“Charles called you,” Sam announced, and his mother stopped dead in her tracks and looked like she'd been shot.
“What did you tell him?” she said hoarsely.
“I said you were asleep.” She closed her eyes in relief. She didn't dare ask him if he'd mentioned his father. “He said he was just calling to say hello and he'd see you at the wedding, or something like that.”
“I can't call him. I'm too sick. He'll know I got drunk last night, and then he'll worry.”
“You'll see him at the wedding,” Zelda said. “You're a mess. We have to get you going. Take a shower, I'll get some coffee.”
“Good… yes… that's a very good idea.” She got in the shower, and it felt like knives on her skin.
While she was in the shower, Zelda ran upstairs to wake the kids. Daphne looked almost as bad as her mother, and Zelda scolded her and promised not to tell. And Jack got out of bed, and ran downstairs for breakfast. He was fine. He had only had one glass of champagne, and soda the rest of the night, which saved him from a fate like his sister's.
Zelda poured two cups of coffee into Maxine, and scrambled eggs, under protest. She handed her two aspirin with the coffee, and the hairdresser went to work on her in the kitchen. Even having her makeup put on was painful, and having her hair done was worse. But she had to. She couldn't wear a ponytail and no makeup to her wedding.
Within half an hour, Maxine had her makeup on, and she looked better than ever. She felt awful, but it didn't show. The woman had done a good job, and Maxine's face was glowing. The hairdresser had swept her hair up in a simple French twist, and put a small row of pearls in it. Maxine could hardly move as she got up, and there were razor blades piercing her eyeballs every time she faced the sunlight.
“I swear, Zellie, I'm dying,” she said, closing her eyes for a minute.
“You're gonna be fine,” Zelda reassured her, as Daphne came downstairs, pale, but with her hair combed neatly and lip gloss on, which was all her mother would allow her. Maxine was too sick to notice that Daphne was also hung over, and Sam didn't say a word, nor did Zellie.
At twenty to twelve, all the children, including Daphne, were dressed. Zelda had made Daphne put the lavender dress on, with the threat that she'd tell she'd gotten drunk if she didn't. It worked. Then Zelda went to get Maxine's dress and shoes, while Maxine herself stood looking like a lame horse in the kitchen, with her eyes closed.
Maxine slipped into the shoes and let Zelda help her with the dress. She zipped her up and tied the sash, and her children gasped when they saw her. She looked like a fairy princess.
“You look really pretty, Mom,” Daphne said, and meant it.
“Thank you. I feel like shit. I think I have the flu.”
“You and Daddy got drunk last night,” Sam said, giggling, as his mother gave him an evil look.
“Don't you tell anyone that. Especially not Charles.”
“I promise.” He didn't even remember that he had told Charles his father was snoring.
The cars were waiting for them outside, and a minute later Zelda came back in a red silk dress, black patent leather shoes, and she was carrying her baby. He was starting to stir, but he wasn't crying yet. Maxine knew that if he did, it would split her head in two, and she silently begged him not to. They were meeting her parents and Blake at the church. Charles would be waiting for her at the altar. Suddenly, mostly due to her extreme hangover, she assumed, the thought of a church service and a wedding made her feel slightly sick.
There was a car for Zellie and the children, and another one for her. She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes on the way to the church. It was the worst hangover she had ever had. She was convinced that God was punishing her because Blake had spent the night. That wasn't supposed to happen. But at least nothing else had.
The limousine she was in pulled up behind the church at five to twelve. And the one with the children was right behind her. They had made it. Maxine walked as steadily as she could into the rectory, and her parents were waiting for her there. Blake was supposed to come and get the children before the service, and he walked in right behind her. He looked worse than she did. They looked like a matched set. Two sorry drunks the next day. She smiled at him painfully, and he laughed at her, and kissed her on the forehead.
“You look gorgeous, Max. But you're a mess.”
“Yeah, you too.” She was happy to see him.
“I'm sorry about last night,” he whispered to her. “I shouldn't have let you have the last of the champagne.”
“Don't worry, I did it to myself. I think I wanted to get drunk.” Her parents were listening with interest to the exchange, just as the rectory door flew wide, and Charles stormed in. He looked at all of them with wild eyes and then at Maxine in her wedding gown. He wasn't supposed to see her. He was supposed to be at the altar. As he glared at her, the florist handed her her bouquet and tried to pin a tiny orchid on Charles's lapel. He brushed him away.
“You were with him last night, weren't you?!” he shouted at
Maxine, pointing at Blake. And at the sound of it, she clutched her head.
“Oh God, don't scream!”
Charles looked from her to Blake and realized how hung over she was. He had never seen her that way.
“I had too much to drink, and he fell asleep,” she explained. “Nothing happened.”
“I don't believe a word of it!” he said, glaring at her. “You're lunatics, all of you. You two act like you're still married. Your children are brats. Crack babies, yachts, bimbos. You're sickos, all of you. And I'm not marrying you, Maxine. You couldn't pay me to marry into this family. And I'm sure you've been sleeping with him all along.” As he said it, Maxine burst into tears, and before she could answer him, Blake took a step forward and grabbed Charles by the lapels of his khaki suit and lifted him right off the ground.
“That's my wife you're talking to, you uptight son of a bitch. And those are my children you just called brats! And let me tell you something, asshole. She wouldn't marry you on a fucking bet. You're not good enough to shine her shoes, so get your sorry ass out of our sight.” He threw Charles toward the door then, and Charles turned around and left at a dead run, as Maxine stared at Blake.
“Shit, now what am I going to do?”
“Did you want to marry him?” Blake asked her with a worried look, and she shook her head, although it almost killed her to do so.
“No, I didn't. I figured that out last night.”
“Not a minute too soon,” Blake said as the children suddenly cheered. It was the first time they had ever seen their dad in action, and they loved the way he had made Charles run away. As far as they were concerned, it was about time.
“Well, that was an interesting start to the day,” Arthur Connors said, looking at his ex-son-in-law. “What do you all suggest we do now?” He didn't look sorry, just concerned.
“Somebody has to tell everyone,” Maxine said, slowly sinking into an available chair, “that the wedding's been called off.” The children cheered again, and Zelda smiled. The baby hadn't made a peep, and was sound asleep. Maybe he just hadn't liked Charles.
“It's a shame to waste a great dress like that,” Blake said, looking at her. “And the flowers looked terrific when I peeked into the church. What do you say we put them to good use?” And then he looked at her seriously and lowered his voice as he spoke to her, so no one else could hear. “I promise, this time I'll come home. I'm not as stupid as I was before. I'm bimbo'd out, Max.”
“Good,” she said quietly, looking him in the eye. She knew he was telling her the truth, and this time he would come home. He might even stay home. He was still a rogue, and she loved that about him, but he had grown up. They both had. She no longer expected him to be anyone but Blake. And she had discovered that she loved who she was with him. They brought out the best in each other.
“Max?” He shook as he asked her. It was twelve-thirty by then, and the wedding guests had been waiting for half an hour while the music played.
“Yes.” She breathed the word, and he kissed her. It was what they had both wanted to do the night before. It had taken Charles to get them back together again. Charles was everything she should have wanted, but all she wanted, and all she had ever wanted, was Blake.
“Let's go!” Blake said, springing into action, his hangover forgotten, and she was feeling better too. “Jack, you
