The Bridesmaid by Hailey Abbott Page B

had.
    “I’m gonna go put these in the back,” Abby said, grabbing up the rejected cleats.
    “Fine, don’t believe me!” Christopher called after her. “But I’m right, yo! I have a sixth sense about this stuff!”
    Abby ducked into the stockroom and leaned back against the wall to catch her breath, clutching the cleats to her chest. But that wasn’t possible. Was it?
    That evening Abby came home to the familiar sights of a wedding in progress. There were dozens of cars parked around the house and twinkling lights in the ballroom windows. Mike and Stephano, the valet guys, were sneaking cigarettes near the bushes by the kitchen. She nodded hello to them and headed in the side door. All she wanted was to get upstairs, take a long shower and call Delila. She had to talk to her friend about Christopher’s theory. On something as crucial as this, Abby needed a second opinion.
    As soon as Abby opened the door, she paused. Her parents’ voices, tense and hushed, were coming from the residence kitchen. This was odd on two levels. First, her parents were never in the residence while there was a wedding going on. Second, her parents’ voices were never tense, especially not when talking to each other. Abby approached the kitchen with caution. Her parents stopped talking the moment they saw her in the doorway. They were both dressed up in their wedding-night digs, and they both looked harried.
    “Hey,” Abby said, putting her bag down on a chair. “What’s going on?”
    “Nothing,” her father said quickly. “How was work?”
    “It was fine,” Abby said. “What’s the matter?”
    Her mother exhaled loudly and smiled, running her hand over her forehead. “It’s silly, really. Your father and I were just discussing themes for Carol’s wedding. I want to do an English garden theme—”
    “Which is overdone and completely passé,” her father said.
    Abby blinked. Okay, had he just interrupted her?
    “And your father wants to do a candy store theme, which I think is far too cutesy and unsophisticated for Carol,” her mother finished.
    They both looked at Abby expectantly and Abby stared back until she realized they were expecting her to break the stalemate. This was too weird. “Why don’t you just throw some flowers on the table and be done with it?” she suggested. “There’s no reason to get all stressed about it. I mean, I’m sure Carol doesn’t care.”
    From the looks on her parents’ faces she may as well have just told them Carol was dead.
    “What?” Abby said.
    “How can you say that?” her mother asked. “Abigail Lynn, this is your sister’s wedding. ”
    “Abby, your mother and I have been doing this for years, just looking forward to the days when we could use our expertise to plan your and your sister’s weddings,” her father said. “We are not going to just throw some flowers on the table and be done with it.”
    “I’d think you’d want better for your only sister,” her mother put in.
    Well, at least they’re agreeing now, Abby thought. Agreeing that I’m the party pooper.
    Abby heard Carol’s quick and light steps on the stairs. She practically skipped into the room and over to the refrigerator.
    “Hey, everyone!” she said, smiling as she popped open a Snapple. She whirled and looked at her family. “Whoa. Who died?”
    Just then the door to the residence opened and closed and Tucker shuffled into the kitchen, looking down at a piece of lined paper. He stopped at the threshold, his brow furrowed, having yet to notice he had company.
    “Good evening, Tucker,” Abby’s father said.
    Tucker visibly started, folded the paper up and shoved it in his back pocket. The color rose in his cheeks and he smiled nervously. Abby felt her internal radar go off. Something was up.
    “Baby!” Carol exclaimed, rushing over and planting a quick kiss on his lips. “How was the mall?”
    “Uh . . . fine,” Tucker said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
    “You let him brave