It was Mother's idea, and from the start I knew it was a bad one.

The conversation began innocently enough, that Monday morning in the conservatory. Heavy, gray clouds loomed beyond the glass walls, promising a lovely storm, and her African Strangler had just put out a new shoot. She was in an almost nauseatingly good mood.

"Nothing adds character to a house like well-tended plants. Don't you agree, dear?" she asked, shuffling around to spoon raw hamburger into Cleopatra's mouth. I nodded, still focused on gathering leaves from the belladonna.

"And it's going to be such a glorious day!"

I made a noncommittal sound of agreement.

She turned and regarded me with her arms folded. "Wednesday, dear, is something wrong? You've hardly said a word all morning."

"And this worries you because…?"

"Well," she replied, "I'd have expected you to be a bit more excited."

There are a few key words that, coming from my mother, arouse suspicion. "Excited" is one of them.

I straightened up, dusted off my hands, and looked at her warily. "Why would I be excited?"

Her eyes widened. "You're getting married! Why wouldn't you be?"

Oh. More wedding talk, I thought, biting my lip. Lucas and I should have eloped when we had the chance.

I wandered down another row of plants. There had to be something here that required urgent work, work that would prohibit chatting. An errant bloom Mother'd missed when pruning, new seedlings in the hemlock's pot, a spontaneous begonia that would send her into hysterics- I wasn't picky. Just something to prevent endless talk of dresses, guests, music, food…

"Have you and Lucas set a date yet?"

Sighing, I gave up the futile search. "Yes, actually. Halloween. He insisted."

That conversation had been interesting- and proved, once and for all, that I was marrying the right man.

"My mother's talking about June 1st, but I didn't think that would go over well with you."

I rolled over, pulling the covers into a tighter cocoon. The last thing I wanted to do on these rare nights at my fiancé's apartment was discuss The Big Event.

"Is there some kind of traditional date for Addamses to get married?"

"October 31st," I mumbled. "We can probably compromise with something in November, or maybe February. It doesn't-"

"No." He cut me off. "Halloween it is."

That got my attention. I sat up and stared at him.

"You're going to tell your parents, who didn't even want us to get married in the first place, who are still half-terrified of my family, that we're getting married on Halloween."

"Why not?" he said, smiling in that "I'm-up-to-something" way. "I've never told anyone this, but when I was little, I secretly wanted a Halloween wedding."

"God, I love you."

We'd rather quickly put paid to any further discussion after that. I stared into space for a moment, lost in memory until someone shaking my shoulder pulled me back to reality.

"Well?" Mother asked impatiently.

I shook myself. "Halloween. The wedding's set for Halloween."

She sighed. "Yes, you said that already. I asked if you'd started the guest list." A sly smile curled her reddened lips.

"Thinking of a certain young man, dear?"

I turned and started for the door. This was not a conversation I wanted to have with my mother- or anyone, for that matter. A few steps later, it became apparent that she did not intend to follow me, and my spirits lifted slightly. All that lay between me and the stairs to my mercifully private bedroom was the parlor, which appeared to be empty-

Until, just beyond the conservatory steps, I almost tripped over something soft and warm lying on the carpet.

Something that made an "oof!" sound when I bumped into it.

"What," I ground out, glaring down at my brother, "are you doing?"

He blinked up at me, wide-eyed. This, one might think, was the face of a happy, wholesome child interrupted at play by a growling dog. Innocence practically radiated from him in waves.

"Setting the carpet on fire," he chirped. "Is something wrong?"

Setting the carpet on fire, my foot. This had "eavesdropping" written all over it.

I grabbed the little twerp's shirt and hauled him to his feet. "If you're setting the carpet on fire, why don't I smell kerosene?" Without giving him a chance to answer, I continued, "What were you really doing?"

"Are you gonna interrogate me?" Joy glowed in his eyes. I realized my mistake and abruptly shoved him away.

"No. Have fun with the carpet."

That elicited the desired response. I could almost feel his disappointment as I walked toward the staircase, keeping my stride as casual as possible. Noncommittal was to Pugsley what furious was to most twelve-year-olds.

I love torturing my brother. Any moment now, he'd snap.

Five, four, three, two…

"Okay, okay, I was eavesdropping! I figured Mother would ask you about the wedding and I wanted to hear."

I blinked. That was new. Pugsley, who'd been so against my marriage, was curious about the big day?

"Why would you want to know about it?" I asked, slowly turning back to him.

He shrugged. "If I'm gonna have to get all dressed up in some stupid suit, I should have fair warning."

I raised one eyebrow and said, "Is that all?"

"Yeah! Geez, Wednesday, when did you get so paranoid?"

It was a trick I'd learned from crime dramas- stay quiet and let the suspect talk himself into a hole. I had been using it since I was ten, and he still hadn't picked up on it. After a few silent minutes, my patience was rewarded.

"But…um…you are going to invite Marie, right? Marie Mountebank?"

"Pugsley, you do know Marie is our cousin." It wasn't a question. Mother and Father had sat him down for a Talk about his unfortunate crush last spring. I, in accordance with accepted Big Sister tradition, had mocked him mercilessly for about six months thereafter.

Unfortunately, Grandma had ruined our efforts by reminding him that Great-Uncle Absalom and Great-Aunt Catriona were first cousins. Thanks to her, thoughts of the little blonde coquette still clouded his mind.

"I know!" he said defensively. "It would just be nice to see her again. You know, talk and stuff."

My mother wants to micro-manage my wedding and my brother is infatuated with our cousin. This day couldn't get any worse.

Rolling my eyes, I began to stomp up the stairs- only to freeze in my tracks at the sound of a smoky voice from the conservatory.

"Oh, Wednesday, darling? I forgot to mention your engagement party tomorrow. Don't worry, sweetheart, I just invited family and a few close friends. Be sure to have Lucas bring his parents, and…"

But I didn't hear the rest, because by that time I'd reached my room and slammed the door shut.

Suicide would have been the sensible thing to do. Grab a bottle of arsenic and end this fiasco the honorable way before it even got started. But obviously, I couldn't do that. I'd had a proper upbringing, after all.

Throwing myself onto the bed, I ran through an extensive mental list of poisons and tried to think of one to which I wasn't immune. That was the problem with a proper upbringing- it made suicide very difficult.

There was nothing else for it. The Addamses and Beinekes would have to meet.

I rolled over and fumbled around in my bedside drawer for my cell phone. Drawing the black rectangle out, I glared at it in distaste. Lucas had insisted I get one for easy communication, even if it had only the most basic package and lived in the "off" position. Father had nearly exploded when I'd asked him for it, and even now shook his head disapprovingly if he saw me with the thing.

But every marriage involves sacrifices.

As I dashed off the fatal text to my unsuspecting fiancé, worst-case scenarios and plans for damage control raced through my mind. If I thought the dinner two months ago was bad, this was shaping up to be utter disaster.

-
A/N: Uh-oh. This can't end well.

Gleefully Wicked, I promise I'm not trying to plagiarize the idea of Wednesday having a cell phone. It was in the story before I read your (very entertaining) oneshot. ^^"