A Beautifully Planned Event
Honey was beginning to wonder if insisting on speaking to her mother alone was such a good idea. Although the Wheelers had given their heart-felt approval to her marriage to Brian, and even accepted the couple’s desire to be married within a few weeks of their recently announced engagement, she still hadn’t broached the style of the wedding and that—she feared—might be where they came unstuck.
Her father had mentioned in passing that his wife had been on the phone checking the availability of various venues and wedding professionals and who knew what else? Knowing that this was heading in a direction she and Brian did not want to go, Honey had made the decision to deal with her mother as soon as possible.
Now, sitting in her mother’s beautifully decorated study, she wished she’d agreed to Brian’s offer to her come with her, or at least to have arranged for Trixie and Di to join her sooner rather than later. Spread across Madeleine Wheeler’s delicate Louis XVI desk were brochures from a number of five star New York hotels. It didn’t take a genius to work out why.
The last thing Brian had said before she left to meet her mother was that all he really wanted was to marry her, and if that meant tuxedos and fancy ballrooms, and all the things that went with it, then that was how it had to be. She appreciated the gesture. She even knew him well enough to know that he would suffer in silence, should their wedding become a three ring circus, but the truth was, as she had confessed to Trixie the previous evening, she didn’t want that.
The realization had surprised her. She’d known that because of her family’s position, most significant occasions in her life would be celebrated in a particular way. Whenever she had contemplated the future, she’d worried vaguely how she would satisfy her family’s expectations without upsetting Brian’s more understated, simple approach to life. But in the end, Brian wasn’t the issue. He was proud, sometimes, by his own admission, to a fault, and stubbornly independent, but he loved her—more than ever since their reconciliation— and he wanted their wedding to bring their families together, not pull them apart.
“Good morning, darling. I’m sorry I’m late. I had to sort out an issue with a fundraiser I’m organising.” Madeleine Wheeler, perhaps more beautiful at almost fifty than she had been in her thirties, swept into the room. Honey automatically rose to greet her mother with an embrace, and after kissing her daughter’s cheek, the older woman drew her daughter toward the pair of pale gold chairs that flanked a low round coffee table.
People often remarked on the similarity between the two, but Honey knew she was not as classically beautiful as her mother, nor as elegant. She didn’t mind. In fact she liked the idea that she was her own person, physically as well as in personality. At five eight, her mother was just over an inch taller, her cheekbones were higher and her hazel eyes held little of the green that flecked Honey’s own.
“Now, do you want coffee now or shall we wait until the girls arrive?”
“Let’s wait,” Honey said. “I’d like to get a few things settled first.”
“Marvellous. Now, obviously, with a small lead time we don’t have a lot of options,” Madeleine said. “But I have been doing some research.”
“And believe me, Mother, I really appreciate your taking such an interest.”
“An interest?” Madeleine’s perfectly groomed brows lifted and her mouth curved in a smile. “You are my one and only daughter, it’s more than just an interest.”
“Of course. But before you booked anything, I wanted to have a chat.”
“Naturally. I wouldn’t dream of making a booking without consulting you and Brian.” The smile widened. “I imagine he might have some ideas about how the wedding should be?”
There it was—the perfect opportunity. Her mother might have very definite ideas about these things, but she knew Brian and some resistance was to be expected. Honey knew that if she made a big enough deal of Brian wanting something simpler, her mother would compromise. And then she would not have to take responsibility for disappointing her family. Brian had said as much when they’d first discussed it and again that morning before she left the apartment.
“Just say it’s me being my usual stubborn, pig-headed self,” he’d suggested when she voiced her uneasiness. “Let’s face it, given my track record, they won’t be surprised and if they’re annoyed, then…I can live with that, so long as you’re happy.”
“But you said you really don’t care,” she’d countered. “That if mother insisted on the Plaza Hotel or the Waldorf Astoria and top hats and tails, you’d go along with it.”
“And I meant it,” he’d said, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. “All I care about is that at the end of that day, no matter what it looks like, you’re my wife and I’m your husband. I knew what I was getting into when I fell in love with you. Your family and mine are placed a little differently in the social ladder.”
He’d smiled when she started to protest. “I know you don’t care about that stuff, but if you want to go along with it to please your family, then I will go anywhere, wear anything, eat food I don’t recognize and smile for as many photographers as your mother wants. That is a very small price to pay for the end result.”
She’d hugged him and they’d kissed again, well several times, actually.
And now, here she was. She took a deep breath.
“Brian just wants us married, mother. He doesn’t really care what the day’s like.” It wasn’t entirely true—he did care, but he didn’t mind—there was a difference.
“Excellent! I confess, I was expecting some resistance.” As she spoke, Honey’s mother drew a series of photos out of the leather tote bag that sat beside her chair. Honey’s eyes widened, as an array of dresses fanned across the coffee table. “I think the actual choice of dress might influence the reception venue choice,” Madeleine said. “They have quite different feels. What do you think?”
“I…I…” Suddenly, Honey recognized the timid, uncertain girl who’d come to Sleepyside over fourteen years earlier. But she was long gone, wasn’t she? “I want to get married here,” she said firmly.
“What?”
“I want the wedding here at the Manor House. I don’t want a lot of guests, just the people who really matter. I want a simple buffet and I don’t want a dress that looks as if it costs more than most people’s car.” The words hung between them and for several seconds Madeleine Wheeler merely stared at the young woman who was her daughter.
“Really?” she said finally. “You seem quite definite.”
“Yes, I am, and before you ask, this is me, mother. Brian really did say so long as we end up man and wife at the end of it, that’s all that matters to him. But I disagree.”
“So do I.” Madeleine gathered the photos and slipped them back into the tote. “So, tell me, how do you picture your day?”
It was Honey’s turn to ask. “What?”
“Have you menu ideas, have you thought about your dress, what time of the day?”
Honey blinked in surprise. “You’re not angry?”
Shaking her perfectly styled head, Madeleine reached for her daughter’s hand. “Darling, why would I be angry with you? It is your wedding.”
“But you’ve been doing all this research and making plans. I know this must disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me,” her mother corrected. “Honey, I realize how lucky we are to have the relationship we do. Considering my early parenting skills, it wouldn’t be surprising if you didn’t even want to invite me to your wedding.”
“Mother!” Honey cried, throwing her arms around her. “What a thing to say. I love you.”
“I love you, too. More than enough to let you make your own choices for your wedding day. I think having a simple wedding here is a marvellous idea. After all, Sleepyside and the Beldens are probably the reason we do have a relationship, and I will be eternally grateful for both as long as I live.”
Honey felt tears shimmering in her eyes. “I was so worried. I didn’t want to upset you, but I really didn’t want a big, fancy wedding. It just isn’t me.”
“Agreed. Now, can we start making a list?” Madeleine rose and crossed to her desk. “I imagine the girls will be here soon and we can start working out who’s doing what.”
Honey nodded and the two sat side by side, their dark golden heads close together, and began to plan.
“So, no matter what happens, we just smile, nod and agree to help,” Diana said as she and Trixie headed for the patio where they were to meet Honey and her mother.
“Fine,” Trixie said. “I’d pretty much walk over cut glass for Honey, so no matter what extravaganza her mother’s managed to guilt her into, I’m sure I can cope. Even if, in my current condition, I wind up looking a cross between a beached whale and a meringue.”
Diana laughed. “You’re still only going to be at six-and-a-half, seven months, Trix. You’ll probably find you won’t grow that much in the next three to four weeks, if Honey gets her mother to stick to the date they’ve planned. And at least it will be a tasteful extravaganza. You can’t fault Mrs. Wheeler’s style.”
“No. I know that. I just know Honey would have loved a simpler wedding, more like mine or Julianna’s.”
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Di said at the memory of Jim’s cousin’s wedding. “It was a pity they weren’t able to come to your wedding.”
“Well at least they had Greta on the actual day. Jim and I won’t be likely to forget her birthday.”
“I’d love to see her. If she’s half as cute as her brother and sister, she’ll be adorable.”
“Speaking of cute, adorable babies, where is Drew this morning?”
Diana and Mart’s son, who was now ten-months-old, was the apple of his parents’ collective eye.
“With his daddy,” Diana said, smiling at the memory of her two men together.
Trixie smiled back and opened the French door that led to the covered patio. Honey and her mother were seated at the oval table the Wheeler’s used for al fresco dining.
“Trixie, Diana, come join us.” Madeleine Wheeler rose to greet the new arrivals.
“I’ve asked for some sandwiches and lemonade as well as coffee, decaf, of course. I thought you might be hungry.”
“I know I am,” Trixie admitted. She tried to catch Honey’s eye, but her friend had gone to open the door for the Wheelers’ maid. Once the tray’s goodies had been spread across the table and drinks poured, she took the bull by the horns. “So,” she said cheerfully. “What’s this shindig going to look like?”
“The wedding is four weeks from Saturday, here at the Manor House,” Honey said, her eyes shining.
“That’s, that’s…” Trixie stumbled over her words. This was not the news she’d expected to hear.
“Wonderful,” Diana finished.
“I believe I’ve managed to surprise Trixie Belden-Frayne, detective extraordinaire,” Mrs. Wheeler said with a smile. “Now, that is an achievement.”
Trixie grinned at her mother-in-law. It had taken time for her to feel comfortable with the older woman, but they now enjoyed an affectionate, if casual, connection. “Apparently,” Madeleine continued, her eyes dancing, “I am quite the ogre. My own daughter was worried I’d force some spectacle on her for her wedding, when I know it’s not her style.”
“Oh, mother, I am sorry,” Honey cried. “I just know how you like beautiful things and events and I know grandmother will be livid and I know you hate fighting with her…”
“For someone who knows so much, you should also know that while I don’t enjoy fighting with my mother, I enjoy even less the idea of spoiling a very important day in your life.”
“I think a wedding here will be lovely,” Diana said.
“I am glad to hear that.” Madeleine reached across the table to take the pretty young woman’s hand. “How would you feel about helping me to plan this wedding. We don’t have a lot of time and your expertise would be a godsend. Matthew and I would be very happy to make it a professional engagement. We know—”
“No, no, no!” Diana exclaimed. “I mean no to the professional engagement, and yes, yes, yes to helping with the wedding. I would love it.”
Honey’s mother smiled. “What a relief. I was worried about pulling all this together, but now I know it won’t be a problem at all.”
“We’ll get it worked out in no time,” Diana promised.
Honey said, “Just wait until you see my to-do list.”
Trixie looked from one woman to the next and stuck her nose in the air. “I notice that no-one is seeking my wedding planning advice,” she said impishly.
“Well, you are my matron of honour. That should keep even you busy.”
“I am?” Trixie said.
“Of course, you are.” Honey stared at her in surprise. “Didn’t I ask you the other night?”
“Not exactly,” Trixie said. “I mean we started talking about it then someone opened champagne and everyone was laughing and toasting, though I was drinking apple juice, and…”
“Gosh, I wonder if that means Jim doesn’t realize he’s Brian’s best man either. Honestly, I’m going to need all the help I can get if I don’t have that sorted.” Honey reached for a sandwich and shook her golden head in disbelief.
“Are you sure?” Trixie patted her belly. “I wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want me.”
“Of course I want you. And Diana is my bridesmaid, well second matron of honour really, ‘cause she’s already married to Mart, which you know, of course, because we were all at the wedding, and…” Honey trailed off, seeing their expressions. “Anyway, I want her in my wedding party as well as my wedding planner,” she added hopefully.
Diana nodded happily. “Now, where should we start?” The dark-haired young woman had taken charge of the notes Honey and her mother had taken, and with their plates and glasses full, the four were soon getting down to business.
“Well,” the bride-to-be said, after a sip of her cranberry juice and mineral water, “we’ve decided on the time and place, so that’s a good start. And mother agrees with me about a small wedding, just family and close friends.”
“Good.” Di tucked a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear. “You and your mother and Brian make a list and I’ll make a start on invitations. Would you like me to try designing something myself?”
“I’d love that,” Honey said, “and so would Brian.” Her eyes sparkled. “I guess the next big thing is my dress.”
“That would help with style and color and the suits for the men and the dress for the matron of honor.” Di grinned at Trixie who had shifted in her chair.
“Actually, Honey, I have a suggestion for your dress.” Honey’s mother stood. “Not one of those photos from earlier, something else. Would you mind taking a look?”
“Of course not,” Honey returned.
“I’ll just be a minute.”
Trixie poured herself a coffee as Mrs. Wheeler hurried out. She knew it would be decaf; no one was serving her anything else these days. “Getting married at the Manor House. Honey, that is fantastic. You must be really happy.” She knew her friend well enough to know what it meant to her. “Brian will love it, too. Mind you, I think he’d marry you in a car park or on stage at the Met—he’s kind of crazy about you.”
“I can hardly believe it,” Honey said. “Not only are Brian and I going to be together in the one place, at last, but Di is finally going to be my sister, too, and Trixie, we’ll be double sisters. What more could any girl could ever hope for?”
“I don’t think I’ll tell Brian that you’re almost more excited about that than becoming his wife,” Trixie chortled.
Honey made a face. “You know what I mean.”
They all looked up as Madeleine Wheeler returned, a long garment bag draped over her slender arm.
“I completely understand if you decide this isn’t the dress for you,” she said taking a seat next to Honey. “But you see this was the dress I originally chose to get married in.”
“Originally?” Trixie asked, and the older woman nodded.
“I found this in a vintage store in Paris and fell in love with it. My mother, however, had other ideas. She was utterly appalled at the notion of my walking down the aisle in second-hand dress. I can’t say the dress I did wear wasn’t beautiful, but I could never bring myself to get rid of this.” As she spoke she unzipped the bag and drew out a long, fluid cream gown. Honey reached out her hand a touched the heavy fabric.
“Mother, it’s beautiful. It could almost be a Vionnet.”
Trixie had no idea what that was, but the look on both Honey and Diana’s faces suggested it was a good thing.
“The clerk in the store where I bought told me there was a rumour that the person who made this did actually work for Vionnet, at one time, but it was only a rumour.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Di said.
“It does kind of look like you, Honey,” Trixie added. She was no fashionista but she could imagine the dress and her friend would be a good match.
“May I try it on?” Honey asked.
“Darling, of course, but you don’t have to just for me.”
Honey shook her head and left the room, carrying the gown carefully across her arms.
The three women were deep in conversation discussing menu possibilities when she returned. They looked up as one.
Honey stood before them. The gown was a fluid cream column, cut on the bias, and clung appealingly to her willowy frame, its hemline falling to just above her slender ankles. She spun around, revealing a deep V back that mirrored the front of the dress.
“Well?” She asked.
Madeleine opened her mouth but found she was unable to speak.
“It’s stunning,” Di whispered. “You’re stunning.”
“It’s a teeny bit big around the bust, but I think I could fix that,” Honey ran her hands over the lovely dress.
“These might help,” Madeleine unzipped a side pocket on the garment bag and withdrew a small drawstring bag. Opening it, she produced two oblong shaped jewelled clips.
“Oh, aren’t they gorgeous,” Di said. “This mix of green and gold stones with the diamantes is just right for Honey. It matches her engagement ring perfectly.”
Madeleine carefully fitted the clips to both the front and back of the dress. They pulled the bodice in slightly so that it hugged Honey’s small breasts.
“Perfect,” Trixie said approvingly.
“Perfectly perfect?” Honey teased, seeing from the looks on their faces that they were completely sincere.
“Even perfecter,” Trixie affirmed ungrammatically.
“Do you like it?” Madeleine asked.
“I love it,” Honey threw her arms around her. “Can I really wear it?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Madeleine returned, blinking back tears.
“Brian will have a heart attack when he sees you in that,” Trixie leaned back in her chair.
“Oh, I hope not,” Honey laughed. “He’s the only one who could possibly save himself if that happened.” She held her hand out to her friend. Trixie jumped up and took it.
“You too, Di,” Honey added, and the beautiful dark-haired girl got up and joined her friends.
“That’s one more thing off our list,” Diana said. “The most perfectly perfect wedding dress: check.”
“Man, I cannot believe you guys managed to talk the Wheelers into a simple wedding at home.” Mart reached for a slice of pizza and grabbed a beer from the six-pack.
“Surprisingly, there wasn’t much convincing required,” Brian said.
“You underestimate my folks sometimes.” Jim took an appreciative bite of the pepperoni pizza. “They’ve come a long way in the past fifteen or so years.”
“Heck, Jim. I think they’re terrific, you know that.” Brian was anxious his words not be taken as a criticism. “But Honey and I both thought Mrs. Wheeler would want something on the extravagant side. Especially when your wedding was so low-key.”
“Yeah, I think they figured you and Trix had used up all the ‘let’s keep it simple’ stuff. After all, although somewhat old-fashioned, the traditional view in regards the planning and organization of nuptials is still considered to be the purview of the bride’s parents,” Mart said.
“You know when you talk like that I think Honey’s idea for your role in our wedding is sadly misguided.” Brian regarded his brother warily.
“I’ll have you know I make an excellent usher. I am suave and personable, good with names and faces and—”
“And not the person we’ve picked to be our usher,” Brian interrupted. “We want—”
“Dan,” Jim yelled, waving his arm.
“Yes, Dan,” Brian confirmed, “but why you’re yelling and waving your arms around is anybody’s guess.”
Mart turned his head and then pointed in the direction Jim was waving. Dan was making his way across the yard and heading for them. Within seconds, he had climbed the few steps to the patio and was seated with his friends—pizza and beer at hand.
“Excellent timing, my friend,” Mart said. “We were just talking about you.”
“Bemoaning my single state?” Dan asked, his dark eyes twinkling. “The girls, sorry, women, have already subtly, concernedly and bluntly offered to find me a date.”
“Hmm,” Jim stroked his chin and pretended to think. “Would that mean in order, that Honey, then Di, then Trix, have been interfering in your love life again?”
“Got it in one,” Dan laughed. “I keep telling them that if I can’t find me a girl as special as the Bob-White girls, I’m going to have to keep on looking.”
“An onerous task no doubt,” Mart observed.
“I suffer in silence. So, how are the wedding plans going?”
“About that.” Brian leaned forward. “How do you feel about being our usher? It will mean you have wrangle Bobby, among other things, but it would mean a lot to us.”
“I’d love it,” Dan said. “And you all know that at twenty, Bobby is a dream to deal with.”
“Maybe for you,” Mart conceded. “I think he takes his actual siblings’ advice with a grain of salt.”
“He’ll do anything Honey asks though, so the wedding should be a piece of cake.” Jim grabbed another slice of pizza.
“So, if I’m taking care of the ushering and our co-president here is unsurprisingly best man, what will Mart be doing?”
“We were just getting to that,” Brian said, turning to his brother. “How would you feel about being our emcee? Welcoming people, co-ordinating the speeches, reading emails or texts from people who won’t be able to make it, considering the short notice, all that sort of stuff.”
“You’d trust me to do that?” Mart asked.
“Of course we would. Neither Honey nor I could think of anyone we’d rather have up front on the night. You’d be great at it. But it’s not the most relaxing job on offer, so…”
“I’d be honoured,” Mart said simply.
“So,” Jim said with a grin. “Is that everything?”
Brian laughed. “You wish. I have lists here. Yes, lists plural, and no complaints from you, Mart. Most of them came from your wife.”
“Bring it on,” Mart said. “Right fellas?”
“Right,” Jim and Dan chorused, and Brian began to read.
It was all going perfectly when two days after they made their initial plan, an elegant white limousine pulled into the Manor House drive bearing Honey’s maternal grandmother. She swept into the Wheelers’ home demanding to see either her daughter or granddaughter—preferably both.
Madeleine had seen her mother arrive and knew she was in for a session of disapproval and remonstrance. She desperately wanted to plead a headache, or to disappear altogether, but she remembered her promise to her daughter and was determined to keep it. It was her job to protect Honey’s right to the wedding she wanted. She ran a brush through her hair, and squaring her shoulders prepared to meet the woman who’d given birth to her.
She was almost at the bottom of the stairs when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Honey, darling,” she said as she saw it was her daughter. “I didn’t even realize you were here. Your grandmother’s waiting in the morning room, so why don’t you run down to Crabapple Farm until everything’s sorted?”
Honey smiled and slipped her hand through her mother’s arm. “Why would I do that? We’re in this together, aren’t we? The two Madeleines?”
Her mother’s answering smile was gentle and warm. “I can handle this on my own. You don’t have to…deal with it.”
“It’s my wedding as you keep reminding me and you’re my mother, so I guess I get to choose, right?”
“I suppose you are right,” Madeleine said after a moment. What did she ever do to deserve this wonderful child? “Let’s go.”
Gabrielle Hart was never ever referred to as Gabby by any of her friends. Some people who claimed a close connection called her Elle, but generally she was Gabrielle, named for her French grandmother. The Harts could claim a possible link with Shakespeare, and Gabrielle’s own family history suggested they could be traced back to the French Revolution. When Honey innocently asked which side they might have been on, Gabrielle had not been happy.
At seventy she was still an attractive woman, always impeccably groomed and presented. She did not possess her daughter’s beauty—her features were stronger, her frame not as slender. But decades of care and pampering, and an innate sense of style, created the image of an impressive-looking woman.
When Honey and her mother entered the room, they found her sitting in one of the upholstered chairs that surrounded the small round table where the Wheelers occasionally ate breakfast.
“There you are.” Gabrielle’s tone suggested she had been waiting an inordinately long time. “Both of you,” she added.
“Yes, grandmother,” Honey returned, managing to sound calm. “Here we are, both of us.”
“Shall I organize tea or coffee, Mother?” Madeleine asked as she took a seat opposite.
“I’ve already asked that woman who’s supposed to run things around here. I imagine something will be brought in—eventually.”
Honey opened her mouth to protest at this blatant exaggeration and to add that Miss Trask only worked for the Wheelers part-time now that she was preparing for her role as bursar at Jim’s school once it was up and running, but the young woman caught the look in her mother’s eyes and closed it again. There was no point fighting over small incidentals—there was a battle brewing, and they needed to save their energy and allow the older woman to score a few points.
At that moment the door opened and Celia appeared. With two children of her own, she only worked part-time, too, now, but was always happy to help out in any way she could. With the wedding planning in full swing she’d come in to go through what needed to be done.
“Miss Trask asked me to bring this in,” she said. “And to check and see if you’d like some sandwiches to go with it.” She deposited a tray containing a pot of coffee with matching cups and saucers, cream and sugar. Petit fours were arranged on a plate.
“That would be lovely, thank you, Celia. How did the play go?” Madeleine smiled at the younger woman.
“Oh, it was wonderful, thank you, Mrs. Wheeler. Nathan remembered every line. He was actually very good; even the other parents thought so.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” Honey said. “I knew Di and Mart were going, but I’m trying to get everything up to date at work before the wedding so that Trixie doesn’t have too much to deal with.”
“Never mind,” Celia said cheerfully. “They’ve already got another one planned, and Nathan insists his Aunt Honey comes next time.”
“I will,” Honey said as Celia hurried out.
As Madeleine poured coffee for the three of them, Gabrielle leaned back in her chair shaking her perfectly coiffed head. “Aunt Honey? Really, Madeleine, there is nothing wrong is showing an interest in the children of your staff, but there are limits.”
“Not for me,” Honey said. “Tom and Celia have been good friends as well as people who work for us, and I’m very fond of Nathan and Elizabeth.”
“Next thing you know, she’ll be inviting them as guests to the wedding.”
“That’s correct, Grandmother.”
Gabrielle Hart closed her eyes and gave a deliberate shudder. “This wedding thing sounds more suited to a family living in a trailer park than one that can trace its lineage back to Shakespeare and the French Revolution.”
“Mother, please!” Madeleine took a deep breath, unsure whether or not to be grateful that the woman who had turned up on her doorstep was in long-suffering mode rather than outraged matriarch. “We’re planning a perfectly lovely wedding.”
“Though to be fair, Celia and Tom did once live in a trailer,” Honey observed. The couple had a small home in Sleepyside now and had for a number of years.
“You seem to have completely taken leave of your senses, young lady.” Her grandmother turned a disapproving glance in Honey’s direction. “I suppose she begged and cajoled Matthew to get her own way. I knew there’d be trouble when she eventually married that Belden boy. Oh, he’s handsome enough, but too independent. Too used to getting his own way.”
Honey and Madeleine exchanged looks, but it was obvious she saw no irony in her statement.
“This was Honey’s choice, and one I completely agree with,” Honey’s mother said. “Brian was perfectly prepared to agree to anything we suggested. He loves Honey very much and just wants them to be married. As for Matthew, he just wants her to be happy—which is natural enough.”
“Ridiculous. Our family has a position in society. A wedding of the only Hart girl in a country backwater? And why all this unseemly haste? Is there something else I should know? I honestly believe you have taken leave of your senses, Madeleine. What on earth will people say?”
“We don’t care what people say,” Honey cried, stung by her grandmother’s words, tone and innuendo.
“I can see that,” Gabrielle Hart sniffed—well emitted the well-bred, ladylike equivalent of a sniff. “Have you had your dress made? Though how you could get a reputable designer to come up with something so quickly is beyond me.”
“The dress is taken care of, mother,” Madeleine said.
“What do you mean, taken care of?” Honey’s grandmother asked suspiciously.
“We have a dress,” Madeleine said firmly. “And Diana, Honey’s friend, who is a professional event planner and decorator, is working with us.”
“The Lynch girl? Well, she does have excellent taste. You do know, Honey.” Grabrielle Hart frowned. “I do wish you’d call yourself Madeleine.”
“We’ve spoken about this before, Grandmother, I think that would be confusing, and I’m perfectly happy being Honey.” As she spoke, she passed her grandmother the petit fours and the older woman took one.
“If you had to have a simple, at-home wedding, I’d have been happy to host one at the house in the Hamptons—at least that will be familiar to the people we wish to invite.”
“That’s very kind of you, and I appreciate the thought, but the Hamptons while beautiful, aren’t my home. Sleepyside is.” Honey’s tone and smile were even, though her jaw tensed at the “people we wish to invite”.
“We’ve all been so happy here,” Madeleine added. “It seems like the right place for such an occasion.”
“It’s the appropriate place for a county fair or a cookout,” Gabrielle said the latter as if she were referring to something decidedly unpleasant. “A wedding, a wedding of a Hart, requires something a little more elegant.”
“Lucky I’m a Wheeler then,” Honey said, beginning to feel more than a little annoyed.
“Even they would expect something more than hamburgers and hot dogs and jeans and t-shirts.”
“Mother!” Madeleine remonstrated. “Honey’s ideas for her wedding are just lovely.”
“And completely disregard her family obligations.”
“My family approves of my plans,” Honey declared.
“You seem to forget all we’ve done for you. All of the privileges you’ve enjoyed your entire life. I didn’t expect this kind of selfish, spoiled behaviour from you.”
“Honey is neither of those things,” Madeleine Wheeler said, stung by this unfair criticism.
“As for you, I expected you at least to honour our family. I am so disappointed. I’ve dreamed of this day for years. Made plans of my own. Compromised my plans when I realised that my granddaughter would not marry into our social circle. But at least I was comforted by the idea of a beautiful elegant wedding—something we can be proud of…oh, dear, I’m feeling quite faint.”
Honey, feeling angry at the slight to the Beldens and seeing the hurt and uncertainty in her mother’s face, had had just about enough.
“Grandmother, I’m sorry you feel that way,” she began. “But these are my choices, not Brian’s and not mother’s and I—” she broke off as her grandmother placed a hand over her heart.
“Oh, the pain,” Gabrielle moaned. “I can hardly breathe.” Her hand fluttered and she slid down the brocade of the sofa.
Honey and Madeleine ran to her and Honey dropped to her knees beside the old woman.
Celia appeared at that moment. “What’s happened?” she cried
“Call 911,” Honey ordered. “And tell them to hurry.”
THE MANOR HOUSE LIBRARY NEXT
Author's Notes: This was one of those stories that Honey was fairly insistent about. She ignored my idea of a short, sweet piece, wanting a little more time— after all she and Brian took a while to get here. Without my amazing editor Dana none of my stories would ever be anywhere other than in a word document on my computer. She has helped me believe in myself as a writer. Likewise, all who read my stories have my heartfelt thanks. It thrills me to see people respond (both the Honey and Brian fans, and those who tell me that they might start to see Brian in a different light). Vionnet is a famous French fashion label, founded by Madeleine Vionnet in 1912 and very successful during the 1920s. She invented the bias cut and both this style and her choice of fabrics were perfect for a tall, willowy frame like Honey's.
Trixie Belden et all belong to Random House (they should give them a little more time and love, I think) and not to me. The characters are used with love and respect and no monetary profit is being made from these scribblings.
