The Wedding of Rachel Blaine, Page 2

  Heading over to her, I reach into my pocket and root around for some money, but all I can feel is some scrunched-up notes. I take one out and find that it's a twenty, and I feel a little embarrassed as I shove the note back in and take out a few more, finally finding a five which I hold out for her.

  “Oh, no,” she says, holding her hands up in protest. “There's no need for that, I was only doing my job!”

  “It's fine,” I tell her. “Please, take it.”

  She shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I'm so sorry, is that why you thought I was waiting here? Oh, I'm such an idiot!”

  “No-one's an idiot,” I reply, holding the money out for a moment longer before putting it back into my pocket. This time, when Elena still doesn't show any sign of leaving, I put a hand on the door as if I'm about to swing it shut. “Well,” I continue, “I guess you've got a lot to do today. I'm afraid there are quite a few people coming for the wedding.”

  “Oh, it's that many,” she says, bright-eyed and eager still. “We've had much bigger.”

  Now it's my turn to force a smile.

  “Oh, I didn't mean that you're having a small wedding!” she adds, suddenly looking horrified. “I think small is better! It's intimate! If I ever got married I'd want a small one, although that wouldn't really be possible. Back in Poland, our wedding celebrations sometimes last a whole week and you get all these family members coming and you don't even know who they are! Sometimes I think people just come for the free party.”

  “Sounds fun,” I reply. “Different, but fun.”

  “You're going to be a beautiful bride,” she continues. “I bet your dress is amazing!”

  “I like it,” I reply, with my hand still on the door. I wait a moment, in case she gets the hint, and then I realize that I'm going to have to be a little more forceful. “And now, Elena, I hope you don't mind but I really need to unpack and unwind. There's so much to do today, and any minute now a swarm of aunts and uncles and cousins is going to descend on this hotel and things are really going to get crazy.”

  “Totally, yeah,” she replies, and then she pauses – still grinning – before suddenly she seems to understand. “Right,” she says, taking a step back, “okay then, I'd better get back downstairs. I bet you're going to have a super fun wedding, though. It's just going to be amazing!”

  “I hope so,” I tell her. “If we all get through it unscathed, that'll be wonderful.”

  With that, finally, I swing the door shut. I wait for a moment, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I hear Elena heading away along the corridor, and then I lean forward and rest my forehead gently against the door.

  Peace.

  Calm.

  And most importantly, silence.

  I know this moment won't last, but at least for a minute or two I want to enjoy some absolutely silence. This wedding has been months in the planning, which isn't even that long. Now, finally, I've reached the day before the main event and I feel as if I have ten billion things that I have to keep on top of. People keep telling me to relax, and to let everyone else worry about the details, but there's no way I can even come close to achieving that kind of grace under pressure.

  Still, after a moment I step away from the door and head to the wardrobe, and when I open the doors and look inside I feel a rush of relief as I see the dress still hanging in its proper place.

  I peer around for a moment, to make doubly sure that there aren't any moths lurking in the corners.

  So long as the dress is safe, I can handle any other disasters. To be honest, I know I was starting to get a little over-the-top and hysterical in my efforts to look after the dress, but at the same time I couldn't even begin to stop myself. If that's the only moment of madness in this whole farrago, though, I guess I should be supremely grateful.

  A few seconds later, hearing raised voices outside, I head to the window and look down toward the car park, just in time to see that Mum has managed to drop all the boxes containing the bridesmaids' flowers.

  I take a deep breath.

  The flowers will be fine. They're specifically packed so that they're protected, and Mum's already picking the boxes up while simultaneously yelling orders at one of my cousins who's unpacking around the other side of the car. And anyway, they're just flowers. I meant what I said earlier. I just want to wear Grandma's dress and marry Robert. Nothing else really matters.

  I think I might try to avoid Mum for a few hours, just for the sake of my own sanity.

  Just as I'm about to go back over to the wardrobe, however, I spot another figure in the distance. Far beyond the car-park, and beyond the green lawn where the wedding is due to take place, there's a wooden jetty running out about a hundred meters into the lake. And out at the very end of the jetty, silhouetted against the sun-dappled water, there's a woman who seems to be just standing and watching the hotel.

  I can't make out any of the woman's features, but I definitely don't recognize her. I suppose she might be a member of staff, although it's strange the way she seems to be staring at the hotel. In fact, after a few seconds, I start to get the strangest feeling that she's not staring at the hotel at all.

  She's staring at me.

  That's nonsense, of course. Why would some random woman be staring at me? Even if she was, there's no way I'd be able to tell, not from this distance. Yet the feeling persists, and if anything it actually begins to grow until I'm absolutely convinced that the woman's eyes are fixed on me and me alone. And the longer I watch this woman, the more I start to feel that she's waiting for me. She wants me to go out there to the end of the jetty and meet her.

  Suddenly, over my shoulder, there's a gentle knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” I call out, turning and looking across the room.

  I wait, but there's no answer and finally there's another knock.

  Turning back to look out the window, I'm surprised to see that the woman has vanished. There's no way she could have made it all the way along the jetty in just a matter of seconds, and I don't see any sign of her in the water, but she's definitely gone. I watch for a moment longer, waiting for some kind of obvious explanation, but all I see is the glittering water and the spot where the woman once stood.

  Suddenly there's another knock at the door.

  I turn and open my mouth to say that I'm busy, but then I remind myself that I might be needed to deal with another disaster. Maybe the bakery has called to say that the cake has been destroyed, or maybe the minibus carrying my cousins on my father's side of the family has crashed through a barrier and fallen into a gorge, exploding upon impact and killing everyone. That'd really mess up the table settings.

  Joke.

  Just some dark humor to help me get through all this madness.

  I glance at the jetty again, but the woman is definitely gone.

  A moment later, there's yet another gentle knocking sound at the door.

  As I head across the room, with my sanctuary already interrupted, I try to decide whether a cake problem or a minibus explosion would be worse. And as I open the door, half-expecting to find that Elena has returned, I realize I'm a terrible person for even thinking about such awful things.

  And then I see him.

  “Hey,” Robert says with that same gorgeous smile that made me fall in love with him in the first place. “I was starting to think you weren't in here. How's my favorite bride-to-be?”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, shocked and surprised and glad to see him but also worried that our plans have been screwed up. “I thought -”

  “You thought I was coming later, I know.” He steps closer and puts a hand on the side of my face, and then he leans toward me and kisses me gently.

  I should pull away and tell him that I'm busy, but somehow the mere touch of his hand makes me feel better and the smell of his aftershave miraculously causes all my worries to temporarily dissipate. The kiss lingers for a few more seconds, and then he pulls back slightly and looks deep into my eyes.

  “
Seriously, how's it going?” he asks. “I just saw your mother losing control of some boxes in the car park. Please tell me you haven't put her in charge of anything important.”

  “Get in, quick!” I hiss, grabbing his hand and pulling him all the way into the room.

  I lean out and look both ways along the corridor, to check that no-one else is coming, and then I shut the door and turn to see an amused, quizzical expression on my fiance's face. Or, rather, on my soon-to-be-husband's face.

  “Mum was driving me nuts on the drive here,” I tell him. “It's the first time in my life that I've ever wanted to actually strangle someone! We were speeding out of London and I swear I actually wondered whether I could just pull over and tell her to walk the rest of the way. That woman has the ability to turn a calm situation into a storm. I can't even begin to imagine what she can do with a wedding.”

  “You have a lovely room here,” Robert replies, looking around with a smile. “I just checked into my room and it's basically a glorified cupboard. Are you sure I can't just come in here with you tonight? I promise I won't tell anyone.”

  “Zero chance,” I tell him.

  “But -”

  “Zero chance!” I step toward him and put a finger against his lips, and then I bite my own bottom lip as I see his cute, amused expression. “You can't see the bride before the wedding. You were supposed to keep out of sight when you arrived this evening. It's bad luck!”

  “Actually, it's only bad luck after midnight,” he replies. “I looked it up.”

  “I'm dubious about that claim.”

  “I stand by it. So by my reckoning, we've got plenty of time before I have to slink out of sight.” He pauses, before putting a hand on my waist in the exact spot that he knows drives me wild. “Do you realize that after tonight we can never again have sinful, out-of-wedlock sex? Don't you think we should do that one more time, just for the sake of old times?”

  “That's unbelievably sweet and romantic, honey,” I reply, carefully removing his hand from my waist even though I've got to admit to a faint tingle of interest, “but there's no way I have time for that. A bride has a right to be a little old-fashioned on the day before her wedding. And anyway, do you seriously think I could keep my mind on it for more than a few seconds?”

  “I'm willing to give it a shot.”

  “We should get downstairs,” I tell him, grabbing my bag and leading him out into the corridor. “There'll be plenty of time to relax after the wedding, but right now I really need to check that everything's running smoothly.” I shut the door and head toward the lift, and then I hit the Call button. “Mum's fussing. You know what she's like, but she's in a whole other gear this time. I need to find her a job where she can't cause too much trouble.”

  “You could send her to pick up Uncle Patrick,” Robert suggests. “Those two old buggers are terrible together. They're both complete lunatics.”

  I force a smile, but suddenly I feel a wave of guilt rushing through me. There's something I've been keeping from Robert, something big, and I can't shake the feeling – despite what Mum's been saying – that I should be completely honest. I mean, that's what a marriage is about, right? Honesty? So I should just tell him everything about my life, even the parts that might make him cancel the whole thing and run away.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, clearly picking up on my fears.

  “Sure,” I lie, and then I hesitate again.

  Should I do it?

  Should I tell him?

  I'd probably lose him, but at least I'd know I'd done the right thing.

  And then, just as I think I might be about to tell him my big secret, I feel all my bravery wash away and I force a smile.

  “Just nerves,” I say. “Ignore me.”

  The doors open and we step into the lift. I press the button for the ground floor, and the doors slide shut.

  “Besides, Uncle Patrick isn't coming to the wedding, remember?” I point out. “He lives six hundred miles away and his gout's playing up.”

  “Exactly.”

  Turning to him, I see a faint smile on his lips.

  “As long as you're happy, I'm happy,” he adds as the lift starts moving down the chamber. He turns and looks straight ahead, as I check my hair in the mirror. “And as long as you still have at least some sanity left at the end of this weekend, everything should be good.”

  “Oh, it'll be good alright,” I tell him, turning and looking straight ahead as I wait for the lift to reach the ground floor. “I refuse to let anything go wrong this weekend.”

  We stand in silence for a moment, and already my mind is filling with all the jobs I have to get done during the next few hours.

  “We could do it in here,” Robert says finally, nudging my arm. “Hit the stop button for a moment, we could be done before anyone notices we're missing. One last unmarried romp.”

  I turn to him and scowl.

  Chapter Three

  “No, these are fine,” I say as I finish inspecting the flowers in their boxes. “They're better than fine. They're a great substitution.”

  “I'm really sorry we didn't have the exact roses you wanted,” Mrs. Forrester replies, as she starts putting the lids back in place. “We had a supplier let us down, but I honestly believe these new ones are going to look even more beautiful.”

  “They're -”

  “We have a problem with the seating plan,” my cousin Becky says, grabbing my arm from behind. “Rachel, you can't put Uncle Carl near Uncle Stu. They hate each other, they have to be kept separate or there will be a fight.”

  “They're not together,” I say as I turn to her. “They're on different tables.”

  “They're on adjacent tables,” she explains, holding the plan out for me to see. “That's too close. They need to be on opposite sides of the hall. They were on adjacent tables for Carla's wedding, and they kept flicking stuff at each other. Aunt Caroline got a piece of broccoli in the eye.”

  “I think they can manage to act like grown-ups for a few hours,” I tell her.

  “You don't know them like I know them,” she says. “I'm telling you, we need to swap a couple of the tables around, just to be certain. And then we need someone to monitor the bathroom situation, so they don't end up in there at the same time.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, as I spot my brother Mark checking the place-cards at a table on the far side of the reception area. I think I need to go over and check that he's not screwing something up. “Don't worry about it, Becky,” I continue, turning back to her. “I'll talk to them both and tell them that they have to see sense.”

  “But -”

  “So did we decide on the yellow?” Mrs. Forrester asks.

  I turn to her. “What? Oh, yes. The yellow.”

  “Also,” Becky continues, “Mary Blum won't want to be at the last table.”

  I turn to her. “Mary Blum?”

  “She's already asked to be moved to the front of the hall.”

  “There are two types of yellow,” Mrs. Forrester continues. “One's a softer shade with a -”

  “Hang on a second, both of you!” I say firmly, holding my hands up as I take a deep breath and try to regather my composure. There are so many questions being fired at me, and I really meant what I said earlier: I don't need all this fancy stuff for my wedding. Most of it was Robert's idea, anyway.

  There.

  Okay.

  Calm.

  “Mrs. Forrester,” I continue, turning to her, “I trust your years of experience in these things. Whatever flowers you think are appropriate, those are the ones we'll take.”

  She opens her mouth to ask another question.

  “And I thank you very much for your expert opinion,” I add, before turning to Becky. “And Becky, let's leave the table settings as they are. The likes of Uncle Carl and Uncle Stu and Mary Blum can all just suck it up and be adults for a day. That's not difficult, we all have to be mature some time or other.”

  Spotting Robert talking to someone o
ver on the far side of the reception area, I realize this might be a good moment to extract myself and take a breather.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” I say, slipping between Becky and Mrs. Forrester, “I just have to go and deal with a few other matters, but I'll check in with you again later today.”

  “Ms. Blaine?”

  Before I've managed even two paces, Elena from reception comes hurrying over to me.

  “I have a few questions about the breakfast arrangements,” she continues, “and -”

  “Can this wait just a second, please?” I ask with a smile, not even slowing my pace. “I'll come straight over as soon as I've dealt with some other things.”

  “Of course.” She smiles. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “There's no -”

  Before I can finish, I hear a sudden, loud snapping sound directly above. I keep walking, but I glance up briefly before looking back over at Robert, and then I realize that the chandelier looked as if it was leaning a little to one side. I stop and look up again, just as a second snapping sound rings out and someone shouts in the distance. For a moment, all I can do is stare in shock as the chandelier tilts directly above me, and then I hear a loud clanking sound as the entire thing comes crashing down toward me.

  At the last second, someone grabs my arm and pulls me aside, throwing me to the floor just as there's a crashing sound nearby. The floor shakes, and when I turn and look over my shoulder I see that the chandelier has smashed to the ground, with only a single snaking cord running all the way up to the ceiling. Pieces of glass are still skittering across the floor, reaching the walls all around.

  Suddenly people are shouting and rushing over, and then I turn to see that it was Elena who pulled me out of the way.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, wide-eyed with shock. “Ms. Blaine, are you hurt?”

  “No, I'm fine,” I reply, but I can hear the fear in my own voice and as I start to sit up I realize that I'm trembling. “I'm fine,” I stammer, as more and more people rush over to check on me. “Really, I'm absolutely fine. It didn't hit me. I'm fine.”