The Matchmaker's Sister. Karen Toller Whittenburg
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of course, but successful planning essentially consisted of making and following a list.
A concept that was obviously unfamiliar to the wedding planner who’d put together today’s fiasco. Even taking into account the last-minute nature of the occasion—Miranda’s cousin, Scott, and his bride, Molly, had nearly married once before, but at the last minute and for reasons still unclear to Miranda, the bride had developed cold feet, decided she wasn’t good enough for Scott and instead of walking down the aisle, she’d hit the front door running. Miranda wasn’t exactly clear, either, on how the two had reconnected, although she attributed some of the blame or the credit—depending on which family member she was talking with—to her sister, Ainsley, who was, as improbable as it still seemed to Miranda, an apprentice matchmaker.
But however the reunion had come about, once Scott and Molly found each other again, they weren’t taking any chances and wanted to have the wedding they’d missed out on two months before immediately. If not sooner. Which Miranda conceded was a tall order for anyone, although in her humble opinion, that neither explained nor acquitted the person or persons who had arranged this event. The wedding that had taken place earlier in the evening had contained some major faux pas. Mistakes that almost certainly could have been prevented, even at short notice, if the wedding planner had taken the time to compile a comprehensive list.
The worst, however, turned out to be the reception, held at Oceanview, the Cliffside mansion Miranda’s uncle Edward called his cabin by the sea, where the food was going faster than the buffet line. Any wedding planner worth her consulting fee might be forgiven for the unfortunate incident with the candles—the fire, after all, had been minor—and perhaps there had been no way to avoid the mix-up with the flowers or to prevent the fracas between the organist, the flautist, the soloist and the cellist.
But there was no excuse for the shortage of food.
Well, no one would have the opportunity to mess up Ainsley’s wedding. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely perfect. The wedding of the year. And if that meant Miranda had to do every single thing herself, had to check and double-check every detail a dozen times, then that’s what she’d do. Ainsley, the youngest of Miranda’s four siblings, would be the first to marry and it was important that her wedding be an especially memorable event for the entire family.
For as far back as she could remember, Miranda had looked forward to birthdays, holidays or any other occasion that brought her parents home…even though they never stayed for long. Charles and Linney Danville were always leaving for one faraway place or another. Miranda had lost count of the many goodbyes she’d waved to her parents as they left their ancestral home, Danfair, and their children, Matthew, Miranda, Andrew and Ainsley, in order to help someone less fortunate in some other corner of the earth. And, as the Danvilles had an abundance of riches—much of it channeled into the philanthropic Danville Foundation—almost everyone was less fortunate. Which meant there was always someplace—other than the cliffs of Newport, Rhode Island—where Charles and Linney were needed.
Miranda knew she was fortunate to have parents who believed that great wealth demanded great responsibility and who, from the start of their marriage, were committed to making the philanthropic work of the Foundation their mission in life. They traveled the world, bringing food, medicine and teams of workers to benefit the victims of war or famine, earthquakes or floods. Their humanitarian aid had helped so many, brought hope where none had existed, made such a difference in so many lives that Miranda couldn’t begrudge her parents their choices, even if, on many occasions, she had wished for a more normal family life. One in which the parents were the primary caregivers instead of a series of nannies and an assortment of housekeeping staff.
The arrangement had made for an odd childhood for Miranda and her siblings—they weren’t orphans, exactly, but they lacked the presence of a parent just the same. Their extended family consisted of one uncle—Edward, Charles’s younger brother, Edward’s wife, Aunt Ellora, and three cousins, Scott, Emily and Claire. No one seemed to think any crisis could arise that Uncle Edward couldn’t handle, at least until Charles and Linney could make it home. And, as far as Miranda knew, it had never occurred to either Charles or Linney that their children weren’t perfectly fine—even, perhaps, better off—inside the safe walls of Danfair than they would be under the roof of their uncle and aunt.
So, for much of the time, the four Danville children had been left to their own devices…watched over by strangers who kept them safe and provided for their basic needs, but comforted and cared for mainly by one another. Since there had been no one else to do it, Miranda had taken on Linney’s role as mother to Matt, Andrew and Ainsley. She’d handled the little and large details of their lives. She’d learned to make lists. She’d learned to be organized. She’d learned to plan ahead. In the back of her mind, she’d always expected that one day there’d be an end to it, a point at which her parents would come home and take over the daily responsibilities of the children they’d brought into the world and she’d be free to live her own life without bearing—however cheerfully—the responsibility of caring for someone else’s children. But that hadn’t happened.
Until now.
Now that she, Matt, Andrew and Ainsley were all officially adults.
Now that Ainsley was going to be married.
For Miranda, the wedding represented a demarcation, a distinct separation between past and present. It was the signal for change, the moment she would feel free of the responsibility of caring for someone else’s children. She didn’t know why Ainsley’s marriage seemed like such a milestone to her or why she felt such an obligation to make the wedding as grand and wonderful as possible.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that she was twenty-nine, closing in on thirty, and beginning to think that life was passing her by while she took care of running Danfair and smoothing the bumps for her siblings and her parents. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Charles and Linney were coming home, which was always cause for celebration. Their time at Danfair had always been limited and so their presence had become an event in itself, enough reason to celebrate. For them to return for their youngest child’s wedding…well, in Miranda’s opinion, that rated an extra-special effort.
And celebrations, as Miranda well knew, took careful planning.
A concept that wouldn’t occur to Ainsley. She had never been particularly interested in thinking too far ahead. She went through life like a sunbeam, unconcerned about the details. And now that she was in love…Well, Miranda knew the task of putting together the wedding would fall largely to her. Somehow the details of her family’s lives always fell to her. Always had. In one way or another, they probably always would.
“October?” Erica Hibbard, Miranda’s best friend and most reliable commiserator, looked up from perusing the buffet table, a frown creasing her forehead, a cherry tomato speared on her fork. “But that’s only three months away. It’s impossible to put together a decent dinner party in that length of time, much less a wedding.”
“Try telling that to Ainsley.” Miranda searched the appetizers for something more appealing than a celery stick, but the trays were pretty well picked over already. There would, she decided, be no shortage of vegetables at Ainsley’s wedding. “She and Ivan don’t want to wait. They’ve chosen Halloween as their wedding date and, so far, I haven’t been able to persuade them to postpone their nuptials by so much as a week, much less until next year. No matter what argument I make, neither of them will budge.”
“But didn’t your parents just leave for Sierra Leone? Will they even be back before October?”
“They’ll be home in time for the wedding,” she said, not allowing the sentence to end with a sigh, although she knew Erica would have been very understanding. “Mother told me she knew Baby would be a beautiful bride no matter what the date or the weather. And she trusts me—can you believe she said that?—to help Ainsley put together a lovely wedding.”
“Have you tried talking to Ivan? Maybe he has some sense about the practicalities and can persuade Ainsley to postpone the wedding. Or at least, to choose a date other than Halloween.”
Miranda