A few days later, the preparations for the wedding began in earnest. Lengthy consultations with florists, caterers, and photographers went on from morning till night, and strains of the 'Wedding March' and 'O Promise Me' echoed continuously from behind the door of the sun room, where Regina's Aunt Louise had taken over temporary possession of the piano.
"Do you realize," Regina gasped, bursting into Barbara's bedroom on Thursday evening, "that we haven't even selected the bridesmaids' gowns yet? I put it off because Fran Harris left on vacation just before you arrived, and it went completely out of my mind!"
"That's not much of a problem," Barbara said. "Tobin's is having a sale. Now that the June brides are all married off, we can get the dresses for half price. You're right, though," she admitted with a laugh when Regina-groaned despairingly, "we really ought to see about them. Since the wedding is only two weeks away, I suppose we'd better not wait for the quarter price sale."
Regina plopped down on the bed. "Barbara, how can you joke at a time like this?"
"It's easy-I'm not the bride-to-be!" Barbara had been sewing buttons onto a sweater. Now she set aside her needle and looked questioningly at her friend.
"You've been awfully nervous lately, Regina," she said. "Is it just those famous pre-matrimonial jitters, or is something else the matter? I'd like to help if I can."
Regina laughed shakily. "You're imagining things," she insisted. Then her composure crumbled. "Or maybe I am. It's Greg. He-he's seemed so withdrawn and preoccupied these past few days. He can be sitting right in the same room with me, and his mind is a million miles away."
"Oh, I see." Barbara stared reflectively out of her bedroom window. The inlet was masked by close-growing trees, and the twilight effectively camouflaged any lights which might have twinkled aboard the Albatross.
"You mustn't worry," she said gently. "I think Greg is troubled about something that happened in Port Dixon shortly before his discharge. I heard him discussing it with Whit."
Regina looked enormously relieved. "I'm glad to hear that. I was afraid he was trying to think of a diplomatic way to call off the wedding!" Curiously, she added, "What did happen in Port Dixon?"
"The blueprints for a new atomic submarine were stolen. There is a possibility that the man who was arrested the other night might have had something to do with the theft."
"Spies!" Regina shuddered distastefully. "Thank goodness the FBI knows how to deal with people like that. Now," she reverted to her original concern, "what are we going to do about those dresses?"
"The stores are open tomorrow night. Why don't you and Fran meet me downtown after work?" Barbara suggested.
The next afternoon at five o'clock the three girls met outside the Courier building. Strolling along arm in arm, Barbara swapped news with Fran Harris, the pert redhead who was to be Regina's other bridal attendant. They had all gone through school together, and since Barbara and Fran had not seen each other in two years, they found a great deal to talk about.
Luckily, Tobin's had a wide selection of bridesmaids' gowns left in stock. The girls had some difficulty in deciding which style and color they preferred, but finally they narrowed down the choice to a jacketed gown of mist-green taffeta and a lovely flaring chiffon in a heavenly shade of peacock blue.
"I believe the blue number suits both of you better." The saleswoman voiced her experienced opinion. "And aren't you fortunate to need no alterations? I wish I were a perfect size twelve."
After another quarter hour of twisting and turning before the full-length mirror, Barbara and Fran agreed that the saleswoman's advice was sound. They had the blue dresses carefully wrapped in layers of tissue paper and then, to complete the ensembles, they chose simple satin pumps and wide picture hats in a matching shade.
I wonder how Whit will like me in it, Barbara thought, juggling her parcels. A flush warmed her cheeks as she realized how very much she was looking forward to walking down the aisle as his partner after the marriage ceremony.
The past week had been so crowded that she had seen very little of the good-looking ex-sailor. Social affairs seemed to be at a peak despite the fact that July was the height of the vacation season, and she and Melinda were often pressed for time to cover all the events to which they were invited. During her lunch hour, Barbara never failed to comb the want ads in the hope that a suitable apartment for rent would appear. She had even inserted an ad of her own in the Courier, but so far she had not received a single reply.
Something had better turn up soon, she thought. With the ceaseless comings and goings of caterers and photographers, it was beginning to seem as if she would never find another moment of solitude.
Whit, she knew, had been busy, too. A huge mound of paint and cleaning supplies now crowded the Albatross's center cabin, and Greg reported that considerable progress had already been made in the houseboat's refurbishment.
When Regina mentioned that Greg planned to meet her downtown for dinner, Barbara glanced at her wrist watch. It was barely six o'clock. Several hours of daylight remained. Impulsively, she decided to stop by the houseboat on her way home, and de-toured around to the wrapping desk to request that her purchases be delivered.
"Have to rush-got a date. But I want to talk to you about something," Fran whispered as Regina left the shop ahead of them. "Call you tomorrow."
Wondering what could be on Fran's mind, Barbara rode to the bus stop nearest the Prescott home and then walked the remaining distance to the inlet. She found Whit on his hands and knees, industriously running an electric sander over the deck. He seemed glad of an excuse to stop working.
"You've accomplished wonders this past week," Barbara praised him, looking around. "With a couple of days vacation coming up, I thought I'd drop in to ask if you could use a helper."
Some of the weariness left his face and his eyes brightened. "I'll sign you on the ship's complement as soon as my fingers straighten out," he said gratefully. "What's your rating-able seaman, oiler, wiper?"
"Hummm. None of those categories quite describe my talents," Barbara said. "What does the bosun do?"
"Gives orders," said Whit, and laughed at her prompt, "That's for me!"
Over a strawberry waffle and coffee, they discussed the next step in the houseboat's face-lifting.
"I have a few more yards of paint to finish chipping and then we can go ahead and prime," he told her proudly.
"I'll help," Barbara offered. She carried the dishes to the sink and paused thoughtfully, watching the soap bubble up around them.
"Whit," she said, "Regina is worried about Greg. Do you know if he is still brooding about those stolen blueprints?"
"He has something on his mind; I've noticed it, too." Whit frowned. "I didn't want to say anything, but since you've brought it up, there is something else that bothers me. He's taken to walking in his sleep!"
Barbara almost dropped the plate. "Greg? Walking in his sleep?"
"Don't ask me to explain it." Whit shrugged. "I've been sleeping with one ear open ever since our burglary. I thought I heard noises several times before, but wrote it off when I couldn't find anyone prowling around. Then, last night I saw Greg."
"What was he doing?" Barbara asked eagerly.
"At first, he was monkeying around with the bulkheads-tapping them and pushing on them. After a while, he started pacing round and round the deck. Ten minutes later he came back to his bunk and stretched out, and he didn't budge for the rest of the night."
"Did he say anything?"
"Not a syllable. I trailed along behind him to make sure he didn't fall over the side, but I was too baffled to try to wake him. I don't think he believed me when I told him about it this morning. Said he'd never heard of such a crazy stunt."