Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [71]
“Don’t have a freakin’ cow.” Traci took the steps two at a time, carrying an overstuffed three-ring binder under one arm, and glaring at her telephone as she repeatedly pushed buttons. “When are you people ever going to get with the twenty-first century? Jeez, how can I have a wedding in a place I can’t even make a telephone call?”
She dropped the heavy binder on the table beside the tray of mimosas. The table round, which was never designed to hold weight, began to tip. Bridget lunged for it, but too late. The candles, the plates, the silver, the napkins, the centerpieces, the tray of drinks, and the three-ring binder crashed to the floor.
In the aftermath, there was a moment of horrified silence. Then Catherine bent and picked up the binder, checked it for damage, and declared briskly, “Well, then. Let’s look at another plan, shall we?”
At seven o’clock, they left.
Calico was out; Apricot Delight and Hint of Spring green were in. Heavy hors d’oeuvres were out; a hot and cold buf fet was in. Peanut soup was out, so were crab cakes, so were asparagus, catfish, and anything containing goat cheese. A mashed potato bar and Virginia ham were in.
The only thing on the entire menu of which Margaret approved was Ida Mae’s fried chicken. The only thing on the menu of which Traci approved was the fruit.
The bride, after five changes, had decided upon a strapless shift of embroidered ivory silk caught at the hips with crystal studded rosettes and cascading to a half-circle demi train into which would be woven a faint ribbon design in Apricot Delight. It was imperative that the table settings and all decorations include an abundance of Apricot Delight roses, which had already been special-ordered from a florist in Richmond.
The bridal procession would approach through a set of three arches—surely they would have no trouble arranging to rent or build those—which Catherine envisioned decorated with cascading roses and fluttering satin ribbons, and would arrive at a raised podium covered in white satin—simple enough to build—and strewn with apricot rose petals. The buffet should be arranged on the lawn, and of course they would have to arrange for a tent of some sort. The porch of the house was far too casual and much too small for the table setup; but perhaps the interior of the house could be cleared of furniture and twenty or thirty tables could be set up there. The final RSVPs had come in at just under one hundred.
“You’re all invited to bring a plus-one, of course,” Catherine offered generously, “and mingle with the guests. Who knows how much extra business you’ll pick up!”
“But if you’re going to be serving at my wedding,” Traci said, eyeing them critically, “you’ll have to be dressed. I don’t want any clashing colors.” She handed them each a photocopied sheet of paper. “Here are the stores and the style numbers of some of the dresses I like. You can order them online, but you’d better do it tomorrow if you want them to get here in time. Shoes and stockings, too. No jewelry, and I’d like everyone’s hair up.”
Bridget took the paper hesitantly. “We’re not actually in the wedding party, you know. I don’t think it’s customary .. .”
Catherine gave her a long-suffering smile. “Every bride deserves to have things just so for her wedding, don’t you agree? And don’t forget your plus-ones. We don’t want the seating to turn out uneven.”
Lindsay smiled thinly. “Do our plus-ones have to wear Apricot Delight, too?”
Catherine loved Noah’s one-fold brochure design, with its classic charcoal sketch of the house on the front. Margaret was horrified that the nearest hotel was an hour away.
“Which brings us to the rehearsal dinner,” Catherine said at last. “We’ll be a party of fifteen—no, twenty, is that right, Traci? Nothing fancy—salad, entrée, and dessert—but I’m sure you’ll come up with something just delightful. I expect everything will go perfectly smoothly. After all, this is just a small affair. Nothing elaborate.”
And so, when they were gone, Bridget and Lindsay sat on the front porch steps with their backs to the