Jane felt enormously sorry for her and now understood why Irma had insisted that she and Errol would stay in the nearby motel rather than at the lodge. She'd known, or feared, she'd be out of place with the Thatcher crowd. Dwayne was the one marrying into the Thatcher clan, not his mother.
Jack made a gesture that seemed to be an orderto take a tour of the house. Livvy and the Hessling brothers followed obediently. Irma slipped the noose and sat down in a high-backed chair, took her right shoe off, and started rubbing her foot. Jane approached her and Irma hastily shoved her shoe back on with a grimace.
“New shoes," she explained. "I should have known better."
“Mrs. Hessling, I'm Jane Jeffry. I'm the wedding planner. We've corresponded."
“Yes, yes. I've appreciated you keeping me up on the plans. I'm a waitress, you know," she added as if it were relevant.
“No, I didn't know," Jane said, confused. "Uh — you must meet a lot of interesting people."
“You do," Irma Hessling said, nodding sagely. "And you learn a lot about how they think and act. That Mr. Thatcher… he's the kind who'd send his hamburger back if it wasn't cooked just right and then refuse to pay because of the delay.”
Irma was sharper than she looked. Common sense in the place of fashion sense.
“I believe you're right," Jane said, thinking uneasily about the final payment that was due on her work at the completion. He'd probably dock her for Mrs. Crossthwait's death.
“And poor little Livvy would bury a burnt bit in her mashed potatoes before she'd complain.”
Jane thought for a moment and said, "You're not very pleased about this match, are you?”
Irma leaned forward and spoke in almost a whisper. "No, not really. It's not good for any‑ body. 'Course, the Thatchers are rich and Dwayne likes that, but it isn't the money that's wrong. Now, Errol, he could marry a rich girl and he'd stay the same person. And he could marry a shy little thing like Livvy and treat her real nice. But Dwayne's always been bossy unless I stood on him real hard." She'd taken her shoe back off and was massaging a bunion. "And Livvy, poor thing, is used to being bossed. It's going to bring out the worst in him.”
Jane took the woman's hand. "You may be right. But they're going to have to work it out themselves. Maybe when Livvy's married and has some children, she'll get a bit more backbone. Motherhood does that for a lot of women."
“I hope that's so. I really shouldn't have said anything."
“Let me know if there's anything you need or want," Jane said. The tour group was coming back and it wouldn't help either of them to be discovered in a secret little confab.
“Shelley," Jane said a little later, "I think this wedding is cursed.”
Shelley, who had been helping Larkspur arrange the flowers and enjoying his outrageous flattery, was cool. "You just have pseudo-motherof-the-bride jitters."
“I hope that's all they are," Jane said. "I need a nap and I don't see one anytime soon on my horizon.”
Nine
Aside from the aunts demanding better bath towels, one of the caterer's local helpers twisting her ankle, and Larkspur dropping and breaking his best flower vase, the rest of what remained of the morning went fairly well. Eden, Kitty, and Layla, under Aunt Iva's supervision, had almost finished their dresses. Probably not to Mrs. Crossthwait's exacting standards, but well enough to precede Livvy without looking bedraggled and half dressed. Mr. Willis set out a "do-it-yourself" luncheon of sandwich makings, green and pasta salads, chips, dips, and an assortment of drinks ranging from white wine to sodas to coffee. The growing crowd at the lodge helped themselves.
Jack Thatcher had assigned himself and his downtrodden assistant the job of hauling the nonresident guests back and forth from the hunting lodge to their motel. Jane tried at first to sort out who everyone was, having hand-addressed all the invitations, but soon gave up. They fell into identifiable categories though. Some of the older, better-dressed men appeared to be business associates of Jack's. A few younger women were either their middle-aged crisis replacement wives — or friends of Livvy's who were gathering for the bridal shower in the afternoon. Most of these stylish young women were probably serving in both roles, Jane thought, since Livvy seemed to be a bit short on close personal friends.
There was also a handful of young men who greeted Dwayne with slaps on the back and mildly raunchy jokes. They were friends of his who would be attending the bachelor party later in the evening.
Shelley and Jane stood by the door, introducing themselves to the newcomers as they arrived and helping them find their friends. During a lull, Shelley said, "Remember the high school rule? The prettiest girl surrounded herself by ugly friends so she could really shine in comparison."
“Hmmm. You mean that wasn't coincidence?" Jane asked with a grin.
“Seems that Dwayne has done the same," Shelley said.
Jane glanced at the small knot of young men surrounding Dwayne where he stood in a Lord of the Manor pose in front of one of the fireplaces. Jane had seen Jack Thatcher strike the same pose only hours earlier. Shelley was right: none of Dwayne Hessling's friends matched him for sheer good looks, although most of them were alittle too well-dressed. Trying, she guessed, to fit in among the upper crust to the best of their budgets. Dwayne's good luck in combining romance and finance might rub off on them, they might have thought.
Jane leaned against the doorjamb and said, "I wouldn't go back and be that young now for anything. All that struggle to get ahead in life, to figure out what and who you want to be."
“And it's harder now," Shelley agreed. "Even a college degree is a requirement instead of an extra leg up in the business world. I'll bet half those boys are spending their evenings slaving away at night classes in business management or computer technology at the junior college."
“Except for Dwayne," Jane said. "Dwayne is marrying into management." She glanced around to make sure they couldn't be overheard. "And his mother isn't very happy about it."
“I'd think she'd be thrilled," Shelley said. "I sure wouldn't mind if my kids married well."
“She's too sensible to be blind to his faults, it seems." Jane repeated what she could remember of her conversation with Mrs. Hessling. "I really think she likes Livvy better than her son. No, not 'likes' exactly. But feels more protective. Even she seems to have caught on that Livvy's marrying to please her father, not herself. And that Dwayne is going to be every bit as domineering as her father.”
Shelley frowned. "It's hard for us to grasp, being of somewhat pit bull mentality ourselves, but maybe that's exactly what will make Livvy happy, Jane. There are people, men and women both, who are perfectly content to abdicate responsibility. There have to be followers or nobody can be a leader."
“Waxing a tad philosophic, are we?" Jane said. "Are you suggesting Livvy's really madly in love with Dwayne?”
Shelley shrugged. "Maybe as madly as it's possible for her to be."
“Why is it I can hardly say her name without putting the word 'poor' in front of it?" Jane mused.
“Because you're a tough old broad?" Shelley suggested.
“Look who's talking!" Jane said. "You're the one who makes school principals shake with fear and car salesmen go paralytic when you walk onto the car lot.”
Shelley preened a bit. "But you're getting there, Jane. You did a pretty good job of standing up to Jack Thatcher's rudeness.”