I need to catch my bus to the train to get to Louise’s, so I bring my laptop with me and GoogleChicago wedding photoboothwhile I’m on the Metra.
I’m finalizing my two picks for photobooth so intently that I don’t notice the ominous shade of blue gathering in the sky until I step off the train. If that didn’t clue me in, the subtle change in air pressure does. I hustle toward Louise’s mansion, ready to repurpose my tote bag as an umbrella. The sky shifts from blue to yellow, which is really a bad sign. Yellow sky means electricity is crackling somewhere.
Fortunately, I make it to Louise’s house before any rain begins.
“Welcome back, Ruby!” Alma greets me. “Tea is almost ready. Louise is going to meet you all in the parlor.”
“Thanks, Alma.” My stomach drops at the thought that Pen didn’t warn Louise she wouldn’t be coming, and that this would—yet again—fall to me.
The parlor is empty this time, the yellow sky making the picture window look like a diorama of an apocalypse. Far out on Lake Michigan, small tickles of lightning appear like lens flares. Next to the window, almost blending into the bird of paradise, I spot an IV pole. It looks much newer and sleeker than the ones they use in the hospital, but an IV infusion machine all the same.
“Hi, Gem,” Louise says from behind, walking confidently with a cane to her usual spot on the chaise. She spots the IV pole too and squints one eye over her shoulder. “Alma!” she bellows. “Take it out of my sight!”
Alma arrives a minute later, handing me a teacup and saucer with a look of camaraderie as she wheels the IV pole out of the room.
“It’s pain medicine.” Louise sniffs primly. “For my back.”
“Oh—”
“Man, a storm is brewing out there, Aunt Lou!” Calliope whips into the room, giving Louise a quick peck on the cheek before slumping onto the sofa.
“I love summer rain.” Louise sighs.
Calliope looks around theatrically. “Whereisthe bridezilla?”
Louise snorts a laugh but stifles it with a throat clearing.
“She, uh—” I tug at my collar, trying to combat the impending hot flash at the thought of having to be the one to say this. “She couldn’t make it.”
“What?” Calliope sits up.
“She had to fly to New York to see her publisher.”
“Unbelievable!” Calliope says. Louise says nothing, but her stiffly pursed lips do plenty of talking.
“It’s okay!” I assure them. “She called me, and we worked out everything we need to talk through during this meeting.” I pull out my laptop. “I’ve got it covered.”
Calliope gives me a look that feels too close to pity for my liking. Deflecting anger at Penelope, I can handle. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me.
“Sorry I’m late.” Eitan’s voice breaks the weighted silence. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the beach, and I’m not prepared for how much tanner he’s gotten since then. It’s like the sun snuck out of the sky just to kiss him. “Hi,” he says, directly to me.
“Hi,” I say back, voice unsteady.
“What did I miss?” He sits down, and Alma hands him a tea cup.
“Nothing.” I try to clear the hazy stupor that his presence raises. The planning document is open on my laptop, giving me a script. “We’re talking about photobooth, hair and makeup, DJ, and florals today. I found?—”
“DJ?” Louise asks. “I thought we’re getting a band.”
“Yes, we are.” I try to remember exactly what Pen said on the phone. “It’s just that…”
“The Goldbergs have a close family friend whose son is a DJ, and they want to include him,” Eitan jumps in. I sit back, relaxing for the first time in two hours. “He’s a classically trained cellist, so Josh thought he’d be perfect to play during the ceremony, and he can DJ the cocktail hour.”
Louise shrugs. “It’s fine with me. Can we get a string quartet for the ceremony?”
“I’m sure Saul has some friends he can play with.”
Louise nods. “Alright, then.”
