Repeating that question set her off on a fresh wave of tears. Only Veronica could push a person into a full-on existential crisis with just one question. It took me more than thirty minutes to talk the wedding coordinator out of quitting.
Seriously, if I had known Veronica would go this buck-wild bridezilla before her wedding, I would have charged her my hourly rate.
But somehow I managed to shore Tammy up, get my hair and makeup done, and put on the strapless, gray, floor-length bridesmaid dress that had somehow managed to look good on both Tammy and me.
We were finally about to head out the door at 3:30 p.m. with Veronica looking like the iciest, most beautiful vision that had ever walked down a wedding aisle. Then Tammy wrinkled her cute little nose and asked, “Wasn’t James supposed to be here by now?”
. . .
The rain had paused briefly, and as we shuffled Veronica into the limo, she yelled at Tammy for not saying anything earlier.
“I didn’t think about it earlier,” Tammy wailed back, as if Veronica was actually still a human being who was capable of being reasoned with at this point.
I let them argue, while I hit up Paul on my cell phone.
“I don’t know what could have happened to him, ma’am,” Paul said. “His flight from France was delayed, but when it finally landed he was not on the plane. I am checking into it now.”
“Okay, just call me as soon as you know.” By now Veronica was going apeshit on Tammy, screaming so loudly that I was sure Paul could hear her. “Veronica’s anxious.”
“Yes, I understand. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
I hung up with Paul in time to stop Veronica from hyperventilating. I wrapped one hand around both of her thin wrists and I used my other hand to rub her back.
“It’ll be all right and he’ll be here soon,” I said over and over again like a chant until her breathing returned to normal.
. . .
As it turned out, I lied. We got to the church at four p.m. on the d.o.t. Then another hour and a half passed, before Paul delivered the bad news. When James had discovered that his scheduled flight from Paris was delayed, he had opted for another flight but then had missed his connection. He had managed to find another plane headed to L.A. and was able to book a seat in coach—Paul paused after relaying that bit of information, like it hurt him to think of his young employer actually having to fly international with the common people—but the plane was only now just landing at LAX. There was no way he’d get to Glendale in anything less than an hour.
I relayed this information to Veronica in the same tone of voice that military commanders use to deliver bad news to the family of a fallen soldier.
“What!” Veronica screamed.
I was sure the entire church could hear her.
Then she let out a string of curses, so loud and so long that Leon showed up at the door to the back room where we were waiting.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, with a worried look on his face.
Veronica broke off cursing, and stared at him with cold, brittle eyes. “No, everything is not okay, you undereducated, ape ex-con. My brother is not here yet, and I want to cry, but I can’t, because there’s no one here to reapply my makeup.”
Leon looked both hurt and confused.
“Um, could you tell Congressman Farrell to get in position, and also grab one of Nicky’s male friends from the audience?” I said. “Anyone who’s wearing a plain black tux, with no colors, and tell him to come back here?”
Veronica was already shaking her head as he left. “No, we can’t do this without my brother.”
I pulled her to her feet and started adjusting her veil. “We’re going to have to. These people have already been waiting for an hour and a half. That’s a long time, even for a black wedding.”
“But it won’t be perfect without him.” Veronica’s voice sounded small now, like the little girl she had probably never allowed herself to be.
“Sure it will,” I answered with a gentle smile.