Chapter One
"Maggie, you've got to help me. Lily is acting weird," Ron Albert, Lily's soon-to-be-husband, says in a higher-than-normal baritone voice.
"Lily is weird, Captain." Once he and Lily started dating on a regular basis, I began calling him Captain. Everyone thinks I call him that because he loves boats. The reality is he reminds me of Captain Kangaroo. "She was born that way, and there's not a thing I can do about it. I'm her best friend. I've earned the right to say that." With coffee mug in one hand and my cordless phone in the other, I walk into the living room and sit down on my sofa, causing the dappled sunlight to splay across my black pant legs as the recliner stool flips out.
"Come on, Maggie," he says, followed by a heavy sigh.
Okay, he's serious and I'm, well, not. "Sorry. What's up?" Lifting the warm cup to my lips, I take a quick sip. The smell of coffee mingles with the cinnamon scent coming from a nearby wall plug-in. The aroma relaxes me while Captain tries to undo my contented moment.
He lets out another exasperated sigh that gets my attention. I can almost see him raking his fingers through his white hair, a habit to which I've become accustomed. And let me just say here that Captain has a mustache as thick as his hair. But who am I to talk? I did, too, until I discovered that waxing thing. My husband hates it when I talk that way. Gordon says I'm perfect. Peacemaker that I am, I'm not about to argue.
"I don't know. She's acting as though she's having second thoughts about the wedding," Captain says, pulling my thoughts away from Gordon.
That comment makes me smile. How cute. He's getting jitters that she'll back out. Placing my coffee cup in a coaster on the stand, I mentally put on my counselor's hat. "What makes you think that?" Fingernail clippers on the stand catch my attention, and I reach for them. There's a hangnail on my right pinkie that has been driving me wild.
"Last night when I told her everything was set for the honeymoon on Bermuda Island, she said she wasn't sure she wanted to go."
I stop midclip. This is serious. If there's one thing I know about Lily Newgent, it's that she would not miss a chance to go to Bermuda Island. She's wanted to go there ever since she heard about that whole Triangle thing. Twisted, I know, but there it is.
"Maybe she was just tired. She had to do two perms yesterday." Okay, that excuse sounds lame even to my ears, but it's the best I can do on short notice. Back to clipping.
"I can't help thinking it's more than that." There's no mistaking the concern in his voice. It's probably that going from baritone to high tenor deal.
"Maybe she just needs some time to relax. She's been busy planning the wedding and all. She's probably worn out." With the determination of a lion going in for the kill, I snip off that troublesome hangnail and set the clippers aside, feeling rather victorious.
"That's why I'm calling you," he says. "I know this is asking a lot, and maybe you can't arrange it, but well, I was wondering if you could gather your coffee group--the Late Girls, or whatever you call yourselves--and take her somewhere to talk things out. You know, sort of a weekend getaway or something."
"Um, that would be Latte Girls." Get it right, will ya? Why is it men always put the words late and women together in the same sentence? "You really think it's that serious?" And I'm questioning this, why? A weekend getaway sounds heavenly.
"I wouldn't be calling you if I didn't. Every time I try to talk to her about the wedding, she changes the subject to that dollhouse she's decorating," he says.
She'd rather decorate a dollhouse than plan a wedding? Frightening moment here. This is our call to arms. Lily's in trouble, and we have to do something about it.
Doggone her, anyway. My nerves cannot handle any more. First Lily's Internet dating, then our son Nick comes home--laundry and all--and insists that he is not going back to college in the fall. Now this? She has to marry Captain so I can get my life back to normal. Well, as normal as my life tends to be anyway. Besides, I know Lily, and there is no doubt in my mind she loves him. If I can see it, why can't she?
"Let me call the girls and see what I can do. By the way, what exactly is it that you want me to do?"
"Convince her that marrying me is the right thing."
Someone has the jitters, and I don't think it's Lily. But if there is any truth to his way of thinking, as stubborn as Lily is, I'd put that challenge right up there with obtaining world peace.
"Maggie, the wedding is about six weeks away. We need to settle this now." Okay, now his voice could pass for a soloist in the Vienna Boys' Choir. I'm picturing him in a navy robe with a sailor-type sash. Somehow the white hair isn't working for me--to say nothing of his bushy eyebrows. The Fuller Brush Man could market those babies.
Vacation spells freedom, and with freedom right around the corner, my adrenaline kicks into gear. "Okay, Captain. Don't worry. I'll see what's going on." I plump the decorative pillows on my sofa, already attempting to formulate a plan. Some of my best ideas come while I plump pillows.
"It's going to take more than a little talk. She needs some girl time or something."
Plumping stops. "You know, most men would be clueless. That alone should get her to the altar."
He lets out a nervous laugh. Think chicken before the slaughter. "Hopefully, you're right."
"I'll call the girls."
"Maggie, dive into bushes if need be. Do whatever it takes."
"I dive into a bush one time to protect my best friend and people just can't let that die."
"Well, you have to admit that was a bit extreme, Maggie. Even for you."
My back straightens. "If you want me to help you, you're going about this all wrong."
"Okay, I'm sorry. Thanks for your help."
"No problem," I say, softening a tad when I hear the concern in his voice.
As soon as we click off, I dial another number. "Hello, Jill? We have an emergency. My house, tomorrow morning at ten. Tell Louise when you see her."
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"Now, Maggie Lynn, you know how I feel about you interfering in other people's affairs," my husband says after brushing his teeth, rinsing off his toothbrush, tapping it against the sink for good measure, and putting it away.
Though I'm in our bedroom and Gordon is in the adjoining bathroom, I hear him pour mouthwash into a cup. His gargling resembles the caw of an exotic bird choking to death, and I'm suddenly transported to an isolated jungle, surrounded by monstrous plants and gnarled trees. The chance of him hearing me over his tribal ritual is remote, so I wait a moment before I respond.
He rinses out his cup then steps back into the bedroom. I half expect him to beat his chest and feel a twinge of disappointment when he doesn't. Instead he does another manly thing and picks up his socks with his talented viselike toes.
Too bad his colleagues at the law firm will never see this talented side of my husband.
"Lily is my best friend, Gordon. If she's having second thoughts, I need to help her." I spritz on some perfume and rub in the last of the cold cream on my neck, which, by the way, is so slick, it's a wonder my head can stay on my pillow at night.
"She and Captain will be better off without people interfering." It's cute how Gordon's picked up my nickname for Ron. "This is a decision only she can make, Maggie. Other people should not push their feelings upon her." After checking the alarm clock, he takes off his slippers and glasses, then crawls in between the bedcovers.
"Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen. Lily won't let us push her. You know as well as I do that if she thinks we're pushing, she'll back out of the wedding for sure." I remember well how my concerns for her Internet dating didn't deter her in the least. In fact, it ignited her passion for adventure. I crawl between clean, icy sheets. After my recent bouts with hot flashes, this is sheer bliss.
Gordon grins and rubs his jaw. "I guess you're right about that. Still, you always have fussed too much over her. She's your best friend, not your daughter." He turns to me. "By the way, Heather called tonight while you were at the grocery."
"You mean our married daughter whose husband took her five hours away from our Charming, Indiana, home to live in Illinois, that daughter?"
"Well, since she's the only one we have, I'd say she's the one."
I fluff the blanket around me. "I'm still bitter about that."
"I can see that."
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, she just called to talk." Gordon nuzzles next to me, and his goatee tickles my forehead. What Gordon lacks in sandy-brown hair on top of his head, he makes up for in his bushy, peppered-with-gray goatee. What a man. His cold feet press against the tops of my feet, soothing me. My skin hasn't been cold since 1998.
"So how's my favorite brunette?" Gordon gives me a squeeze.
"Okay, we both know that's using the term loosely, since I have a little help from my hairdresser."
"Hey, whatever works," he says, reminding me of all the reasons I married him.
"Oh, I meant to ask you, what time is Nick coming home?"
"He said something about midnight."
"Boomerang kids."
"What?"
"They call his generation the boomerang kids. They leave home and come back."
"How about we throw him one more time and see what happens?" Gordon says in a teasing voice.
Visions of Nick's messy room flood my mind. "Might not be a bad idea."
"After all you went through with the empty nest, I figured you'd be happy that he's back home."
I straighten around and look at Gordon. "See, that's just it. I've finally settled into this new life. You're working less hours--well, you keep promising to...
