Page 30 of Holiday Wedding
“Can you talk to Teddy when you see him? I don’t like those friends he’s living with.” Mom drops her voice into a scandalized whisper. “I think some of them might dodrugs.” She raises her eyebrows dramatically for emphasis.
I resist an urge to snort. I’ve seen Teddy’s housemates, and I’m pretty sure they’realldoing drugs. Mostly, I try not to think about if Teddy’s doing them, too.
“Why don’t you ask him?”
She waves a hand at me. “You know how he is. Teddy never tells me anything. I need you to talk to him.”
I feel sick at her words. I knew this was coming. She always puts me inthe middle between her and my younger brother. I draw in a deep breath, heart pounding with apprehension, and say, “You know what, Mom? Let’s not talk about Teddy. I understand it wasn’t your intention, and that you were in a bad place both financially and emotionally when Dad died, but I felt responsible for Teddy—”
Mom breaks in. “We didn’t have money for a babysitter. There was no life insurance and so many medical bills. I—”
“I get it, and I appreciate all the sacrifices you made for us, but if you want to know something from Teddy, ask him yourself.”
Dead silence, broken only by the chirping of the birds and the buzz of a honeybee over by the flowerpot. Mom openly gapes at me, her mouth forming words, but no sound comes out.
A long awkward pause before she says, “Fine, Gwendolen. I’ll talk to him.”
10
Friday, December 13
11 days until the wedding
Jenny
The New York flower market has been around for over 100 years, with some shops passed down from generation to generation. It’s located on 28th Street, and only early risers get the best blooms since most stores close by late morning. That’s why at 7:00 a.m. I’m there with Caleb, Dean, and Marjorie.
Gwen’s mom, Melinda, joins us. She blinks sleepily, tired from having just flown in on a red eye from L.A. I give her my tightest hug, happy to see the woman who partially raised me, considering how many hours I spent at her house when I was young.
“How’s Gwen?” I ask her as we walk through a light sprinkle of snow into a large shop filled with shelves and bins of brightly colored flowers. I talked to my best friend last night, so I’m caught up on her activities, but I’m curious to hear her mother’s opinion. Sometimes Gwen holds things in, suppresses her emotions. She does it because she wants to be strong, to not burden the rest of us with her concerns. I think it’s partially from when her dad died, when she felt like she had to hold her family together. She doesn’t understand that all it does is create more stress. We would all rather she expressed her real feelings.
“Fine. Excited and nervous for her presentation at the conference.” A shadow flits over Melinda’s expression. Her mouth tightens, and I sense that there’ssomething more she wants to say. I wait patiently. As a reporter, I’ve learned that sometimes the best way to get someone to open up is not to ask questions, but to stay silent.
Finally, she says, “We had a bit of a spat. Gwen and I…”
I nod for her to go on.
Melinda shakes her head. “She thinks I put her in charge of Teddy too much. Made her the parent instead of me.”
I carefully hold my expression neutral, to mask my surprise. I’m well aware of Gwen’s thoughts on this subject. We’ve talked about it often enough, but I can’t believe she actually told her mom. For years she’s stayed quiet, not wanting to upset the delicate balance in her family. But Gwen has become bolder recently, especially after meeting Caleb. She’s found her voice, and I’ve loved it, watching her come into her own.
After a moment of internal debate on how best to handle this conversation, I say, “When Mr. Wright died, you had a lot to juggle. I remember the long hours that you worked—”
“Exactly!” she cries out, nodding vigorously.
“Now things are easier, and your kids are older, so you don’t need Gwen’s help.”
“I don’t ask her for much anymore, just to check on Teddy sometimes. He talks to her more than me. I wish it was different, that we had a better relationship, but I worry about him. I don’t know what to do.” She wrings her hands.
“I understand,” I say gently. I’ve seen Teddy recently. I worry about him too. He’s seemed a little unsteady, a little lost, ever since he dropped out of college in Michigan and came back to California. “But that disconnect between you and Teddy isn’t Gwen’s fault, and she gets overwhelmed feeling like she’s responsible for fixing it.”
Melinda hangs her head and sighs. “I don’t want that.”
I reach out to give her arm a light squeeze. “Talk to Teddy. Let him know you care. Let Gwen off the hook. She worries about him too. She’ll look after him whether you ask her to or not. That’s her nature.”
A sniffle and nod from Melinda. “I guess. I don’t want to put added pressure on her. She’s already got enough going on.”
Marjorie calls out, asking all of us to come over. She gathers us around her in a loose semicircle. With hands on her hips, she surveys us like a general looking over her troops. “Today we need to finalize the bridal bouquet and the groomsmen’s boutonnieres. Gwen sent photos of the ones she wants.” Marjorie passes out a printout showing a variety of flowers accented by winter berries and boughs of pine.
