The Secret Wedding Dress (14 page)

Joel frowned until a melodic voice he recognized, and which always sent shivers up the back of his neck, spoke somewhere above his head. “She’s talking about the champagne toast,” Sylvie explained with a grin. “I’m handing out glasses now. Adults get champagne, kids get sparkling soda.”

Surging to his feet, Joel almost knocked the box out of her hands. The empty glasses rattled ominously. He grabbed for it, but wrapped both hands around the teetering woman. The bare skin of Sylvie’s upper arms felt soft and warm, reminding Joel sharply of things he’d missed over the last several years. He soaked up the pleasing sensations, not sure he wanted to let her go. “Here, let me help with that,” he said gruffly. “I’ll carry the box. You hand out glasses.”

She
pulled away. “Are you kidding? Imagine what people would say. Why did you come, Joel? And why did Dory make a point of telling me she was looking after Rianne while you ran back to the car after a gift? Oh, and at the church I saw you talking to Freda Poulson, our town crier. I don’t have a clue what you two said, but she’s practically got us picking out an engagement ring.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he protested. “It was Rianne. You know how kids are.”

“Well, you don’t know how the women of this town are,” Sylvie exclaimed in an irritated voice. “Oh, no,” she cried partially under her breath. “I’ve gotta dash. My mom and dad are headed this way. Be careful what you say,” she hissed, and shoved a glass into his hand. She swiftly set plastic cups in front of all the kids, then made tracks out of that aisle.

Joel considered following her. But a beanpole in a tuxedo suddenly blocked his path. “Do you know where Sylvie Shea got off to? I’m Buddy, her so-called date. Someone just saw her talking to you.”

“She’s distributing champagne glasses for the toast.” Joel waggled his. He was interested in meeting one of apparently several men who dated his neighbor. The two Joel had seen both drove hot cars, although the Lamborghini definitely topped the Porsche. While Joel hated to judge, this guy was nowhere near as cool as his car. And Buddy? Only Bubba could be a worse name.

“I’m Sylvie’s neighbor,” Joel said, when the other man didn’t rush right off in search of his date. “Gotta say I envy a guy with a car like yours.”

“A birthday present from my father. Oh, I could’ve bought it myself. I’m a successful stockbroker.” Pulling out a handful of business cards, Buddy peeled one off and dropped it in Joel’s glass. “Who handles your investments? I can probably double your money.” For several minutes, he tossed around facts and figures, all in a monotone.

Joel
wondered what Sylvie saw in this dud. “Uh, are you friends with the bride or the groom?” Joel asked as he nibbled on food from the buffet.

“Neither. But I’ve known them both all my life. I’m home because tomorrow is Mother’s birthday. Tonight my parents are busy with clients, so Mother and Carline fixed me up with Sylvie. I thought she’d help me make some valuable business contacts. But she’s too busy micromanaging everything at the wedding,” he said petulantly. “Just between us…it wouldn’t work anyway. Sylvie hasn’t invested one cent in blue-chip stocks.” Buddy’s eyes, which never met Joel’s at any time, locked on something over his shoulder. “Oh, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Shea. If you’re looking for Sylvie, too, she’s not here. It seems she’s now in charge of the toast—as well as the bouquets, dresses and catering staff. I wish Carline had been straight about this. My mother expected Sylvie to help me get a foot in the door with her friends. My evening would’ve been better spent at home checking the Nikkei.”

“That’s too bad, Buddy. Carline probably had no idea that was your goal. I think she assumed you were attending Kay’s wedding because otherwise you would’ve been alone. Rob and I are well aware of the many tasks Sylvie assumes as wedding coordinator.” The woman’s gaze moved from Buddy to Joel. She extended a tanned hand toward him. “I’m Nan Shea. This is my husband, Rob.” Her gracious smile encompassed both men. “We really came over to introduce ourselves to Joel Mercer, Buddy. He’s Sylvie’s new neighbor.” Adroitly Nan switched gears. She withdrew her hand from Joel’s and touched Buddy’s sleeve. “Since you have important things to do at home, I’m sure it wouldn’t be any imposition to ask Joel if he’ll give Sylvie a lift home after the party.”

Both men stammered, but Buddy recovered first. “I, ah, don’t know what Mother would say. You know what a stickler she is for propriety.”

“I
certainly do. But if she could see how busy Sylvie is, and how that leaves you twiddling your thumbs, I’m positive she’d agree.”

Buddy dallied only a moment longer. “I really need to follow up on today’s interest hike. Mrs. Shea, maybe you won’t mind seeing that all the guests get one of these.” Buddy shoved the fat wad of business cards into her hand, then looking more eager than he had so far, muttered, “Please relay my apologies to Sylvie for abandoning her.”

Speechless, Nan said nothing as she fumbled with the stack of loose cards.

Rob Shea promised for her. After Buddy was well out of earshot, he turned to his wife. “What on earth was Carline thinking, hooking Sylvie up with that dork? His father is insufferably pompous. The son is worse.”

“Now, Rob. I doubt Carline’s seen him since high school. She probably assumed he’d changed.”

“Well, he was odd then, too.” Rob broke off and clapped Joel’s shoulder. “We haven’t had a chance to talk, my boy. It’ll be a while before anyone gets around to giving you any refreshment in that empty glass you’re using as a card holder. What say we find us a beer? I’ll deliver the official welcome later, when I put on my mayor’s hat. Nan, I know Kay asked you to serve cake. I’ll find you again after that ritual’s over and done with.”

The elegant woman—who, Joel noticed, Sylvie already resembled—rose on tiptoes and kissed her husband’s cheek, all while filling his jacket pockets with Buddy Deaver’s business cards. “Should I warn Joel you’re about to twist his arm to volunteer for a job at our Labor Day Festival?”

“If he plays baseball, I intend to recruit him to join my team. Before John Trent discovers there’s a new man in town.” To Joel, Rob added, “Those dang Baptists beat us every year. It’d help, of course, if you’re a bona fide Methodist. Even if you’re not, if you can swing a bat or throw a ball, I’m not
above converting you for a single day.” Twinkling hazel eyes, very similar to Sylvie’s, raked Joel as if measuring him for a ball uniform.

“I’ve been negligent about attending church,” Joel explained. “I hope to rectify that now that we’ve moved and the pace isn’t as frenzied. A lot depends on my daughter. As for baseball, I’m not a bad fielder or batter. I suppose I’m willing to be a Methodist for a day. Oh, Mrs. Shea, before you run off, allow me to introduce my daughter. Rianne may not be your only chocolate chip cookie fan, but I’d lay odds she’s the most vocal. I liked them, but years ago I swore allegiance to Mary Shea’s oatmeal raisin drops.” He raised his voice. “Rianne, honey, come meet Sylvie’s parents.”

The girl bounced up at once. As Joel had predicted, she spoke first about Nan’s cookies and how much she loved them.

“They go fast at my house,” Nan said. “I make a batch every week. Next time I do, I’ll phone. Perhaps your dad will run you over to sample them hot. You’re invited, too, Joel,” she said sweetly. “That’s the only fair test to see if you still prefer my mother-in-law’s recipe over mine.”

Rianne piped up again. “Daddy won’t switch. He always says those oatmeal cookies are the best. But I bet he’ll drive me to your house, won’t you, Daddy? Sylvie said her dad makes furniture, and Daddy, you said we need more to fill up your aunt Iva’s house.”

“Our house now. And I did say that. Listen, snooks, I’m going with Mr. Shea to have a beer to go with my snack. Don’t leave this table until I come back. Okay?”

Taking that as her exit line, Rianne dived back between her new friends.

“What a lovely child,” Nan murmured. “Please, Joel, call us Rob and Nan. Everyone in Briarwood likes being on a first-name basis.”

If Joel felt his feet slipping in the undertow of Nan Shea’s charming drawl and equally charming smile, he ignored the
warning. Maybe because, as a kid, he’d loved the close-knit ties of Briarwood. He wanted Rianne and him to fit in and become part of it. Wanted it so badly, he forgot to suggest that Rob and Nan give their daughter a ride home, instead.

Sylvie’s dad wrenched the caps off two ice-cold beers he pulled from a cooler, one of many lined up along the stage wall. “If we hang around next to the band,” the older man shouted, “we not only won’t be able to talk about the Labor Day Festival, we’ll probably go deaf in the process.” He motioned Joel to forge a path through the dancers.

Joel saw that most of the bridesmaids were out on the floor. He strained to see if Sylvie was among them. When he couldn’t find her, he searched the room until he did. Their eyes met. She didn’t look happy to see him with her dad. Joel thought the you-know-what would hit the fan when she discovered her well-meaning parents had sent her date home and had, just as casually, commandeered him to drive her. It occurred to Joel that this was a perfect situation to use for his comic strip. He anticipated getting some great dialogue if he waited around for Sylvie’s reactions to the news.

“I only ever spent a few weeks here over the summer,” Joel said when Rob located a quiet corner in the foyer. “Tell me about this festival. Be forewarned that I haven’t been here long enough to establish a list of reliable baby-sitters.”

“No need for one. The whole town turns out. In my great-grandpappy’s day, Briarwood was largely a farm community. Labor Day signaled the end of harvest season and it’s still an important event.”

“Not too many farms left around here, are there?” Joel gulped down some of his beer and polished off his hors d’oeuvres.

“No. People sent their kids off to college. A good number didn’t come back. And who could blame them? It’s such a fight, keeping the kudzu vines out. I’m sure you’ve seen them in the Atlanta area.” He shook his head. “Those suckers take
hold and kill virtually every plant in the vicinity. Kudzu can kill an entire forest. Farmers around here tried a number of methods to control it, but not all of ‘em were good choices. An insect farmers imported also ate soybean crops. Now folks grow only enough to feed their families. They let forestry crews battle the kudzu. The farmers mostly retired or found other jobs. That accounts for so many bed-and-breakfast spots springing up. They cater to tourists driving our scenic parkways.” Rob shook his head again and took a swig of beer. “Mountain crafts take less effort than back-breaking, year-round farming. And the money’s better in a good tourist year.”

While Joel wasn’t paying attention, Sylvie sidled up. “Dad, are you boring Joel with Briarwood’s history?”

“Oh, I’m not bored. I appreciate knowing the town’s background. Rob’s about to give me a job at your Labor Day Festival.”

The older man bestowed an indulgent smile on his daughter. “Your mother suggested you take Joel under your wing, Sylvie.”

“I’ll just bet she did.” Sylvie’s scowl didn’t pass by Joel unnoticed.

Apparently, though, it went right over her dad’s head. Or else Rob chose to ignore her, saying instead, “Now Sylvie, you need a man’s help to carry those heavy boxes of prizes into the booths at the kiddie carnival. I had Jeffery down for that, but as Mom pointed out, Carline’s due date falls right on the date of the festival. First sign of a labor pain and you know Jeff will be a basket case.”

“Darn, that’s true. Still, it’s no reason to shanghai Joel. The poor man deserves one year to enjoy the festival with his daughter.” Sylvie scanned the room. “I know, Dad. I’ll ask Buddy to fill in for Jeff. If I can find him…Mr. and Mrs. Deaver would probably be delighted to have him visit again so soon.”

Since
Rob seemed not to hear her question concerning Buddy’s whereabouts, Joel took it upon himself to interject casually, “Your date went home to download the Japanese stock market reports.”

“He
what?
He wouldn’t. Not without saying a word to me.”

“Well, he felt bad, I think. Although he did seem to indicate that you weren’t being much help drumming up prospective clients.”

Sylvie rolled her eyes. But Joel felt bad for teasing her.

Rob Shea chimed in again. “I told your mom and Joel, and I’ll tell you. That boy is odd. Brags a lot about how good he is, but I hear he’s not doing so great. In fact, the kid lost his clients so much money, his dad’s stopped referring people Buddy’s way. I’m surprised you’d go out with him, Sylvie. Besides, isn’t he five or six years younger than you?”

“Three. And you should have this conversation with your youngest daughter, not with me. Carline roped me into being Buddy’s date this evening.”

“Your mom told me, but why? Carline knows how busy you are during a wedding. What happened to that last young fella? The one Dory had you bring to the house? Chet, that’s his name. He’s closer to your age, Sylvie. Owns his own company, too. Seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders.”

“Yeah, great. Dad…Chet’s living with…a life-partner in Asheville.” She sighed. “I wish you’d do me a huge favor and tell Mom and the girls to quit trying to marry me off.”

“Chet’s married?” Rob just shook his head.

“Well, he’s in a committed relationship,” Sylvie muttered.

Joel understood what she was saying about Chet. That, too, he stored for future use with his Magnolia character.

“Oops…Kay’s giving me the high sign,” Sylvie said. “And here comes her photographer. They must want to cut the cake. I need to go unhook Kay’s train so her skirt shows to full advantage in the pictures.”

Joel caught Sylvie’s wrist as she gathered up her long dress
to navigate through the door. “Name someplace for us to meet afterward. Will you need help boxing up the decorations?”

“Listen, you don’t have to stay to the bitter end. I can find someone to take me home.”

“Rianne is enjoying every minute here. Plus, she’d never forgive me if I left you in the lurch, Sylvie.”

It was obvious that Sylvie badly wanted to refuse his offer. Releasing a breath, she put a hand to her forehead and rubbed away the lines forming there.