Save the Date(81)

The kitchen island and the counters were now covered with food, and the caterers were bustling around, getting things ready for tonight. Two people were chopping veggies on the kitchen island, and two more were preparing trays of food, assembly-line style. I could see on the kitchen table the remains of the bagels I’d brought—it looked like while we’d been talking with Glen in the driveway, most of them had been devoured.

I dodged around one of the caterers, who was en route to the oven with a baking tray, gave her an apologetic smile she didn’t return, then headed over to the kitchen table to see if there were still any poppy seed bagels left—narrowly missing a collision with J.J., who came storming in with wet hair, in his robe, carrying a bow tie.

“Do you have a sewing kit?” he asked the kitchen in general—though neither the caterers or the alarm guy responded.

“Me?” I asked after a moment.

“Anyone!” he said, sounding annoyed. “Mom!” he yelled, continuing through the kitchen.

“Don’t yell,” my dad yelled after him.

“Have you seen Rodney?” I asked.

“No,” my dad said, leaning closer to the alarm panel. “But did you see we’re getting the alarm fixed? Leo here is going to get this sorted before tonight.”

“I’m doing my best,” Leo the alarm guy muttered, shaking his head as he examined the panel once again.

“Is there any more coffee, Jeffrey?” Mrs. Daniels asked, coming into the kitchen, holding a mug.

“I’ve got it,” I said, giving my dad a smile, hoping this would help make up for his garden dreams getting crushed. I crossed over to take her cup, dodging around Danny, who shot me an apologetic look. Work, he mouthed to me, and I gave him a sympathetic grimace.

“No, I don’t understand,” Danny said into his phone. “We were supposed to see contracts months ago. . . .” He turned and left the kitchen, heading for the front hall, just as Max came barreling in.

“Hey,” he said, looking around and pulling on his beard. “You don’t have any milk, do you?”

“Milk?” my dad echoed. “Sure—try the fridge.”

I poured Mrs. Daniels a fresh cup of coffee, then handed it to her as Rodney came in. “Mom, do you have a sewing kit?” Rodney asked. “J.J. needs one.”

“I think I should have one upstairs,” she said, nodding her thanks at me. “I’ll use that when you’re done, Maxwell,” she said to Max, who I just noticed was starting to leave the kitchen holding the carton of milk.

“Oh,” Max said, looking down at it, like he was surprised to see it there. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes, but it really did seem like maybe Max should take the occasional day off, since his recreational habits were clearly starting to affect him. “Right,” he said, coming back with the milk carton. He held it out to Mrs. Daniels.

“Can I get you a glass or something?” I asked Max.

“I don’t need a whole glass,” he said. “Maybe just like a cup . . . or a dish or something?”

I pulled a mug out of the cupboard. “Here,” I said, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” Max said, pouring the milk into the mug, then handing the container back to me and hustling out of the room.

I went to put the milk back in the fridge, reaching for the door just as one of the catering staff did the same. “Oh—sorry,” I said. He gave me a tight smile, one that didn’t meet his eyes, and I stepped away quickly from the fridge, feeling like I was very much in the way.

“What does J.J. need out of the sewing kit?” Mrs. Daniels asked, and Rodney shrugged.

“Not surprisingly, he didn’t elaborate.”

“Um,” I said to Rodney, feeling like the sooner I did this the better. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Rodney’s eyebrows flew up. “Sounds serious. Did everything go okay with the suit? Is that it?”

“Wait!” I practically yelled as Rodney took a step toward the garment bag. He paused, looking at me, eyebrows raised. “Um—can we talk in the other room?”

“Hey.” Priya came out of the dining room, stretching her arms over her head. “When are the hair and makeup people coming? I want to jump in the shower first.”

“Um.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket, since I was pretty sure I had the information somewhere. Bill would probably know, I realized—but he was still outside, presumably dealing with our unforeseen cover band. “Let me just check. . . .”

“Linnie?” my mom called as she came into the kitchen from the back stairs, then stopped short when she saw the alarm guy. “Oh good. I’m so glad you were able to come,” she said as she edged past him into the kitchen. “We have a wedding here today.”

“You don’t say,” the alarm guy muttered.

“Where’s your sister?” my mom asked me.

I shook my head. “I haven’t seen her this morning. Why?”

“I have her something borrowed,” my mother said, crossing the kitchen. “Linnie!” she called.

“Seriously,” Rodney said, taking another step closer to the suit, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just—”

Just then, the alarm sounded, an earsplitting electronic shriek, the loudest it had yet been. I jumped and automatically pressed my hands to my ears.