can help!” Izzy says. “I can do the photography, like at the
Little Mermaid
wedding!”

I turn in my seat to give her a grin. “That would be great, Iz. Thanks.”

Mom catches my eye as I turn back, and her own eyes are soft. “The Pleffer girls ride again, huh?”

I love the sound of that. I really, really love the sound of that. All of a sudden, even though I know this could be asking for major headaches, I kind of sort of hope that Alexandra Worthington insists the wedding go on as planned.

•  •  •

“Sadie-babe. Tonight's wedding is off! O-f-f. Off.”

I twirl the phone cord around my hand in the darkened kitchen. Darkened at ten in the morning because the power is out at our house and everywhere else in Sandpiper Beach. “Oh, but . . . I thought . . . um, is everything okay with you and Ike?”

“With me and Ike? Of course. Why would you ask that?”

“Oh, because when you said the wedding was off, I—”

“No, no. The wedding is on. Ike is my forever guy. I said the wedding
tonight
is off. You should see the utility pole that crashed through our roof. Sadie-babe, I tell you: the wind. And then the noise. And the hole in the roof. It rained on my shoe closet. Thank goodness I wasn't at that silly shelter and I could rescue my Manolos.”

“Your—?” I don't have a clue what a Manolo is, but I guess I never will because Alexandra doesn't let me finish. As usual.

“I made Ike sign a contract stating we can get off this godforsaken island just as soon as we say our ‘I dos.' Why you people would want to live here under the constant threat of hurricanes is beyond me.”

Maybe because we're not under
constant
threat and because most sane people leave the island and seek shelter when there
is
a threat and because there are about six zillion amazing things about Sandpiper Beach that make the very occasional risk of a hurricane totally worth it. But I know better than to argue with Alexandra Worthington.

Instead I say, “Um, so about those ‘I dos.' When do you think—”

“Tomorrow. Two p.m. sounds right. We have to deal with all the pesky insurance people today about our roof, and Ike is very insistent that we have to be here to meet with them. Hmph. But tomorrow afternoon I want to be at the altar saying my vows, and furthermore, I want this to be the best wedding anyone has ever seen. No exceptions. Now, I want updates every hour.”

Of course she does.

When I hang up, I find Mom prying one of the plywood boards off the window outside our living room. “We have twenty-eight hours!”

Mom drops the board. “Wtty httt hnns?”

I cock my head and crinkle my forehead. Mom removes the two nails she had pulled out of the window and was “storing” between her teeth. “I said, ‘Twenty-eight hours?' ”

“Yep. And I quote: ‘
furthermore
, I want this to be the best wedding anyone has ever seen. No exceptions.' ”

Mom just laughs. “Of course she does. Well, let's get to work. I have a feeling, if nothing else, it's going to be the most unique wedding anyone's ever seen. Especially with the electricity out all over town and half the roads blocked by downed branches. I'd say, first things first, you need to organize an RSVP meeting ASAP.”

With cell-phone towers out of whack because of the storm, I have to call Becca, Lauren, and Vi on the regular phone instead of issuing the Bat Signal by text as usual, but forty minutes later we're all in place at the
Purple People Eater
. Even Mom and Izzy.

“Does this bottled water taste off to anyone else, or is it that it's so warm?” Mom asks. Lauren looks like she's about to seriously lose it, while the rest of us just giggle.

“It's just warm,” Becca, Vi, and I all say at once. I hand Mom a flashlight from the bucket.

“It's cozy down here,” Mom says, switching it on. Izzy just sighs happily. She's been angling to get in here since preschool, practically.

We all turn to Mom to get us started, but she glances right back at us with her eyebrows up. “Don't look at me, ladies. I'm just the hired help! This is your show.”

Becca shoots me a smile. “Totes. We got this, girls.”

Except we have major obstacles. For one thing, Mom, Izzy and I went back to the mainland to check on the Poinsettia Plantation House before coming to the marina and discovered bad wind damage to their wraparound porch. The only person we could find working was a maintenance guy who said they would be closed for at least a week. So much for a reception site.

The Church of the Victorious and Forgiving Holy Redeemer had some flooding from all the rain. No ceremony site.

In trips back and forth from the
PPE
to the marina's office phone, we find out that the caterer evacuated to her sister's in New York City and won't be back in time, the florist's supplier is farther up the coast where the storm made landfall and all his greenhouses are in disarray, and the minister who was supposed to perform the ceremony fell off a ladder when he was boarding up his house and is in the hospital with a broken leg. To sum it up, that means we have:

1) no venue for either the ceremony or the reception,

2) no food,

3) no flowers, and

4) no one to do the actual marrying

But aside from that, everything will be amazing.

As if.

“Girls, could I make a suggestion here? I don't want to tell you how to run your business, but I do just want to point out one thing I've learned over the years.”

Mom waits until we're all looking at her and says dramatically, “We live in the best town on earth.”

We all stare, while Mom waits patiently. When Becca says, “Ummm . . . ,” Mom sighs and adds, “What I'm saying is that the greatest part about living in a small town is that everyone knows everyone else. Okay, fine, so maybe that's also sometimes the worst part. But at times like this, trust me, you'll be glad. I'm going to leave you all to ponder that while I go chat with your mom, Lauren.”

When Mom leaves, we continue to stare blankly, trying to figure out the message she was giving us.

Finally Izzy says, “Do you think she means we should just ask everyone to pitch in?”

Lauren nods thoughtfully. Then she pulls out her lucky test-taking pen from her bag. “I think that might be exactly what she meant. Sades, get your notebook out. We've got lists to make.”

•  •  •

The power is still out the next day, with only hours to go before Alexandra Worthington's wedding. No, scratch that. The electricity is out, but we have plenty of power.

Manpower, I mean. (And womanpower!)

“Sadie, where do you want these?”

I glance up at Principal Carney, who's holding two hanging baskets she's taken the flowers out of and filled with bottles of sunscreen and bug spray. “I thought we could string those from the branches over there so guests can spot them as they head to their seats,” I say, pointing at the tree I have in mind.

“Oh, yes, seats. I've got two from my dining room. I would have brought more, but my car is so tiny, even those were a tight squeeze,” Principal Carney says.

I smile and point at the clearing of grass along the banks of the marshy Bodington River, where at least three dozen mismatched chairs are lined up in neat rows with an aisle down the center, awaiting the ceremony. “That's okay. You'd be surprised how fast a couple from here and a couple from there add up.” The assortment is mismatched, but the overall effect fits perfectly with our vintage wedding theme.

“Oh, lovely. Everyone really chipped in. And blankets? Where do those go?”

“See Lauren for that one. She'll be here in a few, and then she'll be setting them up on the other bank, where there's a bigger grassy section. The tide's on its way out, so you can wade across easily if you go that direction,” I say, pointing again.

When we realized none of the places in town could accommodate a large wedding on zero notice, we came up with the idea of having it outside. The beach was too windy and noisy with the surf still rough from the storm, but the tidal river is sheltered and quiet and peaceful. Exactly right for a wedding. Luckily, the warm weather came back, and it's a perfect fall day.

I sigh happily as I look around. Over by the ceremony site, Lance is setting the Victorian fans I made last month on chairs. Becca and Philippe are hanging lace curtains donated by Becca's mom from a low tree branch on a live oak at the top of the makeshift aisle. Alexandra Worthington can come through them to make an entrance when the ceremony starts.

Mom and Izzy are stringing the lace doily–wrapped mason jars from other tree branches around the clearing along with these cool lace balls the three of us made last night by papier-mâché-ing more doilies to balloons and then popping the balloons inside once they had dried. They're so pretty and mystical-looking.

I wander to the spot we've designated as a parking lot. Vi and her dad are staking a sign they created by nailing strips of wood one on top of another and painting one word on each. It reads
HAPPILY EVER AFTER STARTS HERE
, and the last branch has a painted arrow showing the way to the ceremony site.

“You guys, that's so cool and romantic! I love it!”

Vi and her dad share a grin. “We're pretty proud of it,” Mr. Alberhasky says.

I'm just happy to see Vi and her dad smiling at each other. It seems like they've totally worked out all the janitor stuff now.

I consult my clipboard and ask Vi, “Hey, have you seen Lauren yet? We need to get going on the reception setup.”

Before she can answer, a loud clanging noise makes all three of us turn around to face the parking area. Lauren rides up in her golf cart, which has approximately forty-seven tin cans tied to the back of it, dragging along the dirt path and making a racket that's sending birds into the air. When she gets closer, she spins the cart around so we can see the giant
JUST MARRIED
sign pinned to the back. “Like the getaway car for the bride and groom?” she yells. “Mom and Dad let me drive again after I told them it was an emergency. And everyone at the marina pitched in to decorate it!”

“Everyone pitched in” is kind of the motto for this wedding. We spent a big part of yesterday going door-to-door, and not one single person turned down our requests for help, even if they were doing their own storm cleanup. By late afternoon we had the site all cleared of downed branches, tons of offers of food for the reception (it definitely helped that people were already cooking the remains of their freezers before all the food spoiled in the power outage), and Mrs. Mize, the high school algebra teacher, and Mr. Rose, the Sunday school teacher from the Church of the Victorians and Forgiving Holy Redeemer, lined up to play music for the ceremony.

We also had an offer from the kazoo band that marches in the Fourth of July parade, but I didn't think Alexandra Worthington would be up for that.

Despite her insisting on updates every hour, cell-phone reception is still so bad because of the storm damage that the only time we've talked has been when I've been at home to take a call. Meaning not a lot. She's going to be in for a huge surprise today. On the one hand, it's not exactly (read: at all) what we planned these last few months, and Alexandra Worthington isn't really a “go with the flow” kind of person. But she wanted a Sandpiper Beach wedding, and there's nothing more Sandpiper Beach than this wedding! If she doesn't like it, it will only prove she isn't human. I'm hoping for the best, since it's all I can do.

Our last stop yesterday was Sandpiper Active Senior Living. We still needed someone who could do the actual marrying part, and we'd heard there was a retired minister living there. Bubby met us at the door.

“What's this I hear about a wedding?”

Lauren filled her in as quickly as she could.

“Well, you've come to the right place, that's for sure,” Bubby said. “I'd be honored, obvs.”

I looked at Lauren, but she just stared right back at me blankly. Finally Becca said, “Honored to help us find Mr. Biggs? Um, okay. If that's the word you want to go with.”

“Find Mr. Biggs? Pshaw. We don't need him. You have Bubby!”

Lauren's eyebrows went sky high. “Um,
have
Bubby? What does that mean.”

“Lo, honey. You remember Old Lady Edna? She used to forget her teeth on a regular basis and it totally grossed you out?”

Lauren nodded slowly, and Bubby went right on talking. “Well, last year she up and married that handsome fellow Stanley. It was a giant scandal on account of how much younger he was. Everyone thought he was a gold-digger, but I knew true love when I saw it.”

Becca breathed, “True love.
Très
romantic. But how young
was
Stanley?”

“Barely seventy-five. Gotta give Old Lady Edna credit—teeth or no, she could reel in the gentlemen, that one. Anyway, no one else supported their marriage, but I was all for it. That's why they asked me to officiate the ceremony.”

“You? Bubby, you married them?” Vi asked.

“Sure did. Got ordained on the interweb and bada bing bada bang, I was in business. Certificate's still valid. Now, what time do you need me there?”

And really, how do you say no to Bubby?