Текст книги "Mama Gets Hitched"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“Oh, for Gawd’s sake! The flowers need to go at the ends of the serving table, not in the middle. That’s where the prime rib carving station goes! Do I have to show you people how to do everything?”

Foghorn voice blasting, C’ndee stalked by me as I entered the foyer of the VFW hall. She snatched a floral arrangement from a cowering brunette, who wore the white blouse and black slacks of a catering staffer. If C’ndee knew about her nephew’s arrest, it wasn’t apparent from her screeching, typically abrasive manner.

The stop at the police department had made me late. But we still had nearly two hours before the wedding. The VFW bustled with activity. A black-and-white clad army shook out tablecloths, set up chairs, and created a path for the bridal party from the back of the hall to the stage at the front. That’s where the ceremony would take place, with the Reverend Delilah Dixon from Abundant Forgiveness officiating.

I was just about to pull C’ndee aside to tell her about Tony, when I spotted Mama across the room. Her eyes were wild as she frantically waved me over. Please, Lord, not the on-again-off-again wedding, off again.

“What is it Mama?” I grabbed her shoulders. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

She heaved a shuddery sigh. Tears were imminent. “It’s Husband No. 2, Mace. He’s here.”

And I’d been worried about something as minor as a murderer maybe showing up.

“C’ndee hired him with all these other servers out of Orlando. He’s supposed to be the bartender tonight.” Her voice shook. “He swears the names in the wedding party were never mentioned. He didn’t realize it was me getting married until he walked in the door.”

“What are you going to do?”

She blew her nose into a length of toilet paper, and the first tear rolled down her cheek.

“I meant, what are you going to do besides cry?”

“I can’t help it, Mace.” She dabbed under each eye, trying to catch the tears before they mussed her mascara. “This is horrible. Marty ran off as soon as she saw him. I don’t think she ever got over witnessing all those awful fights we had.”

Marty wasn’t the only one.

“Your big sister’s on the telephone right now with the Speckled Perch, trying to see if one of their bartenders is available to work the wedding.”

“Where’s the VFW’s usual bartender?”

“C’ndee said something about him having emergency surgery.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, Mace, why does everything happen to me?”

I could have mentioned that the VFW bartender might quibble with Mama’s assessment of misfortune’s victim. If he survived his surgery, that is. But I gave her a pass owing to how upset she was over the sudden reappearance of No. 2.

“If Sal finds out who he is, he’ll kill him. We exchanged our stories when we first started dating. Sal knows all about how Two did me wrong.” Mama raked a hand through her hair, unsettling her perfect ’do. “Please, Mace. You have to do something.”

“Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll go have a talk with him.”

I found No. 2 in the back parking lot, smoking a filterless cigarette and leaning against a gleaming white convertible. The man never had a dollar in the bank, but he always drove a new convertible.

“I see those cigarettes haven’t killed you yet.”

“Hello, Mace.” He took a long drag, coughed as he exhaled. “Nice dress.”

He was still a handsome man, though thinner than I remembered. His full head of hair was mostly gray; a few more lines marked his forehead. His eyes were the same: small, dark, and mean.

“You know you can’t work the wedding, right?”

“Hell, yes. I’ve been to a few of your family’s shindigs. I want to stay as far away from this one as I can.” He tapped a long ash onto the ground. “I’m just waiting to make sure they can get someone to replace me.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“I figure I owe it to Rosalee.”

“That and a lot more.”

He sucked hard on the cigarette. Blew out a big cloud of smoke. “I’ve always regretted it, you know? Rosalee was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m sorry for the way I treated her.”

“You should be.”

“Cut me a break, would you Mace? You always were too tough for your own good, even as a kid. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for the way I did your mama. And I’m sorry for all the heartache I brought into you girls’ lives, too. Y’all sure didn’t need that, not so soon after your real daddy died.”

I could feel a hard lump of tears at the back of my throat. All of a sudden, the years since we lost Daddy disappeared. It seemed like just yesterday that this man, with his drinking, his cheating, and his fists, moved in to replace him. I hoped I wouldn’t cry. With all the goop D’Vora had slathered on, I’d have a mudslide of makeup to deal with.

I breathed deeply; waited until I knew my voice would come out steady. “Are you sick or something? Are you trying to set things right?”

He took a last puff, then held up the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and stared at it.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I am sick.” He flicked the butt out into the lot. “Cancer. The doctor says it’ll get a lot worse.”

I tried, but I felt nothing. I wasn’t sorry. Would a more forgiving soul, like Marty, feel bad? I knew Maddie would happily start measuring for his coffin.

“Maybe you should give up smoking.”

“Doesn’t make much difference now.” He coughed again, a hacking, pained sound. “See what I mean?”

He gave me a weak smile.

C’ndee stuck her head out of the kitchen door and shouted, “Jimmy, you can go. We got somebody else to come in. Don’t worry. I’ll hire you again. It’s nothing personal.”

Nothing personal? C’ndee couldn’t know how wrong she was.

“Will you tell Rosalee what I said, Mace? Will you tell her I’m sorry?”

I looked closely into his face, saw the yellow pallor behind the tan; the dull cast to those beady eyes. In a year, maybe two, he’d be dead. And we’d still be here, the Lord willing. We’d still be a family.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll tell her.”

“What about this guy she’s marrying? He okay?”

“Better than okay. Sal adores Mama.”

“I’m glad. She deserves to be happy.”

C’ndee’s head popped out the door again. She bellowed, “Mace, pictures! We need you inside. Now!”

Jimmy grinned. “Man, she sounds like a piece of work. I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”

I thought about that. How bad was C’ndee’s bad side?

I stuck out my hand to Husband No. 2. “Take care, Jimmy.”

His eyes widened in surprise, but he shook. “You, too. See you around.”

“Not if I see you first.” I actually meant that, but I smiled a little when I said it.

What’s that people say about the burden of hate? It’s harder on the hater than the hated. I was finally ready to be a little less burdened.

I whispered to Maddie from the side of my mouth as we sisters posed for pre-wedding pictures. “So C’ndee knows about Tony?”

“No talking, Mace!” C’ndee barked. “Everybody look to the left. Big smiles. Say ‘cannoli.”’

Grouped on the steps of the VFW stage according to height, we rested our open parasols across our right shoulders. We smiled out to the left. As the photographer snapped, Maddie spoke under her breath: “C’ndee told us as soon as we got here. Tony phoned her first thing, and she called in the family’s lawyer.”

“Oh, for Gawd’s sake! Can’t you two keep your mouths shut for one minute?” She stepped closer to the stage, lowered her voice. “Since you’re curious, some would say nosy, Yes, I know Tony was arrested. No, he didn’t kill Ronnie. And he didn’t do that murder back home, either.”

She waved a hand through the air, blood-red nails flashing. “Everything’s going to come out in court. You’ll see.”

I knew what Tony had told me, but I wasn’t going to argue. Maybe C’ndee wanted to believe the best about her nephew. Or maybe she was just accustomed to juries failing to return guilty verdicts against members of her family.

After the photographer had shot what seemed like a thousand pictures of the three of us, C’ndee left to help Mama repair her face after the tearful encounter with No. 2. Fortunately, there would be no posed pictures of the bridal couple until after the ceremony. Mama had insisted Sal stay away until just before the wedding began.

“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before she walks down the aisle, girls,” she’d said. “And I’m not going to do anything to jinx this marriage.”

We sat, skirts as full as open parachutes, waiting to assess the extent of Mama’s makeup damage. When she returned, leaning just a bit on C’ndee for support, Marty let out a sigh of relief.

“She looks beautiful,” my little sister said.

“Thank God,” Maddie added.

Mama’s lips shone with Apricot Ice. Her eyes were clear. Her rosy cheeks glowed. A faint dusting of powder hid her red nose.

“Amazing,” I said to C’ndee.

“An ice pack cures many ills.” She cupped Mama’s chin and aimed her face to the light. “You can’t tell you spilled a single tear over that S.O.B.”

Her voice turned serious. “I’m really sorry for hiring him, Rosalee. I had no idea there was any history between you. I’ve been trying so hard to make this day perfect, and then I completely screwed it up.”

The surprise on my sisters’ faces surely mirrored my own. We all stared at C’ndee, whose eyes were cast to the floor. I wouldn’t have believed she had a bit of doubt about her own abilities. It made her seem a step beyond tolerable.

Mama patted C’ndee’s cheek. “Honey, just forget about it. I already have. And you’ve accomplished miracles with this wedding on short notice. You have nothing to apologize about.”

C’ndee, seeming to stand a bit taller, clapped her hands together.

“Places everybody!” she blared, but at a less-obnoxious decibel than usual. “Veil shot’s next.”

She moved us this way and that, choreographing Mama’s girls helping her put on her veil. I had to admit, it probably made a beautiful photograph, posed in front of a huge vase with calla lilies, white roses, and carnations. Delicate ferns and baby’s breath filled out the display.

My sisters and I plucked our lilies from the vase. We each were to hold one elegant stem as we walked down the aisle. It was the single understated element in our ridiculous wedding getups. Then again, if we were to try to juggle purses, parasols, and a traditional fat bouquet, bridesmaid accessories would be dropping like horse patties along the bridal path.

_____

The wedding was scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes. Mama’s earlier nerves had disappeared, along with her ex-husband. Now, she truly was a beaming bride. Her radiant glow might have owed something to the generous glass of wine C’ndee had poured her from the bar.

Engulfed in our big skirts, Mama and my sisters and I crowded around a table at the edge of the hall. The VFW was transformed: Celadon tulle draped in graceful swags from the ceiling, softening the fluorescent lights. White china sparkled on linen tablecloths. Boughs of white flowers gave off a delicate scent. I even noticed sprigs of orange blossom with glossy green leaves in the arrangements—traditional for brides, and also a nod to our Florida family’s roots.

“I have to say it, sisters. C’ndee completely got it.” I pointed my parasol at the room’s four corners. “This place looks amazing.”

Mama stood and did a model’s twirl. “And how about me? Not bad for an old lady of sixty, right?”

“Sixty-two,” Maddie corrected, and then flinched as Marty kicked her under the table.

“You look beautiful, Mama.” Marty placated. “Not a day over fifty.”

Mama lovingly cradled one of Marty’s ringlets. “Now, that’s how you make your mama’s day, girls.”

She glanced at her watch. “Sal should be here any minute, with Teensy. I have to run back to the office and hide.”

She held up her empty glass. “Wonder if I could get just a splash more of that wine?”

My sisters and I exchanged looks. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mama. Remember, that dress has a four-foot train,” I said. “You don’t want to stumble and end up flat on your face.”

She shuddered. “I’d never live it down. Your Aunt Ida is just itching for something gossip-worthy to happen. Well, she won’t find a thing. This day will be perfect. My wedding will be perfect.”

Moments later, Teensy skittered into the hall. He gave an excited yelp when he spotted Mama, and vice-versa. “My stars and garters, girls, Sal’s here!”

She jumped to her feet. “Mace! Help me with my train. Maddie! Run out and tell him not to come in yet. Marty! Scoop up Teensy and follow me into the office. I don’t want that dog wandering around and lifting a leg on one of the silk trees. They’re rentals.”

We rushed around, trying to obey Mama’s orders, which she continued barking out like a four-star general. On second thought, maybe the woman could use a little more wine.

_____

Mama’s white-suited groom looked a little green. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and pulled out his handkerchief for the fourth or fifth time to mop his brow.

The audience was seated. The members of the bridal troupe were amassed on stage, waiting for the featured player’s big entrance. In addition to the three of us in our hideous ruffles, Sal’s younger brother and two golf buddies stood up for him. They looked like extras from the double-wedding scene in Gone with the Wind. I’d finally broken down and watched it, since Mama would give me no peace until I did. I’m embarrassed to admit I cried when Rhett left Scarlett.

Sal wore a white suit and black string tie. Mama had insisted upon it, even though it wasn’t accurate wedding attire from the movie’s historical period. Maybe she’d mixed up Rhett Butler with Col. Sanders from Kentucky Fried Chicken. But considering how she’d been acting all Bridezilla in the weeks leading up to the wedding, none of us wanted to broach the topic.

Now, Sal seemed to be swaying a bit on his feet. “Are you all right?” I asked in a hushed voice.

He nodded weakly. I wasn’t convinced. Seeing the Big Man go down like a pallet of fertilizer before the I do’s would definitely give Aunt Ida something gossip-worthy.

I crooked a finger at C’ndee, who climbed up in a flash to join us on stage. My opinion of her was improving by the moment. Maybe she was brash and loud and a pain in the butt, but she was top-of-the-game when it came to planning and executing a wedding.

“Sal looks like he’s about to toss his lunch,” I whispered. “Why don’t you …”

“Bitters and soda water,” she finished. “And I keep a pocket fan in my purse.”

She was back from the bar in moments, handing him a glass of the stomach-calming drink. On the pretense of straightening Sal’s white rose boutonniere, she stood in front of him and whipped out a battery powered fan. As he downed the drink, she aimed the cooling draft into his face.

Just as the music minister from Abundant Forgiveness struck the first note on his electric organ, C’ndee stepped off the stage. Sal’s green was nearly gone as he stooped and called out to Teensy, as rehearsed. The little dog tottered down the aisle, satin top hat slightly askew.

“C’mere, boy!”

Teensy launched himself straight into Sal’s arms. The wedding guests oohed and aahed. Untying the wedding rings from a white ribbon on the dog’s celadon-colored saddle, Sal held them up for all to see. Laughter and applause rippled through the hall. Even Maddie wore a big smile.

“Teensy’s a hit,” Marty whispered.

I nodded. “Having him as the ring bearer wasn’t as idiotic as I thought.”

Next came the flower girl, D’Vora’s four-year-old, L’Donna. She scattered white rose petals by the fistful, tossing them so energetically that some of the guests in aisle seats ducked. A constellation of camera flashes captured the adorable sight.

And then, the processional music fell silent. A hush came over the crowd. There was a dramatic pause. Just as Mama entered the hall, the familiar strains of “Here Comes the Bride” resounded. Heads turned. A collective gasp ensued. People stood and craned their necks to get a better view.

Mama looked like a fairy tale princess. And if her prince was a fast-talking, three-hundred-pound tough guy from the Bronx, so what? The moment was perfect. Until Aunt Ida hissed to her son from the second row: “You did not tell me Rosalee intended to wear white, Henry. That takes some nerve.”

There were snickers, amid a shush or two. Mama bobbled the slightest bit. Sal blew her a kiss, covering a burp at the same time. Then she threw back her shoulders, held her veiled head high, and climbed the steps to the stage.

“Ida’s going to pay for that,” Maddie said between clenched teeth.

“I might toss the witch into a vat of potato salad myself,” Marty vowed under her breath.

But there’d be no potato salad at Mama’s wedding. C’ndee put together a menu of fingerling potatoes and roasted asparagus to go with the prime rib. Very classy! Of course, Mama insisted that fried catfish with hush puppies be the alternative selection to red meat. We weren’t going to stray too far from our Himmarshee roots.

The music ended. The Reverend Delilah started in with preaching. Mercifully, she was moving right along, holding to her promise to keep the service short. My feet already felt like somebody cut them in half with a circular saw and stuffed them into two lime-green sausage casings. Trying to distract myself from excruciating high-heel pain, I looked out into the crowd.

I saw Linda-Ann, looking pretty in a hot pink dress. Where was Trevor? Rabe sat beside Linda-Ann. He’d changed out of his overalls, and cleaned up surprisingly well. His stepfather, Darryl, was nowhere in sight. Just before Delilah got to the vows, Alice Hodges slipped in near the rear of the hall, wearing pink pastel. I nudged each of my sisters with an elbow.

“Pssst, look at Alice.”

“Wow!” Marty breathed.

“Like a new woman,” Maddie agreed.

Glaring at us from a chair at the side wall, C’ndee lifted a scolding finger to her lips.

I returned my attention to the ceremony, and heard Delilah wrapping up with a verse from Ephesians: “And be ye kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another …”

Then it was Sal’s turn to recite the lines he’d been rehearsing for weeks:

Rosalee, I knew from the second I saw you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You inspire me. You challenge me to be the best man I can be. I promise to love you forever, to respect you and honor you. This is my solemn vow.

His Bronx honk was so loud, a few guests put discreet fingers to their ears. We suspected he downloaded his vows off the Internet, but that didn’t lessen my appreciation of his enthusiasm.

Next, it was Mama’s turn:

Sal, you make me feel special. You treat me like gold. And, best of all, you put up with me. She was interrupted here by knowing chuckles. You’ve embraced my friends and family, and my hometown. You even love Teensy—the dog barked as he heard his name, eliciting more laughter. I promise to cherish you eternally, to love, honor and respect you. This is my solemn vow.

After the ring exchange, Delilah linked hands with Mama and her groom. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Sal, you may kiss the bride.”

As the minister stepped away, Sal lifted Mama’s veil. She offered her cheek for a chaste peck. Instead, Sal grabbed her and bent her backward into a deep dip. Very Rhett of him. He planted a long, wet kiss on his beloved’s lips. When they finally came up for air, the VFW erupted in whistles and cheers.

As Mr. and Mrs. Sal Provenza stepped to the edge of the stage to take their bows, I saw only a few members of the audience who were not fully engaged. Aunt Ida sat forward primly, wearing a lemon-sucking frown. Linda-Ann seemed distracted, turning her head repeatedly to check the back door. And instead of watching the bride and groom on stage, Alice Hodges directed a gaze full of spite at the side of the room.

Her eyes were on C’ndee, who was standing now, clapping and whooping.

“Are you angry at me?”

Arriving late, Carlos had snuck up behind me. His lips were so close to my ear, I felt his breath hot on my neck. It ignited images in my traitorous mind of us tumbling together on the bed at Darryl’s Fish Camp.

“Not just angry. Totally pissed off.” I didn’t turn around. “Where’s your blond sidekick? I thought maybe y’all would come to the wedding together and heckle Mama as she took her first dance with Sal. Or maybe it’d be funny to toss rotten tomatoes at them as they cut their pretty cake.”

“Mace, I’m sorry.” When I still didn’t turn my head, he stroked a ringlet that lay next to my cheek. My skin burned where his finger brushed it. “As a target, you and your Gone with the Wind get-up were far too easy. I should have shown more restraint.”

“Restraint would have been nice.”

“I’ll make it up to you, niña.” He stepped in front of my chair. “How about you let me uncurl your hair? I’ll brush it out, nice and slow. Nice and slow. Then I’ll give you the best shampoo you’ve ever had. I’ll make it last as long as you want.”

Black eyes. Sexy smile. A snazzy dark suit that draped perfectly across his broad chest. My treacherous will was weakening.

“You wouldn’t want to wash my hair in that suit. It looks expensive. You might get it wet.”

He trailed a finger from my cheek, down my neck, and under the ruffled strap of my lime-green gown. My skin tingled.

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t wear the suit. That way I won’t have to concern myself about it getting wet.” He gave my strap a little tug. “But you’ll have to take off all your clothes, too. We wouldn’t want to ruin this beautiful dress.”

My desire for him was about to betray me. Again. I wondered if the warm feeling spreading through my lower regions was making the ruffles on my skirt quiver. And I wondered if anyone was using that manager’s office in the back of the hall.

“Well?” He leaned in close, his lips just inches from mine. “What do you say about that shower?”

“My shower?” Mama stood beside us, seemingly clueless about the conversation she’d walked in on. “My shower was perfect, Carlos. We had a singing cowboy.”

He straightened and took a step away. I looked up from my chair at Mama. A worried frown creased her brow.

“Have you seen Sal? I can’t find him anywhere.”

I took what I hoped was a steadying breath. I was still conscious of the heat from Carlos’ body beside me. “Sal wasn’t feeling well before the ceremony, Mama.”

“Nerves,” she announced knowingly. “They always hit him right in the bowels.”

“Too much information, Mama.”

“Well, they do, darlin.’ He’s probably sitting on the pot in the bathroom right now.”

She peered more closely at Carlos and me; seemed to notice for the first time the flush on my face, and his hands stuck deep in his pockets. The DJ played Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon.” Mama’s matchmaking mode kicked in.

“My, my,” she said. “You look like a million dollars in that suit, Carlos. Doesn’t he, Mace?”

“No, Mama.”

He lifted an eyebrow at me.

I smiled. “He looks like two million dollars.”

Encouraged, Mama said, “We’ll be opening the champagne soon. This would be the perfect time for the two of you to have a dance.” She gave him a little push toward me. “And Carlos, make sure you stick right beside Mace. You won’t want to go anywhere near that men’s room for at least fifteen minutes after you see Sal step out.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome, honey. I heard y’all arrested Tony. I’d never have believed it. He had such good manners.” Waving at someone across the room, Mama began to glide away. “Go dance!” she said over her shoulder.

“What do you say, niña? Shall we do like your mother says?”

His eyes smoldered. His voice was low and caressing. I had a better plan: tear off that suit, sweep away the place settings, and have my way with him right there on the table for eight. But a dance would have to do. I gave him my hand.

“I have to do what she says. This is Mama’s Special Day.”

As we spun onto the floor, I nestled comfortably into his arms. This, at least, felt right. We might scrap and argue, but I couldn’t deny the physical attraction. It was like a drug. And what about the rest of it, the more complicated aspects of our relationship?

To borrow a line from Scarlett O’Hara: I’ll think about that tomorrow.

I kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for?”

“Just for being here,” I said.

We continued dancing to the next song, too. “At Last,” the classic Etta James version. I was acutely aware of Carlos’ delicious, spicy scent; his body pressed against mine. I figured I’d better get my mind on something else, or those china place settings on the table weren’t safe.

I looked out the window, where the sun was beginning its downward trek through the sky. It wouldn’t be long now before Sal and Mama made their exit as husband and wife. I saw his Cadillac, fully decorated and tied with tin cans, courtesy of his groomsmen. A gleaming, vintage muscle car was parked just beyond the Caddy. Could that possibly be the rusting hulk from the fish camp? If so, Rabe had worked wonders in record time.

Then, a scene next to the Camaro caught my eye.

Linda-Ann stood there in her hot pink party dress. Trevor towered over her, wearing beige coveralls. Shaking her head, she backed away. Trevor, his face red and contorted, waved his arms wildly. He looked like he was shouting, but I didn’t hear the words since the hall’s windows were closed, the AC was cranked on high, and the music was loud.

He grabbed her arm; she pulled it away. That seemed to antagonize him even more. He raised a clenched fist, like he was going to hit her. But Linda-Ann stood up to him. Her face was inches from his as she shook her finger and gave him hell. Now, Trevor was the one backing up, surprise written all over his face. She turned and stalked back toward the VFW. He stared after her, his mouth hanging open.

I was about to ask Carlos what he thought about Trevor, and his potential for violence, when we spun away from the window. My gaze settled on Ronnie’s widow, solitary in that cone of sorrow again. She sat at an otherwise empty table, staring into a full glass of what looked like bourbon. Was it grief and loneliness she was trying to drink away? Or was it something else?

Another turn, and I saw C’ndee and Rabe, huddled together in a far corner of the dining room. Maybe they were cooking up something that would focus suspicion on Darryl for Ronnie’s murder. I was almost certain Tony didn’t kill the caterer. Which left the question: Who did?

The song ended. Sliding his hand to the small of my back, Carlos pressed me close. “A peso for your thoughts, Mace.”

“I was just thinking about Ronnie …”

Before I got the chance to finish, Mama took the microphone from the DJ at the foot of the stage. As she tap-tap-tapped, people covered their ears at the noise pain.

“Listen up, everybody. We’re going to serve the champagne now. But before we do, I just want to say how grateful I am that all of you could be here with us.” Her eyes found my sisters and me in the crowd. She blew us each a kiss. “All my favorite people in the world are here, and it’s only fitting that y’all will share Sal’s and my Special Day.”

She dabbed her eyes with a cornflower-colored handkerchief she carried as the bride’s “something blue.” Sniffling a little, she cleared her throat.

“Now, C’ndee’s going to start opening bottles and the servers will pour and pass.” She raised her voice, aiming it toward the bathrooms way back in the far reaches of the hall. “I surely hope by that time, my new husband will be here to join me on stage.”

A muffled bellow issued from behind the closed door of the Men’s: “Don’t worry! I’ll be there, Rosie.”

Amid laughter, the first pop of a champagne bottle sounded. The crowd cheered. And then pop, pop, pop. The servers quickly loaded glasses onto trays and began making a circuit of the room. They handed out sparkling wine, pink of course, until all the guests held a glass. “Don’t forget the bride and groom,” Mama said into the microphone.

With a flourish, C’ndee draped a white linen napkin across her arm and pulled out a final bottle. It was festooned with a showy bow of celadon tulle and white satin ribbons. She wiggled and worked at the plastic cork. Everyone watched. She hammed it up, raising the bottle, smiling.

“Best wishes to the married couple, from the best caterer in Himmarshee,” she shouted.

Then C’ndee gave a mighty pull, and finally: Pop!

Almost at the instant I registered that this bottle popped more loudly than the rest, C’ndee flinched and clutched at her side. She slumped over. The bottle clattered to the floor, its contents spilling out in a fizzy pink stream.

And slowly a red stain blossomed across the white linen napkin that still hung on C’ndee’s arm.