me what’s bugging you?”
“All right,” she conceded.
I fell into step next to her as we continued down the gravel driveway. “It’s not about marrying Colin, is it?”
“God, no!” she said. “It’s just a feeling that something bad is going to happen and on my wedding day.”
“When did it start?”
She twisted her ring as she thought. “It might have started last night when Mom told me that Julia is coming.”
“Julia!” I said, stopping and staring at her. “Julia’s coming? Jesus! Does Avery know?”
“I don’t know.”
We fell silent as we contemplated this potentially awkward reunion. Julia Fitzpatrick had been the best friend of Avery’s late wife, Ann. After Ann died, Julia and Avery became particularly close. Julia’s own marriage was miserable and Avery was terribly lonely. When Julia’s husband, Tom, died, everyone in Bridget’s family had assumed that Avery and Julia would marry. And they might have done so had it not been for the arrival of Roni in Avery’s life. One look at Roni and Avery lost all reason. Julia had said nothing, but the consensus was that she had been deeply hurt by Avery’s desertion.
I gave myself a shake. “Well, so what if Julia is coming?” I said firmly. “She isn’t a vengeful woman. Even if she considers Avery a complete cad for throwing her over, she wouldn’t come to your wedding simply to make trouble.”
Bridget stopped. “You’re right,” she said with a relieved smile, “she wouldn’t. I’m just being melodramatic.”
“Gosh. You? That’s so unusual.”
“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”
“True. But I was dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour, so I have an excuse.”
“Whatever. Come on, I’ll race you to the house.”
“You’re on,” I said. “Ready, set... go!” She took off and was soon a blur of purple sprinting in front of me. I made no move to chase her and instead walked slowly up the driveway, listening to gravel crunch noisily underneath my feet. I was glad that I had been able to extinguish Bridget’s fears. Now I just wished someone would do the same for this very uneasy feeling of mine.
I dragged myself up the stairs, heading for my room. Rounding the corner, I was startled by the sound of David’s voice, raised in anger. “I need that money!” he yelled. “You promised me that you’d get it!” His voice was coming from one of the bedrooms, but I couldn’t tell which one. A second voice answered him; it was Roni. “That well is dry,” she said, her voice laced with disdainful amusement. My question as to which bedroom they were in was answered a second later when David furiously burst out of Roni’s room. I had a brief glimpse of Roni’s laughing face before the door slammed shut. David looked terrible. He was wearing a faded green shirt that only served to make his pale and spotty complexion look even worse. I noticed, too, that his hair hadn’t been properly shellacked yet. It was standing out in at least six different directions. Seeing me, he stopped. His face was bunched in a ferocious scowl and his eyes were black with rage. I knew his ire wasn’t directed at me, but I nevertheless took an involuntary step back. David scared the crap out of me when he was like this. The long hallway seemed to shrink with his menacing presence, and I became acutely aware that I was several feet from the top of the stairs. I couldn’t fathom how Claire could live with such a ticking bomb.
Thankfully, David wanted as little to do with me as I did with him. Quickly rearranging his face into a less antagonistic expression, he grunted at me and disappeared into his own room. I let out a sigh of relief. No sooner did his door shut than the door to the hall bathroom opened. Claire emerged. She was wearing an ankle-length cream-colored dress, the kind an ex-boyfriend of mine used to refer to as a “decoy dress.” Pithy comments like that were just one of the many reasons I broke up with him. Claire’s hair was neatly pulled back from her face with a black beaded headband. Unfortunately, this only highlighted her blotchy skin and bloodshot eyes. Apparently, Claire had not had an easy night after dragging David to bed. All the same, she smiled brightly when she saw me. “Have you been out running? Wow. That’s dedication. I don’t know where you get the energy. I’m beat this morning. I could barely pull myself out of bed.”
“Well, that’s where I’d rather be, but Bridget made me go. I think she needed to work off some nervous energy. Not that I was much help,” I added. “I made it as far as the end of the driveway.”
“Well, it is a long driveway,” Claire said sympathetically, returning to her room.
Back in my own room, I debated changing, but the smell of freshly brewed coffee proved too strong. I headed to the dining room, where breakfast was set up on the sideboard. On the way downstairs, I bumped into Megan, who was headed in the same direction. Most everyone else was already there, Peter among them. I poured myself a large cup of coffee, grabbed a poppy seed bagel, and sank down into a chair next to Peter. Looking askance at my outfit, he said, “Dare I ask?”
“Bridget and I went for a run.”
Peter, who knew about my penchant for sleeping in, made an odd noise and asked, “You’re kidding, right?”
I took a grateful swallow of coffee. “Sadly, I am not. She dragged me out of bed so she could work off her nerves.”
His dark brows pulled together in concern. “Is she all right?”
“I think so. She had one of her premonitions.”
“Ah,” said Peter dispassionately. He was used to Bridget’s superstitious tendencies. “Not about her and Colin?”
“No. She’s worried about something bad happening during the wedding. She wasn’t too specific.” I spread a thick layer of cream cheese on my bagel, remembered I still had to fit into my maid of honor dress, and scraped some off.
“Well, I suppose it’s not strange to be jittery on your wedding day,” Peter said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“True, but even so, I can’t imagine anything going wrong on Chloe the Tyrant’s watch.” I took a bite of bagel, decided I’d scraped off too much cream cheese, and added more.
Peter looked blankly at me. “Who?”
“Oh, sorry. I forgot you haven’t met her yet. Bridget’s mom hired this top-notch coordinator. Her name is Chloe Jenkins, but she marches around barking orders and generally inspiring fear, so Bridget dubbed her Chloe the Tyrant.”
Peter choked on his coffee.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
Grabbing a napkin, he held it to his mouth and nodded weakly. He seemed on the verge of speech when Claire entered the room. She had added a black beaded cardigan sweater to her ensemble, making her look exactly like an ad for Laura Ashley, circa 1982. “Good morning, everyone,” she said.
Elsie looked up from her newspaper. “Good morning, dear. Where’s David?”
Claire ducked her head and headed toward the sideboard. “He’s not feeling too well this morning. I think he’s coming down with a cold.”
“It’s called a hangover, dear.”
Claire bent her head low as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Mother, please don’t start.”
Elsie spread out her hands in a defensive gesture. “Fine. Have it your way. I won’t say another word. Except... ”
Whatever Elsie was going to not say was lost in the arrival of Roni. Wearing a tight turquoise silk dress that left very little to the imagination, she was, to quote Jane Austen, at once expensively and nakedly dressed. She sauntered into the room and issued a cheery hello. Not counting Avery’s response, her greeting was largely ignored. Her smile still firmly fixed, she turned to Elsie, who sat absorbed in reading the paper. “Any interesting news today, Elsie?” she asked.
Elsie did not look up. “None at all,” she replied, continuing to read.
Taking a plate from the sideboard, Roni placed a few pieces of fruit on it and sat down next to Avery. Eyeing her daughter’s full plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, she said with a sigh, “Really, Megan. You’re never going to lose weight if you insist on eating like a truck driver.”
