The Lover's Children

Chapter 24 - Winter Wedding #23

JAMES

Since I’m excess to need in the kitchen, I leave them to it.

What’s next?

Help out in the gym…

The sports area is a standard enough example of its type. The main workout room contains treadmills,

cycles and rowing machines, along with benches, dumbbells, pull-up frames and the like. Most of the

rest is a single large space, normally partitioned into sections for dance and yoga classes, pilates, the

self-defence classes that Charlotte sometimes oversees, rumba and line-dancing.

All that has gone. As I walk in, the partitions have all been opened wide or removed altogether. Tables

are laid out in rows, Mitch and Beth spreading them with paper table-roll. Another series of tables line

one wall, stacked with paper plates, plastic cutlery and glasses. Richard and Ross are carrying in

cardboard boxes and crates of bottles.

At one end, the band is setting up. As luck would have it, they’d not even unloaded their van when

disaster struck at the mill, so for them, it’s no more than a change of venue.

Cabling and spotlights that I recognise as Michael’s exhibition equipment are stacked at one end,

Klempner up a stepladder fixing it into place. A battalion of small children is lined up close by, the tallest

ones nearest to his ladder…

He snaps out orders. “Lift it as high as you can while I get this pinned.” The boy who sheltered under

the table with him stands on tiptoe, stretched upwards to hold the cable… “That’s it. Now hold it there

for just a minute.”

He aims a finger. “You. What’s your name?”

The girl of maybe six or seven lisps her reply. “I’m Milly.”

“Alright, Milly, pass me that drill… No, that one, that’s plugged in. Don’t touch the switch.”

On celery-stick arms, she lifts the heavy-duty tool, huffing as Klemper stoops to take it from her.

“Did she really have maggots coming out of her head? Really and truly?” She’s saucer-eyed.

Klempner flicks a switch on the drill, the hammer-action I assume, and sets the bit against the wall.

“Yes, really and truly. Now move away.”

Obediently, Milly takes a step or two back, but another small boy, his face etched with suspicion, says,

“Where from her head? Just her eyes?”

“No, out of her nose and mouth too.”

“Yeah?” His mouth and eyes fling wide. “Brilliant!” He runs off, arms windmilling.

Klempner watches him go, then leans into the wall. The drill whirrs and clatters for a few seconds and

he backs off again. “Milly, take this and put it over there on the floor. You, Archie, pass me that strip of

wall-plugs… No, not the yellow ones, the brown ones.”

A young woman approaches. “There you are, Milly. Come on. Time for your nap, or you won’t enjoy

your evening.”

Milly’s face crumples to a mask of tragedy. “But I want to help Grandad K.”

“You’ve already helped him. Now you have to have a nap.” She looks to Klempner. “I’m sorry if she was

being a nuisance.”

“Not at all. She was a great help.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. Now, come along, Milly.” She takes the girl’s hand, pulling her towards the

door.

“Don’t wanna!” She digs her heels in. “Don’t wanna go! Wanna stay and watch. Wanna help Grandad

K.”

Still up his stepladder, Klempner shouts down. “Hey, you. Milly’s Mom.” He points a finger. “There’s a

stack of gym mattresses and workout mats over there. Why don’t you put her on one of those and lay

your coat over her.”

Milly’s Mom hesitates. “Milly, If we do that, do you promise to be good and have your nap?”

The tragic mask morphs to cherubic. “Promise, yes.”

“James…” Mitch appears at my elbow. “Even with all the paper plates, we’re short of enough to go

around.”

Hmmm…

“How about getting the kids to fold up napkins into cones? They can have their nuggets out of those.”

A chuckle by my ear: Richard. He nods toward Klempner. “Mitch, get Larry to put his team of minions

onto it.”

She snaps her fingers... “Gotcha.” … and strides away. A few moments talk up the ladder and

Klempner nods. Mitch vanishes, returning only moments later with a box of napkins. Two minutes later

and children are fighting for the privilege of folding napkins into cups.

Richard shakes his head, murmuring, “You’d never thought of Klempner as having a way with kids,

would you?”

“No. I wouldn’t. It’s certainly a unique way.” I huff a laugh. “I think he’s as baffled by it as the rest of us.

How’s it all going? Kirstie and Ryan settled in?”

“They’re fine. All the guests are safely here now. And it’s just as well. The weather’s moving in and it’s

getting dark. The snow plough’s heading back for the day.”

“I’m amazed we had the snowplough here at all. It was a real stroke of luck.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. I got onto Vandervoort.”

“You got the mayor onto organising the snowplough?”

“I did. You know that donation his wife was looking for? For the water park?”

“Ah-ha. You telling me she got her donation?”

“Yup. But we got our snowplough.”

“I think that technically, that qualifies as bribery and corruption.”

Richard winces. Rocks his hand. “Possibly. But it’s all in a good cause. And I was going to shoehorn it

into the budget anyway. But I’d intended to leave Vandervoort owing me a favour.”

“Okay, so you called in the favour early. And as you say, it’s all in a good cause... Whoa!”

Richard slaps his hands to his forehead, shielding his eyes against blinding light. So do I.

“Sorry about that,” Klempner fiddles with a control box and the light dims to a more sensible level, then

cycles through red, green and gold. Ovals of light spiral the walls as a glitterball spins. At the far end of

the hall, the band are abruptly under the spotlight.

Klempner climbs down from his stepladder, swipes his hands clean on a rag. calling out to the band.

“You should have power now.”

An electric twang reverberates, followed by a short guitar riff and another twang. “Yeah, we’re good to

go.”

He gives a short satisfied nod and strolls over to join us. “How are we doing?” Then his head jerks

down.

A small hand tugs at his trouser leg. A small face looks up. “I want to hear about the maggots.”

*****

KIRSTIE

Richard wields the key, large, brass and polished. “So much more appealing than those fiddling little

cards they all use these days. Michael has the right of it there.” Richard turns the key in the lock and

pushes the door open, standing back to let us through. “Mr and Mrs Dougherty, your Bridal Suite.”

The door is perfectly standard, but it takes the three of us to muscle my dress through the frame, with

its layers of petticoats. But once there…

The suite is beautiful.

Deep thick carpets…

Fresh flowers…

Champagne on ice…

Some subtle perfume in the air… Or is it simply the scent of fresh linen?

Richard gestures across the room. “The bathroom’s through there. I made sure there’s plenty of towels. NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

Anything else you need?”

Ryan, distress in his voice, “Richard, this is wonderful. Thank you. But, the guests. I should be looking

after them. They need to eat.”

Richard chuckles, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Your guests are downstairs being plied with drinks

and snacks, and are all now exchanging stories of how brave they were, and how all of them, each and

individually, saved the day…”

“… Ryan, you asked us to help with your wedding. That’s what we’re doing. Your brother is looking

after your friends and family. Michael is arranging… something… for the evening. Your duties, as

Groom, lie elsewhere…” He nods toward me and winks.

“… As for the food. No one goes hungry with James in charge of the kitchen. I have no idea what's he's

intending to feed your guests with. And I have no idea either, what the rest of the day will bring. But I

guarantee you that hungry guests will not be numbered among the problems.”

Ryan nods, then scrapes a hand over his face. “I could do to shave.”

“You’ll find disposable razors and gel in the bathroom. And Elizabeth brought up your cosmetics,

shampoo and suchlike, Kirstie.”

Ryan heaves out air. “I think that’s everything. Thank you, Richard.”

“I'll leave you to it, then. Michael tells me they should be ready in a couple of hours. They’ll call you, but

take as long as you need.” He slaps Ryan's back. “Cheer up, man. It could have been a lot worse.

You're going to dine out on this story for years. Your wedding has been truly memorable. Now, you just

got married. Why don’t you go help Kirstie out of that dress?”

He drops me another wink. “Calm him down, Kirstie. I’m sure you can think of something to soothe his

shattered nerves.”

“I’m sure I can.” I grab Ryan’s tie, hauling him inside the room, and throwing the words back over my

shoulder. “We’ll see you in a while, Richard.”

He chuckles behind me. “Enjoy yourselves.” And the door clicks closed.