Behind her, Diana Berry and Lin-bai Tang had descended to the center aisle, exclaiming over the possibilities of sprays and ribbons and candelabra. Tang’s measuring tape snapped briskly as they made their plans. If the rest of the celebration was anything on the scale of the flowers, this would be the wedding of the century. Peggy Landry’s brother-in-law was either rolling in it or about to go broke. She wondered how much Landry had sunk into the development. Would she be ruined if the deal didn’t come off? What about the construction workers and everyone else employed by the project? She shook her head. Anything she might think was sheer speculation at this point. Maybe Ingraham’s partner would simply carry on without him. Of course, that begged the question of whether the construction at the location of the old quarry was indeed responsible for the rise in PCB levels.
She was suddenly struck by a thought. What if someone who wanted to stop the project knew that Peggy Landry and Ingraham’s partner were planning to proceed full steam ahead? Would the death of the president of BWI slow things down? Long enough for the DEP to address the environmental concerns and halt the development for a re-testing of the site? She reached up to her hair and twirled her ponytail into a bun, thinking furiously. She wished she had paid closer attention to the business end of her parents’ small aviation company. She might know more about what happens when a company’s principal owner dies.
“Reverend Clare? Is everything all right?” Diana Berry’s voice broke her concentration. Clare let her impromptu bun fall back into a ponytail and dropped her hands. “You look a little upset,” Diana continued.
“No, I’m fine. Just thinking.” The florist was standing next to the young woman, tucking the measuring tape back into her purse. Clare glanced toward Peggy Landry, who nodded and raised her hand, then said something into her cell phone. “All set?” Clare said. “Did you get everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you,” Lin-bai Tang said. “It’ll be a real pleasure working in your space.”
Peggy Landry finished up with her call and replaced the phone in her purse. She rose and joined them. “Sorry, everyone. Business before pleasure.”
Diana grinned. “Business is your pleasure, Aunt Peggy. I’m amazed I could tear you away today.”
“I have to run,” the florist announced, looking at her watch. “Diana, I’ll write up the plan and fax a copy to you and to your mother, along with the estimates.” She held out her hand to Clare. “Thank you again for letting us in on such short notice, Reverend Fergusson. Bye, all!” With a final swing of her heavy hair, she was gone.
Clare unclipped her key ring from a belt loop. “Are you two all set?” she asked.
“I am,” Diana said. “Next stop for me is the mall near Glens Falls. I’m checking out tablecloths and napkins for the reception.”
“Doesn’t the Stuyvesant Inn supply the linens?” Clare asked.
“Oh, of course. But you know how it is with a hotel or caterers. You can get any color you want, so long as it’s white. I’m going to have pale floral undercloths with a filmy overcloth caught up around the rim of the table with tiny clips of flowers. And solid napkins picking up one of the floral colors. Doesn’t it sound stunning?”
Clare thought it sounded criminally extravagant, but she held her tongue. “Mmm,” she said.
“Aunt Peggy, is Mal going to be able to pick you up?” Diana continued. “I don’t mind running you, but we’ll be all day trying to fit everything in.”
Her aunt pointed to her purse. “I called him. He’s on his way. He just got out of bed. You know Mal.”
Diana gave a look that said that she knew Mal very well. “All right. I’m off. But look, I’ve got my phone, so if he bails out on you for whatever reason, call me.” She shook hands with Clare. “Thanks again, Reverend Clare. I’m so glad I picked your church for the most important day of my life.”
She was through the door and halfway down the walk when Clare remembered, calling after her, “I need to see you two for more counseling sessions!” Diana waved in acknowledgment but did not pause. Clare sighed.
“Do engaged couples still have to do counseling?” Landry said. “I thought that went the way of ladies wearing hats in church. It’s not like they haven’t already done everything already.”
Clare was reminded of her mother’s response when her brother Brian had said the same thing during his girlfriend’s first visit: You haven’t done it in my house.
“If the Episcopal church is going to put its official stamp of approval on a couple, it wants to be satisfied the pair knows what they’re doing. Priests can refuse to marry a couple who seem unready for the responsibilities of marriage.”
“Really? Does that ever happen?”
Clare shook her head. “Not much. What’s more common is that the priest might schedule more premarital counseling, or direct the couple to other professionals who can deal with the problem areas—a sex therapist, a financial planner, what have you. It’s weird, really, when you think about it. An engaged couple will spend months picking out menus and flowers and clothes, but only three hours sitting down and talking about what happens after they make a lifetime commitment.”
Landry smiled cynically. “Well, it’s hardly a lifetime commitment anymore, is it?”
“It should be,” Clare said. The words made her think about Russ, and she felt a sting. Enough about marriage. She wanted to know more about Bill Ingraham. She shoved her hands into her pockets and encountered her key ring. “Look, Peggy, if you have to wait awhile for your ride, why don’t you come over to the rectory? It’s just next door.”
Landry slid her purse strap over her shoulder, her long, thin fingers caressing the leather. “My nephew is supposed to pick me up. Mal is nothing if not unreliable, but he did say he was getting into the car as soon as he hung up, so I ought to stay here. If he doesn’t find me where he expects, he’s likely to get distracted, and then I won’t see him again until Tuesday morning.”
“Does he live in Millers Kill?”
Landry let out a short laugh. “He doesn’t live anywhere right now. No, that’s not entirely true. He’s staying at my house until either he can get his act together or I lose all patience and throw him out.”
“Did he lose his job? Or is it that he just doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life?”
“I think he knows what he wants to do. He’s just having trouble living a life of wealth and leisure without any visible means of support.”
Clare grinned. “Yes, I’ve heard that can be tricky. Are you sure I can’t get you to—”
“My God, I can’t believe it. He’s broken his land speed record.” Landry gripped Clare’s arm and tugged her through St. Alban’s great double doors. Stepping into the sunshine from the thick stone interior was like being released from an ancient prison, going from dimness into light, from cool to warm, from stillness to life. Clare couldn’t help closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sun for a moment before turning to secure the antiquated iron lock. She could hear Landry striding across the lawn toward the parking lot on the opposite side of Elm Street. Clare dropped the keys back into her pocket and trotted toward the lot, where Landry was standing beside a Volvo sedan.
“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you all day,” Landry was saying to the driver. She turned to Clare. “Thanks, Reverend Fergusson. Look, about Diana and Cary’s counseling. I’m throwing a party for them out at my place this Friday. Seven-thirty. Come an hour early and I promise I’ll lock the happy couple in the den with you and let you go at it.” Her gaze flicked over Clare’s outfit. “We’ll be dressing. Oh, let me introduce you to my nephew. Mal, come out of there and say hi.”