Emily had never had a kitchen supper at Miranda's before. In fact, apart from the Christmas party, she had never ventured into any of the private rooms in the Town House beyond the hallway and study. It was a revelation to her how relaxed and, well, normal, Miranda was at home with her children and Andy. She'd quickly repaired and replaced her half-finished nail-varnishing project, and as always dressed as if she was expecting to meet the Queen of England, but otherwise she looked like any other mother on a Sunday evening, draining pasta, and asking her kids if they'd finished their homework.
"Yep, Andy checked it through. We're all done now," said Cassie, putting cutlery round the table. "How many of us are eating supper?"
Emily, following Miranda's quick smile and gesture of invitation, had sat down nervously on one of the side benches round the red and white checked table-cloth, and was worrying about how much food Miranda would put on her plate, and whether she could manage to eat any of it. The day's events had unnerved her so much, she could feel her eating disorder coming on, when she couldn't swallow a thing, and would normally have to rush to the cloakroom to throw up.
Miranda did a little sum in her head and said, "Seven. Four of us, Emily, and then Charles and George who are back now from Boston."
"George is an easy guest," said Andy who had picked up the tail end of the conversation. "But he's so quiet you scarcely remember he's here, except when he's playing the piano of course."
She had spent the last hour with Emily, literally holding her hand while she had lain on her bed in the third guestroom and wept against her shoulder. But then Emily had had a return message from her father, in the shape of a long text, and it seemed to have cheered her up, and calmed her.
He repeated again all his apologies for not telling her about his life thirty or forty years before, and said how much he loved her. If she didn't want him at her wedding, he would understand, but he could come to the townhouse tomorrow to see her, and if that was the case, maybe say goodbye.
"But I do want him at the wedding. His misdeeds were so long ago, and he's my only family. In a weird way, I do feel much closer to him now than I ever have before. It was almost like living with a stranger. I never understood him."
So Andy had encouraged her to go wash her face, and then come down to have supper with the family. "Call him later, and tell him you want him to give you away. It sounds as though he's OK at Marcy's."
"But what shall I say to Seri?"
"Tell her the truth. You've no choice. But do it later, after we've all eaten, and she's finished dinner with her people up north."
"They'll eat very late. Brazilians always do."
"Then leave it till the morning, unless she calls you for a late-night smooch over the phone."
So Emily found herself squashed in between the twins on one side of the kitchen table while Miranda dished up copious amounts of Spaghetti Bolognaise and green salad. Cara had made the Bolognaise sauce and frozen it earlier, but Miranda didn't think her guests needed to know every last detail of her culinary skills, or otherwise. Andy, Charles and George made up the other side of the supper table. They all tucked in, and Emily was very grateful to see how small her helping was.
"There's always second helpings available if you'd like more," said Miranda as she passed her dish across. Their eyes met, and Emily felt a warmth and an acceptance without judgement which she'd never experienced from Miranda before. She picked up her fork and spoon and started to twiddle the spaghetti into a manageable shape to eat. She'd try, anyway.
"Now, Charles, what we've all been waiting for! Tell us what you found out in Boston."
"It was hilarious! Do you remember girls, in the Lord of the Rings, when Frodo and friends return to the shire and all the Hobbits come out to meet them?"
"Yes, but where is this leading us?"
"Well it was a bit like that."
Caroline was as quick as a whip with her question.
"You mean our cousins all have hairy feet and are three feet high?"
"No, not like that! But the whole family has the same look, they all have happy round faces and ginger curls. It was incredible. They gathered to meet us at Evelyn's house, and in total, how many people do you think were there?"
Miranda remembered he'd mentioned nine siblings, who were all married.
"About twenty-five?"
"No, including all their kids, grandkids and in-laws, fifty two!"
"Wow!" said Andy. "So how many sets of twins?"
"Four sets altogether. The ages of the whole family range from fifty-eight down to one, and they are the merriest, craziest bunch I've ever met, don't you agree, George?"
Mostly silent George nodded, and then said, "They seem to have taken over a whole block in North Boston. And they have their own orchestra!"
"What!?"
Charles carried on. "Well it's actually a traditional Irish fiddle and accordion band. Eight of the family play the fiddle, and six play the accordion. They go round playing at functions, and they want to come to your wedding. In fact as soon as they heard about it, and that it would be up near Boston, there was no stopping them. I'm afraid they've invited themselves!"
Miranda and Andy looked at each other, and then at him.
"You're kidding!" said Andy.
"No", said Charles, "They insisted, and don't want paying or anything. They want to be there for you all."
"Did you tell anyone there it was a gay wedding?" asked Miranda cautiously.
"Oh yes, a double gay wedding and another besides. That's another thing about the crazy McCarthys, as well as twins, being gay seems to run in the family. Three of the nine siblings are in same sex marriages!"
"And I was expecting them all to be conservative Catholics!" laughed Miranda. "Well who would have thought it?"
Emily ventured a remark, "So for our wedding day, we now have Charles and the twins trio, the old time jazz band, Serena's Latin American Salsa band, and now an Irish Folk ensemble. Shouldn't we have made sure the Inn has a public music venue licence?"
"I already did," said Andy. "They do, so no worries on that score. But I'd better increase the catering order to another fourteen plates, to feed all these Bostonians."
Charles cleared his throat. "Well maybe a few more than that I'm afraid. I think the musicians will bring at least as many again of their family to support them and give you all a good send off."
Cassie had her head tilted back and was pouring long strands of spaghetti into her mouth from on high, slurping them in with loud sucking noises.
"Don't do that darling," said Miranda.
Everyone else was stunned into silence. This surely was going to be a wedding to remember. They all reflected on the unlikely mix of cultures and ages.
Then a little voice piped up. "Oh I just forgot to tell you earlier," said Caroline, almost as a casual afterthought. "Aunty Hannah called to say she's arranged a mini-bus from Boston airport, Mommy. Eight of their friends from Japan are flying in on Friday, and can you find rooms for them somewhere near the wedding place for the weekend? They all want to come to the wedding as well. Won't that be fun? I've never met a real Japanese person. Will Uncle Harry and Auntie Hannah have to have their wedding spoken in Japanese?"
"I don't expect so, darling. Now, would anyone like more spaghetti and sauce? There's plenty here."
And Miranda started another round of food from the big pot, starting with Emily. Only her steely self-discipline and practice at not showing emotion stopped her from falling about laughing with genuine hysteria. And all she'd wanted was an intimate, quiet little wedding with Andy and their closest family. Oh well, go with the flow . . .
Towards midnight, long after the rest of the household were fast asleep in bed, Emily's cell phone throbbed with sign that Serena was trying to call her. With a mixture of adoration and dread, Emily answered.
"Hello, babe," she said nervously. "Thanks for calling. How are things with you?"
"Darling Em, you will never in one thousand years, believe how dreadful it has been up here. Everything is chaotic! There are police everywhere, and the FBI guys, you know those ones in raincoats, just like the movies, well, they all had arrest warrants for my uncles and were waiting at the house.
"They are talking about a serious crime squad and a SWAT team being needed. My father has gone to the police station to try to get bail for them, but it is Sunday night and of course no-body can do anything until tomorrow. My step-mother keeps wailing, and saying she knew they should not have come into the states.
"Obviously the cops have been lying in wait for them to get up here. And all the children are frightened. It's such a quiet place and now the neighbours are all standing around in their front yards filming us on their phones, like its some episode of CSI! Honestly Em, you'll never want to marry me after this. I'm so very, very sorry!"
Emily swallowed hard. Serena's family's troubles made her father's thirty-year old misdemeanours suddenly look small beer.
"Babe, Seri, don't apologise. I have just discovered my old man spent five years in jail for drug-dealing back in the seventies, and even now might be a fugitive. Whatever is going to hit us, we'll get through it together. None of this is our fault."
"Maybe. No, but I should have guessed where all my uncles' millions of loose cash came from. And, even though he's probably too rich and powerful to be arrested right now, I suspect my Dad is also up to his neck in the business."
"What is it? Drugs?"
"Yes, mainly. Cocaine through Colombia into Mexico and up here. They wouldn't tell us much, but of course it's pretty obvious. Police went through all our things and ransacked everyone's suitcases, touched all my stuff."
Serena was normally Miss Cool, but Emily could hear the tremor in her voice.
"Thank God, no-body was hurt when they arrested your uncles. God, I hope not."
"Well no, although Dad's body-guard pulled a gun, which was rather unfortunate and of course only made things worse. No-one knows how he even got it in the country!"
"What can I do to help? Should I wake Miranda and tell her?"
"No! Please try and keep it quiet until tomorrow, when I'll know more clearly what it all means. You try and get some sleep. I'm sure I won't though. Oh, I have to go. They need me. All the maids are in shock, and crying. You have no idea how horrible it is."
Emily closed her phone and lay back down on Miranda's exquisitely fine cotton pillows. She fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, but her last thought was one of relief. At least Serena's father could hardly throw his weight around and forbid the marriage now. But maybe neither of their Dads would be able to make it to the ceremony at all!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Trevor Charlton arrived at the house by ten the following morning, and was shown into the dining room where he and Emily could talk, uninterrupted. After twenty minutes they emerged, and Emily said,
"Thank you so much, Miranda, for all your kindness. Dad and I are leaving now. We're going back to the apartment to collect our clothes, and then travelling up to Massachusetts on the train together. It's probably best if Dad keeps off the airlines. We'll see if we can do anything to help Serena and then we'll go to the Inn. Dad's friend Marcy is coming up on Friday along with Kerry and Sal, so it gives us a few quiet days together first."
Miranda looked thoughtful, then said, "Tell Serena, anything I can do to help her that's legal, I will, and that applies to you two as well. It's a terrible shock to hear about her father and his brothers. Have you learned anything else since breakfast?"
"No. But I can't imagine anything good is happening. I have to get up there to be with her. Nigel will understand."
"Well, stay safe, and call us if anything even worse happens. Andy will join you at the Inn on Friday, with all her family who are coming from Ohio."
Trevor held out his hand, and repeated Emily's thanks, and so Miranda shook it. The past was the past, and nothing could alter it now, but the future was theirs to forge, and she hoped it would be positive for them all.
"I've changed the bed I slept in," Emily mentioned. "Andy gave me some clean sheets."
"That's very good of you, but you need not have bothered."
"Oh, between vicarages and boarding school, I was always taught to leave a room as I found it. So good bye for now."
"Goodbye. Stay safe. We'll see you soon."
Miranda closed the front door behind them. Emily's news about Serena had really shaken her. It was obvious that her Beauty Editor's father was involved in serious international crime, and she was definitely concerned for the safety of her own children. Supposing there was a police shoot-out at the wedding, with so many elderly people and youngsters present? It could end in a blood-bath! But then Miranda took herself in hand.
"You've been watching too many episodes of NCIS", she told herself and made a real effort to think of much more positive things.
The first of which was the delivery by courier of the twins' two outfits, so different from each other, like two sides of the same complex personality. She knew each would love her own look, and together they would be worthy of any cover spread.
Miranda had inwardly resigned herself to appearing at least on Page 6, if not a whole gamut of tabloids, but Nigel had also warned her of his plans to do a Runway special for the July edition, and for Andy's sake she had agreed. The beautiful girl, entirely artless and unaffected, would make a wonderful cover model. Miranda was so proud of her.
Now there were only two more days of school and preparation, before the whole family decamped to Provincetown, and the weather forecast for the rest of the week was fair to warm. She went to find Andy, who was busy booking yet more rooms for all of Hannah's friends, in neighbouring establishments. Word must surely be getting round Provincetown by now, that a very special wedding day was coming into town the next Saturday.
In fact, Miranda didn't know the half of it. Up in Provincetown, the owner of her favourite little beauty salon, just off Main Street, had already been visited by at least three separate fashion reporters, all trying to look nonchalant but asking if she had any significant bookings for wedding hairdos on Friday. Then the place seemed to be running with plain-clothes cops, with the large black people carrier vehicles with tinted windows, reportedly belonging to the secret service also seemed to be lurking around every corner.
Four carloads of Portuguese speaking Brazilian children had just been unloaded in the main square and were off buying beach towels and footballs, accompanied by hassled looking domestic staff, obviously told to do something with them to amuse them and take them away from the adults.
That must have something to do with the raid up at the Point, in one of those large rental villas. News of this had run round the town like a lit fuse wire, and rumours were rife, that it was all about a big Mafia gang battle. The little town was abuzz with all the sensational gossip, most of it untrue, but some of it definitely on the button.
Up at the Windhover Inn on the edge of town, Mel and Frieda, who were now reconciled, and were back singing from the same hymn sheet, ( not that they ever went to church any more, having been chucked out for daring to love each other back in their twenties.) The marquees had now been erected, with the inside platforming installed, and the electricians had completed the wiring and lighting.
It was now the floral designer's turn. Andy and Emily had found an outstanding florist, and combining their resources, could afford the best in Boston. When she and her team finished, the canvas tents would be transformed into magical fairy forest glades. The dance floor was also being laid, and a large fountain installed in its middle, with dolphins and little sea gods riding them al round it. The lighting had a wonderfully soft sparkling effect, which would gradually come on more brightly as the natural daylight fell away, and the moon came out.
Mel had never seen anything like it anywhere, let alone hosted such an event in her own Inn. Every room was booked, not only with her and Frieda, but also in several of the Inns up and down their coast road, and she had refused any other bookings for the coming week, just to be on the safe side. She personally supervised the cleaning and preparation of every guest chalet and suite, and even consulted the astronomical calendar to check exactly where the moon would be on its cycle. She was pleased to see it would rise just above the open end of the large marquee, and shine down over the water in the bay all evening.
By the time Emily Charlton called to ask if she and her father could book in early that same evening, Mel was pleased and proud of how her little Inn looked, and how it was ready to welcome all the guests, from as far afield as Australia, and Japan, so Andy had told her. Even the green fly had decided to leave the rose bushes in peace, which were now all coming out from their buds, and the scent of lilac hung over the lawns. New England in May was a sight to behold.
Having been on the phone together for so many hours, she now felt she knew Andrea like an old friend. She'd been warned about the likely media invasion, so when Hello, Life, People, Celebrity, Dog's World, Sailor's Weekly and every other magazine started calling to ask if Miranda Priestly was getting married at her place, she knew how to avoid answering. "There are three weddings taking place on Saturday. You don't imagine Miranda from Runway will be sharing her day with two other couples do you? Goodbye." This became her stock answer.
Frieda had stopped answering the phone altogether, but was still queen of the kitchen, preparing her many exquisite little canapes, ready for filling, and also providing tea and cinnamon buns for all the workers. Her cooking skills were still legendary and behind the scenes she reigned supreme. The special request for a substantial amount of high end Vegan food had been just up her street, and she was happy as anything, preparing treats.
Back in New York, by the end of Tuesday, Miranda and Andrea knew they had done all the necessary hard work, and could finally begin to enjoy the prospect of their wedding. Miranda's surprise outfit had arrived and been safely disguised in one of her several suitcases, and Nigel would be bringing Andy's dress with him in his own car with Douglas.
The plan was to wake the girls at five on Wednesday morning, and drive them up north in the Lexus, this time with Cara as well as the twins. Miranda would drive the Lexus, while Andy took the Porsche, in which they would slip away together late on Saturday evening.
Charles and George were hiring another car, as the two cellos needed a back seat to themselves. Pumpkin and Matilda were going into pet-care for the next five days, not that anyone had dared tell them yet. Then Cara would drive most of the luggage and Caroline's cello back to New York late on Sunday. It was a complex plan, but everything about it was now organised. Miranda and Andrea could finally fall into bed, and slept the sleep of the just.
From now on, it was just going to be lovely fun.
The only person who was still worrying about Saturday, was Agatha, the poor public registrar and celebrant, who had just received three different packs of wedding service order booklets, with three totally different sets of vows, and wondered if she should think up three different little homilies. All three were secular weddings, but two of them included prayers, one had a poem, (which she didn't really understand), and one a reading from an ancient Japanese philosopher.
Oh well, Agatha thought, she would just go with the flow. It seemed the best way. She put out the light, gave her dog a biscuit for being good and going to his bed, and went upstairs to her own. And the moon rose up above the Bay, just as it would on the day of Miranda's wedding.