Page 39 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)

Check on Mame

Groceries

Laundry

Pay bills

Sleep!

Ranney

One week later

Parking was always tricky near her mother’s condo in Newton. Ranney cruised slowly down the street, alert for anyone about to pull out. This was a cutthroat business, and she kept a sharp eye on the cars ahead of and behind her. On the opposite side of the street, a turn signal flashed.

“Damn,” she said aloud, but there was no way to reverse direction and snag the spot.

A car had stopped behind the departing vehicle, anyway.

She noticed that it was a tan and black Mini at the same moment that she recognized it as Nessa’s car, with Nessa at the wheel.

But she was unable to process this because up ahead, the rear lights on a Jeep suddenly came on and she knew her opportunity had arrived.

As quickly as possible, she maneuvered her beloved Audi into the barely big-enough space.

Having spent most of her life in and around Boston, this didn’t require much thought; she snorted whenever she saw an ad for the new cars featuring crab-wise automated parking, tires that rotated forty-five degrees. Why not just learn how to do it?

Mission accomplished, she jumped out and scanned the street for her daughter. Nessa had almost reached the front walk to Mame’s.

“Nessa!” she called, waving her arm over her head. “Ness!”

Nessa took two more steps before giving up and turning to wait for Ranney to catch up. She was wearing high-waisted, wide-leg jeans, and she took the moment to adjust her belt. Ranney’s own jeans suddenly felt uncomfortably tight around her legs.

“Good timing!” she said brightly. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have picked you up.”

Nessa smiled thinly. “I was in the neighborhood.”

They reached the front door and Nessa pressed the doorbell.

“I wish…” Ranney started, biting her lip, but then the door swung open.

“Well, look who’s here! It’s Thelma and Louise!” Charlene, Mame’s housekeeper and reluctant companion, cracked herself up.

“Very funny, Charlene. Where’s Mame?” Ranney asked.

“It’s five o’clock, or almost. Where do you think she is?

Sitting out on the terrace, waiting for her cocktail and those cheese straws you brought last time.

” Charlene headed for the kitchen and Ranney and Nessa followed her.

“She was worried, you know, when we couldn’t get in touch with you. We both were.”

“I know,” Ranney said remorsefully. “I’m so sorry. A lot was happening.”

Nessa made a sound.

She was mastering the art of the snort.

“You want one of these?” Charlene indicated the martini sitting ready on a tray. She opened the package of cheese straws and added a dozen or so to the plate.

“A little strong for me, but thanks,” Ranney replied, and Nessa shook her head. Taking a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator, Ranney filled three glasses. “I think you should join us, Charlene. Please.”

“Hmm,” was the neutral reply, but Ranney knew the actual meaning was, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

Charlene led the way out onto the terrace, where Mame sat in the late afternoon shade. She loved her garden, not that she actually hoed or weeded or transplanted. She was more of a conceptual gardener:

She researched and designed and supervised, but she did not dig.

It was a formal plan, vaguely French and accordingly high maintenance, but there was a symmetry to the layout and a simplicity to the plantings that made it peaceful and relaxed.

Nessa loved it. She had spent countless hours playing there as a little girl and to her it was still magical.

She took a deep breath, then leaned down and kissed her grandmother on the cheek.

Ranney had carried the tray out and when she had set it down, she kissed the other cheek.

Mame accepted their greetings with equanimity, then took note of Charlene standing off to the side, glass of wine in her hand.

“Did you need a witness?” she asked Ranney acerbically.

“Don’t be silly. I just owe an apology to everyone who was worried about me this week.”

“ I wasn’t worried,” Charlene said. “I know you can take care of yourself. But no one listens to me .”

“Of course I listen to you,” Mame snapped. “It’s a small condo. How can I avoid it?”

“All right,” Ranney jumped in. “Let’s just have our nice drinks and enjoy each other’s company and I’ll tell you what’s been going on.”

Nessa’s tiny eye roll was imperceptible to everyone but Ranney, who chose to ignore it.

“So you all know that I went to Idaho for work, but I got diverted to Las Vegas due to a medical emergency.”

“How was the weather, dear?” Mame enquired neutrally.

“Extremely hot.”

Nessa choked. Ranney glared. Nessa held up her cheese straw as a lame excuse.

“Tell us all about it,” Mame continued, oblivious. “Do you know, I’ve never been to Las Vegas. I must be the only one in the world. Charlene, have you been there?”

“Now, what would I do in a place like that? And who’s going to take care of things here if I go flying off to gamble away my paycheck?” Lowering her voice, she added, “Not that that would take long.”

“If you need a vacation, by all means, take one,” Mame said tartly. “I can order my groceries on the computer now, it’s called, I don’t know, Cartiology or something. And I can call for a ride if I need one. Go! Stay as long as you like.”

“You can’t order a dry martini with stuffed olives online, and the senior van isn’t going to pick you up in a Mercedes,” Charlene shot back.

“And they’re off,” Nessa muttered, but they were all used to this. The bickering kept Mame and Charlene both on their toes, stimulating their brains like an interactive Wordle. They adored and took care of each other, but neither would dream of saying it out loud.

“So the trip was more challenging than usual,” Ranney continued as if she had never been interrupted. “What happened was, the plane hit turbulence and the groom fell and broke his arm, and that was how we ended up in Las Vegas in the first place.”

“Oh, dear. Is he one of those people who simply refuse to do as told? The stewardess says to sit down and fasten your seat belt and they stand up and walk around?”

Ranney was losing control of the narrative again. “It wasn’t that kind of flight. It was a private jet.”

Mame’s face lit up. Clearly, another conversational detour was ahead. “A private jet! How chic! What was it like? Did they serve Champagne?”

“Well, yes,” Ranney conceded, smiling. “Vintage.” Who doesn’t love to tell a good story to a rapt audience?

“Rows of seats, or like a living room?” Mame pursued.

“Living room. Conversation areas, and tables. A lot of beige leather.”

“Just as I always imagined! Your father did very well, and we had a very nice life, but nothing like that!”

“It was a short flight, as it turned out. After the accident, we made an emergency landing and the groom’s brother went to the hospital with him.

There was nothing to do but wait, so the groom’s cousin–whom I’d met before–thought it would be fun to take a look around. He sort of insisted, actually.”

Nessa, who was examining her manicure, arched one eyebrow but said nothing.

“So you called for a van and you all went on a tour? At least that gave everyone something to do while you waited.”

“It was, ah, just the two of us.”

Nessa now shifted impatiently in her seat, as if she were sitting on something sharp that had suddenly poked into her. Charlene began to look interested.

Ranney forged ahead. “He–Tom, the cousin–found an Uber driver who was willing to give us a tour. A nice young man from Greece, very well educated, building a new life here with his wife. Obstetrician wife. It was interesting to see something besides casinos and convention centers.”

“Travel is broadening, as they say,” Mame said agreeably.

“No one could reach you.” Nessa’s tone was flat. “No one at the office knew where you were, and the rest of the party finally went on without you. The groom's cousin and the representative of Wedding Protectors were MIA. Together.”

“Our phones had died, but we didn’t realize it. Crazy, huh?”

Nessa stared at her. “Crazy.”

“When we got back to the airport, we realized what had happened, but it was too late to do anything, so we got hotel rooms and went to sleep. Then we went to the hospital first thing in the morning. But in the meantime, Tom had gotten a message that he was short-listed for a huge architectural prize. His firm even offered him a partnership, just for being considered for it! There was just this one glitch, because it’s a prize for American architecture, and he’s a British citizen. ”

“With a British accent,” Nessa pointed out unnecessarily.

Charlene's head swiveled between Ranney and Nessa like she was watching a ping-pong game.

“He was planning to apply for a dual passport because his mother was American, but he hadn’t done much about it yet–he only just moved here recently.

And this prize, it’s like a Guggenheim or a MacArthur grant, you can’t just let it slip away due to a technicality!

So I was also trying to think of a solution to his problem. ”

Another snort from Nessa. “Problem solver that you are.”

Even Mame was now picking up on the tension, and she looked at her granddaughter with a puzzled expression.

“After the groom was out of surgery and his fiancée had arrived, I felt comfortable going on to the event in Idaho. If they needed any help, Nessa was still there."

"I only went to track you down!" Nessa protested.

Ranney continued. "I was planning to rent a car and drive, but Tom said it didn’t make sense for us both to drive to the same destination, and that nice Uber driver was willing to take us, so I agreed. But then–”

“Would anyone like a refill?” Nessa asked, standing abruptly. “I’m going to get some more of these cheese straws.” She picked up the empty plate.

“Maybe just a half,” Mame said. “I’m not driving.”