Save the Date(42)

I backed away slowly, more than happy to leave this conversation—when my dad and Don were left alone together, things very quickly devolved into trading insults about begonias. I turned and hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

*

By the time I’d changed into my dress and hurriedly applied some makeup, everyone else who was going to the museum—Linnie, Rodney, my parents, Danny, Brooke (apparently), and J.J.—was waiting for me on the driveway. My mother had extended the offer to come to the Pearce with us to the rest of the people staying in the house, but everyone else had decided to stay behind—to rest after their travels (The Danielses) or greet the other people who’d be coming in (Aunt Liz), or get into a slightly altered mental state (Max).

“Finally,” my mother said as I hurried to meet the group, barefoot and carrying my heels.

“Sorry,” I said, smoothing back my hair and hoping it looked more or less presentable. I was terrible at doing my own hair, and not much better at my makeup, so I was very relieved there would be professionals coming tomorrow who would take care of both of those things for me.

“I think we can do this in two cars,” my mother said. “Danny, why don’t you take Brooke, Charlie, and J.J., and Linnie and Rodney can ride with me and your father?”

We’d just started to head to our separate cars when a taxi pulled into the driveway. I figured it was just one of the bridesmaids arriving early, until the taxi door opened and my uncle Stu—my dad’s younger brother, who was generally agreed to be the Cheapest Man Alive—got out.

“Hello, Grants!” Stu called, waving. “This is a nice welcoming committee.”

I glanced at my parents, who seemed just as baffled by this as I was. Stu wasn’t in the wedding party and wasn’t coming to the rehearsal dinner. My mom had invited out-of-town guests to come by the house tonight for pizza while we’d be at the rehearsal dinner, but we were still a good few hours away from that.

Stu hoisted his suitcase out of the cab, then walked toward us, smiling broadly. Stu looked like a slightly scrunched-down version of my dad—shorter and rounder, with less hair. Their relationship was somewhat strained by the fact that Stu had gone bankrupt twice in the last decade and my father had been the one to bail him out. “Nice to see everyone!” he said, pulling my dad into a hug and kissing my mom on the cheek, then ruffling J.J.’s hair. He noticed Brooke and held out his hand. “Hey there. I’m Stuart Grant. Uncle of this lovely bride-to-be. You here for the wedding too?”

“Um.” The cabdriver got out of his car, and I saw it was the same guy from before, the one who’d recognized the house. “Sir? You didn’t pay the fare.”

“Ah,” Stu said, nodding as he patted his pockets. He turned to my dad. “I don’t suppose you could handle that, could you, Jeff? I’m fresh out of cash.”

“We take cards, sir,” the driver called, but my uncle seemed not to hear him.

“Thanks, brother,” he said, giving my dad a punch on the shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

“Wait a second,” my dad said, shaking his head.

“I guess we thought you’d go to the Inn first,” my mother said, glancing down at his suitcase, a strained smile on her face. My mother had never been a huge fan of my uncle Stu, not since he’d invited the random strangers he’d been playing golf with the day of their wedding to attend the reception, all without telling my parents.

“I just need thirty-five fifty,” the driver said, a sigh somewhere in his voice.

“My brother’s handling it,” Stu said, clapping my dad on the back. “So I’ll just get settled in inside, how ’bout that?”

“Settled in?” my dad asked, his voice a bit strangled. “Why . . . ? I mean, what do you mean?”

“I take cash,” the driver said, raising his voice to talk over us. “All major credit cards . . . One guy even gave me a check once. . . .”

“I mean settled in!” Stu said heartily. “What do you think? I’ve come for my niece’s wedding.”

“I didn’t want to take the check,” the taxi driver went on, shaking his head. “But what was I going to do? And it worked out in the end, like, it didn’t bounce or anything, so I guess I take checks now too. . . .”

“But . . .” Linnie glanced at my mother. “We thought you were staying at the Inn.”

“The Inn?” My uncle made a forget about it gesture. “Why waste good money so that they can charge you for bathrobes?”

“They only charge you for the bathrobes if you take them,” J.J. pointed out, but my uncle kept going.

“I just figured I’d bunk with you. You know I’m not picky—just put me anywhere.”

“I can take a combination of cash and charge,” the driver continued, sounding more and more exasperated.

“I’ve got it,” Danny said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and peeling off some bills, then handing them to the driver. As soon as the driver got the money, he started backing down the driveway, like he didn’t want to spend any more time with us than he had to.

“We have to get going to a function,” my mother said, looking at her watch again. “But—”

“I’ll get Stu settled in,” Rodney said. “And then I’ll meet you at the Pearce. How about that?”