Chapter Fifteen
“It’s about time you got back.” Lisa stood with her hands on her hips and her elbows flared out like chicken wings. “Didn’t we decide on pale and dark blue?”
“Yes.” Courtney came to a halt in front of her maid of honor. “For the ocean.”
“Well, the hotel is setting up the hall, and seafoam green and sandy tan is all over the place.”
“What?” Courtney flew past Amy and Ray, her maid of honor in tow.
“Whatever happened to getting married in the front parlor with a handful of friends and then cutting cake in the dining room?” Ray asked.
“Queen Victoria,” Amy answered, scanning the lobby and terrace for any sign of her friends or brother.
“That was the white wedding dress.”
“What?” She looked up at Ray.
“Queen Victoria is the reason for a white wedding dress in the Western world. Not for the big production that weddings have become.”
“Oh.” Amy spotted Mrs. Clarke marching toward the front desk. “Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“I see a storm blowing in, and I don’t see Carrie.” Amy ducked out of sight behind a potted plant and called her friend. “Carrie! Where are you?”
“Upstairs, why?”
“Your mom is down here, and she’s got that storm-trooper look in her eyes.” Amy peered around the corner and listened. “It sounds like she’s all worked up about ice sculptures.”
“Ice sculptures? We didn’t order any ice sculptures.”
“You’d better get down here and straighten everything out before she bursts a blood vessel.”
“Oh, Lord, and I thought a nice simple destination wedding was the answer to all her drama. Live and learn. I’ll be down in a minute.”
Amy tapped her phone and slid it back into her purse.
Ray was right. Weddings had become a massive stage production.
The kids in front of them in line at the marriage bureau should have just grabbed their license and ducked around to the judge’s chambers.
The honeymoon would have been the best part of the day anyhow.
Twisting his wrist, Ray glanced at the time. “Courtney’s rehearsal starts in thirty minutes and Carrie’s immediately after that. We’d better boogie.”
There was so much to do still. The fun-in-the-sun tourism was over, and the real wedding happenings were about to start with a vengeance.
Amy punched at the elevator buttons. “I still think its uncanny how many things Carrie and Courtney booked the same. Not only the place and date, with the ceremonies only thirty minutes apart, but right down to the minister and reserving tables at the hotel’s rooftop restaurant for the bridal party, including plus-ones and the parents. ”
“Hey, the world is small and getting smaller.”
The doors opened, and, hurrying out, Carrie almost slammed into Ray. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” Ray smiled as Carrie flew past, and Amy followed him into the empty space.
The doors barely shut behind them, Ray pulled her into his arms, his lips crashing down on hers. The kiss was strong and tender. The perfect mix of sweet and sensual.
A ding sounded, and the doors slid open again. A young couple—hanging onto each other as if they were the only people in the world—stepped inside and pushed the rooftop button. “It’s our honeymoon,” the girl explained, grinning. The young man squeezed his bride, never taking his eyes off her.
Amy looked up at Ray. All the air in her lungs froze at the adoration staring down at her. Sucking in her next breath seemed almost impossible. How had she fallen so deeply in love with this man in such a short time?
Another ding sounded, and the doors opened on their floor.
Hand in hand, they stepped into the hall, and, once again, Ray pulled her into another searing kiss.
At this rate they weren’t going to make it down the hall, never mind back downstairs before the rehearsals, but no way was she stopping him.
Her every nerve ending hummed with delight, and all he’d done was kiss her.
“Get a room,” a disgruntled voice muttered from behind them.
Ray eased back and, staring down at her, mumbled to the irritated guest, “Not a bad idea.”
“Where is Melissa?” Courtney stood at the front desk, Drew quietly behind her, his hands gently rubbing her shoulders as she nearly growled at the poor clerk behind the desk.
“I’m sorry,” the petite clerk said. “She’s had a family emergency. Her assistant is in the Swan Room with another wedding party.”
Courtney marched to the reception room beside hers.
Cobalt blue and soft salmon blended beautifully throughout greeted her.
She spotted Carrie at a round table in the corner with an older woman she assumed to be Carrie’s mother.
Both women were spouting complaints simultaneously to a wide-eyed young lady hugging a clipboard.
“I am not paying for that, that, thing.” Carrie’s mom pointed to a three-foot-tall ice sculpture of Cupid. “And, even if I wanted it, the dumb thing will be melted by tomorrow’s reception.”
“No, ma’am. It’s only out now for the rehearsal and your approval. It goes back into the freezers until the actual reception tomorrow.”
“Mother, calm down.” Carrie closed her eyes. “Perhaps it belongs to Courtney?”
“Nope.” Courtney stepped up beside them. “Not in my budget either.”
Carrie’s mom crossed her arms. “See why we should have had the wedding in San Francisco? Look at this.” The woman’s arms swirled around the room. “And look at these colors.”
“Mother.” Carried sucked in a deep breath and looked at Courtney. “Did you need something?”
“Yes. If I could borrow”—Courtney paused, looking at the woman still clutching her clipboard—“What’s your name?”
“I’m Brittany.”
“Melissa’s assistant?”
“Well, yes.”
“Well yes?” Carrie’s mother asked.
“Melissa’s regular assistant started maternity leave last week. I’m filling in for her.”
“And what did you do before that?” Drew asked.
“I’m the receptionist in catering.” Brittany straightened, her expression momentarily more confident. “I mean, was.”
All eyes looked back and forth.
“I see,” Courtney said. That certainly was a first step in explaining the screw-up with her reception.
“Perhaps”—Drew looked to the assistant—“if we could borrow you for just a minute?”
“Absolutely.” Brittany practically leapt at the chance to escape Carrie’s mother’s inquisition. “If you will excuse me a moment.” She turned back to Carrie and her mom. “Let me take care of this situation, and then I’ll look into the ice sculpture problem.”
Carrie nodded and spoke to her mother. “Please try to stay calm. That’s why we have rehearsals …”
The two women’s voices faded away once the three of them turned the corner to Courtney’s reception room.
“These”—Courtney stood in the doorway—“are not my colors.”
Brittany glanced around the room, then at Courtney, and, for a few seconds, Brittany looked ready to heave.
Courtney almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
Flipping through the pages, Brittany shook her head. “Mrs. Clarke called on Monday and changed the colors to seafoam green and tan.”
“First of all”—Courtney pulled out her phone—“my mother has never taken charge of anything in her life, and she sure as heck wouldn’t start now.
” Opening the text screen she shot her mother a quick message.
Come to the reception room NOW. “And second, since when does a reputable hotel allow other people to change a bride’s choices? ”
“Well, normally that’s true.” Brittany stabbed at the page. “Yes, here it is. Since Mrs. Clarke is paying for the reception—”
“What?” Courtney practically screeched.
“Uh-oh.” Tish hurried into the room. “Lisa texted me to come straight down.”
On the other side of the room, Lisa had cornered one of the staff setting up the reception area. Spotting Courtney, she turned and hurried to where Tish and Courtney stood with Brittany. “Do you know there are four weddings going on at the same time in this place?”
“Four?” Jessica walked into the room, her husband Josh beside her.
“I don’t care if there are ten. All I care about is mine.” Courtney scanned the area again, this time her attention landing on the pedestals beside the buffet table. “What are those columns for?”
“Flowers,” Tish answered. “It’s an upgrade.”
Courtney turned to Brittany, already flipping pages again.
“Don’t tell me.” Courtney set a hand on her hip. “My mother, who isn’t paying for this wedding, ordered that too?”
“Well”—Brittany’s face pinched with a nervous smile—“yes.”
“Anything else she ordered?”
“Who ordered?” Courtney’s mother, Donna Clark, came up beside her daughter. “Why do you need me twenty minutes early?”
“Did you order flowers?”
Donna shook her head.
“What about these colors?”
Her mom shook her head again.
“Excuse me.” Carrie’s mom crossed the threshold, Carrie and Linda trailing behind her. “We really do need to …” She stopped dead in her tracks. “These are my colors.”
“No. They’re. Not.” Carrie scanned the room, her gaze settling on Courtney. “Very pretty.”
“Thanks. Too bad—”
“Is this where the party is?” Matt came into the room, Doug and Emily on his heels. “Look who I found waiting in the lobby. We followed the din of voices and figured odds were pretty good we’d locate the rehearsal.”
“As I was saying,” Courtney continued, “too bad they’re not the colors I—”
“Mrs. Clarke?” A bruiser of a native Hawaiian in blue uniform pants and a button-down short-sleeved white shirt stepped into the room.
“Yes,” two voices echoed.
All heads in the room snapped around. Courtney’s and Carrie’s mothers stared at each other.
The poor man in uniform looked from one to the other, as if watching the proverbial tennis match. “Which one of you is Mrs. Clarke?”
“I am,” both women repeated.
“Your last name is Clark?” Courtney asked Carrie.
Carrie nodded. “Yours too?”
“Well, if that isn’t the mother of all coincidences.” Lisa chuckled. Carrie and Courtney followed suit. The mothers didn’t laugh, but, at least, they’d stopped frowning.
“So which one of you is going to sign for the fresh flower leis?” the delivery guy asked again.
“I will.” Courtney’s mother took the pen from the man and signed his machine. “It is Hawaii after all.”
“Which one of you is C. Clarke?” Brittany asked, her forehead pleated in confusion.
“I am,” both brides answered.
“But that won’t help you,” Drew spoke up. “My fiancée is Courtney and the other Miss Clarke is Carrie.”
Holding hands with Emily, Doug moved in closer to all the commotion and settled in beside Carrie, his gaze casually taking in the room.
Pen in hand, Brittany flipped a page and began scribbling. “Who ordered green and tan?”
“That was me.” Carrie’s mom lifted a finger in the air.
“Mother.” Carrie rolled her eyes.
“And the ice sculpture?” Brittany continued.
“Me.” Courtney’s mother waved.
Courtney’s jaw dropped in surprise. “You? Why?”
Donna Clark shrugged. “I never did get the man-thing right. I thought it would be nice if maybe you did.”
“Oh, Mom.” Courtney fell into her mother’s embrace. This was probably one of the most maternal things her mom had ever done for her.
“Excuse me.” Doug tapped Carrie on the arm. “Have you seen my sister?”
Carrie looked around the room. “No, but she should be here by now. She was running upstairs, I guess to change.”
“Thanks.” Doug moved over to Tish. “Have you seen your brother?”
“Not since last night,” Tish answered.
Doug’s brows shot high on his forehead. “Last night?”
“Breathe.” Emily sidled up beside her fiancé. “She’s a big girl, even if she still looks four years old to you.”
A male voice loudly cleared his throat. “You all may want to see this.” Josh stood at the open balcony doors and pointed toward the beach with his chin.
The terrace held a clear view to the wedding bridge for tomorrow’s ceremonies. Including one minister and one couple holding hands.
“What the …”