“Like what?” Joy asked.
Corey thought madly for something to discuss that hadn’t already been covered. “Well, um… did you remember to apply for a marriage license?”
“No, but the judge is going to bring it with him.”
“I don’t think you can do that,” Corey said, wondering if Angela, in her preoccupation with making the wedding into a social extravaganza, had failed to handle the more mundane, less showy details. “I’ve been a bridesmaid in several weddings, and you always have to apply for a license in advance, then there’s a waiting period of a few days, oh – and blood tests.”
Joy shivered at the mention of blood. “I get faint at the sight of needles, so I don’t have to have one. The judge who’s performing the wedding is a friend of Uncle Spence’s, and he has the right to decide. He said I didn’t need one.”
“Yes, but what about the license and the waiting period?”
Spencer spoke for the first time in fifteen minutes, and even though Corey was braced for the sound of his deep voice, it still did funny things to her heart. Nostalgia, she was learning, was not a feeble force. “It’s all taken care of,” he said. “There’s no waiting period in Rhode Island.”
“I see,” Corey said, looking away from him the instant he finished speaking. Rather than try to think of another topic, she did what the others were doing and began to eat her dessert. Unfortunately, Joy wasn’t interested in her own slice of cheesecake; she was interested in Corey and Spence. “It’s funny,” she said, looking from Spence to Corey and back to Spence, “but I thought you two used to be good friends.”
Spence was so annoyed with Corey for treating him like an insignificant nonentity that he abruptly decided to make his presence, and his feelings, known. “So did I,” he said curtly. He had slammed the conversational ball directly into Corey’s court, and with amused satisfaction, he noticed that the “gallery” of three all turned to her to see how she was going to return it.
Corey lifter her head and met his challenging look. Mentally she reached across the table and flipped his plate into his lap, but all she did was smile and shrug. “We were.”
“But you don’t seem to have anything to say to each other,” Joy said, looking baffled and a little disappointed. The gallery looked to the right at Spence, then to their left, at Corey, but Corey had cleverly eaten a bite of cheesecake, effectively forcing Spence to deal with that issue. “It was a long time ago,” he said flatly.”
“Yes, but Uncle Spence, only two days ago you were upset because Corey delayed her flight for a day. I started thinking maybe there’d been a – like, relationship – between you two when you were younger.”
Now, when he didn’t want Corey’s attention, he got it. In fact, he got everybody’s attention. Corey lifted her brows and gave him a serenely amused look that managed to convey that he deserved whatever embarrassment he suffered in a conversational confrontation that he had provoked. The other three spectators waited expectantly. “I was not upset because she delayed her flight,” Spence said. “I was upset because I thought she had canceled her trip.” They continued to look at him until he was prodded into a half lie. “Corey is an excellen photographer, and she was aprt of the ‘deal’ your mother made with the magazine to cover your wedding. It was a legal, binding contract. Naturally, I expected Corey to honor her commitments.”
Corey’s mouth dropped open at that enormous piece of hypocrisy, and her mother, who sensed Corey’s impulse to throw her cheesecake into Spence’s face, rushed to the rescue. “Corey always honors her commitments,” she told Joy with gentle firmness. “She has very strong feelings about that.”
“Actually,” Corey added, heading off what she felt certain would be another probing question from Joy, “Spence was a friend of the whole family’s, not of mine in particular.”
Corey was pleased with that explanation, and Joy looked satisfied, but unfortunately Corey’s grandmother was neither. “I don’t think that’s entirely true, Corey.”
“Yes, Gram,” Corey said in a warning voice, “it is.”
“Well, maybe it is, dear, but you were the only one in the house who wallpapered your bedroom with his pictures.”
Corey wanted to kill her, but at the moment all she could do was argue on a technicality. “I did not wallpaper my room with his pictures.”
“That room was a shrine to Spencer,” the elderly lady argued. “If you’d lit candles in there, people would have prayed. Goodness, you even had photograph albums filled with his pictures under your bed.”
“Then what happened?” Joy asked.
“Nothing happened,” Corey said, aiming a quelling look at her grandmother.
“You mean, one day you just – just stopped caring about Uncle Spence and took down his pictures? Just like that?”
Corey gave her a bright smile and nodded. “Just like that.”
“I didn’t know it could happen that way,” Joy said somberly. “A person can just stop caring – for no reason?” For the first time since her questions had begun, Corey had the feeling that Joy wasn’t merely curious, she was troubled.
Corey’s grandmother obviously noticed the same thing and attributed Joy’s anxiety to bridal nerves. Patting Joy’s clenched hand, she offered reassurance: “Corey had a very good reason, dear. One you will never have, I’m sure.”
“She did?”
“Yes. Spence broke her heart.”
Mentally, Corey threw up her hands and yielded to the inevitable. Short of gagging her grandmother with a napkin and dragging her out of the booth by her ankles, Corey knew there was nothing to stop what was to come. Torn between misery and mirth, she waited for her dignity to be sacrificed on the altar of truth, for the sake of a nervous bride-to-be. Since she couldn’t prevent it, and since she knew Spence was also going to suffer some unpleasant moments, she leaned back, folded her arms, and decided to enjoy his discomfort. He looked completely flabbergasted, Corey noted with some amusement, his coffee cup arrested halfway to his mouth.
“I did what?” he said irately, and actually looked to Corey as if he expected her to come to his rescue by denying it. In answer she lifted her brows and gave him an unsympathetic shrug.
“You broke her heart,” Corey’s grandmother asserted.
“And just exactly how did I do that?” he demanded.
She gave him a deeply censorious look for failing to own up to his wrongdoing and retaliated by addressing her answer to his niece, instead. “When Corey was a senior in high school, your uncle asked to take her to the Christmas formal. I’ve never seen Corey so excited. She and Diana – Corey’s sister – shopped for weeks for just the right gown to dazzle him, and they finally found it. When the big day arrived, Corey spent most of it in her room primping. Then, just before Spence was due to arrive, she came downstairs. My, how she sparkled in that gown! She looked so beautiful and grown-up that her grandpa and I had tears in our eyes. We took pictures of course, but we saved some film so Corey would have pictures of Spence with her.”
She paused for a sip of water, letting the suspense build, and Corey had the fleeting thought that her grandmother had a previously undiscovered flair for high drama. Poor Joy was on the edge of her seat, frowning at her uncle for whatever he’d done to spoil such a night. Spence was frowning at Corey’s grandmother, and Corey’s mother was frowning at hre plate. Corey was beginning to enjoy herself.
“Then what happened?” Joy implored.
Corey’s grandmother carefully put her glass where it had been, then she lifted her sorrowful gaze to Joy. “Your uncle stood her up.”
Joy turned a look of such disbelief, such accusation on Spence that Corey almost pitied him. “Uncle Spence,” she breathed, “you didn’t!”
“He did,” Corey’s grandmother averred flatly. Spence opened his mouth to explain, but she wasn’t through with him. “It broke my heart the way Corey kept watching for him at the window. She could not belive he wasn’t coming.”
“And s
o you missed the formal?” Joy asked Corey, displaying the sort of appalled sympathy that only females are capable of feeling for each under those particular circumstances.
“No, she did not,” Spence said.
“Oh, yes she did.”
“I think you’re mistaken about that and some other things,” Spence said, his jaw tight with annoyance at being made to look like an even bigger villain than he’d actually been. “I did stand Corey up that night,” he said, addressing his defense mostly to his wide-eyed niece. “I forgot I was supposed to take Corey to the dance, and I went to Aspen for the holidays instead of going home to Houston. It’s obvious now that I shouldn’t have let my grandmother handle my apology, but she was very upset and very insistent. I’m guilty of those two things, but the rest of the story you just heard” – he hesitated, searching for a respectful way to say Corey’s grandmother was completely wrong – “isn’t the way I remember it. Corey already had a date for the dance, and she already had her gown, but her date had to cancel at the last minute. The other boys she knew who would have taken her already had dates of their own, so Diana suggested I offer to take Corey, which I did. I was not a volunteer, I was a recruit, and the only reason Corey wanted to go with me was there wasn’t anyone else available – except for her very last choice, which was whoever she called in as a last-minute substitute for me. I,” he finished bluntly, “was her next-to-last choice.”