Wedding Tea Read online

  We spent the first half hour discussing what A.J. and I had decided about the wedding. It will be at our house. It will be in the backyard. Our lovely back-fence neighbors have offered us the use of their backyard as well. They said the family that lived in the house before us often had huge parties, and they’d taken down the fence any number of times to accommodate them. Turns out, they’ve done it so many times, they have it down to a science. At first, A.J. wasn’t sure he wanted to do it — he has a real thing about reciprocity. But when the neighbor explained the reason they had even broached the subject was simple — they’re having a family reunion for their grandfather’s one-hundredth birthday — A.J. felt much more comfortable. The birthday party will be two weeks before our wedding, so the guys will remove the fence portions and leave them down until after the wedding. That will give us time to decorate. We both have really large yards, so it will be beautiful. I’ve already talked to Daddy. We’re going to have to move a few of the plants, and one of the flowerbeds is going to have to be dismantled, but it will be perfect.

  We decided to call it informal but not casual.

  Just as the designer pulled out her sketch pad so we could see some actual ideas, Teagan’s doorbell rang.

  I about jumped out of my chair.

  I’m more stressed than I thought.

  It was Daddy.

  He hasn’t bounced back from Aldo’s death the way I had hoped. He looks tired and sad, and I’m really worried. I know it hasn’t been long, and he didn’t have a chance to do any real healing after Mom died. Then Aldo died. I can’t imagine how he keeps putting one foot in front of the other.

  He was carrying a big white box.

  Please God, don’t let it be my mother’s wedding dress.

  I will lose my mind, and I can’t wear it because I’m most of a foot taller than my mother.

  I can’t cut up the dress, because everyone is shorter than me and if any of my sisters wanted to wear it, I’d have ruined it for them.

  Besides, I can’t cut up my mother’s dress.

  Even if she were alive.

  Teagan obviously knew what was going on. I wanted to smack the crap out of her.

  Daddy sat at the table, Teagan grabbing an extra teacup for him.

  This was planned.

  My heart was pounding so hard I thought I might just faint dead away.

  Please don’t make me insult my father or my mother’s memory. It was the only prayer I could think of, but I sent it up over and over again.

  “Child, I would like to tell you a story,” he began. My eyes were already starting to water, and I wasn’t even sure what was happening. “When you were no more than a lass, it was obvious to your mother and me you would be a tall one. Much taller than your sisters.”

  The room was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.

  “Your mother had always hoped one of you girls would wear her wedding dress. She was so beautiful in it. She knew any one of you girls would be the same.”

  “Oh, Daddy … ”

  He gave me his best let me finish look.

  “Your mother would never allow anyone to cut on her gown.”

  I felt better already.

  “But she never wanted for you to feel left out. So, when we were clearing out the attic after your grandmother passed, she found this and put your name to it.” He pushed the box in my direction.

  There was a note inside on top of several layers of tissue paper. The handwriting was my mother’s distinct script. I took a deep breath and read it aloud.

  Cara,

  Every garden possesses one bloom noticed for a longer stem. You are such a bloom, reaching toward the heavens with beauty and grace. My gown was never meant for you to wear. Love, I hope you will find in this fabric the vision of a gown just for you. If it’s not meant for your wedding gown, you will know what best to do.

  Mom

  It was dated right after my thirteenth birthday. Why would she write a note back then? Did she know she wouldn’t be here for my wedding?

  Teagan handed me Kleenex.

  Even Agatha was in tears.

  I pulled back the tissue paper.

  There were two tissue-wrapped packets inside.

  The first was a veil. It was beyond stunning. Carrickmacross lace. The bottom of the veil was scalloped with stitching emphasizing each curve. It’s all hand done. There were swoops and cutouts and embroidered Celtic knotting. I know when Price William married Kate Middleton, they made a big deal about Carrickmacross lace, but my family actually lives in the area, and I’ve heard about it all my life.

  I couldn’t take it all in.

  My hands shook as I neatly pulled the paper away from the larger packet.

  The second packet was fabric, and it was heavy. Embroidered, and the most beautiful baby blue I have ever seen. I was near hysterics when I lifted it from the box. How would my mother know? When I was only thirteen? How would she know I would grow to be a woman that would want so desperately to follow Irish tradition, to wear blue on my wedding day? I hadn’t even told Teagan.

  I’m not sure if brides wear blue in Ireland anymore, but I remember I once read a book in which the Irish bride wore blue to honor the tradition of her grandmother’s grandmother. That book changed my life.

  I never told anybody.

  No one.

  My mother knew.

  I haven’t cried that hard since my mother died.

  We had a nice cup of tea to allow me to calm down. Teagan had us laughing, and Daddy was smiling.

  I felt better.

  Daddy excused himself. Said he was pleased I liked the fabric — a larger understatement had never crossed his lips — and promised to come over tomorrow to help redesign the backyard.

  The designer took out her sketchbook and thirty minutes later, we had the final sketch of my wedding dress.

  More tears.

  I’m a mess.

  FOUR

  I SAT AT the dining room table with a yellow legal pad, making my notes. When things get out of control for me, I make a list. If they are really out of control, I sit down with a cup of tea and a pencil and paper.

  If it’s simple stuff, like errands and housework, my list serves as positive reinforcement. I like ticking things off so I feel like I’ve accomplished something. When things are more complicated, like they are right now, it allows me to clear my brain and make sense of everything.

  My list was all over the place. Not a good sign.

  The designer was working on my dress. She said she would need me to be available for a fitting in a couple of days. She’s working on Teagan’s dress, too, but we aren’t allowed to know anything about her dress.

  I swear if her dress looks anything like mine …

  Stupid thought.

  My dress will be stunning on me. It would look terrible on Teagan.

  I added several more things to my list. Work I needed to get done for Adeline. Stuff I had to buy at the grocery store so I could get some cooking done for Teagan’s future mother-in-law. She’s doing much better. The last trip to the hospital, they found a low-grade infection they claim might have been doing her more harm than they realized. Turns out, old people with infections show really strange symptoms. Some you would never attribute correctly. Like confusion and cognition problems.

  I made some notes on the wedding and things I needed to order. All my sisters are coming over for a wedding meeting tonight.

  It’s amazing how much a group of O’Flynns can get done when they’re into it.

  I’m wondering how many of the ideas we come up with will be useful for Teagan. I know she wouldn’t swipe any of my ideas for her wedding, but she’s welcome to use anything I don’t.

  How weird is it that I worried — just for a second — about her stealing my dress ideas but not my other stuff?

  Teagan has plenty of fashion ideas of her own.

  I’m beginning to worry about me.

  I’m not bridezilla, but I am becoming bride-kin
da-petty.

  Not sure which is worse.

  I’m also not sure why I’m doing it.

  I made a note. Maybe going back to the counselor is a good idea. Just for a refresh or something. They used to say there are stages of anger and grief and basically everything else, but according to some research I’m doing for a project for Adeline, they don’t think people really follow a pattern. They used to think you moved through all issues like the spaces on a board game, and everybody pretty much went through the same process. Now they believe not only do people not follow the pattern as closely as they thought, but most people jump back and forth among the phases and double or triple up on some and ignore others.

  It doesn’t take someone with a psychology degree to figure out people are different.

  I swear, somewhere in the last few generations, common sense has become a superpower.

  People are different, so of course their reactions and emotions are going to be unique.

  Once I got my list done, I started from the middle and worked my way up.

  The top of a to-do list is stuff that comes to mind quickly, and I find it’s always easier to remember to do them. The stuff at the bottom of the list is likely a number of things I’ve been putting off. Sometimes for good reason.

  I start in the middle and work my way up, so when there’s a lull in energy, I’m already at the top of the list where the easy stuff is. Then I work my way from the middle of the list to the bottom on my second wind.

  Lists are like everything else in life. My process probably isn’t going to work for you.

  Anyway, I was all the way to calling the girls to remind them there was a meeting about the dance studio, when the phone rang.

  It was Roland.

  Probably not good news.

  “We were wrong.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t Irish? You never start a phone conversation like a normal person.”

  “I don’t have a lot of time, Cara. My people are coordinating with the police force. Your friend Suzi may have stepped on a fire ant nest of perversion.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You need to call her and get her home. Her brother, too. Can you do that?”

  “Why? You need to explain all of this to me.”

  “I fully intend to, but I only have time to explain it once.”

  “Then how about you meet me at the studio in Old Town? They’re both there, and your office is closer to them than it is to the house.”

  “That’ll work. Cara?”

  “Yes?”

  “Make sure you set the alarm when you leave.”

  I hate melodrama, but Roland isn’t really the melodrama type.

  Maybe that’s why my hands were shaking when I called A.J. and told him I was on my way over. I explained Roland was meeting me there. He had new information about the problem with the baby monitor, and it sounded really serious.

  I made sure the phone conversation was over before I left the house so I could pay attention to what was going on around me. I know my limits, and driving safely while crazed isn’t one of my talents.

  I did a quick run through the house, making sure all the windows were closed and locked, and the doors were, too. I set the alarm, got in my car, and felt like an idiot when I made sure the doors were locked before I hit the button to raise the garage door, but I did it anyway.

  I didn’t see anything unfamiliar on the street.

  I got to the studio in record time, and Roland was already there.

  Suzi had cleared enough room in the studio for us to all sit at a table.

  “Roland, what did you find?”

  “Suzi, you were right. The man on the screen was not Grant.”

  “Thank God.”

  “But it isn’t good news. The monitor you had has a two-way camera system.”

  “Right. I bought it specifically so I could see Evelyn and she could see me. I didn’t want my voice to be this ghostly presence if I wanted to say something comforting while I was on my way to her room. I wanted to be able to see her whenever I wanted to. Have my eyes in the room without waking her up.”

  “Perfectly understandable. A feature easily exploited.”

  “But why? You said it wasn’t Grant. Who was it?”

  “No, I said the person you saw on the screen wasn’t Grant. It was his roommate.”

  A.J. interjected. “But you also said Grant confessed. Why would he protect his roommate by confessing?”

  “He wasn’t protecting his roommate. He was protecting himself. Let me tell you from the top. Then I’ll answer as many questions as I can. I need to be out of here in just a few minutes. We’re meeting some federal officials. This thing is huge.”

  Roland went on to explain that Suzi — and A.J. — had fallen headlong into an ugly ring of perverts.

  The one and only reason Grant, and his roommate Carlito, had focused on Suzi was the fact she was a new mother.

  “They use the camera on the monitor to capture images of mothers like yourself breastfeeding their babies.”

  “What? Why would anyone do that?”

  “It’s called erotic lactation, and it’s not as uncommon as you would think. I’m not prepared to educate anyone on this, just heard about it myself this morning, but from what my guy tells me, Grant and his roommate are making a very good living. You, of course, are not the only victim. Women believing they are in the privacy of their own home simply feeding their child have been victimized. This isn’t about nursing. This is about invasion of privacy and a large number of other criminal activities.”

  A.J.’s tone was cold as ice. “Will Suzi’s name be brought into this?”

  “No.”

  “How certain are you?”

  “Only my people know her name — as well as your household information — in combination with the actions of Grant and Carlito. All data referencing individuals and identifiers have been redacted from all records. Fortunately, there are enough victims available to create a case without mention of your family.”

  “Thank you. We don’t need to come to the attention of any more weirdos.”

  Suzi looked like she might faint. “How common is this?”

  “No one we have been in contact with has ever heard of this type of thing before. Erotic lactation is nothing new, but using a baby monitor to spy on women feeding their children is a new one on us. I’m not surprised by much anymore, but I’ll admit I was stunned there was a market for such a thing. It turns out there’s a growing and very lucrative market for this and other related areas.”

  “Leave it to me to start a new trend.” Suzi put her head on the table and cried.

  Roland was quiet, allowing all of us to absorb the information he’d just given us.

  After a few moments, Suzi raised her head. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been in our room basically naked. I thought it was just the two of us.” Her eyes narrowed “Wait a minute. How did they even know how to hack into the monitor? I’ve never brought him into the house. I was so careful to keep someone I didn’t know well enough to really trust away from my daughter. How did he even know what to do?”

  “Your monitor uses your wireless network. It utilizes Wi-Fi. It really wasn’t difficult for someone like Grant to hack in.”

  “Damnit!” A.J. was so angry his voice shook. “Why don’t they warn you about things like this? They put a sticker on a blow dryer telling you not to blow your hair dry while in the bathtub. They remind you cruise control isn’t autopilot, but they neglect to mention using the monitor could put you at risk for having naked pictures of yourself all over the damn Internet.”

  Evidently that thought hadn’t hit Suzi yet, because the moment it came out of A.J.’s mouth, Suzi sucked in a breath, and new tears started to flow.

  Roland looked uncomfortable. “I can’t promise you anything, but I will tell you my team is scrubbing the Internet as we speak. I can’t make it like this never happened, but I can make sure if those im
ages ever show up and my people find them, they’ll be destroyed.”

  Suddenly, Suzi sat ramrod straight. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.”

  A.J.’s concern brought him from livid to scared. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”

  “It doesn’t matter. As long as Evelyn is safe, I don’t care if the whole world sees me naked. I’m not going to focus on the wrong thing here. I hate the images being out there. It freaks me out and creeps me out, and I really want the people that did this to me — to us — dead. But ‘dirty pictures’” — she put finger quotes around dirty; obviously, pictures of her feeding her child are anything but dirty — “taken outside of my control are not going to make me crazy. I’m not going to let them win. If the cops want my help, they’ve got it. If that means the world finds out, I’m okay with it. As long as Evelyn is safe, I don’t care.”

  Suzi stood up and walked briskly from the room.

  Roland cleared his throat. “That’s a hell of a young woman right there.”

  Roland was right. Suzi’s stronger than I thought. I’m sure there will be moments, or even whole days, when her resolve dissolves, but I give her all the credit in the world. I hope I would be so brave.

  A.J. turned to Roland. “Does Gran know? I know you work with Cara’s boss all the time.”

  Roland softened. “Adeline is aware there was a security breach at your home. We have not discussed this portion of the problem.”

  A.J. sounded tense. “Our problem is solved if you caught the guys.”

  “We believe the two issues were unrelated.”

  I tried not to whine. “Wait a minute. We have someone try to break into our home physically and succeed digitally, and they aren’t related? How could that happen? We don’t exactly live a thug life.”

  “We believe Grant and his roommate Carlito have no relationship, deviant or otherwise, to the person that tried to get into your garage. The individual attempting entry was more than likely a known associate of Adeline’s grandson.”

  Roland looked at me like he was telling tales out of school. That’s what my grandmother would call it. She was coming to mind a lot all of a sudden. Probably because of the beautiful fabric from her attic.