The Bride Wore Black Read Online Free PDF Page B

did you two meet?”
    “We were waiting at Edgar Allan Poe’s grave for the Poe Toaster to arrive,” Cat answered in a monotone, bored voice. Stacy waited for her to explain that, but she didn’t say anything else.
    “So, you’re at this grave…”
    “Not actually at the grave, you can’t get up close to it. We were standing outside the fence.” Her look of contempt clearly said Stacy should have known that a person can’t just walk up to the writer’s grave.
    “Okay. So you were waiting outside the fence, and just… what? Started talking?”
    “Yeah, I guess.”
    Stacy waited for her to say something else, but Cat looked down and began picking at a hangnail on her bitten-off nails. A tiny speck of black nail polish chipped off and landed on the carpet.
    So much for scheduling a mani-pedi and spa treatment with the bridesmaids on the morning of the wedding , Stacy thought. She turned to Cat’s mother, who’d been distractedly silent throughout the world’s briefest hate-story about two people meeting and falling in love. The woman actually seemed like she might be a little bit drunk, and Stacy fought the urge to check her watch and confirm that it was only nine o’clock in the morning.
    “That’s such an endearing story!” she fibbed. “Let’s talk plans. I’ve got all the notes from your initial meetings with our head event stylist.” Stacy flipped through the papers in her leather folder, pretending to read through the notes again while really just stalling for time.
    “I don’t know what my daughter may have told you,” Michelle began, startling Stacy at the sound of her voice, “but we are not having a morbid affair. This wedding will fall only a matter of days before the election, and we are not putting on a spectacle for the voters to read about in the papers as they wait in line at the voting booth.”
    “Too bad, Daddy already said I could,” Cat said in the same bored voice. “I wouldn’t even be getting married if it wasn’t because of him and his stupid election. So we compromised. I agreed to get married, and he agreed I could have whatever kind of wedding I want. I warned him about what I wanted, but he said he didn’t care.”
    “Your wedding will be written about in all the society pages! There are already reporters all over this wedding!” her mother shrieked. “ Southern Brides has already requested the exclusive, and they’ve offered us a six page spread in the October issue. I will not have your father’s campaign associated with a dead woman’s funeral!”
    Michelle had her say and leaned back against the sofa, worn out from the effort of having an opinion and trying to voice it coherently. Cat rolled her eyes and leaned forward.
    “Don’t listen to her. I’m still having my wedding, and I’m doing it my way. Black and red, Gothic theme, the works. And make it happen at the Blanchard House or we go somewhere else.”
    Stacy looked from mother to daughter and back again several times, trying to gauge whose opinion mattered more. She ultimately fell back on the unofficial company policy of making the bride’s dreams come true rather than any other members of the family, which was even more important in this particular case since the bride seemed to be the sober one. Deranged maybe, but sober.
    “Cat,” she began, trying to start the process off on the right foot by addressing her with the name she preferred to be called, “I’ll have some paperwork ready for you to look over and sign. Given the non-traditional nature of your event, I will need it signed by the stakeholder, as well. I assume that’s your father?” Cat nodded curtly. “Wonderful! We’ll get those drawn up in a jiffy. In the meantime, why don’t you follow Mandy to our dining room to begin discussing the meals and the cake? There are samples for you to try, too.”
    Mother and daughter stood to leave, and Stacy kept a keen eye on Mrs. Davenport to see if she would need to catch any antiques