Save the Date(13)

Rodney’s dad, an air force general, and his mom, an army nurse, had eventually settled on a base in Hawaii, where he’d spent high school. Because getting from New Hampshire to Honolulu and back again was time-consuming and really expensive, Rodney had spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with us all four years of college. When I’d had a meeting with my guidance counselor last week, she’d asked me how I felt about adding a new member to the family. And it had honestly taken me a minute to work out what she was asking me, because Rodney had already been a member of my family, for the last ten years.

“I got your text,” Rodney said as he crossed over to my sister, slinging an arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head—at six two, he was nearly a head taller than Linnie. He tended to keep his head shaved and had been dressing pretty much the same way since he was eighteen—in jeans and a crisply pressed button-down. My parents frequently pointed to Rodney as an example when they were trying to get my brothers to dress more like adults and less like middle schoolers with credit cards. “I didn’t—quite understand it.”

“What do you mean?”

Rodney pulled out his phone and squinted down at it. “Where are you? You need to get here. Ducking Clementine is gone and I’m about to ducking lose it. DUCK.”

“Stupid autocorrect,” Linnie muttered, shaking her head.

“Clementine quit?”

“She didn’t even have the decency to quit! She just embezzled a bunch of money and disappeared!”

“What?”

“Hi, I’m Bill,” Bill said cheerfully, not reading the room very well as he smiled and held out a hand to Rodney. “Where There’s A Will.”

“Uh . . . sure, man,” Rodney said, shaking his hand. “Good attitude.”

“Bill and his uncle are taking over for Clementine,” I explained. “So they’re going to handle everything.” I said this with more confidence than I felt as I crossed over to the donut box, nudged my father out of the way, and picked up my strawberry glazed.

“Where’s your suit?” Linnie asked Rodney. “Weren’t you going to get it along with the donuts?”

Rodney winced. “It wasn’t ready yet. They said I can pick it up first thing tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow’s the wedding,” Linnie said, her voice going wobbly, like she was on the verge of bursting into tears. Everyone in the kitchen who wasn’t Linnie exchanged a quick, panicked glance. It was like we all were thinking the same thing—don’t let the bride cry.

“I can go get it,” I said immediately. I grabbed Linnie’s favorite donut—chocolate with sprinkles—and put it on a plate for her. It seemed like she could maybe use some carbs right about now. “I’ll go out and get it tomorrow morning. You don’t need to worry about it. Consider it taken care of.”

“But . . . ,” Linnie said, looking around.

“And I’ll go call the alarm company, how about that?” my dad asked, his voice soothing. “So we can make sure it doesn’t go off again.”

“And I’m sure Bill and his uncle are going to have everything handled,” my mom said while looking right at Bill.

“Yes,” Bill said, giving Linnie a smile. “And he should be along at any moment.”

“How does that sound?” Rodney asked, widening his eyes at me in thanks as he took the donut plate. Linnie nodded, looking like she was starting to pull herself together, but before she could answer, the landline rang.

The handset was closest to me, and I tossed it to my mother, who caught it with one hand. “Honestly,” she said, shaking her head. “What is with you kids and not answering the phone?” She pressed the button to speak, her annoyed tone immediately turning into something more polite. “Eleanor Grant.” She listened for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was warm, like she was thrilled to be talking to whoever was calling. “Yes, hello. If you’ll just hold on a moment, I’ll take this in my office.” She pressed the button to put the call on hold, then grabbed her donut and headed across the kitchen. “That’s the Times,” she said to us as she headed toward the door Rodney had left slightly ajar. “So if you could not get on the line for the next twenty minutes or so, I won’t have to disown any of you.” She pushed her way out through the door, heading across the backyard toward her office, the one she’d built when the strip really took off and she could no longer work from the kitchen table.

“The Times?” Bill echoed, looking after my mom, his brow furrowed. “Like—the New York Times?”

“Yeah,” Rodney said, gesturing toward the donut box. “Did you want a donut?”

“Thanks,” Bill said, taking a step closer to the box, still looking confused.

“I’m going to try to see what’s happening with this alarm,” my dad said, taking his mug with him as he headed upstairs, ruffling my hair as he passed me and giving Linnie’s arm a squeeze.

I took a restorative bite of my donut and a long drink of coffee, though I wasn’t sure I needed it—the last few minutes had been more than enough to wake me up.

“Okay,” Bill said. He set his glazed donut down and picked up the binder he’d been carrying. It was green like his fleece and had the Where There’s A Will logo printed across the front. Underneath it was written GRANT-DANIELS, and just the sight of it—proof that someone was organized and was going to be keeping this wedding on track—was making me feel better. When I’d pictured this weekend—all of us together, everything going perfectly—it had not allowed for things like an embezzling wedding planner disappearing on us. “So it looks like everything is pretty much on—”