Page 30 of My Stepbrother's Wedding
Mira’s face warmed. “It’s okay. We were able to fix everything. No one warned you about the mushti.”
“Everyone thinks I’m a fool.”
“Stop worrying. You’re family now. In Malegonia the most important thing is that we’re together, not that we’re perfect.”
Her words sounded novel, too novel to believe, yet I saw sincerity in Mira’s dark eyes. Maybe these strange, old-world people were onto something. Maybe staying close to your family was the most important thing, even if they weren’t perfect. Elizabeth and Will could never fill the hole left after Mom’s passing, but they’d come into my life to stay. They were family. These new people would also be family, and they were willing to accept me as I was.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you, Mira.”
She smiled. “I want you to ride with me to the reception.”
I smiled back, still surprised by her warmth after my mistake the previous night. “Okay.”
A few minutes later, Will and Irena stepped out of the church, their faces glowing, even as Armin wedged himself between them. He’d probably slipped into every photo. The couple’s parents followed. Elizabeth blabbered nonstop to Miranda, who nodded as if she understood, but probably didn’t.
A line of old cars waited to escort the newlyweds to the reception. I scooted in with Mira as a chorus of horns greeted the couple. They slid into an ancient Volkswagen Beetle. Its lime-green paint job looked older than my stepbrother, who sat behind the steering wheel with a sappy grin. The long frills of Irena’s dress filled the cabin so much I wondered if he could see in the rearview mirror. The engine revved, then failed. Will turned the key again, and the car started with a sputter of black smoke, the engine groaning like a woman in labor. The Malegonians cheered.
“Can that thing make it to the reception hall?” I asked Mira.
“Of course. The reception is only a short walk from your villa. We just need to drive to the lakeside.”
I nodded apprehensively. The Volkswagen’s rattle convinced me it could explode at any second. Will stuck his hand out the window and waved for us to follow. Our chorus of junk Mercedes formed an entourage behind the tiny car as it navigated the streets of Enkelana, horns blaring. Mira and I were honored to be in the first car behind the couple.
The locals stopped and watched the procession as we rolled by, many clapping and cheering. Traffic pulled over to let us through. Little children waved. Old ladies with smiles painted on their faces spied on us from their balconies. The bushy-faced priest from the Orthodox church spotted us and made a friendly gesture. We turned onto the beautiful lakeshore, just a few hundred yards from the reception hall.
The Beetle shot out a plume of black and stopped.
I gasped as we braked behind them. “Their car just broke down!”
“Don’t worry,” Mira said calmly. “My cousin said that Beetle has at least ten thousand kilometers left.”
I attempted to convert ten thousand kilometers into miles as Will tried to turn the engine again. The car sputtered but didn’t start. A second later Irena climbed out in her sparkling white dress and pushed the car. My stepbrother sat behind the wheel, apparently trying to shift gears. Pedestriansstopped to watch with open-mouthed stares that matched my own, some taking pictures. I got out to help, when another plume of smoke shot from the tailpipe, barely missing Irena, and the Beetle started. The bride hopped back in and proceeded to the reception hall as if nothing had happened.
“See,” Mira said. “No problem.”
***
We arrived at the stunning resort where the reception would take place. The white stone building sat a few yards from the lakeshore, rising five stories and dotted with cozy Mediterranean-style terraces. The googly-eyed lovebirds waited outside to greet the wedding guests as they arrived. Mira explained they would make a “grand entrance” once everyone was there. I followed her through a gorgeous flower garden into the venue, wondering if our health insurance would cover a “grand entrance.”
The reception hall did not disappoint. The interior was decorated in pristine white. Classical pillars supported the high ceiling, where chandeliers hung. Most of the room was an open dance floor, and a band set up instruments in thecorner. Through the windows across the room, Lake Achris glimmered under the sunlight, surrounded by mountains.
The tables were covered with flowers and plates, ready for the guests. Two thrones rested at the main table, apparently where my stepbrother and Irena would sit. When we entered, waiters in tuxedos carted out a giant four-layer cake. The party was almost ready to start.
I smiled and slumped onto a chair at our table. The staff had already set out a few appetizers: meat wrapped in grape leaves, fresh-baked bread, salad, olive oil, a cream dish that smelled funny, some weird spinach pastries, water, cola, wine, and a bottle of mushti. I made sure to avoid the mushti.
After thirty minutes, the room was packed with people ready to eat and dance. The band signaled they were ready, and the waiters hurried across the floor to serve the guests. Everyone looked ready for the “grand entrance” except for Irena’s parents, who were on their hands and knees looking under the tables. It was the first time I’d seen Miranda without the kitchen apron, so her crawling around on the floor in a silver dress seemed out of place. Petrush’s face burned red, and his iron-clenched jaw revealed tension.
“What’s going on?” I asked Mira, expecting an unconcerned response.
“I’m not sure,” she said. Her face did not reflect the carefree optimism I was hoping for. Something was wrong.
My eyes squinted, watching the bride’s parents shuffle across the floor. There was a rising sense of desperation in their movements. I wondered what the problem could be, when Mira jabbed me with her elbow. “Take one and pass the box on.” She handed me a container full of sparklers.
“What are these for?”
“For the grand entrance. They’re about to arrive.”
A smatter of shushes echoed across the reception hall. Irena’s parents stood, but the concern on their faces was undeniable. Through the glass wall near the hall entrance, I could see Will and Irena standing at the door, ready to come in for the celebration. The waiters pulled the giant doors open, and the couple walked in with bright smiles. Shots of confetti rained down as they entered the adoring room.
