Save the Date(89)

“I just don’t think I can take anything else happening,” she said, and I noticed both the makeup girl and the hair guy had stopped and were staring at my sister fearfully, like they were terrified all their hard work was about to get wrecked. “I mean, too many things are going wrong! And now Rodney’s relatives and their feud . . .”

“Are you going to cry?” the makeup artist asked, darting forward, tissue in hand. “Because if you do, I’m going to need time to retouch.”

This did not seem to be the thing to say to my sister, whose lip started trembling even more violently. “Linnie,” I said, turning her shoulders so that she was facing me. “Listen. It’s all going to be fine. Okay?”

“But . . . ,” Linnie said, and I could see tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. “So much has gone wrong. . . .”

“Yes,” I said, grabbing both her hands in mine, not wanting to dispute this, mostly because I couldn’t. “But you love Rodney. And he loves you, and that’s all that matters.” I searched my sister’s expression, and it was like I could see these words sinking in. “Right?”

Linnie nodded, and I noticed with relief that I could no longer see tears in her eyes. “You’re right,” she said, her voice a bit shaky. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s your wedding day,” I said, smiling as the hair guy started brushing my hair again with one hand, while the other reached for the hair dryer, which was plugged into Linnie’s wall socket, along with two curling irons and a flatiron. “You’re allowed to be emotional. In fact, I think it’s expected.”

“Everything is going to be fine,” Linnie said, like she was trying to convince herself, and I nodded.

“Nothing else,” I promised, “is going to go wrong.” Just as I said this, there was a faint pop and then the room was thrown into darkness.





CHAPTER 20


Or, Just Roll with It




* * *



OKAY, IF EVERYONE COULD JUST stay calm!” Bill yelled from where he was standing on one of the kitchen chairs, in the dark.

It was still the afternoon, but the fact that it had gotten so dark out meant that I’d had to make my way downstairs using my phone flashlight, trying to reassure people I met on the way—Aunt Liz, Max, the Jennys—that I would try to find out what was going on. Linnie had come down with me, and I’d found a huge group gathered in the kitchen, most of whom were trying to figure out what was happening. There was a little more light in the kitchen, thanks to the picture windows, but it was still fairly dark, and my mother was lighting the candles, long tapers that we normally only used for fancy dinners, and placing them on the table and countertops.

“How are we supposed to cook?” one of the caterers said, her voice rising. “We have a fridge full of perishables—”

“Who cares about the food?” This was Glen, who’d come into the kitchen, along with the tent guys. “If we don’t have power, we’re going to have to do an acoustic set, and that’s not the Journey way.”

My dad frowned at him. “Who are you again?”

“He’s with the band,” I explained.

“We need to be taking pictures in ten minutes,” the photographer said, looking at her watch. “And if I don’t have power—”

“You think I don’t have the same problem?” the videographer interrupted. “Everyone cares more about the video than the pictures anyway.”

“Oh, do they, Fred?” she snapped.

“Yes, they do!”

“I was in the middle of taking a shower!” my uncle Stu sputtered. He was in his Westin robe, soap bubbles gently popping on his bald head. “And the lights go out, just like that.” He snapped his fingers, apparently to illustrate this. “I should have gone to a hotel.” I saw my mother take a deep breath, like she was physically trying to restrain herself from killing my uncle.

“What does this mean?” Linnie asked, twisting her hands together. I saw her look around for Rodney, but he wasn’t there—as soon as he’d started to come into the kitchen, his sister Elizabeth had screamed that it was beyond bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other and had marched Rodney back upstairs. Both he and Linnie had tried to point out that they’d been seeing each other all morning so far, but she was clearly not hearing this.

“It’ll be fine,” I said automatically, even though I wasn’t sure how, exactly. We needed power to put on a wedding—of this I was sure.

“This is just like when the Royals played the Mets, game one of the World Series,” J.J. said.

“It’s really not,” I said, shaking my head.

“It is!” J.J. insisted. “The game was delayed because of a power issue, but—”

“My uncle is on the way over with a generator,” Bill said, speaking loudly to talk over everyone else. “It looks like we just overloaded the power in the house, trying to plug in too many things.”

“It was the band,” one of the tent guys said. “Did you see how many amps they had?”

“Oh, sure, blame the rock stars,” Glen said, shaking his head.

“So!” Bill said, speaking up again. “The power outside will be restored as soon as he arrives with a generator. But as for the power in the house . . .” Bill hesitated, his voice trailing off.