A/N: Flashback to Becky's wedding. And my self-imposed word count is completely obliterated this chapter. Lots of POVs made it necessary.
The chairs had been arranged in neat rows by the groomsmen in the sunroom of the hotel. Darlene and Ruby had set themselves the task to arrange the flowers. Elsie breathed a sigh of relief.
It seemed like everything was coming together. She had been pleasantly surprised when Joe Burns had arrived earlier that morning, offering to help the groomsmen. They had only been dating for a few months. He was a nice man, solid. She wasn't sure if they would work out in the long term, but he treated her well.
That meant a lot.
She was almost to the elevators when she saw one of the hotel managers headed her way.
"Elsie Hughes? Your sister's getting married this afternoon in the sunroom?"
"That's right. Rebekah Hughes and Adam Patmore," Elsie said. "Is there something you need?"
"Well," the man wrung his hands, clearly upset. "There's a woman in the lounge. She says she's your mother. She's had a few drinks-"
Her heart sank right into her toes. I should have known she'd find out somehow. She turned, half-walking and half-running across the lobby, the manager right behind her.
"We have a policy of turning out those patrons who, ah-"
"I understand," Elsie cut him off. She prayed silently that her mother would come away quietly. For once.
And that Becky wouldn't find out. Not today. I don't want anything to ruin today. She took a deep breath before entering the mostly-empty lounge. It was almost noon.
Maggie Hughes was singing off-key, perched precariously on a bar stool.
"Mam. What are you doing here?" Elsie kept her voice calm. Maggie turned and glared at her.
"What I am I doing here?" she repeated, her voice slurred in a mocking tone. Elsie kept eye contact, her hands on her hips. "My daughter's getting married today." She threw back another shot. "My baby. Why shouldn't I be here?"
"You aren't her mother. You may have given birth to her, but you've never been there for her. This is about you being the center of attention," Elsie said evenly, "If you really cared for her, you would have been there for her before today."
"You little imp," Maggie's face was red. "How dare you lecture me! I'm going to Becky's wedding, and you can't stop me-"
"Is there a problem?" Both women turned around to see Charles Carson enter the lounge, looking serious.
He doesn't need to be bothered with her. No one does. Elsie spoke up quickly."No, I can handle this-"
"Who's your friend?" Maggie eyed the best man with appreciation, who was already attired in his rented tuxedo. "Why don't you…introduce me?" She slipped off the stool, propping herself against the bar. The implication was obvious.
Unbelievable. Elsie closed her eyes in horror before collecting herself. "Mother, this is Charles Carson. He's the best man at the wedding," she tried to tell him without words to stay calm, not to rattle the older woman. Remarkably, he seemed to understand her.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes," he said, as if he was speaking to the minister's wife.
"Why don't you join me for a drink?" Maggie slapped her hand on the bar. "Celebrate the occasion-"
"No, Mam," Elsie huffed, motioning to the bartender, who nodded. "You've had more than enough!" As she spoke, the manager re-entered the lounge with a security guard.
Maggie laughed and gestured at the bartender to get her another drink. But when he politely refused, she went into a tirade. He and the guard had to wrestle her to the floor while the hotel manager called the police. Charles pulled Elsie back as first the guard, then the police, did their jobs. He said nothing, but his presence kept her calm. Maggie was arrested and taken away, shouting at her daughter all the while.
After she was gone, Elsie sank onto a stool at the bar, her face in her hands. She felt a gentle tap on her arm.
"I came down initially to get something for Adam, to calm his nerves. But I think you need it more." She looked up at Charles, feeling utterly humiliated. What must he think of us, to have a mother like that? And his mother is just the opposite. His expression betrayed nothing.
"No thank you," she protested. "I don't drink, I never have."
"Have some port," he said in a voice that brooked no opposition. "Just a little, to steady you. You won't want to go upstairs now. Becky will know something happened."
Shaking her head, she pushed away the glass.
"It's not your fault," he said quietly. "No one would think less of you, or of Becky, because of your mother's behavior." He paused, his eyes soft. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."
Tears pricked her eyes. She wrapped a shaking hand around the glass and sipped the dark red wine.
"I don't know how to thank you," she whispered. "I am glad you were here."
"I'm glad I could help. It's part of my job," he said lightly, patting her hand. When his fingers grazed her skin, she almost flinched.
She had never felt that when Joe touched her.
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The wedding was beautiful. Becky was radiant, and Adam couldn't stop smiling. Elsie moved among their guests, greeting and chatting with everyone. Charles was deep in conversation with Adam's cousin when Beryl reminded him to dance with Elsie at least once.
It was awkward. He held her hand in a looser grip than normal, hoping what he had felt that morning when he touched her hand had been a fluke. He kept his other hand on her waist still, not daring to move it at all.
Not to mention the song seemed inappropriate for their dance together.* He tried to forget it, reminding himself that the floor was crowded and included the bride and groom.
He was impressed with the bride's sister, how she had put the morning incident behind her, and had focused solely on Becky. He tried not to notice how perfectly her dress fit her. He did comment favorably on her dancing, feeling that was a safe subject. She thanked him, replying that her father had taught her and Becky how to dance. He relaxed as they talked, enjoying the next few minutes rather more than even he thought proper.
At least until Joe cut in.
He returned to his table and was feeling rather glum when a brown-haired woman, beautifully dressed, entered the room and strode across the floor towards him.
His breath caught in his throat.
Alice.
Thank God. My wife has come back to me!
He pushed back the thought that he had doubted that she would return, preferring to let his elation take over.
He jumped up from his seat and kissed her.
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She was nervous about how he would receive her. I didn't mean to be away this long.
But I needed it, for my own sake.
Leaving Chicago very early that morning, she had been caught in traffic and thus reached Lexington after the wedding. It made her feel guilty, but she shook it off. Arriving at the reception would bring a certain panache.
It seemed to work spectacularly.
He kissed her until her knees felt weak. I forgot how good of a kisser he could be.
"Well," she said, pulling back in his arms, "It's wonderful to see you too, Charlie." He laughed and kissed her again, lightly. He was totally unaware that they had attraction some attention.
She was not.
He held her hand as she greeted his parents. Both were warm, but she detected a hint of frost, especially in Darlene's voice.
They don't understand. Not like Charlie.
Well, they don't have to.
She pulled her husband towards Adam, ignoring the groom's conversation with his brother-in-law.
"Little Ad!" she cried, kissing him on the cheek. "Oh, I can't believe you're married! I'm so sorry I missed the ceremony-"
"That's all right, I'm glad you're here," Adam said. "This is my wife Rebekah, or Becky as everyone calls her. Becky, this is Charlie's wife, Alice, or Ally. She's been like another sister to me growing up."
Alice turned to look at the bride, a young woman with dark blue eyes and wavy brown hair.
She's prettier than me.
"It's nice to meet you, congratulations," she trilled, feeling her voice rise higher as it always did when she was nervous. "Your dress is beautiful."
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you," Becky said smiling, her arm through Adam's. She turned slightly, gesturing to someone. "I should introduce you to the maid of honor. My sister, Elsie." She spoke with a slight lilt, a musical sound.
A woman surrounded by a tight knot of people made her way over to them. Alice felt as though she was walking down a flight of stairs, and had missed one.
Red hair crowned a face with high cheekbones and dark blue eyes identical to the bride's. Her lavender dress showed off her curves.
Alice felt diminished just standing next to her.
"Els," Becky said, "This is Alice Carson, Charlie's wife. Alice, this is my sister, Elsie Hughes."
"I've heard a lot about you," Elsie said, extending her hand. Her accent was more pronounced than Becky's, the rolling r distinct.
"You're Becky's maid of honor? How fitting, supporting your sister," she squeaked, feeling her face redden. She cleared her throat. "I hope you can excuse Charlie when you dance with him, he's got two left feet-"
"We already danced. He's a fine dancer," Elsie said, a small smile on her face as she glanced at Charles. "I hope I didn't leave any bruises on your toes."
"Hardly," he replied. "Your feet hardly touched the floor." He returned Elsie's smile.
Alice felt her pulse quicken as she glanced between them. She slipped one arm around his waist, and put her other hand on his chest. He looked down at her in surprise. She hardly ever touched him in public.
Not like that, anyway.
"We should dance, we haven't yet," she said, willing him to move away. I must get him to myself.
We need to be alone. Just us.
"Oh yes," he said, fumbling for her hand before nodding at the others. "Excuse us."
They danced for a while before leaving the reception early.
For years afterward, Alice did her best to make plans for her and Charlie whenever Adam and Becky visited his family.
She tried not to remember, but was never able to completely forget, Elsie Hughes.
*I know this fic is based off of Jolene, but the song in my head Charles and Elsie dance to at Becky's wedding is "Follow You, Follow Me", by Genesis.
I'd love a review if you have time.