Page 87 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
Lily crushed a eucalyptus leaf between her fingers, enjoying its aromatic scent. ‘It’s hard to tell with the smart glasses, but I think so.’
She pulled out her walkie-talkie. ‘Come in, Rainbow Soleil. Is the conference call ongoing? Over.’
‘Roger that. Conference call is underway. We’ve added a projector screen for a Zoom.’
‘That was meant to be for the movie under the stars,’ moaned Venus, running her hands through her hair and plucking out the pearl pins one by one. In a move that had Lily setting a mental reminder to come back for a recon trip tomorrow, she tossed them to the ground, grunting with rage as each one bounced off the wildflowers and greenery.
‘It’s not that he doesn’t care,’ she added. ‘Idon’t care. If only my parents had let me date that Italian toilet paper magnate … butno, I had to keep my dating prospects within the same vertical.’
Lily chuckled. ‘That is one problem we mortals will never share.’
‘True. You and that funeral guy – you’ve got the matrimony to grave pipeline all tied up. Diversification, as my mom would say.’
‘She would, wouldn’t she,’ said Lily, trying not to laugh.
‘Yeah, we are not alike.’ Venus sighed again, staring down at the makeup-smeared handkerchief. ‘I really did have fun planning the wedding, though. It was nice to have something to focus on other than the family business. And I loved what you did with the plates.’
‘That was all Mort,’ admitted Lily.
‘And the food. Spectacular – so unique.’
Lily bit back a grin. ‘Also Mort, although that one’s a long story.’
‘Jefferson should come visit me in Santa Monica. We could collab – he’d be drowning in James Beard Awards.’
‘I’ll let him know.’ Lily ran the toe of her shoe back and forth across the wildflower carpet. ‘How do you want to handle the rest of tonight?’
Venus groaned. ‘I can’t show my face back out there. There’llbe talks of a toothpaste boycott. I can just see it. I’ll be a viral joke. Like that dead-to-me girl. I have to leave before anyone spots me.’
Lily passed Venus her keys. ‘I’m going to stay here overnight, so you can stay at my place, above the wedding shop. It’s not fancy, but it’s private. Except for the grille downstairs – don’t spill any trade secrets if you’re near it.’
‘Noted.’
‘Do you need someone to drive you?’ asked Lily.
Venus shook her head and pointed to one of the fixed-gear bikes stacked in a makeshift bike rack (just in case the guests wanted to explore the grounds). ‘I’ll ride. The fresh air will do me good.’
‘Just make sure you wear a helmet, or Mort will be on my case.’
Venus wrapped Lily in a hug. ‘Deal. Thank you so much for not judging. For not making me go through with it.’
‘Of course,’ said Lily, who absolutely meant it. ‘I just want people to be happy.’
Venus flexed her left hand, watching the diamond mine on her left finger sparkle. With a sigh, she pulled off the ring and handled it to Lily.
‘Here. Can you pawn that for me and send me the proceeds?’
Then, donning a vintage helmet decorated with flower buds, Venus rode wobblingly off into the dusk.
Eat, Drink and Be Unmarried
Mort
The night had risen proudly, shaking the stars and the giant moon out into an inky blanket that twinkled and shone. Although perhaps that was Mort’s organic sparkling wine talking. And whatever had been in those cookies he’d accepted from Venus’s grandma.
As the night stretched on, the energy of the party roared, then ebbed. The wedding goers broke off into groups – raucouswoogirls flailing wildly in front of the valiant folk group; older people toasting snacks and making bets on whose marshmallows would catch fire; younger folks in the larger tents playing board games and snapping selfies; a PR team shouting about how best to handle the reputational disaster that was trending on social media. Gracie roved around with her camera, quietly snapping shots of the lamplit decor and the couples snuggled up on the love seats and beanbags – and definitely a few of the shouting marketers.
‘I have some stellar photos of your Grief Guys,’ Gracie told Mort as she came back around, sinking into one of the ring of beanbags that Mort and Reba had claimed. And Sausage, who was sleepy from treats and belly rubs.
