Stand-in Groom Read Free Page A

pick up the phone.”
    Beep
.
    “Chelsea, It’s three in the morning here, and I can’t put this off any longer. I didn’t want to leave this on your answering machine, but … I can’t marry you. I can’t do it—I’m sorry. I’ve canceled my plane ticket. I’m not coming on Saturday. I met a woman, Chels. I swear to God, I didn’t mean for this to happen, but … I fell in love. I know you’re probably never going to talk to me again, but call me, all right? Just … call me.”
    Chelsea sat at her desk, pressing the replay button on her answering machine and playing the series of messages from Emilio again and again.
    Love. Her fiancé had gone and fallen in love.
    With her digital answering-machine system, his smooth, faintly Italian-accented voice sounded as if he were standing right there, with her in her office.
    He wasn’t coming on Saturday. He wasn’t going to marry her.
    Moira O’Brien stood in the doorway, silently listening as Chelsea played Emilio’s last message for a third time.
    “Breach of promise,” Chelsea said as her best friend and business partner came in to sit down across from her desk. “This was more than amarriage—this was a business proposition. He’s reneging. I can’t believe it.”
    “So sue the son-of-a-bitch.”
    “Moira, he’s my friend. I can’t sue him.”
    “You wanna bet?” Moira reached for the telephone. “My brother’s a lawyer. Let me give him a call—”
    “I’m not going to sue Emilio.” Chelsea pulled the telephone out of reach. “But the next time I see him, you better believe I’m going to make him crawl to beg forgiveness.” She put her head down on the desk with a thump. “Oh, Moira, what are we going to do?”
    “About the bank loan?”
    Chelsea lifted her head to meet her friend’s worried eyes. “No, about the five hundred and fifty-seven shrimp cocktails that will go to waste—
Yes
, about the bank loan. The first payment is due three weeks from Monday. If I don’t get married on Sunday, I don’t get my hands on the money from my trust fund.”
    “You’ve looked at the terms of your grandfather’s will?” Moira asked. “There’re no loopholes?”
    Chelsea opened the file drawer of her desk andpulled out a folder. She took the photocopied page that was clipped to the inside cover and passed it across the desk to her friend.
    “Chelsea Jasmine Spencer to receive the first payment of funds from a trust to the amount of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, plus all interest accrued, upon the first business day following the return from a honeymoon, preceded by her wedding.” Chelsea recited the words she knew by heart. “Additional terms regarding release of funds to be revealed at that time.”
    Moira chewed on her lower lip. “Additional terms?”
    “Knowing sweet, rich, manipulative,
controlling
old Grandpa, it could be anything,” Chelsea told her. “I might have to wear a clown suit to work for the next five weeks.” She took the paper back from Moira and returned the file to its place. “Of course, now I’ll never know.”
    “Your mother’s going to have a heart attack when you tell her the wedding’s off. She’s going to die.”
    “Or worse yet,” Chelsea said wickedly, “she’ll live, and spend the rest of her life reminding mehow
I
embarrassed
her
by being jilted three days before my wedding day.”
    “Jilted. That implies a certain emotional attachment, doesn’t it? You don’t love Emilio and he doesn’t love you. Maybe this is for the best.”
    “Moira, if I don’t get my hands on that money … Let me see. How can I put this delicately? How about: We’re
screwed
!” She gestured at the room around them. “If we don’t come up with that loan payment, this whole business gets flushed.”
    “You could borrow the money from your dad. Or one of your brothers.”
    “I could also sell my soul to Satan,” Chelsea retorted, pushing her chair back from her desk and starting to pace.
    Moira ran