leave you two to your own devices?” she asked Maddy and Mrs. Ballantine. Then, before either could answer, she swept out of the room, her stride smooth and graceful, even in three-inch heels.
“Fhought she’d neber lede.”
“Pardon me, Mrs. Ballantine?” Maddy asked, turning to look down at the housekeeper, earning herself another sharp tug on her skirts for the effort.
Mrs. Ballantine pulled the pins from her mouth. “I said, I thought she’d never leave. Now, what’s the matter, Miss Maddy? And don’t go telling me everything’s fine, because it isn’t. Never saw such an unhappy bride, or a grandmother so blind to what’s smack in front of her face. Dratted woman. Probably had her head pulled too tight last year, and her brains have all shrunk.”
“Mrs. Ballantine!” Maddy scolded, then laughed with real enjoyment—right up until she realized it was the first time she’d laughed in real enjoyment in quite a while. No, she wasn’t being very bridelike, was she?
“I’m fine, Mrs. Ballantine. Honestly. Just some prewedding nerves. I imagine all brides get them. Now, I promise to stand very still while you finish pinning this huge hem.”
“Going to take some time, you know.”
“Yes, I know. I should have gone with the sheath, I suppose, but Allie did like this one so much.”
“And you listened to her? Woman’s an idiot.”
“Yes, Mrs. Ballantine, I know,” Maddy replied calmly, as the running feud between housekeeper and matriarch was as superficial as the women’s regard for each other was deep. “She likes you, too.”
Mrs. Ballantine lifted another half-dozen pins to her mouth, pausing only to say, “Now, think happy thoughts, Miss Maddy, as a bride should, and we’ll be done here in about ten minutes. Then you can do something with that hair. At least the old lady was right about that. Ponytails are for children. Why, I remember…”
Maddy stared at her reflection as she allowed Mrs. Ballantine’s words to glide over her head. And she remembered the last time she’d worn her hair in a ponytail. Where she had been, who had been there with her…
“You look gorgeous, Maddy. I think every bride should wear shorts, her hair pulled up like that. I mean, that veil and gown thing is definitely overdone. Now, what do you think of my groom gear?”
Maddy could see Joe O’Malley standing in front of her, just as he had stood in front of her eighteen months earlier. His smile was wide in his tanned, handsome face. His arms were out at his sides as he playfully turned himself in a half circle, inviting her to admire his cutoffs and bright red Phillies jersey, the number 32 stamped on the back in huge white characters.
He stopped moving, with his back to her, and smiled at her over his shoulder. Sandy hair much too long, but just right for him, slid down onto his forehead. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Physically the man was a near god, even in cutoffs. Maybe especially in cutoffs. He had great legs for a man. “Well, come on, Mad. Don’t leave me hanging here. Am I a groom’s groom, or what?”
“You’re a nut,” Maddy said, and he completed his fashionable “turn” before grabbing her close, kissing her senseless.
Joe O’Malley was very good at kissing Madeline Chandler senseless. Very good. It was one of his most adorable attributes.
It was also, most probably, what had led to the two of them standing outside the small white chapel on the Strip in Las Vegas, ready to recite their vows to each other in front of God and an Elvis impersonator.
Possibly not the best reason to marry someone, but not that bad a reason, not when you got right down to it. At least that was what Maddy had convinced herself. Was still trying to convince herself, even as the sane, rational part of her—admittedly having been considerably downsized since meeting Joe—fought to maintain some sort of control.
Because, although a smiling Joe, a joking Joe, and a loving Joe were all wonderful, they’d had their share of disagreements. Even arguments. And those arguments most often concerned not the present, but the future. Her place in that future, his function in that future.
Even in the heat of Las Vegas, the heady excitement of an impromptu elopement, Maddy still had that small nagging sane part of her trying to throw a last-minute monkey wrench into her happiness.
Which probably meant something. Something like, hey, maybe postponing this wedding until they’d worked out a few things. Like, where they would live. How they would live. Small stuff like that…
She put her hands on Joe’s forearms, pushed him slightly away from her. And asked a question she didn’t want to ask. “I heard the phone ring early this morning, while I was in the shower. Was it Larry?”
Joe nibbled at her left ear. “Um-hmm.”
Maddy’s knees were crumbling, but she wouldn’t let them. She might be the youngest Chandler. She might have been hiding behind the door when the Chandler common sense had been handed out. But she did know when it became time to trust her instincts. And her instincts were telling her that Larry Barry and his lamebrained ideas showed all the signs of becoming the “other woman” in her marriage. “And Larry wanted what?”
Joe backed off a little, kissed the tip of her nose. But did not look into her eyes. “You know. Typical Larry stuff. We’re brilliant, megatalented, and we’re soon going to be rich, rich, rich. Right after we’re done being poor, poor, poor, not that we talk about that part much.” He took Maddy’s hand, gave it a tug. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get married.”
Maddy’s feet stayed firmly planted on the sidewalk. “How poor, poor, poor? You did something, didn’t you, Joe? I can tell, because you’re not looking at me. It’s our wedding day, and you’ve barely looked at me, talked to me. What did you and Larry do?”
Joe sighed, stabbed his long, straight fingers through his hair. “Never could fool you, could I? Sometimes it’s hard to believe we’ve only known each other for three months. Okay, Maddy. Larry and I both quit our jobs last week—”
“You did what? Last week!”
“Yeah, last week. That’s why I could fly here to Vegas. We quit our jobs, cashed in our IRAs and any stocks and CDs we had, and we’re going to risk it all on this one roll. You’re now looking at one half of Barry and O’Malley Software. Incorporated, no less. It was going to be a surprise, a wedding present. Now, aren’t you sorry you made me give away the surprise?”
“Oh God.” Maddy walked away from him, turned in a full circle, glared at him, then walked back, not sure if she should give in to impulse and hit him, or just brush past him, keep on going. How could he do this to her? And today of all days!
Joe put his hands on her shoulders, gave her a small, encouraging shake. “Come on, Mad, don’t look like the world is coming to an end. You know this new idea of mine is going to fly. Bill Gates isn’t the only guy who can get an idea, you know. And Steve Jobs. Those guys started out working out of their own garages, and now look at them.”
Maddy ignored the sales pitch, as she’d heard it all before. They’d argued about all of it before, again and again. Joe was the computer genius, Larry the businessman. Together, they were going to conquer the world.
“Let me get this straight, Joe. You quit your job, liquidated all your holdings and went into business with Larry Barry the Loser? A week before you knew we were going to come here and maybe be married? When were you going to tell me all of this? Oh, yes, it was to be a surprise. You were going to tell me while we were on our honeymoon. Which will be in a cardboard box under a bridge, by the sound of it.”
Joe’s full, sensuous mouth flattened into a thin, white line. “If this is another way of saying, yet again, that we could live very comfortably on your trust fund, Mad, I’m not buying it, okay?”
“Okay, and I’m not Mad. Makes me sound like a wild animal that should be put down.” She broke free of him, turned