Penny lived in a quaint, older section of Wolf Creek. Her home was a bright white Spanish-style ranch that made a nice contrast against the Peacock flowers and Hibiscus that lined the front.
The consultant had already arrived by the time I rushed in the door, and she perched on the edge of a leather recliner with a large book in her lap. She wore a lavender silk suit and matching high-heeled pumps, and her dark ash blond curls were swept into a loose ponytail and finished with a tasteful black bow.
I gave my t-shirt a tug and ran my fingers through my hair as I joined Penny on the loveseat. Introductions were made. Apparently, Tabatha Sellers’ name was on the lips of every blushing bride-to-be in the Phoenix area, because her smile held the expectation that I would be impressed when I heard it. I made appropriate noises, and she returned the favor.
“Frankie Chandler. I’m not sure why, but that sounds familiar.”
Penny leaned forward, eager to impress her guest. “You might have read about her in the paper,” she said with naive glee. “She solved a murder last month, and she’s working on another murder right now. Solving it. Not committing it. She talks to animals.”
Tabitha’s smile froze. In her line of business, the woman was probably adept at handling family hostilities, financial worries and arguments along the lines of bridal party colors and invitation fonts. This had not prepared her for the appropriate response to death and dog psychics.
“How—” Her mouth opened and closed. “How unusual.” She turned her attention to the book in her lap and opened it. “Shall we begin?” Pen at the ready, Tabitha said, “I have a few questions to ask before we get to the detailed planning stages. How many bridesmaids will you have?”
Penny didn’t hesitate. “Frances is my maid of honor. Then Kemper has two sisters, and we have to include them. I have three cousins, and my mother would never forgive me if I didn’t invite them all. Kylie is a junior bridesmaid. She’s only fifteen.” She counted off on her fingers. “Seven.”
“That’s some wedding party,” Tabitha chuckled, and I wondered if she charged by the head.
Penny’s smile dropped. “Do you think that’s excessive? I thought it was a lot, myself, but Kemper insisted on his sisters, and I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with his family. I suppose I could drop the junior bridesmaid, but Kylie would feel left out.”
“Whatever you want is fine,” Tabitha soothed. “It’s your wedding.”
“Kemper’s and mine,” Penny added quickly.
Tabitha marked down the number in her binder. “Can I assume the number of men in the wedding party will match?”
“Yes. Though we’re having trouble coming up with a last groomsman. But we’ll think of someone.”
“And is the wedding taking place here in Wolf Creek?”
I waited for Penny’s yes, but it took the scenic route.
“It’s complicated. Kemper’s family is from New York, and mine are mostly in Wisconsin.”
“So, the wedding will be in Wisconsin?” Tabitha readied her pen.
“We haven’t actually decided.”
“What happened to St. Mel’s?” I asked.
“Kemper didn’t like the idea. He said it was too impersonal because we haven’t been parishioners there that long. Of course, he’s right. And I understood when he said it would be difficult to get his entire family and all of his friends to Wisconsin. He wants them all there for our special day.” She sang out special day, and gave a maniacal, tittering laugh before striking the air with one finger. “But it’s not fair to ask my family and friends to travel that far, either. And there isn’t any place in between, unless we have the wedding in the middle of Lake Huron.”
Penny stopped laughing.
“Or everyone could head north to Canada,” I said. “It could be one of those destination weddings.”
“Canada? That’s another country! Would our marriage be legal?”
I squeezed her hand. “Penny, honey. It’s not another solar system. It’s Canada. Our friendly neighbors to the north?”
She pulled her hand away and began twisting all her fingers together. “If we’re going someplace foreign, we might as well go to New York! And what if I do and they have another hurricane? Wedding guests could die. We don’t get hurricanes in Wisconsin. Or gangs. Isn’t New York full of gangs? You read about people getting shot at weddings.”
“Come on, Penny. Unless Kemper’s family is the mafia, I don’t think you need to worry. And I think even they call a truce for weddings.” I shared this bit of wisdom culled from old movies, intending it as a soothing balm, but Penny wasn’t listening.
“In fact, no one has ever died at any of the weddings I’ve been to in Wisconsin. Aunt Sybil had a heart attack once, but it turned out to be indigestion.”
Tabitha set down her pen. “Are you sure this is a good time?” I noticed she directed the question to me and not to the bride.
“Wedding nerves.” I smiled and leaned in to whisper into my best friend’s ear. “Get it together, Penny. You’re scaring the nice lady.”
It was the right thing to say. Penny wouldn’t dream of making other people uncomfortable, and once she looked up and caught sight of Tabitha’s wide eyes and raised eyebrows, she blew out a long breath and said, “Sorry about that. I’m just a bit tense wondering how we’re going to pull it off.”
This was Tabitha’s territory, and she picked her pen back up, gave it an authoritative click, and straightened her shoulders.
“There are many exciting ways that young couples are dealing with these types of issues. I have one client whose family is going to rent a large screen television, hook up a computer, and watch the whole thing on Skype! Think of the travel expenses they’ll save.”
“You can’t exactly catch a garter on Skype.” Penny’s hard tone nixed the idea.
Tabitha’s smile strained. “Why don’t I just leave that spot blank? Have you decided on a theme?”
“A theme? It’s a wedding.” Penny’s eyes opened wide. “You mean like when ballparks have military night? Or flamenco dancers? Or give out free wristbands so you can eat all you want from the concession stands during the seventh inning? That doesn’t sound very elegant.”
Tabitha took a deep, centering breath and brushed her fingers through her hair. A few strands came loose from her ponytail and fell into her eyes. “You don’t have to have a theme. It’s a trendy thing people are doing now. But it’s not necessary, or even, for some people, desirable. What about the food? Do you plan on a buffet or sit-down dinner?”
“A buffet is probably more in our budget.”
“Excellent.” I think Tabitha was just happy to fill in a box. “There are many creative things you can do with a buffet. And I recommend having servers walk around with crab puffs or shrimp rolls as people arrive, so they aren’t ravenous when the buffet opens.”
Penny’s lip trembled. “My dad’s allergic to seafood!”
Tabitha closed her book very, very gently. “Perhaps it’s too early to put things in writing.”
My friend almost knocked over her drink when she jumped up and grabbed the planner’s hands in hers. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I need to think. By myself. Alone. That’s what I need. Time alone.”
I put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back to give Tabitha some breathing room. “Pen? You’re starting to sound like Sybil.”
“Aunt Sybil?”
“No. The Sally Field version.”
“Thank you for your time,” I said to Tabitha. “We’ll get in touch.”
The planner didn’t take the time to put her book back into the matching leather briefcase. She grabbed her purse and briefcase, tucked the book under her arm and waved over her shoulder without looking back. “I’ll call you.”
Penny looked at me.
“That didn’t go well, did it?”
I hugged my friend and asked her to explain exactly what happened between her happy announcement and now.
“We started out as one, unified couple, and then we broke apart into two raging monsters who want different things.”
“I have a hard time imagining either of you in the monster role,” I said.
“He wanted powder-blue tuxes. Seriously. I wasn’t making that up. He said they would remind him of his prom.”
“Okay. That’s ghastly bad taste, but not so much monster material.”
Penny buried her head in her hands. “What if we’re not meant for each other? If we’re just too different to be happy? What if we never agree on anything ever again?”
“You can still exchange Christmas cards.” I kept a straight face until she cracked a smile.
When she half-playfully smacked me on the shoulder, her fist packed a wallop. This woman was under major stress. My optimistic, perky friend was battling forces too large to fight alone.
“You’re coming with me.” I picked up my purse.
“Where?”
“To Dot’s. For my appointment.”
It was like throwing a bucket of water on parched soil. It didn’t soak in right away, but it was just what she needed.