The ceremony could not have gone better, at least in this family it could not have gone better. Oliver accidentally locked the magic rings together, but at the twins’ suggestion, their fathers exchanged neckties instead, which everyone agreed was much more romantic. Sadly, in the chaos, no flowers were assassinated or scientifically studied; they were merely enjoyed.
Then, at last, came the family photos. Using a timer and a tripod to square his shots, Miguel hurried back into frame for each picture. It made for some funny faces, but the late-afternoon light was fantastic.
“Don’t worry, there’s no need to apologize for missing the original portrait time,” Miguel said to his new husband. “We can talk about it later.”
“Why should I apologize?” asked Simon. “There was no way I could make it.”
“It’s crazy the lengths people go to avoid having their picture taken,” Miguel muttered.
“For now just say ‘SORRY’ for the camera,” he shouted through his teeth. “Say ‘SORRY,’ everybody!”
From photos, they went straight into dinner. Half the crowd had spoiled their appetites on cake, so dinner went fast.
Speeches came next.
After their grandparents, it was the twins’ turn.
“And now the reason we’re all here today,” Simon said. “They were the first to propose this marriage. Please welcome our daughters—”
“Dad, you don’t know our new names.” Bea handed her father a note.
“‘The Brilliant Beatriz and the Tremendous Teenie,’” Simon read.
The crowd burst into applause. Once again, Bea and Teenie stole the show.
“Thank you, thank you!” they both said.
“This wedding really was a great idea, wasn’t it?” the twins concluded. “Glad we thought of it. Cheers to the grooms, Daddy and Papa.”
As glasses clinked in the air, dinner concluded. It was the traditional time for cake, or it would have been in a more traditional wedding.
Knowing this, Jacques Fondant arrived. For a work of art this size, he thought it best to cut the cake himself.
Instead, he found Simon’s father, sidled up to the bar.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m the baker, and I’m looking for the wedding planner.”
“Sorry, I don’t know from wedding planners,” said Grandpa Bruce. “I’m the crime buster is what I am. And you’re coming with me, buddy.”
Having served forty years on the force, he had no problem guiding the large baker to the sweetheart table, where Simon and Miguel sat in front of their guests.
“There you are!” Miguel pointed his finger at the baker. “Why’d you bake my husband into a cake?”
Jacques Fondant was confused. He’d baked a giant cake for both the grooms. He’d added a lot of buttercream and love, but he didn’t bake anyone into it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jacques said. “I just came back to help you cut the cake.”
He looked around. “But I see you already cut it. Did you release the dove?”
“What dove?” said Miguel. “We asked for a simple five-tiered cake, and instead you gave us ten tiers. One of which was my husband.”
The baker was still confused. “But I only made nine tiers. Lavender Vanilla. Original Orange. Raspberry Rampage. Blueberry Velvet. Cherry Lollipop. Burnt Caramel. Extra-Dark Chocolate. Raw Cookie Dough. Oh, and Coconut Countdown. Ten tiers—who could eat that much?
“See—” The baker pointed at the decimated cake. It was clear that the top nine tiers were just as described.
“But what is this tier at the bottom?” He swiped the bottom tier with his finger and tasted the frosting.
“Cool Whip!” he exclaimed in horror. “On a Jacques Fondant cake?! When I handed this cake to the wedding planner, there was no bottom tier. No husband. And most definitely no Cool Whip.”
“But we didn’t even have a wedding planner!” protested Miguel.
“Yes, we did it all on our own,” Simon said. “Well, Miguel did. I was stuck in the bottom of your cake. Somebody hit me over the head and shoved me inside.”
Oliver looked at the bottom tier of the cake, wondering who put Simon inside it.
The last tier was a wooden dolly, barely disguising the sawed-in-half coffin. It was only an illusion: a trick.
Suddenly, Oliver had a thought.
“Wait,” Oliver said. “You said something about a dove. Was it the wedding planner’s? Did he also have a mustache and a monocle?”
“Yes,” said the baker. “And very full of himself he was too.”
Suddenly, it all made sense. The identical boxes, the ransom poem, the stolen groom, it was all the Great—
Wooden boards clattered and paper flowers flew as the wedding canopy collapsed under the weight of a single, well-fed dove.
Oliver pointed his wand at the frightened Zoocheeni. “Stop that magician!”
The wedding attendees looked from one magician to the other. They hadn’t known there were two magicians at the wedding. One seemed more than enough.
With a poof of smoke, Zoocheeni and Paloma raced toward the exit.
But they weren’t fast enough to avoid Simon’s father, who tripped Zoocheeni with his cane and applied handcuffs to both the bird and the magician in one well-practiced motion.
“There’s no such thing as a retired cop.” Simon’s father sighed. “Kids, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to take this fella downtown.”
“Sorry you’ve got to go, Pop!”
“Yeah, Dad, don’t go!”
Simon and his sister Margie both made less than convincing attempts to stop their father from leaving.
Spencer had already brought the car to the valet station, siren blaring. He wasn’t about to pass up another chance to drive the police cruiser.
Grinning, he opened the door for Grandpa Bruce and the unhappy prisoners.
“Of course, it was Zoocheeni,” said Bea as the police car disappeared through the Hauntington gates. “We should have thought of him immediately. He must have left the ransom poem and the ransom greeting card. But then who left the ransom text on your phone?”
“What ransom text?” asked Simon.
“The one that said you were in cold storage.”
“I think it was the baker,” volunteered Oliver. “He was talking about the cake.”
“I wasn’t asking you! But I admit that might make sense.”
“What about Mexico?” said Teenie. “We thought you were going without us. We were so mad!”
“Oh! I almost forgot about Mexico,” said their dad. “Where’s the piñata I ordered?”
His daughters looked at him skeptically. A piñata was not the same thing as going to Mexico.
The piñata was still lying under the tree.
“Wait, does anyone have a stick to hit it with?” Simon asked, pulling the rope to lift the paper llama off the ground.
Miguel grabbed one of the posts that had held up the wedding canopy and handed it to his new husband.
The twins took the first turns attacking the spinning piñata, neither bothering to wear a blindfold.
“It better have the good candy,” Teenie said.
“Yeah, don’t try to get Smarties with us,” said Bea.
“What’s wrong with Smarties?” asked Oliver, taking the stick from them, and missing the piñata completely.
“Let’s just hope there aren’t any more fathers hidden inside,” said Miguel.
One after another, their classmates took turns whacking the piñata.
Then Miguel, who still had a lot of pent-up energy but no more patience, grabbed the stick. With a final swing from Miguel, the piñata split open.
The kids rushed forward.
For nothing. There wasn’t any candy at all.
Instead, a lone envelope dropped to the ground.
“Where’s the candy, Dad?” Bea asked accusingly.
“Just open it,” Simon said.
Teenie leaned in as Bea opened the envelope.
Inside were tickets for an all-inclusive family vacation to Mexico. The brochure promised rest, relaxation, and fun for the kids.
“I may not have planned the best wedding,” Simon said. “But we’ll have the best family-moon ever.”
Miguel hugged his husband. Guests clinked their glasses and cheered.
As the crowd quieted, the music that Spencer had left playing seemed to grow louder.
“Well, that was exciting,” said Miguel, breaking away from Simon. “Care to dance?”
Miguel and Simon had taken classes for a few weeks leading up to the wedding. In all the confusion, they’d almost forgotten the steps, but neither gave a single glance at their feet.
Benny tried to hide his eyes. First with his sunglasses.
Then with his paws.
Finally, he could hide it no longer. Benny was crying like a baby bunny.
“It’s just all so beautiful,” said the rabbit. “I love a wedding.”
This was a surprise to Oliver, who’d heard Benny complain endlessly about weddings.
However, it was a bigger surprise to Bea and Teenie.
“You can talk!” Bea shouted.
“Of course he can!” Teenie said. “It makes so much sense that Oliver has a rabbit talking in his ear.”
“It explains everything,” agreed Bea. “There was no way he could learn all that magic on his own.”
“Nobody can know,” Oliver told them, his voice tense.
“Sure, okay,” said Teenie. “We need to preserve your mystique. Nobody’s going to hire you if they know you’re not really a brilliant magician.”
“Although it’s a little selfish, taking all the credit,” said Bea.
“No, you don’t understand,” said Oliver. “It’s because he’s on the lam. That’s why nobody can know Benny can talk.”
Benny wiped away his tears and got serious. “It’s true. Every bookie in Reno is after me. All based on a misunderstanding, naturally. But they’re wolves, all of them. So you gotta zip it, or they’ll have me for breakfast.”
The girls zipped their mouths shut as requested, but their silence didn’t last long. They were being called to join their fathers on the dance floor.
“Mmon-ah-ay!” Teenie said with her lips still zipped shut.
“Huh?” came the response.
Bea unzipped her lips and shouted, “On our way!”
Benny was reduced to tears once more.
“All I wanted was one last dance,” the rabbit cried. “But no, she left me at the altar and didn’t turn back. We never danced again. I never danced again.”
“And there you have it—two father-daughter dances, side by side!” Spencer, who’d returned from the police station, was speaking into a scratchy microphone. “I think that has even broken the heart of a seventeen-year-old valet disc jockey. Now I need everyone to dance. That means grandmas. Grandpas. Kids. Rabbits. Everybody. You ready?”
Oliver couldn’t refuse. His mother was already on the dance floor. Uncle Jeff too. The whole Nowonder third-grade class. Lita. Lito. Jacques Fondant. Aunt Margie. Simon. Miguel. Bea and Teenie. Everybody.
“The bunny hop!” Benny said. “How offensive. And they’re doing it wrong. They don’t even know the steps.”
Oliver didn’t know the steps, but he knew he wanted to dance.
“Benny, maybe you can join in just this once,” Oliver said. “Show them how it’s done.”
He looked over to his friend, but Benny was gone.
He was already doing the bunny hop, and teaching everyone on the floor.
BENNY’S BUNNY HOP
1. Stand tall. Hold the hips of the person (or rabbit) in front of you.
2. Stick your right foot out, and bring it back twice.
3. Stick your left foot out, and bring it back twice.
4. Take one hop forward, and one hop back.
5. Hop forward three times.
6. Repeat.
Oliver tripped over his feet a few times, but soon he too was dancing the night away.
The day may have begun with a man being sawed in half, but it ended with a family being brought together.
Weddings don’t need magic, Oliver thought. They are magic.
