Chapter Four

~ Jenna ~

The next morning, I arrive at Hemlock Presbyterian Church bright and early. By the time Grace Marie and her bridesmaids arrive to begin getting ready, I’ve helped the florist transform the sanctuary into a wonderland with bushels of white peonies, ranunculus, and red and white roses. The quartet of musicians I hired to provide the music are warming up. The morning sun is streaming in through stained glass windows, painting the place in a warm glow.

The knot in my stomach that formed last night is beginning to loosen. Everything looks beautiful and seems to be going according to plan.

Tucked away in the bridal room, Grace Marie and her girlfriends, Nicole Reynolds and Tonya Thomas, are a flutter of emotion and nervous energy. Patricia has ordered in a light breakfast, which, I notice, no one has touched. But they are all over the mimosa bar that Nicole, Grace Marie’s maid of honor, has provided, much to Patricia’s dismay.

Grace Marie’s future mother-in-law stands stony faced, reminding them that booze before breakfast—or more aptly, without breakfast—is a recipe for disaster.

“Actually, this morning, the mimosas are more like an energy drink.” Grace Marie smiles sweetly and slips one into Patricia’s hand.

It’s the first time I’ve ever witnessed her defying her future mother-in-law. Patricia looks at the flute as if Grace Marie has handed her a glass of water dipped from the toilet and sets it down.

After the photographer arrives and begins snapping shots of the girls, I slip out to do one more walk-through of the sanctuary and double-check my list. It will be standing room only for the ceremony, which is scheduled to begin at 11:00 a.m.

The call from Ben comes at 9:35.

“Jenna, I know you have your hands full this morning,” he says. “But we have a situation.”

“What’s going on, Ben?”

“I can’t get ahold of Riley. I’m running late because Elizabeth has a migraine and I have to wrangle Bertie and Abigail into their wedding clothes and find a sitter to stay with Chase and Lily.”

Elizabeth is Ben’s very pregnant wife. Bertie and Abigail are serving as ring bearer and flower girl. I hear a roar in the background.

“Bertie, keep it down.” Ben bites off the words. “Mommy has a headache and I’m on the phone.”

“But I’m the ring bear, Daddy,” the boy yells. “Raaaaar—raaar.”

“Bertie, I told you to be quiet,” Ben says. “Go to your room until you can mind me.”

It sounds like the little boy is crying. Then I hear a door slam and it’s quiet again.

I feel bad for both father and son. Ben sounds stressed and Bertie was just having fun. I wonder if I should offer to send over Mom to pick up the kids, but I hesitate because she isn’t here yet and I might need her to help with the Riley search mission.

“I knew we shouldn’t have gone out last night.” Ben sounds annoyed. “I should’ve put my foot down. I told him if he wanted a bachelor party, we needed to do it earlier—like a couple of months earlier. But he said he didn’t want one. Actually, I think Grace Marie didn’t want him to have a bachelor party, and, after how out of control he was last night, I can’t blame her. But when Riley got wind that Grace Marie was going out with Nicole and Tanya last night after the rehearsal dinner, he was hellbent on us making a night of it, too.”

“Oh. Okay.” My mind is spinning as I shift into potential damage control, kicking myself for not trusting my gut instinct to involve Patricia and Charles last night. “Have you been able to reach Todd?”

“No, he was as lit as Riley was last night. I’m guessing they both slept through their alarms or didn’t think to charge their phones. Can you send someone over to pound on Riley’s door—You know what? If my dad’s there, send him. And while we’re at it, can you recommend a good sitter? The high school girl we normally use is out of town looking at colleges. We’d planned on the younger kids just sitting on Elizabeth’s lap during the ceremony. They were going to come to the reception. But Liz isn’t going to make it to the wedding.”

Since I don’t have kids, I have no idea about babysitters. But as a party planner, I see it would be smart to have a list of several possibilities for emergency situations like this.

I make a mental note to start cultivating a roster, but for now, I need to find someone quickly.

Most importantly, I need to pin down Riley—and fast. The best babysitter in the world won’t be a suitable stand-in for a runaway groom.

“Let me poll my resources and see what I can come up with after I locate your father. Do you have any idea if he or your mother have spoken to Riley this morning?”

The irritation in Ben’s voice spikes. “Jenna, I’ve been up to my elbows with my own family issues. I haven’t had a chance to do anything else. That’s why I’m calling you.”

“Okay, consider it handled, Ben. I’ll call you back as soon as I can locate a sitter.”

Since Patricia is in the room with Grace Marie, I won’t say anything to her. I don’t want to alert Grace Marie that there might be a problem. Because it’s probably not even a problem. I absolutely don’t want to reconstitute yesterday’s hysteria.

Riley was awfully drunk last night. As Ben said, he probably slept through his alarm. Until I hear differently, Grace Marie will be none the wiser.

Refusing to consider that anything else could be keeping him away, I call Mom, who is scheduled to arrive at 10:00 a.m. to help me.

She picks up on the first ring.

“Good morning,” she says. “I was just getting in my car to meet you at the church. Everything okay?”

“I hope so. Riley isn’t answering his phone, and Ben has an emergency at home.”

“Oh, no, nothing serious, I hope.”

The engine of Mom’s car turns over and there’s a resulting change in phone reception as the call switches over to hands free Bluetooth.

“Elizabeth is in bed with a migraine, which means Ben has to get the kids ready for the wedding and he needs a babysitter for the youngest two. Do you know of anyone who babysits who isn’t coming to the wedding?”

“Let me think on it,” she says. “Oh! I know someone. Let me make a few calls,”

“Good, because I need to find Riley.”

I walk out the front doors of the church and onto the walkway, which is decorated with a flower-covered archway. I shiver and the chill seeps into my bones.

“Mom, you don’t think he bolted, do you? I seriously thought he was suffering from a case of cold feet, that he’d be fine today. I’d be really worried, except we can’t reach his groomsman, Todd, either. That makes me think that this is just a byproduct of too much celebrating. Right?”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I see a black Kia Soul turn into the parking lot.

“Wait,” I say. “I think Todd just arrived. I don’t know what kind of car he drives, but from what I can see through the window, it looks like him.”

When the door opens, Todd gets out.

“It’s him,” I say. “I have to go.”

“Okay, see you in five minutes. I’ll work on finding a sitter for the kids.”

If there was a poster child for bachelor party hungover, Todd Devlin would be the model. He looks positively green. The jacket of his black tux is crumpled in one hand. His white shirt is untucked and open at the collar. Despite the freezing temperatures, he’s wearing flip-flops instead of the rented black patent leather loafers that go with the tux. His tie is nowhere in sight and I can only hope it is in his pocket or on the seat of the car with the shoes.

“Todd, I’m glad you’re here,” I say, resisting the urge to ask him about the missing pieces of his wedding ensemble. Instead, I stare at the car expecting to see Riley spill out of the passenger side. If he delivers the groom, he can wear whatever he wants on his feet—until the ceremony.

When I see no sign of the Riley, I ask, “Isn’t he with you?”

Todd scrubs a hand over his bloodshot blue eyes then blinks at me a couple of times as if trying to comprehend the question.

“Uh, no. I started to call him, but my phone is dead. I couldn’t find my charger. I went over to his place—that’s why I’m late. I rang the intercom, but he didn’t answer. I figured he was already here.”

I shake my head. “He’s not. Maybe he was in the shower when you rang?”

Todd shrugs.

“Can you go back and check? This time, go inside his condo.” As I say this I remember the key card I used to get into his place.

“Get me a key and I’ll go in there and drag his sorry butt to the church,” Todd says. “Sheesh. The dude can’t hold his liquor.”

I’m tempted to ask whether he’s the pot or the kettle, but there’s no time for that. We need to find Charles and get a key from him so they can get over to Riley’s place as fast as possible, before Grace Marie discovers something’s wrong.

I figure the most likely place for the father of the groom would be the church sanctuary, and I’m right.

Dressed in his tux, Charles is sitting in a church pew reading the newspaper.

“Mr. Buxston, I need to talk to you,” I say.

He looks up at Todd and me. He stands and buttons his coat. He’s the spitting image of Riley, but older and with a much more serious, distinguished demeanor. Where Riley is all yucks, Charles is a man of few words, and I can’t remember seeing him smile.

“What do you need?” His voice is measured, but a wary note escapes.

“Have you spoken to Riley this morning?” I ask.

“Is there a problem?”

I glance around to make sure nobody is within earshot. “I hope not. But nobody can get in touch with him this morning. He’s not answering his phone. When Todd went over to get him, he wasn’t answering the intercom. Of course, since the elevator opens right into his condo, we can’t get up there to knock on the door. Do you have a key to the elevator that will let us in? He had too much to drink last night and has probably just overslept. If someone can go get him now, there’s still plenty of time to get him dressed and here in time for the ceremony. Grace Marie doesn’t even have to know there’s a problem.”

Charles looks as if he’s silently seething. “I told him not to go out last night.” Charles holds up his hands and shakes his head again. “There’s no excuse for being late.”

I ponder whether I should tell Charles about Riley’s impromptu appearance at my door last night. My instinct screams it would only make matters worse.

Besides, Charles has turned his ire on Todd, grilling him about the details of last night’s bachelor party.

By the grace of God, my mother walks into the sanctuary.

While Todd is enduring the inquisition, I pull her aside. “Would you be willing to ride with Charles and Todd when they go to find Riley? If I disappear from the church right now, it might draw attention that something is wrong. If you’ll ride along and be my eyes and ears, keeping me posted on what’s happening, I’ll stay here and pretend like everything is fine. Since Todd is going, too, if anyone asks where Riley is, I can say he’s with Todd and his father.”

“That’s a good idea,” Mom says. “Charles is probably the best one to deal with him this morning if he’s planning on being a no-show today.”

She starts to say something else, but she stops. I know we’re thinking the same thing. If Riley is having trepidations about getting married, it’s best if he calls it off now rather than dragging Grace Marie through an awful divorce. If that’s the case, it’s even more important that I stay at the church. If Riley is planning on calling it off, it’s best if I don’t come waltzing in with him when he delivers the news.

I hope that’s not the case. I hope this is just Riley being irresponsible Riley, the guy our high school class voted most likely to be late to his own wedding.

“By the way,” I whisper to Mom. “I haven’t mentioned Riley’s visit last night to anyone except you. It might be a good idea to keep that to yourself.”

“You’re right,” she says.

“Thank you for doing this, Mom. I realize it’s probably not what you had in mind when you offered to help out today.”

She waves away my gratitude. “I’m always happy to help you. Keep your phone handy. I’ll keep you posted via text. But we’d better get a move on if we’re going to get him here before the wedding starts.”

“Right,” I say. “Charles, are you ready to go? My mother is going to ride along with you. I think Todd should, too.”

He frowns.

“There’s no need for them to come,” Charles says. “This isn’t an intervention. It doesn’t require a committee.”

It does feel like one, though. We are the committee staging the intervention that will save Riley from himself.

“I know, but it will be better for optics if Todd is with you,” I say. “I think most of the bridal party knows that Elizabeth is sick, and Ben has his hands full with the kids. If someone sees Todd here without Riley, they’re bound to ask questions. And I’d like my mother to go with you so she can keep me posted. I need to be here, but I need to know what’s going on so I can best handle the situation from my end.”

“If you don’t let me go with you, I’ll follow in my own car.” She smiles and shrugs. “Your choice, but let’s not waste gas.”

“For God’s sake,” Charles mutters. “Hold on.”

He pulls out his phone.

“Riley, where the hell are you?” he growls into the receiver. “You’re late for your own wedding. I’m on my way over. If you don’t call by the time I arrive, I’m coming up and dragging your sorry ass to the church.”

Charles ends the call and storms out. Mom and Todd follow.

I watch from the church’s glass doors as the three of them pile into his Mercedes sedan and set off to find the missing groom.