So when we headed to the wedding rehearsal at River Bend on Friday there was a lot weighing on our minds.
Instead of just the event manager, there was a group of people waiting for us at River Bend.
“This is my boss, Karen Cummings, the general manager of the Massachusetts Botanical Society,” Jen said. “I thought we should have her in on the discussion in case we need to get her approval for anything. We’ve been monitoring the weather too.”
“It looks like the storm will hit on Sunday for sure,” Karen said. “We will do everything we can to make sure your event still runs smoothly, but as of now the outdoor part of the event has to be canceled.”
Vinnie and Manish held hands tightly—they were so adorable. “Of course,” Manish said. “We want everyone to be safe.”
“Can we move to the rain plan?” Vinnie asked. “Move the wedding ceremony under the tent and skip cocktail hour to go right to the reception?”
“That would be the best solution,” Jen said. “The only problem is…”
“If the storm is predicted to have winds over fifty miles an hour,” Karen said, “then we have to pack up the tent.”
“Pack up the tent?” I asked. “But it had a concrete floor, it had metal scaffolding. It’s not like a pop-up tent or anything. I’ve seen it up in the snow!”
“Yes, it’s pretty sturdy,” Jen admitted. “But fifty-mile-an-hour winds are too much for it to withstand. We can’t take the risk of it collapsing on a party of people.”
“Of course not,” Dad said. “But this is hypothetical, right? If the storm takes a different track, we’re good.”
“That’s correct,” Karen said.
“If we do have to take the tent down,” I asked, “where can we have the ceremony?”
“Well,” Jen said, sounding apologetic, “an open fire is not allowed inside a landmarked building. And all the buildings at River Bend are historical landmarks. They can have candles, yes, but not an actual fire or anything.”
“So we can’t get married at River Bend at all?” Vinnie asked.
“If you promise that the fire will be very, very small, we could make an exception,” Karen said. “It’s a very unusual situation, and we want to be as accommodating as we can.”
“Am I late?” A tall young man in a business suit walked through the double doors of the Carriage House. He had a pleasant face, but the resemblance to Sunny Sondhi was unmistakable. “I’m Vicky Sondhi, from Curry Cuisine.”
“Was Mr. Sondhi too busy to come?” Dad asked.
“My dad’s busy, so he sent me,” Vicky said. “I guess we have a weather situation on Sunday. Just want to make sure we’re on the same page as everyone.”
I’d been thinking about the timing of the wedding—maybe that was the solution. We had scheduled it for three PM with the reception at seven PM. It was traditional in the North to have weddings in the evening.
“How about we reschedule the wedding to nine AM?” I asked. “We can have the reception at noon and serve lunch instead of dinner? We have the grounds and buildings booked for the day, right?”
“That may not be a bad idea,” Jen said. “The storm is supposed to hit hardest late afternoon and evening. By then your guests could be on their way home if you’re lucky.”
“Can you serve lunch instead of dinner?” I asked Vicky Sondhi. It was great that he was here after all. “It’s just a six-hour difference, but it would solve everything. We’d have to call the bus transportation company, and all the guests, and the bartender, and the priest, and Shoma Moorty. She said there was a big wedding in Boston on Saturday. Remember, the horse was booked for it too?”
“The Bernstein-Patel wedding.” Vicky Sondhi nodded knowledgeably. “Everyone’s talking about it. All the wedding horses nearby are booked for it. They’re going to have a ten-horse parade—the groom is an equestrian, and his whole family rides.”
I tried not to laugh at the thought of a whole bunch of guys riding up on white horses, doubtless wearing red turbans too. What had stopped them from hiring the elephant? “Good for them,” I said. “We have to call Shoma Aunty, but if she’s good with coming out early and getting the decorations done, we’ll handle everything else. How does that sound?”
“Excellent,” said Vinnie.
“I don’t know,” Manish said. “I have some friends coming in from California on Sunday afternoon. They won’t be able to make it.”
“How many friends?” I asked.
“Six or seven,” Manish said.
“They’ll have to miss it, then,” I said. “Odds are that their flight will be canceled anyway, so there’s no point waiting for them.”
“Not so fast,” Manish said. “Let me think about it.”
“Okay,” I said. “I do think they’re closing Logan Airport for the storm, though, Manish. Can they take an earlier flight?”
“Maybe… I don’t know,” Manish said.
Leave him alone, Vinnie mouthed at me. Fine, I mouthed back at her.
“How about you guys continue discussing this?” I said. “I still have a lot of work to do at home for the mehendi.”
The mehendi was still tomorrow, and I didn’t have Shoma Moorty to help decorate the house. Masi was at home, busy stitching the blouses for the remaining two bridesmaids. Beeji was making laddoos for absolutely no reason except that it made her feel like she was doing something.
I ordered five gorgeous umbrellas via Dad’s Amazon Prime account. Thanks to their free next-day delivery, at least we’d have some umbrellas that wouldn’t clash with our Mallika Motwani couture. Then I snapped shut my laptop. I had had enough. First I was going to walk my dog. Then I was going to get my hair done. They had my cell phone number. If something went wrong, they could always find me.
I had booked Katrina, my regular hairdresser, to come to the house to get Vinnie ready—but she wasn’t coming until 4:30 PM. I wanted
