BLUE WEDDING (Melody The Librarian Mysteries Book 3) by Leslie Leigh
Authors: Leslie Leigh
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slacks (or skirt) and black shoes. When Don showed up in a green t-shirt, I thought Gary was going to go ballistic, but Don explained that he didn’t want the shirt to get wrinkled as he drove.
“I’ve got in on a hanger in back of the van,” he explained.
“Well, go ahead and get it on so we can head to the Hartford House.” When Don emerged from the bathroom, I couldn’t help giggling. The shirt was too small, and his belly threatened to burst his buttons.
“You’re going to put somebody’s eye out,” I sputtered.
“Hey, it’s the only white shirt I’ve got, okay? Besides, nobody’s going to see me behind the drums anyway.”
Gary just sighed and looked at his watch. “If we get going now, we’ll have time for a sound check before the guests start arriving. It’s a short walk from the church. Anyone need to use the restroom? Okay, let’s go.”
I felt a little guilty about driving such a short distance, but I knew Don’s van would be filled with his drum set, and Gary was taking both his and Tommy’s equipment, plus the mikes and monitors. I brought Grandma’s piano accordion and my concertina, leaving the new button accordion at home. Although I’d been familiarizing myself with the positioning, I didn’t know my way around the buttons yet.
The caretaker for the Hartford House, Tim Neil, showed us where to park, escorted us to the gazebo where we would set up and helped us with hooking up to a power source. He was a serious-looking man, in his forties, maybe, and made sure that the cords and cables were as unobtrusive and secured as possible. His significant other, Fiona Finn, worked as the housekeeper, and was now helping out as a server. She brought over a large, glass pitcher of pink lemonade with ice.
“I’ll keep an eye out for you and make sure your pitcher is full,” she smiled, “but if you prefer something a little stronger as the day goes by, just let me know.” She winked and scampered away. She was a petite woman, but had no trouble maneuvering with the pitcher and glasses.
“No drinking until after the second set,” Gary cautioned. He picked up his tenor sax and walked up to his vocal mike. Addressing our soundman, Clyde, he said, “Clyde, let’s check those levels, okay?” Turning to us, he said, “Let’s try the ‘Peter Gunn Theme,’ alright?” I was the only one who needed to refer to the sheet music to see which key we were playing in. In a low voice, Gary counted off, “One, two, three four, one, two, three, four.”
And – boom! – we locked into that gritty groove flawlessly, with Tommy playing the familiar guitar riff, with me doubling on bass notes, while Gary nailed the melody with a raw tone that would have made Clarence Clemons proud. I looked up and saw Tim, Fiona, and the other staff members looking our way, some stood smiling, while others moved to the music.
Gary encouraged Tommy to run with a solo as Clyde focused on tweaking the highs and lows and mix of the instruments. Like a well-tuned racecar, Tommy opened up and shredded around the theme, never at a loss of ideas, constantly surprising us with his endless bag of tricks and licks. By the end of the song, Clyde removed his headphones to hear the sounds as others would and gave Gary an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
There was a smattering of applause from the B and B staff as we shut down and took a break. Now it was a matter of waiting for the ceremony to finish and the wedding party to stroll the two blocks from the church to the Hartford House’s courtyard. We would wait for our cue to assemble for the first dance and, afterwards, our set would begin.
The layout was lovely. There were a dozen circular tables with sky blue linen tablecloths and floral centerpieces dotting the grounds, along with a long, head table for the guests of honor. The gazebo was off to the side about midway through the tables, so everyone would be able to hear us. The grass was perfectly manicured, and there was a
“I’ve got in on a hanger in back of the van,” he explained.
“Well, go ahead and get it on so we can head to the Hartford House.” When Don emerged from the bathroom, I couldn’t help giggling. The shirt was too small, and his belly threatened to burst his buttons.
“You’re going to put somebody’s eye out,” I sputtered.
“Hey, it’s the only white shirt I’ve got, okay? Besides, nobody’s going to see me behind the drums anyway.”
Gary just sighed and looked at his watch. “If we get going now, we’ll have time for a sound check before the guests start arriving. It’s a short walk from the church. Anyone need to use the restroom? Okay, let’s go.”
I felt a little guilty about driving such a short distance, but I knew Don’s van would be filled with his drum set, and Gary was taking both his and Tommy’s equipment, plus the mikes and monitors. I brought Grandma’s piano accordion and my concertina, leaving the new button accordion at home. Although I’d been familiarizing myself with the positioning, I didn’t know my way around the buttons yet.
The caretaker for the Hartford House, Tim Neil, showed us where to park, escorted us to the gazebo where we would set up and helped us with hooking up to a power source. He was a serious-looking man, in his forties, maybe, and made sure that the cords and cables were as unobtrusive and secured as possible. His significant other, Fiona Finn, worked as the housekeeper, and was now helping out as a server. She brought over a large, glass pitcher of pink lemonade with ice.
“I’ll keep an eye out for you and make sure your pitcher is full,” she smiled, “but if you prefer something a little stronger as the day goes by, just let me know.” She winked and scampered away. She was a petite woman, but had no trouble maneuvering with the pitcher and glasses.
“No drinking until after the second set,” Gary cautioned. He picked up his tenor sax and walked up to his vocal mike. Addressing our soundman, Clyde, he said, “Clyde, let’s check those levels, okay?” Turning to us, he said, “Let’s try the ‘Peter Gunn Theme,’ alright?” I was the only one who needed to refer to the sheet music to see which key we were playing in. In a low voice, Gary counted off, “One, two, three four, one, two, three, four.”
And – boom! – we locked into that gritty groove flawlessly, with Tommy playing the familiar guitar riff, with me doubling on bass notes, while Gary nailed the melody with a raw tone that would have made Clarence Clemons proud. I looked up and saw Tim, Fiona, and the other staff members looking our way, some stood smiling, while others moved to the music.
Gary encouraged Tommy to run with a solo as Clyde focused on tweaking the highs and lows and mix of the instruments. Like a well-tuned racecar, Tommy opened up and shredded around the theme, never at a loss of ideas, constantly surprising us with his endless bag of tricks and licks. By the end of the song, Clyde removed his headphones to hear the sounds as others would and gave Gary an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
There was a smattering of applause from the B and B staff as we shut down and took a break. Now it was a matter of waiting for the ceremony to finish and the wedding party to stroll the two blocks from the church to the Hartford House’s courtyard. We would wait for our cue to assemble for the first dance and, afterwards, our set would begin.
The layout was lovely. There were a dozen circular tables with sky blue linen tablecloths and floral centerpieces dotting the grounds, along with a long, head table for the guests of honor. The gazebo was off to the side about midway through the tables, so everyone would be able to hear us. The grass was perfectly manicured, and there was a
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