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1012 Words
“Thank you. Quinn, will you please put me in touch with your contact at the church so I can make arrangements for flowers, music, and the other ceremony details?”
“Aye.”
“What about the guest list? Who’s handling that?”
I get a bunch of blank stares in response to that question.
Seriously, how are men in charge of anything? They’re totally incompetent with logistics. Did they think we’d send out carrier pigeons?
Trying to rein in my temper, I say, “How many people does the church hold?”
“Four hundred max,” says Quinn.
“So we’ll say two hundred per side, is that fair?”
Gianni protests, “We’ll need more than that!”
“Why, if you have such a small family?”
Gianni looks at Quinn with his brows drawn together. “Who said we have a small family?”
When Quinn sends me a pointed, disapproving glare, I smile. “I might’ve fibbed about how many relatives we have.”
“Among other things. Are you a pathological liar, or is it more like a hobby?”
“It’s closer to a protective evolutionary adaptation, like the stripes on a tiger.”
After a beat, he says, “You live in a jungle, you learn to camouflage yourself.”
I shrug. “Survival of the fittest and all that.”
He says darkly, “Aye. And you’re one bloody fit tiger, aren’t you, woman?”
Leo and Gianni are looking at us like we’re two psychiatric patients babbling to each other in a padded cell.
Ignoring them, I say, “So two hundred a side. I’ll handle the invitations for our side. I trust you have someone you can delegate that task to for yours?”
Looking pensive, Quinn nods.
“Good. Any suggestions where you’d like the rehearsal dinner to be held? I’m not familiar with Boston.”
“I know a place.”
“We’ll keep the list for the dinner limited to the immediate families and whoever’s in the wedding party, so it doesn’t have to be as big as the
church. What else?” I think for a moment. “Marriage license.”
Quinn says, “It’s already taken care of.”
“What about the wedding reception? Where will that be?” More blank looks.
“You know what? Leave it to me. I’ll find somewhere close to the church that can hold four hundred gangsters and has good security. Maybe there’s a federal prison nearby.”
Quinn shakes his head. “Let me handle that. I know someone who can put together big events on short notice.” He pauses. A crack appears in his stormy demeanor. His smile is faint, but it’s there. “She’s a boss.
Reminds me a lot of you, actually.”
“Really? She runs a zoo, too?”
“Aye. Keeps all us monkeys in line.”
“I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about. What about the ring?”
Gianni and Leo look at Quinn, who’s looking at me with his brows drawn together.
“What about it?”
As if I’m speaking to a toddler, I say with exaggerated patience, “You’ll purchase one, I assume?”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose? Do you want everyone laughing at you during the part in the ceremony where you should be putting a ring on your bride’s finger, but you can’t because you forgot to buy her one?”
He looks at the ceiling, as if calling on a higher power for patience. Then he scowls at me again. “I’ll buy a ring.”
“A nice one,” I insist. “Not just a simple gold band. Make sure it has diamonds.”
Leaning back in his chair, he crosses one leg over the other and gazes at me in silent, tight-lipped fury.
Finally, his teeth gritted, he says, “Any particular carat size you’d like, Madam Queen?”
My smile is so sweet, it could cause cancer. “The bigger the better. She’ll need something to show off to her friends, and it certainly isn’t you.”
His look turns black. The thunderclouds over his head start to boil.
I’m about to move on to the next item on my list when he says suddenly, “You’ll come with me to pick it out.”
I stop stirring the carbonara sauce to grimace at him. “It’s too personal. You have to choose something you think she’d like.”
A muscle in his jaw flexes. He stares at me in brooding silence, then says gruffly, “I don’t know what she bloody likes, do I?”
“For God’s sake, it’s not rocket science. Just pick out a pretty ring!”
Seeing that Quinn’s about to become unhinged, Gianni snaps, “You’ll go with him. It’s decided.”
“First thing in the morning,” agrees Quinn darkly.
A judge handing a prisoner a death sentence couldn’t sound more threatening.
“Fine. What time should I expect you?”
He snaps, “I’m staying here tonight!”
Fed up with his bearish attitude, I say flatly, “What a treat.”
I lower the heat under the pot and remove my apron. Then I put together a plate of spaghetti and sauce for Lili, along with a slice of the garlic bread that came out of the oven just before they walked in.
I turn away and head toward the door. Gianni looks at me quizzically.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking your daughter her dinner and delivering the news about her new wedding date, which you hadn’t gotten around to badgering me into yet.”
He’s aghast. “What about our dinners?”
“None of your arms are broken. Help yourselves.”
I feel Quinn’s eyes burning holes into my back as I walk out.
When I get upstairs, I knock lightly on Lili’s closed bedroom door. “It’s me. I thought you might be hungry.”
- Writer
