13. Will
Chapter thirteen
Will
I couldn’t believe I’d been so bold. I certainly hadn’t planned it. But then I’d seen that look in her eyes. The unmistakable heat.
I’d driven all the way from Seattle hoping to negotiate a cleaner truce, to come away feeling like I could be James’s friend without always having to find out Maureen’s whereabouts. I’d wanted the buzz of being in her vicinity, hungry to take whatever scraps she was willing to offer. Forgiveness had seemed like a lofty, impossible prospect.
But that was before I touched her hand.
What was that saying—something about missing all the shots you didn’t take? The moment presented itself, so I had to try. It remained to be seen if my gamble would backfire spectacularly, but at least Maureen hadn’t punched me in the nuts. Even though I felt sure she was fuming behind her unreadable expression.
As angered as she’d been by my audacity, I couldn’t help but think how she brought out the best in me. I’d felt more alive tonight, igniting first the desire and then the fire in her eyes, than I’d ever been during any of my big moments with Rosalyn—first date, moving in together, getting engaged. Nothing with my former fiancée had lit me up the way even the barest moments with Maureen did.
Leo walked between us into the laundry room and through the door connecting to the garage. “The cake’s in the second fridge out here. Along with about a million bottles of champagne.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Leo-Bear,” Miranda said. “It’s only two dozen. I had to make sure there was enough for everyone.”
“Hey, this is good stuff.” Maureen examined the labels on the bottles. “How did you afford this?”
“I know a guy.” Miranda shrugged, uncharacteristically not offering further details.
“You know a dipshit,” Leo muttered under his breath as he carried in the enormous cake. I wanted to laugh but kept my face placid since I didn’t think he’d meant for me to hear his words. Leo obviously knew something about Miranda’s “guy.” I didn’t allow myself too much curiosity. I had my own Davis sister to worry about.
Miranda pulled the plastic flute glasses out of the box as Leo set his burden on the stovetop. The cake had three layers, red-and-green-striped buttercream with wreath accents. Every sweet-smelling inch was beautiful, but the large spun sugar snow globe atop the cake stole the show. Inside it, two figures danced next to a Christmas tree. The baker had done an amazing job making the figures look remarkably like James and Marley.
Maureen laid a hand on her chest as she breathed out, “Oh, Leo. It’s beautiful. Marley is going to love it.”
“James too,” I piped in, thinking about what a softy my old friend was, especially with his bride-to-be. I chuckled, hoping he’d sobered up a bit from earlier in the afternoon so he could appreciate this masterpiece of a confection.
“I certainly hope so,” Leo said. “Going over the mountain pass and driving on the freeway with it made me so nervous. I must have set a record for most times getting flipped off in a five-hour drive.”
Miranda examined the cake. “I’m sorry you had to take a few middle fingers for the team, but you did a good thing here. They’ll never forget this. Look here.” She spun the cake around and pointed at the CONGRATULATIONS MARLEY AND JAMES written on the bottom layer, flanked by two dogs in Christmas bow ties and Santa hats, modeled after Oscar and Bambi. “The details on this are insane.”
All four of us took out our phones and began snapping pics. It was a shame this cake needed to be eaten. I hoped it tasted as good as it looked.
“Can you take the cake outside so everyone can see it while Maureen and I get the champagne into glasses?” Miranda asked Leo. “There’s an empty table to set it on near the buffet.”
Carrying the cake in from the garage had been easy enough, but the path from the kitchen to the patio was a gauntlet filled with Christmas decorations, errant folding chairs, and tipsy party guests. “I’ll walk in front of you and make sure no one accidentally dips a finger in the frosting,” I said to Leo.
“Thanks, man.”
We made it through the living room, briefly waylaid by two middle-aged guests who insisted on oohing and aahing over the cake, and out onto the patio. I thought we had a clear shot to the table when a guest unexpectedly leaned back in his chair just as we walked behind him.
Several partygoers’ mouths dropped open in horror as Leo stumbled and took an awkward step sideways to avoid falling. Luckily, he managed to go down onto one knee as I turned around to help steady him, and we stabilized the circular aluminum dessert base about six inches above the ground.
The cake wobbled precariously, and for a moment, it seemed like the snow globe topper might tumble right off, but with a flick of my finger, I held it in place as we leveled the base. Leo’s knee and ankle remained at an awkward angle as two guests stepped forward to take the cake from us, depositing it safely on the table.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I rose and reached out a hand to Leo.
“Whew,” he said. “That could have been a disaster.”
“Could have been doesn’t count,” I said, laughing away the stress from our near miss.
Behind us, Miranda and Maureen stood at the patio door carrying trays of glasses.
“Well, that was exciting,” Maureen said dryly as she began distributing the champagne.
“I can’t believe how close that came to total catastrophe,” Miranda whispered without her usual good humor, emitting an anxious breath. “Sheesh.”
“No bigs, Panda. I had it all along.” Leo winked at her.
Maureen took charge, giving her sister’s shoulder a squeeze. “Will, can you and Leo pour more champagne in the kitchen while we pass these out? We uncorked all the bottles, so it shouldn’t take too long for everyone to have something in hand. There’s apple juice for the kids, but still put it in the fancy cups for funsies.”
Leo and I poured as quickly as the bubbles allowed. Miranda and Maureen returned five minutes later to grab round two, including the apple juices. With so many guests making the patio a tight squeeze, it was necessary to take the glasses out rather than fill them at the tables. From the laundry room window, I saw Marley and James admiring the cake, looking teary-eyed. Big, sentimental babies. I loved them both so much.
“Okay, I think this is it.” Miranda came in for the last of the drinks, slightly manic. “Then we can start the toasts and cut the cake.”
“You need to chill, little sis,” Maureen said. “We’ll get them out there soon enough. Relax.”
“I just want it to be perfect.”
“Don’t worry. This is Marley we’re talking about. She uses fast food napkins as tissues and feeds Oscar store-brand dog food. She’s not fussy. Why are you so worked up?”
“Sorry,” Miranda said. “Tired, I guess.” Leo looked at her with concern, and I again had the feeling he knew something her sisters didn’t. Whatever was going on, she was lucky to have him in her corner.
I wanted to be that person for Maureen. If she ever stopped scowling at me. “Let me help you get the last flutes on the trays,” I offered.
Maureen took one tray and delivered glasses to guests on the outer edges of the patio. Leo and I brought out the last few apple juices. Miranda carried champagne to the head table on the second tray, where Marley and James had re-seated themselves after ogling the cake. Travis, Vivienne, and their kids were also there, along with Katy Baumbeck, a woman who’d been introduced to me earlier as a member of Marley’s bridal party, and her two toddlers.
From beside the dance floor, I watched Katy attempt to wrangle her children into their seats. They wiggled and resisted, wearing identical stubborn expressions.
“No!” the smaller of the two kids shouted. “No! No! No!” He picked up his apple juice and flung it across the empty dance floor—directly in Miranda’s path. The assembled guests gasped. Miranda stumbled, glasses clanking as her tray wobbled.
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the crowd as she righted herself.
But then the toddler burst into tears at the loss of the drink he’d tantrum-tossed. He shoved his body away from his mother’s hold. Miranda had dodged the hurled glass, but she couldn’t elude the tiny body leaping across the patio in front of her. She tripped over her own feet to avoid running into him.
And launched the tray out of her hands.
“Nonononononono!” Miranda cried, reaching out futilely to stop the inevitable.
Partygoers watched in slow motion as the champagne went flying, glasses tipping mid-flight, soaking the glittery runner as they landed sideways on the table, rolling onto the ground.
Everyone seated at the head table jumped up, splashed with various amounts of liquid. Marley appeared to have taken the brunt of it, her entire torso soaked.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhh!” Connor’s piercing screech cut the air like a blade, drowning out the Christmas standard blaring over the speaker. He slapped at his clothing. “Wet! Wet! Wet!” He looked at his parents beseechingly, face flushing crimson. “Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!” Scarlett burst into tears at her brother’s reaction, less so at the wet spots blooming across her own jacket.
Mild pandemonium ensued as every guest somehow manifested napkins and began passing them to the head table. Maureen got on top of the situation quickly, directing Leo into the kitchen for paper towels and clean dish rags.
Katy scooped up her son. The young mother wore an understandably chagrined expression while the tiny boy seemed to sense the part he’d played in the chaos. He buried his face in his mom’s chest, along with his sibling, and began to cry, their wails eclipsing Connor’s.
Maureen cleared a path for Travis and Vivienne to take Connor and Scarlett into her bedroom to give them a quiet place to regroup. “Don’t worry, I’ve got an eye on the older two,” Maureen assured them, although the tweens still sitting at the table seemed mercifully unaffected. “There are fresh towels in the linen closet by the bathroom,” she added.
Vivienne nodded gratefully. “Don’t worry. We always travel with spare clothes, and we’ll get him calmed down quick enough. His behavioral therapy has been working wonders with these types of situations, and once he’s dry, I’m sure he’ll be alright.”
“All good. Whatever you need.”
Katy managed to calm her children before peering glumly at Marley. “I’m really sorry, Marls. He’s been so defiant lately.” Her voice wavered.
“Hey, don’t even worry about it,” Marley said, dabbing her sweater with a dishrag. “I know you’re doing your best, and don’t forget, I’m a teacher. I understand better than most how kids can be unpredictable.”
Marley patted Katy’s arm. I helped James and a few other folks clear the table while Leo picked up the plastic flutes scattered across the ground. Maureen stood waiting with a fresh tablecloth.
While soaking up the last of the mess from the concrete patio, I noticed Miranda standing listlessly near a potted Christmas tree, eyes downcast. I tapped Maureen on the shoulder and gestured toward her youngest sister.
“Miranda, are you alright?” Maureen asked as we both walked over.
“I’m okay.” Miranda sniffed. “I can’t believe I dropped the tray.”
“You didn’t drop it on purpose,” I reassured her, encouraged by Maureen’s approving glance. “I saw it all happen. That kid ran in front of you. What else were you supposed to do? It was an accident.”
“Well, it feels like my fault,” Miranda insisted. “And now the party is ruined.”
“What?” Marley joined our discussion. “Nothing is ruined. Like Will said, it was an accident. We’re going to let everyone get cleaned up a bit, and then it’ll be right back to toasts and cutting the cake.”
Leo returned from the kitchen, carrying more glasses and two bottles of champagne. “Don’t worry, Miranda. We still have enough for everyone.” He stood tall and used his booming voice to announce, “We hope you enjoyed the excitement, folks. Just give us a few minutes to get dry and re-pour, and we’ll be right back to the party. I didn’t drive that beautiful cake all the way from Seattle for nothing. We’re going to eat that sucker, and it’s gonna be worth the wait!” He chuckled.
His affable declaration put the crowd at ease, and the low hum of conversation and laughter resumed. The guests politely avoided drinking from their flutes, waiting for the formal champagne toast.
“See that,” Leo said to Miranda. “All taken care of.” She still looked somewhat doubtful, but as she straightened her shoulders and smiled, her natural optimism pushed to the surface.
“Great,” Marley said, clapping her hands together. “I’m going to my room real fast to switch out this Santa sweater for a different Santa sweater. Back in a jiffy.” She leaned over to say something in James’s ear, giving him a peck on the cheek before retreating.
“Exactly how many Santa sweaters does your sister have?” I whispered to Maureen.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She grinned, and I watched as she intently scanned the room, determining that everything had been handled as well as could be. I admired the quiet way she’d taken control of the situation. Although her temper ran a little hot, and her words could be as sharp as an ax, her actions were always decidedly cool. She handled business, that was for sure. Maureen shocked me from my thoughts by reaching down to squeeze my hand for an electric beat before letting go. “Thanks for helping, Will.”
“Thanks for letting me.”