perhaps it wasn't the heat I felt so much as a blush, when I realized how ridiculous I must look, staring at Michael with my mouth hanging open. I really would have to see him act sometime, I decided.
'Think your cousin will like it?' he asked, reaching to answer the phone. 'Be-Stitched. Yes, Mrs. Langslow, she's right here.' He handed the phone to me. 'Your mother. Something about peacocks?'
'Meg, dear,' Mother trilled. 'I have splendid news! Your cousin has found us some peacocks, but you'll have to go over there today to make the arrangements.'
'Over where?' I said. 'And why can't we just call?'
'He doesn't have a phone, apparently, or it's not working. I'm not sure which. And he won't take a reservation unless he has a cash deposit, so you'll have to go there immediately to make sure they're available. Think how terrible it would be if after all this we finally found the peacocks and someone else snapped them up just before you got there, which I'm sure could happen if anyone else finds out about them. There are two other weddings in town the same weekend mine is, and--'
'All right, Mother. I'll go and put a down payment on the peacocks.'
I couldn't prevent Mother from giving me directions, which I ignored because she was sure to have gotten them mixed up. I called my cousin to get real directions, rescheduled all the other appointments on my list, and dashed off into the wilds of the county. Even with directions, I got lost half a dozen times. How can you turn right at a millet field if you have no idea what millet looks like? But I found the farm and only stepped in one pile of manure while I was there. The peacocks' owner agreed to bring them over a week or so before Samantha's wedding, so they'd have time to settle down, and leave them till a few days after Mother's wedding. I managed not to yawn during his lengthy stories about how he came to have a flock of peacocks and the difficulties of breeding them and how they were better than dogs for warning him whenever strangers came to the farm. And I left a deposit that would still have seemed excessive if the damned peacocks were gold-plated. Considering the cost involved, his lack of a telephone must have been sheer cussedness rather than a sign of economic hardship.
I was feeling very pleased with myself until bedtime, when I realized I'd spent the entire day running around in order to cross off just one item. I tried to reach Mrs. Thornhill, the calligrapher, so I could cross that off, but there was no answer. Again. Ah, well. Tomorrow was another day. I wondered, briefly, where Dad had been for the past several days, and what he had done or was doing with Great-Aunt Sophy.
Cool it, I told myself. Let Dad play detective. You have enough to do.
Wednesday, June 22
I got an early start and had crammed a truly awesome number of caterer and florist inspections into the morning. Not to mention half a dozen unsuccessful attempts to reach Mrs. Thornhill, the feckless calligrapher. Although still suspicious of what Dad was up to, I was just as happy to have heard nothing about homicide for several days. I was feeling optimistic about the possibility of getting back on schedule when Eileen showed up unexpectedly to have lunch with us. I immediately wondered what she was up to.
'Are you doing anything this afternoon?' Eileen said, finally. Here comes the bombshell, I told myself.
'I'm going in to Be-Stitched for a fitting. My dress for Samantha's wedding.'
'I'll go in with you,' Eileen said. 'I have something I want to ask Michael about.'
Doubtless another sign of rampant paranoia on my part, but on the way, as Eileen chattered happily about Renaissance music, I worried about what she wanted to ask Michael. Doubtless some new scheme that would make more work for me. I would have interrogated her then and there, but thought it might be more tactful to wait and see. Besides, I felt sure Michael would help me out if she pulled anything really outrageous.
'Michael,' she said, as we came in, 'I've had the most wonderful idea, and I wanted to see if it was okay with you first.'
'What is it?' he asked, surprised and a little wary. Not actually suspicious, but then he didn't know Eileen as well as I did.
'I'm going to have everyone in costume,' she announced happily. 'I want to see if you can make the costumes if necessary.'
'I thought we already were having everyone in costume,' Michael said. 'Bride, groom, maid of honor, best man, father of the bride, ring bearer, flower girl, four ushers, and four bridesmaids. And your cousin the priest. The musicians, you said, would be providing their own costumes. Who else is there?'
'Eileen, not the guests,' I said.
'Yes!' She beamed. 'Won't it be splendid?'
'Oh, God, no,' I moaned.
'How many people have you invited?' Michael asked.
'Six hundred and seven,' I said. 'At last count.'
'Of course they won't all come,' she said, looking a little hurt and puzzled at our obvious lack of enthusiasm. 'And some of them already have Renaissance costumes.'
'How many?' I asked. 'A dozen or two? That still leaves several hundred costumes, even if half the guest list doesn't show up.'
'Well, yes,' Eileen admitted.
'Have you considered how much it would cost for guests to buy, rent, or make their costumes? It could be several hundred dollars apiece. I don't think you can ask people to spend that much just to come to your wedding. On top of what they'll already have to spend in airfare and hotels. A lot of people would stay away and feel hurt. Unless you're thinking of sticking your father with the bill. I'm sure he'd like that; feeding and clothing the multitudes.'
'Maybe we could rent a bunch of costumes from a theater,' Eileen said, looking hopefully at Michael.
'I suppose you might be able to,' Michael said, 'But you certainly wouldn't want to.'
'Why not?'
'Most theatrical costumes are designed to look good from a distance,' he said. 'Up close, the way guests would see each other, they don't look so hot, even if they're brand new, and if they've been used they could be more than a little ragged around the edges. Also, up close, no matter how well cleaned they were, you'd probably be able to tell that people had been wearing them and sweating under hot lights for hours on end. You'd smell more than just the greasepaint.' Bravo, Michael, I thought.
'Perhaps we could send them all patterns,' she suggested. 'So they could make their own costumes.'
'I'm sure the few who know how and have the time have other things they'd like to be sewing,' I said.
'I'm sure there must be some way we can manage it,' Eileen said, turning stubborn.
'Tell you what: let's ask Mother,' I said. 'She's the best one I know to tell us whether it's suitable and if so, how to get it done. Michael, why don't you let Eileen take a look at how her dress is coming while I call to see if Mother's home or at Mrs. Fenniman's.'
Eileen cheered up again at this, and obediently followed Michael back to the sewing room while I phoned home to enlist Mother.
'She's going to try the dress on while she's here,' Michael said, reappearing a few minutes later.
'Good,' I said. 'That will give Mother time to round up Mrs. Fenniman and Pam and meet us back at the house to talk Eileen out of it.'
'Are you sure they'll talk her out of it?' Michael asked. 'No offense, but it seems to be just the sort of ... charmingly eccentric idea your mother would encourage.'
'Charmingly eccentric,' I said. 'That's tactful. Totally loony, you mean. Yes, it's just the sort of circus Mother normally likes to encourage, and normally she'd be the first one down here trying to make sure her costume outshines all the rest. But I have carefully explained to her how much time this would take to coordinate. How much of my time, which Mother would rather have me spending on her wedding. She'll talk Eileen out of it, never fear.'
'I see why you wanted to get your mother involved,' Michael said. 'Brilliantly Machiavellian.'
'If all else fails, I'll try to convince Eileen that costumes would be more fun for one of the prewedding parties. Last I heard she was still planning several of those.'
