A Wedding on Primrose Street (Life In Icicle Falls Book 7) (5 page)

Chapter Five

Anne, Woman with a Plan

O
n Thursday Laurel Browne dropped by the office with her Pekingese, Rufus, cuddled in her arms. Anne had heard it said that owners and their dogs often resembled each other. Looking at Laurel and Rufus, she could believe it. Both had snub noses and blond highlights. And both wore a permanent scowl.

“Rufus and I were on our way to the groomer and thought we’d stop by,” Laurel explained. “Didn’t we, Rufus baby?”

Oh, goody.
“Isn’t he a handsome dog,” Anne lied. “Hi, Rufus.”

“Grrr,” Rufus replied, showing her his teeth, and not in a sweet
Look, Mom, I floss every day
kind of way.

“I found some pictures on the internet of yellow floral arrangements,” Laurel went on, holding up her finds.

Some? The sheaf of papers was the size of
War and Peace
. “Uh, thank you,” Anne said. She could just imagine what Kate over at In Bloom would say when she saw this.

Anne reached to take it and Rufus snarled and snapped at her. She yanked back her hand. Yikes! Were all her fingers still attached?

“Rufus, behave,” scolded Laurel. “I’m afraid he doesn’t like going to the groomer.”

Or else, like his mommy, Rufus didn’t like wedding planners.

“I’ll put them here on the desk,” Laurel said.

“Thank you.” Anne hoped her smile looked sincere. She thought they’d settled the flower issue. Obviously, they hadn’t. “I’ll pass these on to Kate. And maybe next week you and Chelsea could come and see a few table settings,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over Rufus, who was conveying his displeasure at being deprived of a finger sandwich by barking at her.

“Rufus baby, stop now,” Laurel cooed. “That will be fine.” No cooing for Anne. “We need to get this settled.”

“Great,” Anne said, pretending she and Laurel and Rufus were all BFFs. “I know we’ll find something you and Chelsea are both going to love.”

“With what I’m paying you, I hope so.”

That again. “It’s not nearly enough to cover the pain and suffering,” Anne said as soon as the door shut behind Laurel. “And what’s with that dog?”

“Little dogs can get aggressive when they feel cornered,” said Kendra, who owned a Norwich terrier.

“Cornered? I’m the one who nearly lost a finger.”

“She should’ve put the dog on the floor.”

“So he could bite my ankle?”

“So he wouldn’t feel threatened.” Kendra shook her head. “You’re such an animal-hater. The dog probably sensed it.”

“I am not an animal-hater,” Anne insisted. “Just because I prefer cats.”

“You haven’t had a cat in years.”

It was true. After Pansy died she’d been too brokenhearted to even think about getting another pet. “I already have Cam, and one animal is enough,” Anne said, making her sister snicker. “I need a caffeine fix. Want a mocha?”

“Sure, if you’re buying.”

“It’s your turn but okay,” Anne said, playing the martyr.

It didn’t work. Her sister grinned and said, “Great. I’ll take a large.”

So off Anne went to the coffee shop on Queen Anne Avenue, where her daughter worked as a barista. It was midmorning and the place was humming with caffeinated drinkers and people waiting to get their hit. The smell of roasted coffee practically made Anne’s taste buds spring a leak.

“Hi, Mrs. Richardson,” her daughter’s friend and roommate said.

“Hi, Autumn. I’ll have my usual white chocolate latte and a large...”

“Coconut mocha,” supplied Autumn with a grin.

“You guessed it,” Anne said and dropped a dollar in the tip jar.

“Hi, Mom,” her daughter called from her station at the espresso maker.

Under her bright red apron she wore a short-sleeved shirt to show off the mermaid swimming up her arm past seashells and starfish. Anne preferred it when her daughter wore long-sleeved tops. That way she didn’t have to be reminded of the mermaid’s existence. Laney loved mermaids and had designed the tattoo herself. Anne loved mermaids, too, as long as they stayed in movies, where they belonged.

It’s her life
, Anne had told herself when Laney got her second tattoo, this one on her neck. A climbing rose. Like Laney herself, her tattoos were all about motion.

“It’s your favorite flower,” Laney had said. “Your favorite flower and your favorite daughter all rolled into one.” Daughters—they were such a blessing. And such a source of irritation.

In spite of the tattoo irritation, Anne was proud of Laney. She had a nice guy, a college degree (something Anne had never gotten) and would soon be working on her teaching certificate so she could become an art teacher while she honed her silversmithing skills. She didn’t do drugs or post naughty pictures of herself on the internet, and she was gainfully employed. She was creative and beautiful, and Anne loved her like crazy. She’d probably never love the tattoos, though.

Laney set out two to-go cups. “One small Americano and one double tall soy latte, no whip.”

The two women who’d been waiting snagged their drinks and moved to a corner table.

Anne was next in line. She leaned over the counter. “So what did you decide about going up to Icicle Falls this weekend and checking out that place I told you about?”

Laney concentrated on putting a stainless-steel pitcher of milk under the steam wand, and for a moment all Anne heard was
whoosh
. Someone at a nearby table laughed.

“Hello?” Anne prompted.

“I’ve got that craft fair coming up. I’ve still got to make stuff for that.”

“The fair isn’t until Memorial Day weekend,” Anne pointed out. “We need to get this venue nailed down. We don’t have much time to plan your wedding.”

“I know, but I think we want to go to Vegas. That won’t take long to plan.”

“You shouldn’t make a snap decision until you’ve considered a bit more,” Anne advised.

Laney shrugged and said, “I guess,” a sure sign that she was underwhelmed by the idea of getting married in Icicle Falls.

“We can go up for a girls’ weekend with Aunt Kendra and Grammy. What happens in Icicle Falls stays in Icicle Falls.”

That made Laney giggle. “Mom, you crack me up.”

“We can be wild.”

“Where? There?” Laney set out the drinks.

“Let’s at least go see it.” They hadn’t been to Icicle Falls since Laney was a little girl and she’d obviously forgotten what a special town it was. Once she saw the place, Anne knew she’d be on board. Laney and Drake liked to do outdoor things, and according to the brochure she’d picked up, there was plenty of that—hiking, river rafting, rock climbing. Laney just had to catch the vision. Then she’d be all over this.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t the most enthusiastic
okay
Anne had ever heard, but she’d take it. “I’ll make reservations. It’ll be fun. And this will give you another option to explore. Remember, your wedding’s a big deal and you don’t want to do something you’ll regret later.”

Laney gave her a you-might-be-right kind of nod, and since more customers were waiting for their drinks, that was the end of the lecture. Anne left the shop, feeling that they were getting somewhere.

“I don’t know why you’re trying so hard,” her husband said over dinner that night.

Of course he didn’t. She’d rarely complained about their wedding. But even though she’d been a sport about it, she’d always wished she’d been able to have the wedding of her dreams, something that reflected the beauty of their love and the seriousness of their commitment. Not that what they’d opted for was bad; it was just...less. Could it have played out differently at the time?

No, she reminded herself as she relived that pivotal conversation and what followed.

1990

Anne and Cam sat in his souped-up truck outside her house in the late summer night with Michael Bolton on the radio asking, “How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?” Good question.

“I wish you’d never joined the army,” Anne said, her voice as bitter as her tears.

“Come on, babe. You know we had a plan. This will pay for my college.”

“If you live to go to college. If you come back.” How was she supposed to tell him her news in light of this?

He reached out a hand and played with her hair. “Of course I’ll come back, and then we’ll get married just like we planned.”

And by then... “I’m pregnant,” she blurted.

His hand froze. “You’re...pregnant? How could that be? We used protection.”

“Well, I guess it wasn’t very good protection,” she snapped. “And now you’re leaving for the Middle East.”

“That wasn’t exactly my idea,” he said. “But...hey, a kid. This is cool.”

“This is
not
cool,” she informed him. He was going away. She’d be left on her own to deal with everything. They’d planned to have a big church wedding when he got out of the army. She’d work while he went back to school, and after he got his degree, she’d finish up hers. Then they’d have their two kids and a dog and a little house somewhere in the burbs and life would be perfect. Now nothing was perfect. “We should’ve waited.”

“Are you serious? Babe, I’ve been taking cold showers since I was seventeen.”

If she’d known this was going to happen, she would’ve kept sending him to the shower. Now look at the mess they were in. What would her youth pastor say? Never mind him. What would her mother say?

“We’d better get married.”

“I don’t have time to plan a wedding before you get shipped off to the Gulf.” Everyone knew it took months to plan a wedding. She didn’t even have a ring yet. Why did he have to go away? Why did this stupid war have to break out?

He stared out the window. There was nothing much to see on Tenth Avenue except tree-lined street and modest Queen Anne houses with their porch lights on. Then he began to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.

“We can go to the courthouse,” he finally said.

“The courthouse?” Get married at the courthouse? That would be her big wedding?

He turned to look at her again, his face earnest. “I love you, Annie, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Let’s make it official before I ship out. It doesn’t matter where we get married just as long as we do. Right?”

Well, of course, that was the most important thing. But ever since she was seventeen, writing
Mrs. Cameron Richardson
in her high school notebooks, she’d dreamed of a traditional wedding with all the trimmings: the gown, the flowers, the church, the big reception afterward. Now reality was closing the door on that vision. She was pregnant; he was going off to the deserts of the Middle East, where who knew what would happen to him. They had to be practical.

She nodded but she couldn’t talk. There was suddenly a boulder stuck in her throat.

Cam pulled her close and touched his forehead to hers. “Hey, I know this isn’t what you wanted,” he said softly.

She swallowed hard, forcing the boulder down. “I want to be with you,” she told him. “That’s what I want.” If he didn’t come back—horrible thought!—the only time they’d have together was right now. Was she really willing to give that up for a flower-filled church and a bunch of bridesmaids? Anyway, she wanted to start motherhood with a husband in the picture, even if that picture was of Daddy somewhere in a desert.

“Let’s do it, then,” he said. “Let’s go downtown first thing Monday and get the license. Then we can get married next Friday.”

She’d be with Cam. She’d be Mrs. Cameron Richardson. They wouldn’t have much time before he left but it would be better than nothing.

“What do you say, Annie?” he prompted.

“I say yes!” She’d be crazy to say anything else.

“All right!” he crowed. And then he gave her a kiss that made her toes curl in her jelly shoes. Who needed a fancy wedding, anyway?

Not me
, Anne told herself.

Not me
, she reminded herself on Friday afternoon at four thirty as she entered the big, impersonal Seattle municipal courthouse wearing a white satin sheath and a small diamond ring, carrying a bouquet of red roses. She was flanked by her parents, her father smiling gamely, her mother smiling, too, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Kendra trailed behind, the clueless younger sister, excited by the whole adventure.

And there, waiting for her, was Cam with his parents. His eyes lit up at the sight of her and he hurried over and kissed her. “You look incredible.”

“You look beautiful, dear,” his mother added and kissed her on the cheek before greeting Anne’s mother. If she wasn’t happy about the rush-job wedding, she didn’t betray it.

“Well,” said Dad, “let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

“Good idea,” Cam said, smiling at Anne. He offered her his arm. She took it and they started down the hallway.

They made their way to the room reserved for weddings, passing lawyers busy conferring with their clients—sketchy guys in dirty jeans or angry women with naked ring fingers, probably in the process of getting divorced. This was her wedding march. No church filled with well-wishers, no big wedding reception after the ceremony, just a dinner at her parents’ house with the two families and the small cake her neighbor Mrs. Hornsby had insisted on making for them. It was the world’s ugliest cake, slightly lopsided (“I had a little trouble assembling it,” Mrs. H. had confessed) with neon pink rosebuds that you needed sunglasses to look at and bride and groom toppers that must’ve been around since the fifties. But hey, it was a wedding cake.

An angry guy gave a man in a suit the finger and slouched away, knocking into Anne as he passed and telling her to watch where the hell she was going. It was all so different from what she’d dreamed of.
You’re marrying Cam. That’s what matters.
So why were tears springing to her eyes?

He looked at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m just so happy.”

* * *

And she had been all these years. Still, she’d always regretted the fact that she and Cam had taken their vows in such a sterile environment.

Laney could afford to wait and do things right, and somehow, Anne had to get through to her. When it came to her wedding, a woman shouldn’t settle, even if her groom wanted to be a pirate.