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THE SKY HELD FLOATING fluffy clouds, and the trees above him poured out their shade. However, standing in front of the latticed gazebo, Winston felt a drop of sweat inch down his neck. He wiped it away and looked over the crowd. Okay, so there were only four people in the audience. He spied Alex’s girlfriend, Carmen, along with his brother-in-law Gary. To their right sat two seniors, Pete and Jazzman, both ex-residents of the Sweet Breeze facility where he’d cracked his first case.
He glanced to his left at his best man. At least, Alex seemed composed, mouthing “Chin up” at him.
His groomsmen, Kristy’s brothers, both gave him encouraging head nods. The celebrant—a squat bald man and one of Winston’s regular senior clients (always losing his cat)—patted Winston’s shoulder. “Breathe,” he said.
Winston inhaled, exhaled. Then he heard the sound system click on. Strains of classical music floated in the air, and he saw Anastasia gliding toward him. Like she had before at the Sweet Breeze senior home, the regal old lady wore voluminous layers. The fabric shimmered in light purple, in honor of the wedding colors. Weighed down by an inordinate amount of jewelry (maybe one piece for each year of her long life?), she walked with tiny but firm steps toward Winston. She passed by and stood on the opposite end of the gazebo. When she winked at him, he felt a calming sense of relief.
Next, his sister, Marcy, came trotting across the clearing, heading toward Anastasia. She locked eyes with Winston, gave him a thumbs-up, and whispered, “Way to go, sai lo.” Even though he’d passed the forty-year mark, she still called him “little brother” with affection on special occasions.
Finally, “Chances Are” pumped out of the speakers. Their song. He watched as Kristy waltzed toward him, a smile on her lush lips. She wore a simple green sheath dress that brought out her coffee-colored eyes. In this idyllic nature setting, Winston could almost believe her to be a beautiful tree sprite appearing from the nearby forest.
My bride, Winston thought. (Well, almost.) The power of the word struck him with full force. He couldn’t concentrate on the rehearsal after that, the precise outlining of the proceedings. Only when the time came for the vow rehearsal did he return to reality.
A sudden fear gripped him. Where had he placed those rings? Made from titanium, the bands symbolized their enduring relationship. Winston peeked in his shirt pocket and patted down his pants. Nothing.
Sweat started buffeting him like relentless ocean waves. Wetness dampened the back of his shirt. The anxiety-induced storm he’d unleashed even drenched his socks.
A hand gripped his shoulder. Alex leaned over, and Winston smelled his buddy’s Doritos breath. “You okay, man?”
“The rings,” Winston whispered, glancing with alarm at his lovely fiancée standing a few feet away, still smiling with ignorance.
“Yesterday you told me to keep them,” Alex said. “So you wouldn’t forget.”
“Oh, yeah.” Winston had had enough to worry about without carrying the rings. Besides, that was a best man’s duty, right? “Great, where are they?”
“Er, somewhere in the house. I’ll find them before tomorrow, I swear. And in the meantime, I did you one better.” Alex nudged Winston in the ribs with his elbow before pulling out two Ring Pops.
Winston stifled a groan.
“Hey, it’s even better this way. The real ones are probably on my dresser, safe and sound. Use these for practice.”
Winston took the candy. To Kristy’s credit, she didn’t bat an eyelash at the substitution. They continued on with the exchange of vows. Winston and Kristy had chosen to follow the standard repetition of stock phrases. He again stared into her enchanting eyes, the variations of brown drawing him in and centering him. Everything would be all right with Kristy by his side.
And that’s when the ragtag bunch stumbled in. A group of nine Asians, ranging in age, came forward.
“Ni doh?” the elderly patriarch asked, glancing around the clearing. Dressed in a bright-white shirt with red suspenders and checkered pants, he seemed both confused and color-blind.
“I don’t think so, Ming,” a female voice piped up. The woman, in her late thirties, wore a yoga outfit and TOMS shoes.
“Look at all the balloons. An entire arch of them,” a middle-aged man with wide shoulders said.
In fact, balloon artists had spent hours configuring them this morning, in pleasing tones of purple and white. Anxious as he was, Winston had requested they come in a day early to make sure everything was ready beforehand. And they’d agreed, saying that the special liquid solution they sprayed into the balloons would keep them floating for days.
“Where exactly are we?” the broad-shouldered stranger continued. Frowning, he stared at the rest of his group, as though they needed to provide him with answers.
Kristy looked over at Winston, puzzled. “Relatives of yours?”
Winston shook his head. He’d never seen this odd bunch in his life.
Alex stiffened beside Winston. Then he marched over to the perplexed group with his arms wide open. “Ah, the Chans,” he said. “Welcome to your Mystery Shack tour.”