Anne, Mother of the Guest of Honor
The Sunday before the wedding weekend Kendra hosted a bridal shower for Laney. It was a balmy afternoon with the kind of blue skies that made Seattleites ecstatic, and the temperature hovered somewhere in the low seventies. The same pleasant weather was expected for Icicle Falls the next weekend.
In addition to family, Laney’s bridesmaids, Autumn, Ella and Darcy, were present, along with her coworkers at the coffee shop and several friends from church. Laney was all dolled up in a green sundress that complemented not only her hair but also the mermaid swimming up her arm.
“She’s going to be a stunning bride,” Mrs. Ostrom, the pastor’s wife, said to Anne as she made the rounds with Laney, saying hello to everyone. Mrs. Ostrom was pushing seventy. She either had no problem with tattoo overload or was too polite to say anything. Probably the latter.
But it was proof of how much everyone loved Laney, and knowing that made Anne happy. Right now it would’ve been impossible to be unhappy. It had been a race to the bridal finish line, but everything had finally come together.
“You have been busy, haven’t you?” Cam’s mother said to Laney as she hugged her. “Planning a wedding so quickly.”
“I had a lot of help,” Laney said, smiling at Anne.
“The best,” added Julia, who’d come over to greet her daughter and granddaughter.
Anne smiled at her mother’s praise. She was still smiling when Aunt Maude approached, but she felt the smile getting a little stiff. Aunt Maude was one of Cam’s aunts, the polar opposite of his mother. She was tall and skinny with a lack of bustline that she accentuated with a horrific blouse in a wild purple print. To complete her ensemble, she wore a faded black, crinkly skirt from a long-gone fashion era. She tried to distract from the wrinkles growing on her face by dyeing her hair a color of red found nowhere in nature. To complete the look, she showed off her perpetual frown with bright red lipstick. She was a walking sour lemon and purveyor of doom.
“Laney, you seem tired,” she said, patting Laney’s arm.
“She’s been busy, Aunt Maude,” Anne said.
Aunt Maude shook her head. “Girls these days, they take on too much. I blame it on the women’s movement.”
No one quite knew what to say to that—and remain polite. Julia turned to Laney and Anne. “Let’s get you girls some punch. Excuse us, Maude.” As they walked over to the refreshment table, she muttered, “Who invited that woman?”
“I couldn’t not invite her, Mom,” Anne said.
“I could have.”
Once everyone had had an opportunity to chat and enjoy a glass of punch, Kendra started a game that involved unscrambling letters to form words that all had to do with weddings. “I love this kind of game,” Cam’s mom enthused.
“Good for your brain,” agreed Maude, who’d taken a seat next to Anne. “Did you know that an estimated 5.2 million people now have Alzheimer’s?”
There was some cheery news. “Where did you hear that?”
“I can’t remember,” Maude replied. “You know, one of the signs is losing your sense of smell,” she informed Anne.
Just what she wanted to talk about at her daughter’s bridal shower. She found herself surreptitiously sniffing her wrist to see if she could detect the perfume she’d sprayed there earlier. Whew. Her brain was still okay.
They moved from the game to eating, with Kendra’s terrier, Barney, posing hungrily in front of various guests, hoping for a handout. “Barney, no!” Kendra commanded. “Don’t anybody feed him.”
Cam’s mother, who was about to share some of her prosciutto, drew back her hand, making Barney whine. Not that he should’ve been remotely hungry, since he’d already begged several handouts when Kendra wasn’t looking.
Kendra the social director soon moved on to the purpose of the shower, giving the bride her gifts. With Autumn on one side, writing down who gave Laney what, and Darcy on the other, forming a ribbon bouquet for the wedding rehearsal, Laney set to work, dipping into gift bags and opening boxes containing everything from margarita glasses to dish towels. The ribbon bouquet began to swell.
“A baby for every ribbon you break,” teased Drake’s mom.
Laney said she liked kids, then with a grin yanked off a ribbon, letting it snap apart. Ella folded and stuffed wrapping paper in the ginormous gift bag that had contained a cashmere blanket from Julia.
Barney found this all fascinating. And appetizing. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d been denied that final treat earlier or maybe he was simply being a dog. Whatever the cause, the four-legged garbage disposal, who’d managed to snarf cake off an abandoned plate, now developed a fondness for wrapping paper and began noshing on a piece that hadn’t made it into the bag.
Anne watched in disgust as he shredded a bow of pink curling ribbon. “Should he be doing that?” she asked Kendra.
“What?” Kendra turned and saw the last of the paper about to go into Barney’s mouth. “Oh, Barney, no!” She took away what was left of it and Barney slinked off to a corner where, later on, as Laney was thanking all the guests for their presents, he threw up both the wrapping paper and his earlier snacks.
“Eeew,” said Autumn, wrinkling her nose.
Aunt Maude shook her head. “It’s a sign.”
“Oh, really, Maude,” Julia said, sounding disgusted.
Maude refused to be put in her place. “When things go wrong at a bridal shower, things will surely go wrong at the wedding.”
Anne had never heard that before. “Is that a real saying? Where did you hear it?”
Maude shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
“And how’s your sense of smell?” Julia asked, sneering.
Maude harrumphed and took herself off to the refreshment table for another helping of lemon dessert.
“That woman,” Julia said, shaking her head. “She’s a regular encyclopedia of misinformation and nonfacts. I never heard such nonsense in all my life.”
That’s what it is, nonsense, Anne told herself for the rest of the afternoon. When Cam asked how the shower had gone, she replied, “Great.” It had been a lovely shower and Laney was going to have a lovely wedding.
She continued to tell herself all evening long, and again when she lay in bed, thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong. Finally, around one in the morning, she took a melatonin tablet to help herself sleep. One wasn’t going to do it. She took another and finally drifted off.
And went to Laney’s wedding. But instead of wearing her mother-of-the-bride dress, she was prancing around in some skimpy showgirl outfit and sporting a huge, feathery headdress that was so heavy she had trouble holding up her head. This made it hard to keep her balance, and when a groomsman wearing an Elvis-style white rhinestone jumpsuit escorted her down the aisle, she found herself weaving back and forth like a woman who’d had too much champagne.
She toppled into her seat. Cam should have slipped in beside her but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Kendra’s dog, Barney, jumped up onto the pew, pink wrapping paper hanging from his jaws.
She looked up front and there stood Drake in raggedy pirate garb, a patch over one eye. The “Wedding March” began to play, but it wasn’t wedding music. Instead, Elvis, the King himself, appeared, dressed in a white rhinestone jumpsuit, and began to sing “All Shook Up” backed by the Flesh Eaters, who wore zombie makeup. And here came Laney in some kind of serving-wench outfit. Where was her wedding gown?
Anne tried to stand up and demand her daughter march right back down the aisle and put on her gown, but the heavy headdress propelled her forward and she fell on her face. Barney leaped off the pew and began tugging at the headdress, growling playfully.
“What a disgrace,” hissed Aunt Maude, who’d seated herself directly behind Anne. “The woman can’t even plan her daughter’s wedding. I knew this would happen. Didn’t I say this would happen?”
The woman seated next to Maude seemed to be her twin. She whispered back, “I heard they wanted to go to Vegas and Anne put a wrench in it.”
“I did not,” Anne protested, trying to struggle to her feet.
“Get that woman out of here,” said the minister, who looked suspiciously like Jack Sparrow. “She’s messing everything up.”
“I’m the mother of the bride!”
Drake pointed a finger at her. “She’s a Momzilla. Get her out of here.”
“I’m going to be your mother-in-law. You can’t do this to me!”
But they did. Two burly men in white rhinestone-encrusted tuxes dragged her down the aisle, past the guests. Some stared at her with pity. Some giggled. One fellow showgirl laughed out loud.
“Sorry, sis,” Kendra called. (Why was she dressed like a zombie?) “I’ll save you a donut.”
Down the aisle they went and into the foyer. They pushed open the church door and hurled Anne out.
But there was no sidewalk to catch her. The church gripped the edge of a cliff and she found herself falling, screaming as she went.
She awoke before she landed, Cam gently stroking her arm. “It’s okay, Annie. You’re having a bad dream.”
Bad dream? There was the understatement of the century.
“You all right now?”
She swallowed and willed her heart to stop doing the Indianapolis 500. “I’m fine.”
It was just a dream, she told herself. But what did it mean?
Nothing. She was simply suffering from the combined effect of too much melatonin and too close proximity to Aunt Maude. Everything was fine and the wedding was going to be perfect. Anne closed her eyes and snuggled back under the covers.
But she never got to sleep again. Maybe that was just as well.