Jill Churchill
A Groom With a View
Prologue
“Do you know Livvy Thatcher?" Jane jeffry asked her best friend Shelley Nowack.
“Let me in out of the cold and I'll tell you," Shelley said.
Shelley had run over to Jane's house from her own, which was next door. She hadn't bothered to put on a coat for such a short jaunt and was already freezing. She stepped into Jane's warm kitchen and shivered dramatically. "I've lived in the Chicago area all my life," Shelley griped, "and every January I ask myself why a sane person would stay here on purpose. It's not a cruel accident of fate. I can laugh off fate. It's a deliberately stupid choice."
“I'm glad you feel that way," Jane said, "because I want to talk about April."
“You didn't invite me over to discuss taxes, did you?" Shelley asked, frowning.
“No! I'd never talk to you about anything to do with the I.R.S. It makes the veins in your forehead bulge, which isn't pretty. So, do you know Livvy Thatcher?"
“Not if I fell over her. Any relation to Margaret?”
Jane poured Shelley a big mug of hot coffee and led the way to the living room where piles of magazines and library books were stacked all over the floor. "Not so you'd notice."
“Good Lord, Jane, it looks like your bookshelves exploded! What is all this stuff? Wedding magazines? You didn't suddenly change your mind about marrying Mel, did you?"
“Nope, we agreed we're better off not even living together. This is to do with Livvy Thatcher. She was at the neighborhood Christmas cookie exchange I had here last month. Another neighbor dragged her along."
“Youngish? Tall? Bland-looking but awfully well made up?" Shelley asked, pulling up her mental inventory of the guests.
“Right. She called me yesterday. Asked if she could drop by and talk something over with me. I was afraid she was going to try to sell me something, to tell the truth, but I let her come over anyway. Chalk it up to January boredom."
“So what did she sell you?"
“Nothing. She said she'd been really impressed with my party. How well-planned and pleasant it was and how I managed to carry it off during a busy season without looking frazzled."
“She didn't say that. You're just bragging," Shelley said, flipping through a magazine andmaking a moue of distaste over a particularly ugly gown.
“She did, too. Word for word. Cross my heart. Then she told me that she's getting married in April and wants me to help her plan the wedding.”
Shelley glanced up. "You? Plan a wedding? What do you know about weddings?"
“I had one of my own once, you know. That's how I ended up with three kids."
“But you didn't even plan that one, I'll bet. The wedding, not the kids. Your mother did. Right?”
“Yes, but I was there," Jane said.
“Jane, a wedding is a huge headache. Why would you help with one for a perfect stranger?"
“Money," Jane said. "And to see if I can."
“She's paying you?"
“Lots," Jane said, rubbing her hands together.
“You don't need money," Shelley persisted.
“I don't desperately need money, but it can't hurt. Another mysterious piece of machinery fell out of the bottom of my station wagon yesterday. I'm going to have to replace it soon.
“I really can't believe you're seriously considering it."
“I am. The week after New Year's kind of got to me," Jane admitted.
“How so?"
“After two weeks of being exhaustingly busy, I took down the decorations, the kids went back to school, and after sleeping it all off, I was so bored that I actually contemplated cleaning the basement."
“That's scary!" Shelley said.
“I've got one kid in college. Two of them will be home by four o'clock. But in another year and a half, only one will be home. And a couple years after that, none will be here every day."
“So marry Mel then," Shelley said. "Or work on that endless book you're writing."
“I hope you're just playing devil's advocate," Jane said.
“Hmmm. I guess I am," Shelley admitted. "I've given the same thing some serious thought from time to time lately. But planning a wedding! Ye gods, Jane. I wonder if you've ever really been around a bride."
“Oh, yes. A few relatives. And some of them got pretty nutsy. But this is different. Livvy's one of those overachieving yuppies. She pretty much runs her father's business and just wants a fabulous wedding — only because it's a social requirement — without the bother of making a lot of decisions and having her time taken up."
“You're sure she means that?"
“I am. She gave me the name of a caterer, a seamstress, and a florist she likes and said everything else is up to me. She'll supply the guest list, the china and silver patterns she likes, and will pick the day. There isn't even going to be a hassle over renting space because she's having the whole thing at some sort of hunting lodge that belongs to the family."
“A wedding at a hunting lodge?" Shelley yelped with laughter. "I love it. Bridesmaids influorescent orange. Gun racks for wedding gists. Do you suppose the groom will wear one of those checkered hats with the earflaps?”
Jane bridled. I think it's a very nice hunting lodge. Livvy told me it used to be a monastery.”
Shelley slapped both hands over her mouth to stifle a shriek of glee. "Oh, it's too good to be true!" she said when she finally got herself under control.
“So you agree it's a good idea?"
“It's a bizarre idea, Jane. A wedding in a monastery-turned-hunt-club. But too much fun to resist. I capitulate. I endorse this heartily. You go, girlfriend."
“And you'll help me, right?" Jane asked. Shelley instantly stopped laughing.
One April It was very early in the morning, but the station
wagon was loaded to the gunwales. Jane had
all her notebooks full of lists, and a suitcase full
of clothes for the couple days she'd be at "com‑
mand central," a.k.a. the hunting lodge né
monastery. She double-checked her notebooks
while Shelley stumbled about sleepily putting
her few belongings in the car. It was only about
an hour and a half drive, but Jane didn't want to have to waste time coming home for anything she'd forgotten.
“I still don't quite understand why we have to go up there a couple days early," Shelley said with a fairly ladylike yawn.
“Because there's a lot to do on site," Jane answered.
“ 'On site.' My, that sounds professional," Shelley commented. "I have to admit you've beenpretty cool about this whole thing. I expected a lot more whining."
“I don't whine," Jane said. "Well, not as often as I might. It's just a matter of being really organized. I appreciate your coming along to help out at the end though."
“So what's the plan?" Shelley asked as they buckled their seat belts and Jane handed her a map. Shelley held it out in front of her at a significant distance. Jane considered opening a discussion about bifocals, but decided it wouldn't be politic when Shelley was being helpful.
“Today we just look everything over," Jane said. "I've got a rough sketch of the house plan, but I've never actually been there. I drove out there last week, but couldn't get the guy who lives there to come to the door. I should have called ahead."
“Somebody lives in this place?"
“A man Livvy calls 'Uncle Joe.' A family retainer who takes care of the building and grounds. For the time being, at least. The place is scheduled to be torn down this summer to put in a country club. Let's see — what else is happening today? The caterer is coming to look over the kitchens and move in his own cooking paraphernalia and the food, and the florist is also coming out today to figure out where to put all the arrangements. Then there's the seamstress." Jane waved good-bye to her mother-in-law, who was staying with the children while Jane was gone, and pulled out into the street.