Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 176
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
“It appears he had a few accidents shaving, and it smells like he got very drunk before he did it.” Richard kept his voice low. “He’s in the bathroom trying to clean up, but I don’t know how much good it will do.”
“How bad does he look?”
“His face is covered with bits of toilet tissue from where he attempted to stop the bleeding. If you ask me, it looks like he tried to paper mache himself.”
I rubbed my temple with one hand. “He must have gotten into the bottle of Irish whiskey we left in his room.”
I heard the sound of a bottle clinking.
“He didn’t only get into it, Annabelle. He finished it,” Richard said. “The empty bottle is sitting right here on the desk.”
“Impossible,” I said, walking farther away from the church entrance as guests began arriving. “It was a huge bottle.”
“No kidding. Is it a new Wedding Belles tradition to encourage officiants to get drunk before the wedding?”
“No,” I said. “The groom’s mother requested we put it in his room as a welcome touch.”
“Nothing says welcome more graciously than a huge bottle of booze. What happened to a nice fruit basket?”
“They’re Irish,” I explained. “I don’t think fruit says welcome like Jameson’s does.”
“I’d better go,” Richard whispered. “He came out of the bathroom, and he doesn’t look too steady on his feet.”
I rubbed my head. “Will he be able to perform the ceremony?”
“Do you have a backup priest on call?”
“When have you ever heard of needing a backup priest?” I said. I had lists of rabbis and non-denominational ministers I could call, but Catholic churches did not allow you to switch out priests like seasonal handbags.
“Then I guess he’ll have to do, won’t he?” Richard asked.
“Can you drive him over to St. Patrick’s?” I looked at my phone. “We don’t have time to send a limo back for him.”
“I just got my car detailed,” Richard protested.
I pressed a finger to my ear as the sounds of arriving guests in the lobby made it hard to hear. “What could he possibly do to your car, Richard?”
“Bleed on it, for one.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re shaving cuts, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like he was in a knife fight.”
“Fine,” Richard said. “But I’m taking one of the hotel’s towels for him to sit on. They can bill me.”
“Hurry,” I said and hung up.
I slipped the cell phone into my suit pocket and tried to plaster a smile on my face as I walked back into the church vestibule.
The church entrance buzzed with activity as guests poured in for the ceremony. Kate greeted people with a program as they entered the church and directed them to the line of a dozen or so waiting groomsmen. The tuxedoed groomsman at the head of the line offered his arm as a female guest approached, and he escorted her down the aisle, while the next groomsman stepped up and took his place. I smiled. These guys had actually paid attention during Kate’s ushering “boot camp” last night. At least one part of the wedding was going well.
I walked up behind Kate. “No sign of the house party, yet?”
“Let’s hope Fern gets them ready in time for the reception,” Kate said. “Any luck with the priest?”
“Kind of. Richard’s bringing him, but he’s drunk.”
Kate’s mouth fell open. “Richard is drunk?”
“No, the priest is drunk,” I said, massaging my temples and willing my head not to throb.
Kate’s face registered comprehension. “I guess that’s worse, huh?”
“For our immediate purposes? Yes.” I smiled at a group of approaching guests and waved an arm to direct them toward the ushers.
“Don’t worry,” Kate said. “He was drunk last night, and he managed to run the rehearsal.”
“I thought you said he told dirty jokes and the bride’s side was livid?”
Kate bit her bottom lip. “I didn’t say he ran it well, but he got the job done.”
“So if I lower my expectations, I’ll be happier?”
Kate shrugged. “It works for me.”
“So far this is not going as seamlessly as I’d hoped.”
Kate cringed. “I hate to tell you this, then, but the photographer is here with the groomsmen.
“Why would that be a bad thing?”
“Did you forget that our photographer for today’s wedding is Maxwell?” she asked.
I had. We’d confirmed all the vendors so long ago it had slipped my mind I was working back-to-back weddings with one of the murder suspects. Suddenly an intoxicated priest was only one of my problems.
38
“A little help would be nice.” Richard stuck his head inside the church foyer.
I let out a deep breath as Kate and I rushed to the door. “You got here just in time. We seated the last of the guests and sent the groomsmen back to the sacristy two minutes ago.”
“Good,” Richard said. “The fewer people who see this, the better.” He stepped inside holding Father O’Malley up by the arm.
I gasped. The ruddy-cheeked priest had blood trickling down his face and neck onto his black robes. The gobs of toilet paper stuck to his face in patches had done little to stop the bleeding. It looked like he’d nicked an artery. I inhaled and put a hand over my nose. It smelled like he’d bathed in the whiskey instead of drinking it, although from his bloodshot eyes I knew that wasn’t the case.
“What happened?” Kate asked, taking one side of the sagging priest.
“I forgot to tell you he tried to shave after finishing off the bottle of whiskey in his hotel room,” I said under my breath.
Kate raised an eyebrow. “Minor detail, I guess.”
“Don’t worry about me, lassies.” Father O’Malley let go of Richard and gave us a dazzling smile. “Only a scratch or two. It looks worse than it is.”
I certainly hoped so.
Father O’Malley ran a hand through his bushy white hair and cast a glazed look around the foyer. “I’d better get back to the sacristy. You can’t start without me, now can you?”
He teetered off down the aisle, and I turned to Kate. “Can you follow him and make sure he actually makes it back there?”
Kate took off after him, walking more steadily in three-inch spike heels than the stumbling priest.
“Well, my job’s done.” Richard headed for the door. “I have to get back to the Decatur House before the waiters set the place on fire.”
I clutched his arm. “Can’t you stay and help with the processional?”
Richard tried to shake my hand off. “I hate processionals. That’s why I’m a caterer and you’re a wedding planner.”
“Have a little sympathy, Richard. I have a drunk priest and a dozen bridesmaids from Texas.”
Richard slapped at my hand. “Now why would that make me want to stay?”
“There are only two children, and you won’t even have to touch them.” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes. “It will take five minutes. I promise.”
Richard threw his hands in the air. “Fine, but I’m only doing this for the potential entertainment value. I want to see the look on everyone’s face when the priest walks out.”
I gave him a quick hug. “I owe you big time.”
He smoothed the front of his black button-down shirt where I’d wrinkled it. “I’ll add it to your already considerable tab.”
“They’re ready,” Fern called as he led a line of extremely blonde women toward us. The house party walked in front wearing black cocktail dresses in various styles, and the bridesmaids followed in long, chocolate-brown gowns with a powder-pink ribbon tied around their waists. All the girls wore their hair in tight French twists, and each had on a single strand of pearls.
“Good heavens,” Richard said. “The Stepford Wives ride again.”
I elbowed him. I had to admit they did look remarkably like a set of plastic bridesmaids you could buy to put on wedding cakes.
“What happened to the big-hair look?” I asked Fern when he’d reached me.
Fern held up the miniature bottle of hair spray. “When I didn’t have the holding power I needed, I had to go with plan B and do French twists.”
I thought it looked more elegant, but I was a bit surprised the bride went for it. “Where are the mothers?”
“Still fussing over the bride,” Fern said. “Do you need them?”
I looked at my phone. We were running five minutes behind. “Yes, we need to send them down the aisle right now.”
Fern stifled a squeal and hurried away.
“Can you run up and cue the organist for the seating of the mothers?” I asked Richard.
“Run? In this outfit? I don’t think so. Why don’t you run up, and I’ll get everyone ready to walk?” Richard gave my black evening suit the once-over. “That’s polyester after all, isn’t it?”
I glared at him. “I’ll have you know this is BCBG and it’s 100 percent silk.”
Richard eyed me again. “Not bad, darling, but Prada trumps BCBG any day.”
“Fine.” I handed him my wedding schedule and headed for the stairs. “But the mothers had better be lined up and ready to go when I get back.”
Richard gave me his most sugary smile and waved me away. “Tick tock, Annabelle. Tick tock.”
I took the spiral stairs to the balcony two at a time, breathing heavily when I reached the top. I stuck my head in the doorway and caught the eye of the organist. “We’re ready for the mothers’ song.” I turned around and ran back down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, Richard stood with both the mothers’ escorts at the back of the aisle, but no mothers.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “Fern was in charge of getting them here.”
“Here we are.” Fern sounded out of breath as he walked up with the mothers in tow. “We had a slight delay because of some last-minute wardrobe changes.” He gave me a look that said not to ask.
“Don’t you think Mrs. Kelly looks fabulous in this stole?” Kitty asked, turning the mother of the groom around so I could admire the beige satin wrap. With it tied in front, you could barely see the bodice of the hot-pink strapless gown with rows of long fringe Mrs. Kelly had chosen. I’m sure that was Kitty’s entire objective.
“I thought it might be a little much.” The groom’s mother tried to rearrange the front of the wrap. “But Kitty insisted the mothers should coordinate.”
Kitty smiled, clearly satisfied with herself. She, too, wore a wrap. Of course, hers matched her gray satin gown perfectly and sat slightly off the shoulder.
“You both look lovely.” I prodded them into place next to their escorts.
The sound of “Ave Maria” filled the church, and I nudged Mrs. Kelly to start down the aisle.
Kitty pulled me close to her. “How is everything so far?”
“Perfect,” I lied.
Kitty beamed at me as she looked at the flower-filled sanctuary. “I want this to be a wedding no one will ever forget.”
“I’m sure people will be talking about it for years.” I smiled back to Kitty as I sent her down the aisle.
I watched from the corner of my eye as Father O’Malley led the groom and groomsmen from the sacristy to the altar, swaying as he walked. “We have to speed up this processional before the priest keels over,” I whispered to Richard.
I motioned to Fern to bring up the house party while I ran to the stairwell again. I pulled myself up the stairs to the balcony and gave a wave to the organist when I reached the top. “Bridesmaids,” I said, then spun on my heel and ran down again while the music changed.
Richard stood to the side of the double doors nodding to each girl to indicate when she should walk, while Fern gave their hair a final spritz with hair spray. The house party had almost reached the end of the aisle, and the bridesmaids were beginning their walk. I wondered if Guinness had a category for fastest wedding processional.
I waited until Fern pushed the flower girl and ring bearer to the doors, then I dragged myself back up the stairs and paused at the top to suck in air. I managed to wave to the organist and mouth the word “bride” before heading back down again.
When I came out of the stairwell panting for breath, Lady Margaret stood off to the side of the aisle holding her father’s arm while Fern fussed with the hem of her dress. She looked like a cross between a princess and a drag queen in her heavy pageant makeup and teased blonde hair. Now I understood why Fern had run out of hair spray, and I was surprised they hadn’t run out of eye shadow as well.
Fern cast a glance over his shoulder at me. “She has something on the bottom of her dress.”
I knelt down next to him and noticed he had my emergency kit open next to him. “Did you try the Shout Wipes?”
He rubbed briskly at the black spot near her hem. “That’s what I’m using, but they’re not working fast enough.”
I reached in the metal case and pulled out a piece of cream-colored chalk. I rubbed it gently over the spot to cover it. “That should work for now.”
Fern looked at me in awe. “You’re the wedding planner version of MacGyver.”
I winked at him. “You know it, sweetie.”
Kate appeared in time to help Richard close the heavy double doors while Fern and I straightened the bride’s cathedral-length veil. Lady rested her hand lightly on her father’s arm and held her white teardrop-shaped bouquet in the other. Unlike most brides, her hands weren’t shaking. Years of pageant training came in handy.
The fanfare to “Trumpet Voluntary” began, and Richard and Kate flung open the doors. Lady produced a runway-perfect smile and threw her shoulders back as she began her walk down the long aisle. Kate and Richard closed the doors after her, and we all let out a breath.
I slumped against the door. “The hard part is over.”
“For you, maybe,” Richard said. “I still have the whole reception to go.”
“I need to get more hair spray before the reception,” Fern said. “Is there a drugstore nearby?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, watching through the glass cut-outs in the doors as the bride reached the altar. “Not even gale-force winds could move that hair.”
“As riveting as this is, I’ve got to run.” Richard took a few steps backward. “I’ll see you back at the Decatur House. That is if you don’t need me to rescue any more intoxicated members of the wedding.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I said. “It could have been worse.”
Richard’s eyes widened as he looked past me. “Too late.”
I turned around and peered through the glass in the sanctuary doors. A crowd had gathered at the altar.
“I guess the priest lost more blood than I thought,” Richard said. “He just fainted.”
I’d been right when I’d told Kitty this would be a wedding no one would ever forget.
39
“This is a fiasco,” I said, watching the bridal party cluster around the fallen priest. My eyes went instinctively to my wedding emergency kit in the corner, but I doubted chalk or super glue would be able to fix this problem.
Kate clutched my arm. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He clearly can’t finish the ceremony, and I doubt there’s an ordained minister in the crowd.”
“I’m ordained,” Fern said.
We all stared at him, mouths open.
“You?” Richard managed to say. “Since when?”
Fern crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Since they started ordaining people over the internet. I thought it might come in handy one day.”
I grabbed Fern by the shoulders. “So you can legally marry people?”
“Of course.” He tapped his fingers on his chin. “I haven’t actually performed a ceremony yet though.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” I said. “Do you think you can finish the wedding?”
Fern raised an eyebrow. “Would I get to wear robes?”
“Sure,” I said, avoiding Richard’s disapproving look. “We can get you robes.”
Fern’s eyes danced. “I’ve always wanted to wear ceremonial robes.”
“This is your plan?” Richard asked. “You’re going to have the hairdresser officiate the ceremony?”
“Unless you have a better idea,” I said. “Kate can get the groomsmen to drag the priest back to the sacristy, and then we can get the priest out of his robes and Fern into them. We’ll get this ceremony back on track in no time.”
Richard put his hands on his hips. “With a sometimes drag queen standing in for the priest?”
“I beg your pardon,” Fern said.
“Do you or do you not have a green Jackie Kennedy suit and matching pillbox hat?” Richard asked.
“Green?” Fern gasped. “I’ll have you know it’s peacock blue, and it looks stunning on me.” He winked at Kate and me. “I go by the stage name Tequila Mockingbird.”
“I think I’ve proven my point,” Richard said.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and I turned to Kate. “I’d better answer this in case it’s another wedding emergency. Can you handle the priest and Fern?”
“Don’t worry, Annie. I’m on it.” She grabbed Fern by the arm and started off down the aisle. “Come on, Tequila.”
I answered the phone. “Wedding Belles. This is Annabelle.”
“I’m glad I found you.”
Reese. Even though I was in the eye of a wedding storm, I liked hearing his voice. “I’m kind of in the middle of a wedding.”
“I know, babe. I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important.”
I looked nervously through the sanctuary doors. Kate’s charm seemed to be working because the groomsmen lifted the priest and carried him to the sacristy door behind the altar. The murmuring of the guests quieted down, and I heard a smattering of applause.
“I’m glad you called,” I said. “I forgot to mention something to you on my earlier message. If Lucille has any desire to finish the job she started with Margery, you should check on her at the hospital. She could be in danger.”
