She patted her face dry. “It’s like sticking two tomcats in a cage and watching them fight. All they do is scratch and hiss at each other. I hate when they’re in the same room together.”
“And the rest of your family? When are they getting here?”
“They’ll be trickling in throughout this week and next,” Evelyn replied. “We’ve got a few coming in today. A few couldn’t afford to get here so early. They’ll be here in time for the ceremony though. Some of them are traveling from England, so it’s always a process. ”
I unearthed my nicest pair of jeans and pulled them on. “I got here just fine.”
“You are a functioning member of society.” She tweaked my nose. “Most of my family is not.”
“It’s weird,” I said, buttoning my pants. “You’ve pretty much met all of my family, but I feel like I’ve never spent a lot of time with yours.”
“That’s because I’m ashamed of them.” Her tone implied she was only half-joking. “My mother’s side of the family is quite, er, conservative.”
“Ah.”
Evelyn rushed on to clarify. “They have old, traditional ideals that no one can convince them to change. For instance, they’ll probably choke when they see Marie’s dress is cream rather than white.”
“What’s wrong with cream?”
“Well, white is supposed to symbolize purity and innocence of girlhood.” Gathering her hair at the top of her head, she pulled it into a smooth ponytail. No brush necessary. “Marie might as well admit she’s not a virgin by wearing cream.”
“Oh, come on. That’s crazy.”
She shrugged. “My dad’s side of the family isn’t much better. Irish and English biddies who like to gossip over tea.”
“Then I know where you get it from.”
Evelyn scowled and whacked me with a pillow. “Do you want breakfast or not?”
The Saint Angel had various restaurants, bars, cafes, and ballrooms, but finding the one you wanted required a comprehensive map, a guide, and refreshments. Regrettably, we found ourselves short of guides and refreshments, so we resorted to wandering from sign to sign with absolutely no idea if we were headed in the right direction.
“I think it’s this way,” Evelyn said, pointing down a long hallway. “Or no? Are we on the right floor?”
I peered across the empty corridors. “Doesn’t anybody work here? You’d think a fancy place like this would have more people employees out and about.”
Evelyn came to a dead end, groaned, and pulled an about-face. “These are all guest rooms. Where the hell are the restaurants?”
A disembodied voice answered, “Ground floor or top floor.”
I glanced skyward. “God? Is that you?”
From a supplies closet stepped a small man wearing the signature green and gold colors of the Saint Angel Hotel. He held a toolbox in one hand and a greasy rag in the other. Despite the lines around his eyes and mouth, he had curiously boyish features. His plump cheeks, glinting eyes, and wide gap between his two front teeth made his age difficult to discern.
“Sorry to disappoint,” he said merrily in an unusually high-pitched voice. “I’m Luis. Maintenance guy. I do a lot of lurking in air vents and broom closets. God, I assume, has more important items on his to-do list.”
“You know what assuming does,” I said.
“No, what?”
“Never mind,” Evelyn cut in. “Can you point us to the breakfast buffet?”
Luis jabbed his thumb over his shoulders. “You guys are way off. Head back to the lobby, cross to the other side behind the weird statue of the dude holding some other dude’s head, and keep walking that way until you feel like you might drop off the end of the earth. Buffet’s down there.”
We stared at him in silence.
He beckoned for us to follow him. “Come on, I’ll show you. I have to stop by the front desk anyway.”
With Luis’s guidance, we found our way back to the lobby. Once there, someone shouted Evelyn’s name from the mezzanine. We both glanced up to find Marie in a state of dishevelment. Her untucked shirt and messy hair indicated she had left her hotel room in a hurry.
“Here we go,” Evelyn muttered as her sister thundered down the steps.
“I need you,” Marie declared, seizing Evelyn’s hand and dragging her away. “It’ll only take a second.”
Evelyn set her feet. “We’re about to eat breakfast.”
“Breakfast can wait.” Marie lowered her voice and whispered, “Aunt Linda’s coming to the wedding.”
Evelyn’s eyes went wide. “No. You said you didn’t send her an invitation!”
“I didn’t,” she replied. “I have no idea how she got wind of this, but we need a game plan. Call the caterers and add corned beef and cabbage to the menu. It’s the only thing she eats. I’ll have to check the seating chart—”
As Marie steered her sister away, Evelyn looked over her shoulder and mouthed, “Be right back.”
With a sigh, I sank into a purple velvet chair to wait out her return. Gazing around, I noticed something strange: the lobby was nearly empty. Luis, the woman working behind the front desk, and the bored bellhop by the revolving door were the only employees to be seen. The bellhop angled himself in such a way to hide the fact that he was playing games on his phone. The minutes ticked by, but no guests came through the door for him to assist. No guests crossed the lobby at all, and I began to wonder if Marie’s almost mother-in-law had reserved the entire hotel for the wedding.
Luis approached the front desk and attempted to casually lean across it. Standing on his tiptoes to accomplish this, he only wobbled once before his stance solidified.
“Hey, Janine,” he said to the woman behind the desk. “What do you call a fake noodle?”
Janine did not look up from her computer. “No idea.”
“An im-pasta.” Luis mimicked the ba-dum-shh! of a drum set, but Janine made no effort to let him know she had heard his punchline. “You know, like an imposter?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He cleared his throat and set his feet firmly on the floor. “Did
