Save the Date(75)

“Ah.” Ralph, for some reason, was starting to turn red. “Right. They had a real mix-up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “And we actually really need the other suit back, so . . .”

Ralph cleared his throat. “So,” he said, starting to look uncomfortable. “The thing is . . .”

“Wait a second,” I said, suddenly realizing that his oversize suit looked very familiar. “Are you wearing Rodney’s suit?”

“Who’s Rodney?”

“The person whose suit you’re wearing.”

“Well,” he said, turning even redder, “I had this event, my suit wasn’t ready until this morning, and I didn’t realize it was the wrong suit until I was here, putting it on. What was I supposed to do?”

“So, here’s your suit,” Bill said, holding the garment bag out to him. “If you wouldn’t mind, um, changing? And then we can take ours back. We’re a bit pressed for time.”

I nodded, thinking this sounded like a good plan and that as far as Rodney was concerned, he never had to know that someone named Ralph had worn his wedding suit before him. I waited for Ralph to take the garment bag, but he didn’t make a movement toward it, not even when Bill brought it a little closer and nudged the hanger against his wrist. “Uh—Ralph?” I asked, looking at Bill, who seemed as baffled by this lack of response as I was. “Mr. Donnelly?”

“So here’s the thing,” Ralph said all in a rush. “I’ve gotten a ton of compliments on this suit already. Nobody ever compliments my suits!” I could understand that—especially if all the rest of his suits were as hideous as the one Bill was holding.

“Okay,” I said, looking at Bill and then back at Ralph. “Well, I’m happy people like it, but . . .”

“I mean, the suit doesn’t even fit you,” Bill said, a note of finality in his voice, like he wanted to get this wrapped up as soon as possible.

“But that’s just it! People think I’ve lost weight! It’s fantastic.”

“I’m glad you’re getting good feedback,” I said, and Bill nudged Ralph with the hanger again. “But we’re going to need to switch with you.”

He just gave us a look, then looked down at himself. “You know,” he said, folding his arms, “possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“I think I’ve heard that before,” Bill said, his voice and expression still resolutely cheerful as he held out the garment bag to Ralph again. “I also think I saw a men’s room on the way in?”

“What I’m saying is that I was given this suit in good faith that it was my property,” he said, talking quickly and with the practiced legal cadence that I recognized from helping Rodney study for the bar. “So how can I be assured that the suit you want me to take in exchange is even mine?”

“Because it has your name sewn into it,” I said, my voice starting to rise. I saw a few people look over at me and made myself take a deep breath. The last thing we needed was to get thrown out of here before we could get Rodney’s suit back.

“Nevertheless,” Ralph said, straightening his cuffs, “I think this is an issue that should be handled by Swift Tailors. And . . .”

“Are you really not going to give us our suit back?” Bill asked, sounding baffled. “Seriously?”

“You can’t make me,” Ralph said, raising his eyebrows at Bill. He glanced between the two of us, like he was just now noticing my sneakers and Bill’s duck boots. “Are you two even supposed to be in here?”

My phone buzzed, and I saw that it was someone calling me from the house line. I held up my phone, and Bill nodded, and I could somehow tell, even though we hadn’t exchanged a word, that he was telling me he’d keep working on Ralph while I took my call. “Hello?” I said, walking a few feet away, toward the entrance.

“Charlie?” It was my mother, and she sounded stressed out—which wasn’t that surprising, considering there were fifteen people in our house, most of whom were probably waiting on the breakfast I hadn’t brought back with me yet.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, and seeing one of the waiters frown at me, I took another step toward the doorway. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to need you to get your brother on the way home,” my mother said. “Mike,” she added after a moment. “He needs to be here to take pictures with the other groomsmen. He can’t just expect to show up at the ceremony.”

“Um,” I said, blinking. I wondered if this was one of the things my parents had been fighting with Mike about the night before. “Okay.”

“And where are you with the bagels?”

“Well,” I said, looking around the room, where Ralph Donnelly was shaking his head at Bill—clearly, we hadn’t made any progress yet. “Um, it might be a minute. Do we have anything else to feed them instead?”

“You would think,” my mother said. “But your uncle Stu’s been eating up half of the contents of the fridge—” There was the click that indicated someone had just picked up the extension.

“CHARLOTTE LOUISE GRANT.” It was my dad, and he sounded furious—which my dad almost never did.

“Oh, by the way, your father’s mad,” my mom said, just a tad too late. I immediately felt a cold sweat break out on my upper lip. What had I done? Was he mad that I’d spent the night sleeping across from the wedding coordinator’s nephew? It was truly a bad sign when my dad full-named me.