Chapter Eighteen:

Ah, the Many Wonders of Schmex

The ride to the Cambridge Bros. Banquet Hall was short and quiet. Rachel and Seamus were both unnaturally silent, and they looked alternately at their hands and at each other. There was something in the air of the car, and it made everyone uneasy.

Not a moment too soon, Mrs. Finnigan pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car. "Ready for fun?" she sang out, tucking the keys into her purse and popping the trunk open. Before Tanya or Katelyn (Hannah and Dean had ridden with the Schreiters as a result of the lack of space in the Finnigan car) had time to wonder why, Rachel and Seamus unbuckled their seatbelts and got out.

"You ready to do this?" they heard Seamus ask Rachel.

"Not really," she replied, and the trunk slammed shut.

"It sounds like they're planning a hit," Tanya whispered fearfully as she and Katelyn got out. For a moment, Katelyn thought she was right—Seamus had a guitar case in his hands, and he and Rachel were discussing some sheets of paper in low voices.

"What are you doing?" she asked aloud.

They looked up guiltily. "Nothing, nothing at all," Rachel replied. To Seamus, she said, "Here. Why don't you hold onto these so I don't lose them."

"Sure." He took the papers from her hands, flipped the latches on the case, and set the papers atop a glossy butternut-yellow guitar.

"So it's not a hit," Katelyn sighed.

Rachel and Seamus raised their eyebrows.

"Never mind. Let's just go in."

So they entered the posh banquet hall. The floors leading to the French doors were plushy burgundy velvet, and bright lights lined the wood paneled walls. "This is ritzy," Tanya commented, looking around with awe.

The doors swung open behind them and in swept Hannah, Dean, the Schreiters, and what seemed like several of their close relatives. "Where's the party?" Mr. Schreiter called.

"Right ahead," Mrs. Finnigan chirped back.

The press of incoming guests was now almost oppressive, so Dean went forward and opened the doors. They were greeted immediately by loud chattering, clinking of dishes, and gentle piano music, along with the lacy smells of poinsettias and holly. Indeed, beautiful garlands of red and green graced each table, a glossy grand piano was being played by a suave man in a black tux, people were milling about and sitting at white-covered tables, and several service-people were placing fluted champagne glasses at the long table on the other side of the room. Gentle lights shone on the polished wooden floor, and black-covered speakers peeked out from under the shining dais.

"Well, this is nice," Katelyn said.

"Excuse me," interrupted a waiter in a black vest. "Groom's or bride's side?"

Rachel motioned for Katelyn, Hannah, and Tanya to join her. "I suppose you could say bride, since we're Haley's bridesmaids."

"And you, ma'am?" he asked Mrs. Finnigan.

"Moira and Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas," she replied in a business-like tone. "Bride's side."

"Right this way, please." The waiter led the group to one of the large round tables next to the long one on the other side of the dance floor. They started to shed their cloaks and drape them on the chairs, but the waiter said quickly, "Oh! Young ladies, your seats are here." He indicated the adjacent side of the main table.

So Tanya, Rachel, Katelyn, and Hannah migrated a few inches to the left and chose the last four seats at the main table. "How long is it until it begins?" Mrs. Finnigan asked.

The waiter consulted his watch. "About five minutes, ma'am."

"Thank you."

He bowed and went away, leaving them to gaze upon their surroundings. Deep, silky crimson curtains covered every inch of the walls and pooled elegantly on the floor; recessed lighting in the high ceiling above cast soft light on the rich white tablecloths below.

"This is really ritzy," Tanya repeated.

"And there are a lot of people here," Seamus said nervously.

"Since when are you afraid of crowds?" Katelyn asked.

"I'm not afraid," he replied crossly, then refused to say more.

"Chicas!"

Haley, positively glowing, swooped down upon them and threw her arms around their necks.

"Hey, Mrs. Wood," Rachel said with a grin.

The blushing bride smiled and smoothed the front of her long white dress with a happy sigh. "I'm so glad you guys are here."

"Better than being at school," Katelyn replied cheerfully.

"You guys should get some food," Haley went on. "We'll talk later."

A half-hour later, everyone was still eating and talking when there was a series of sharp chinking sounds. The noise in the room died down as Oliver's best man pushed his seat back and stood up. "If I could have your attention, please," he said in a thick Scottish accent, "I'd like to propose a toast to my kid brother and his new wife."

"Aha!" Rachel said quietly.

Oliver's brother raised his champagne glass. "I grew up with Oliver, and I must say, Haley, he's one hell of a guy. May you both live to be a hundred and two and annoy the living daylights out of your descendants."

"Hear, hear," the Funny Farm chorused, grinning.

Oliver's brother sat down, and before the noise level could escalate, Angela stood up and held her champagne glass aloft. "I am Haley's best friend," she began, "and I've known her for nearly nine years. I only hope that, Oliver, you will be able to handle her many mood swings. I happen to know that she's PMS'ing right now."

"That's going to be inconvenient later on," Katelyn said matter-of-factly, much to the hilarity of all those within earshot. Oliver gulped.

Hannah then got up from the table, holding her water glass aloft. Seamus, Dean, Katelyn, Rachel, and Tanya looked on with surprised as their soft-spoken friend actually addressed a crowd. "Um," she began brilliantly, "Haley's my sister, and I sort of want to continued with what Angela was just saying. Oliver, Haley's a beautiful girl, but I have to tell you a few things first. Okay. So if you really want to understand her, you're going to need to do some research. I suggest the Lord of the Rings trilogy, both the movies and the books, the Star Wars…um…series, The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien, the movie Troy, the movie Four Brothers, the movie Pride and Prejudice, the movie…"

Hannah's list went on and on and on, and Oliver turned paler and paler and paler. "…and don't forget AcceleRacers and HotWheels. Just thought I'd warn you."

Hannah nodded and sat down, and she had hardly taken a calming breath when Katelyn leapt up—everyone looked worried. "Haley, Oliver," she began. "Many congrats! You've gotten the warnings, Ollie darling, but here's another—not about Haley, but about her family" we're insane, crazy, loony, off our rockers…and we'll bug you and blackmail you until you're just—like—us!"

She gave a broad grin. "Welcome to the family, Oliver!"

"You know," Haley said thoughtfully as Oliver looked ready to pass out, "you're not related to me, Katelyn."

"Oh, well. It's all relative."

"She has a point," said Rachel, standing up. "I'm sorry to do this to you guys," she went on, addressing the newlyweds. "But mine's a lot less harmful than theirs, I promise."

"We believe you," Haley said simply.

"Well," Rachel began, "I've only known you guys for a few years. But it's been a great few years! Haley, you're like an older sister to me. And Oliver—you were the world's greatest Quidditch—er…I mean, Rugby captain! Go Gryffindor, eh?"

"Absolutely right!" Oliver barked.

"And…I just think it's great that you guys are getting married. You're perfect for each other! Plus, it'll be a lot easier to visit you guys if you're in the same house."

She sat down, flushed with success.

Before the noise level could escalate, Mrs. Finnigan stood up with her champagne glass in hand. "I just want to tell a little story before we start the celebrations, just to illustrate how wonderful marriage can be."

Seamus began to look slightly worried.

"I remember one time," she began, "when Mr. Finnigan and I were resting in our bed together after a particularly invigorating 'tussle'—"

Seamus turned so white that he perfectly complimented the tablecloth.

"—actually, Seamus," Mrs. Finnigan said, glancing at her son, "that was the night you were conceived!"

"Mam!"

There were awkward laughs from the other guests.

"Anyways, we'd just gotten two new dogs the week before, and since our eldest, Francis, was off with Grandmum Cassie, Jack—that's my husband—had neglected to lock our bedroom door—"

"Mum," Seamus said warningly.

"So, like I said, we were resting, and I'd gotten up to use the bathroom when I heard Jack sigh and go, 'Oh, Moira, I love it when you lick my toes like that.' And I look, and Scottie and Red—the two setters—"

"Mum."

"—were slobbering all over his feet!"

Seamus' horrified cry of 'Mother!' was drowned out by the laughter of the married guests present.

"Um…is your mother drunk?" Katelyn asked Seamus quietly.

"She's never touched a drop of alcohol in her life," he replied gloomily. "That's sparkling pear juice in her glass."

"So you mean…"

"Yup," he sighed. "That's my mother for you."

"I feel sorry for the woman that marries you someday, dear Seamus," Rachel said with a laugh.

"Ooh," Katelyn grinned. "Prophetic?"

Luckily for Katelyn, Rachel and Seamus had just taken drinks of extremely effervescent sparkling apple juice and so did not hear her.

A moment or so later, Rachel took a deep breath and stood up. "Seamus," she whispered, tugging at his hand. He looked up at her and nodded.

"Be back in a little bit, guys," he said, and the two disappeared into the shadows together.

Hannah, Dean, Katelyn, and Tanya traded surprised looks. "Are they going to…" Tanya left her sentence hanging.

The others shrugged. "Maybe they'll stop arguing now," Katelyn said hopefully.

"No such luck," Hannah replied. "Look!"

She was pointing towards the dais that the piano was resting on. The gentle music had stopped, and the tuxedoed man had gotten up and was offering the bench to none other than Rachel, who blushed and sat down. As she bent to adjust something by her feet, Seamus came onto the dais too, lugging a stool behind him; his polished butternut guitar was slung over his back and he had a stack of papers clutched in one hand. The clatter of voices and dishes had died down, and the hall was quiet as everyone turned to watch the two teenagers. The tuxedoed man brought two microphones on stands and placed one before both of them. Seamus got up on the stool and tapped the mike by his mouth; there was loud feedback, and everyone winced.

"Er…" he said, and his voice echoed strangely. "Can you hear me now?"

There was murmured assent.

"Good," Rachel chimed in, and the Americans in the crowd chuckled appreciatively.

"Well," Seamus went on. "I'm Seamus Finnigan, and as you can probably tell, I'm um, not from the groom's side, as I'm clearly Irish…"

"And I'm Rachel Hekman, and not from the groom's side, either, as I'm clearly Dutch."

"Quiet you," Seamus said good-naturedly. "Anyway, we're friends of both Haley and Oliver, and we didn't tell them we were going to do this—"

"So if anything happens to us, look at Haley—"

"But, well, it's called 'Anniversary Song' by one Al Jolson, and though it's not a wedding son, per se, it's still a nice sentiment. Yeah…that's about what Rachel told me to say. Anything else, Rachel?" he added sweetly.

"I don't know how you can stand to show your face in public now, Finnigan."

"Yes, well, I wasn't counting on my mother telling tales," he said sadly.

"Makes you think twice about getting married, doesn't it?"

"Actually, if I'm really allowed to torture my kids like that, then, hey! Sign me up."

Rachel had to laugh. "See, Haley and Oliver? There's hope yet!"

There was laughter, and Rachel got up and repositioned the mike so its head was in the body of the open piano. Seamus turned as she padded in her bare feet back to the bench. "Nice shoes."

She said something in reply.

"What?"

Rachel sighed, then came over and pulled the microphone to her mouth. "I said, you try pedaling in five-inch heels!"

Seamus shooed her away. "Let's begin, then, shall we?" he said, then turned to Rachel and counted off. The notes of Mozart's 'Funeral Hymn' came plodding out, until Seamus said, "Not that one!"

"Sorry, sorry."

This time, a gentle, slightly haunting melody rippled from the piano, once again weaving in and out of the guitar accompaniment. Then Seamus—who really didn't have a bad voice—began to sing.

"Oh! How we danced on the night we were wed.

We vowed our true love, though a word wasn't said.

The world was in bloom, there were stars in the skies,

Except for the few that were there in your eyes.

"Dear, as I held you so close in my arms,

Angels were singing a hymn to your charms.

Two hearts gently beating were murmuring low:

'My darling, I love you so!'

"The night seemed to fade into blossoming dawn.

The sun shone anew but the dance lingered on,

Could we but relive that sweet moment sublime,

We'd find that our love is unaltered by time.

"Dear, as I held you so close in my arms,

Angels were singing a hymn to your charms.

Two hearts gently beating were murmuring low:

'My darling, I love you so!'

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(A/N: WE LIVE ONCE AGAIN! Whoo, it's good to be back! Please accept our heartfelt apologies, readers, for this unacceptable delay. We blame school and unavoidable circumstances for hindering our updates! So, enjoy this late Christmas present from us!)