Page 20 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
Lily
Floating on cloud nine, the only type of cloud that could regularly be spotted in the blue skies above Mirage-by-the-Sea, Lily pushed open the door to The Hot Pot, the town’s favourite purveyor of hot beverages and ridiculously decadent pastries.
Lily was making it a personal ambition to visit at least one shop in town a day, a mission that was turning out to be highly delightful, and a good distraction from the switcheroo, which was not responding to any of her spells, wishes or pleas to the universe.
In the past week, she’d stopped in at The Naked Bookshop, the outdoor (but not nudist, as a little sign warned) bookshop; Brolligarchs, purveyors of fine umbrellas; Nods and Ends, a hat shop; and Catastrophic Feltdown, a very niche boutique specialising in felted feline artwork that surprisingly did a roaring trade.
And the bodega, mostly because she was curious about how things were going with Derrick (cult-like, apparently – the man was selling votive candles with his own likeness on them).
Oh, and also the library for the small business owners’ meeting (where she’d met the Jaws, the resident fish), and the town hall (worth visiting for the bathrooms alone).
Her treasure map was fat with stamps, seals and stickers – her inner Pokémon trainer had been waiting for this moment.
As Lily stepped over the coffee shop threshold, a tiny caramel-latte-coloured terrier with one floppy ear and a tail that whipped from side to side like trees in a category-five storm bounded up to Lily, planting happy kisses all over her pink flats. Jenkins!
She stooped to give Jenkins some belly rubs and some head scratches. Then some more. Jenkins was a bottomless pit when it came to attention.
‘Lily! What’ll it be this morning?’ Dierdre, whose outfit today had a punk-rock Rosie the Riveter vibe, waved as she swung by with a tub filled with anarchically mismatching cups and teapots.
A spotted bandana tied her purple hair back, and her apron was thick with political patches that would scandalise Lily’s stern great-grandma.
(To be fair, everything scandalised GG Edna.)
‘I’ll take a pot of the Garden Variety Insolence – Angela was raving about it.’
‘I love a good rave. I accept rants as well. Pastry? All the ravers are saying that the lavender croissant is the way to go.’
Dierdre slapped the display counter, which was filled with an incredible assortment of pastries crowned with beautifully piped chocolate, cream and ornamental flowers.
‘Done. I’ll take some extras back to the shop for my clients.’
‘Ah, they’re going to a good home. All I ask is that you promise to share all the best gossip with me.
I live for romantic friction.’ Dierdre nodded to the bookshelf at the back of the room, which was crammed with well-loved romance books.
‘So does my book club. Next meeting is this Thursday, if you want to talk tropes and yearning.’
Lily’s whole life was yearning. ‘Sold. I’ll bring some personalised bookmarks – I’ve been talking to a prospective client about a bookworm wedding.’
‘What do I need to do to get on that guest list, huh?’ Dierdre grabbed a croissant with a pair of red and white decorative tongs.
‘Pick a room, and I’ll bring this out to you in a few.
They’re all perfect, but you know my favourite is the sunroom out back.
Views so criminally good I should be in maximum security. ’
Lily strolled through the shop, which was a creaky, sun-filled house not unlike the one that Gramps lived in – but in terms of decor, its spiritual opposite.
Every window beamed with striking stained-glass motifs, and each doorway had been painted a different colour.
The hardwoods beneath Lily’s feet looked original, and showed the passage of thousands of people over many years.
‘They’re from a local mill,’ came a drawly voice from behind Lily as she tested the floorboards beneath the toe of her pink Keds. Aunt Dot! ‘Their son and I went steady back in the day. I didn’t get a ring, but I did get a custom kitchen.’
‘Not a bad investment.’ Lily stepped out of the way of the kaftan-clad cinema owner. ‘Sorry for holding you up.’
‘Not at all. It’s nice to see a gal taking some time to appreciate the beautiful things in life, and these are beautiful. And it’s a tea house. There’s nothing urgent going on here. This place is all about letting life steep. Just like the movies.’
Angela’s bob waggled as she popped her head around the doorframe. ‘I dunno, Dot, things get pretty urgent when you’re trying to share one of Dierdre’s éclairs. They have a habit of disappearing when you turn your head.’
‘Always take the first bite. It establishes dominance,’ said Tink, grinning. She was dressed in a swishy polka-dot jumpsuit today – apparently spots and dots were her thing. ‘We’re heading to the sunroom. It has the best views, and the best board games. Want to join us?’
‘I do love a spot of Boggle,’ said Lily. ‘If you don’t mind me sending a few texts. Wedding stuff.’
‘Wow, you and Mort already?’ Angela waggled her perfect eyebrows.
Aunt Dot feigned extreme astonishment – she took her cues from the silent movie actors she loved so much. ‘You found your way into the heart of my piano man?’
Lily flushed the red of the velvet cape lining she’d been frantically trying to source for the upcoming goth wedding. ‘It’s just a client thing.’
‘Ignore these two.’ Angela gave Tink a jab. ‘They’re horrible human beings. Besides, we all know that Mort doesn’t do human contact. He’s like a bubble boy, but the bubble keeps him safe from emotional wounds.’
‘I get that,’ said Lily. ‘What with his line of work and all …’
Dierdre appeared with a rattling tray of mismatched teapots and pastries. ‘Are we talking about Mort?’
‘How did you know?’
‘Psychic. And we went to school together.’
Angela moved her enormous handbag out of the way (what on earth was in it?
Scale models of her property listings?) so that Dierdre could set down the jumble of colourful plates and teapots.
Lily’s was shaped like a haunted house, and the giant pot that Angela and Tink were sharing was a rainbow, with a shooting star functioning as the spout.
Aunt Dot’s was an art deco delight redolent of her gorgeous cinema.
‘Yes, Rainbowpot! Our trusty steed.’ Tink happily walked the teapot over to her teacup.
‘So, speaking of Mort, he and I on a missing person case,’ said Lily. ‘Well, mostly me, because he doesn’t know about it yet. But still.’
‘Do tell ,’ mumbled Angela through a giant bite of flaky pastry. ‘I love a good murder mystery podcast. The gorier the better. Especially when the quiet, keeps-to-himself neighbour did it.’
‘The neighbour, in the basement, with the kitchen utensil.’ Tink’s eyes widened excitedly over her spotty teacup. ‘Clue should do a serial killer special edition.’
‘Do you remember the girl from the movie night when Frank and Derrick temporarily died?’ began Lily.
How was she even going to broach this subject?
So, absent of all logic and evidence, Mort and I suspect that same girl accidentally caused a magical rainstorm that switcherooed our businesses, and that she alone can reverse the spell.
And yes, I did stand under the Grand Gazebo screaming, ‘You’re not dead to me! ’ until my throat hurt, but no dice.
‘Sorry again about the temporary death thing,’ called Aunt Dot from the next table, where she was playing Scrabble with herself (quite competitively, too). ‘I still think it was a photosensitivity thing. Bastien is still figuring out the projector.’
Oh yes, thought Lily, definitely a photosensitivity thing. Definitely not a black magic swapsies issue at all.
‘At least the whole second-coming-of-Derrick thing has been good for the bodega,’ added Angela. ‘He’s talking about expanding into the building next door.’
Tink frowned. ‘The old church?’
Angela sipped her tea. ‘There are no zoning laws against what a group of consenting adults do in their spare time. Besides, cults are always good for their lease terms. They tithe.’
Lily was beginning to wonder if perhaps the switcheroo wasn’t the weirdest thing that Mirage-by-the-Sea had endured.
‘But anyway, back to what Lily was saying about the girl from the other night,’ said Angela. ‘The one with the smarmy boyfriend, right?’
Tink made a face. ‘Ugh, I heard about the proposal.’
Angela made an even worse face. ‘ Everyone heard about the proposal.’
‘Not everyone can do it in El Ateneo in Argentina, babe,’ said Tink, smugly. ‘That’s where we got engaged,’ she added, in a stage whisper.
‘It was a good time,’ said Angela. ‘Except for the bit where I had an allergic reaction to something in an alfajor and was rampaging around the pharmacies begging for antihistamines and then the antihistamines made me a raging bitch and we got in a fight at the restaurant where that waiter was being a total dick because tourists are the lowest life form, and I almost shoved his pepper shaker up—’
Tink put a hand on Angela’s gold-bangle-adorned wrist, patting it soothingly. ‘And despite all that, love prevailed.’
‘Wow.’ Lily giggled around the mouthful of lavender cream that her croissant had dissolved into. ‘This sort of thing is why I do what I do. So, back to the disastrous proposal that did not end in loving matrimony, but has had bizarre repercussions that I can’t talk about just yet.’
‘Oooh?’ Angela tucked her bob behind her ears to show just how well she was listening. ‘I love repercussions. You can tell us.’
No, nope. As far as the town needed to know, nothing out of the ordinary had happened, save for the fact that Mort had discovered a sudden soft spot for poodle statues. Lily was not going to broadcast the switcheroo any more than she needed to.
Lily shook her head. ‘I have a very strict NDA. Anyway, I need to find that girl, and since the two of you know everyone …’