Save the Date

“Hi, Mom,” I said, and seeing one of the waiters frown at me, I took another step toward the doorway. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to need you to get your brother on the way home,” my mother said. “Mike,” she added after a moment. “He needs to be here to take pictures with the other groomsmen. He can’t just expect to show up at the ceremony.”

“Um,” I said, blinking. I wondered if this was one of the things my parents had been fighting with Mike about the night before. “Okay.”

“And where are you with the bagels?”

“Well,” I said, looking around the room, where Ralph Donnelly was shaking his head at Bill—clearly, we hadn’t made any progress yet. “Um, it might be a minute. Do we have anything else to feed them instead?”

“You would think,” my mother said. “But your uncle Stu’s been eating up half of the contents of the fridge—” There was the click that indicated someone had just picked up the extension.

“CHARLOTTE LOUISE GRANT.” It was my dad, and he sounded furious—which my dad almost never did.

“Oh, by the way, your father’s mad,” my mom said, just a tad too late. I immediately felt a cold sweat break out on my upper lip. What had I done? Was he mad that I’d spent the night sleeping across from the wedding coordinator’s nephew? It was truly a bad sign when my dad full-named me.

“Hi, Dad. Um, what—”

“That dog has dug up my flower beds.” My dad’s voice was rising with every word, and I held the phone a little bit away from my ear, which had started to ring.

“Oh no. You mean—”

“Yes,” he snapped. “The flowers that were going to win me the title have been ruined. Utterly and totally wrecked.”

I suddenly remembered Waffles’s paws when he came back in after I’d let him out into the yard. Clearly, this explained it—he’d gotten them dirty destroying my dad’s dreams.

“This was my last shot, Charlie. And now it’s gone.”

“I’m really sorry, Dad,” I said. “Um—”

“Where did this dog even come from?” my dad asked, lowering his voice. “Are we sure Don’s not behind this?”

“He’s not,” my mother said firmly. “Charlie, just come back soon with your brother. And the bagels.”

“Right, the bagels,” my dad said, sounding a bit more like himself. “What’s taking so long?”

“There’s just, um, a really long line,” I said. “Be back soon!” I hung up before my parents could ask me any more questions.

“If you could just see where we’re coming from here,” Bill was saying as I joined him. His voice was wheedling and friendly, but there was a definite edge to it, like his infinite cheerfulness was finally being tested. “There’s a wedding in a few hours. And we really need our suit back.”

“And if you could see where I’m coming from,” Ralph said, smoothing down the lapels. “Which is not wanting to arrive in one suit and change partway through an event! I’ll be a hashtag laughingstock.”

“Um,” I said, looking at the people standing around, none of whom seemed to care all that much about what people were wearing.

“Look,” Bill said, dropping the friendly manner altogether. “I didn’t want to have to get the authorities involved. But . . .”

“Oho!” Ralph said, looking not at all scared by this threat, but weirdly delighted. “And say what, exactly?”

“Well—” I exchanged a glance with Bill. “That you stole a suit?”

“But that’s where you’re wrong,” Ralph said, shaking his head. “I was given a suit. I didn’t knowingly steal anything.”

“But now you know,” Bill pointed out, shaking the garment bag in his direction. “So don’t you have some obligation to, um, rectify the situation?”

I noticed with alarm that people were starting to put down their coffee cups and napkins and make their way into the area with the chairs. What if Ralph just left, still wearing Rodney’s suit? Bill and I were crashing this event, so it wasn’t like we could complain to anyone about it. “Look,” I started, just as two men who looked around Ralph’s age passed him as they made their way to the ballroom.

“Donnelly,” one of them said, with a nod.

“Your Honor,” the other one said.

“I have to be going,” Ralph said, starting to edge toward the ballroom. “But—”

“You’re a judge?” I blurted out, feeling my heart start to beat hard. “Like . . . a real one?”

“Yes,” he said, folding his arms on top of Rodney’s suit. “But if you think that my role changes my position about this—”

“No, it’s not that,” I said quickly. I looked over at Bill and saw he was pretty much thinking the same thing that I was—that maybe we had an opportunity here. “But, like, you’re a judge judge,” I said, feeling that after Max, it couldn’t hurt to make sure of these things. “You’re not just a judge on TV, right? You can do all the things judges can do?”

“I’m a probate judge,” Ralph said, looking increasingly confused. “But I don’t know what that has to—”

“What does that mean?” Bill asked. “Like—people on probation?”

“No,” Ralph said, his voice heavy with disdain. “I handle wills and estates.” We must have both looked blank, because he sighed and said bluntly, “Dead people.”

“Oh.” I nodded, thinking this might not have been a bad choice for Ralph, if this was the way he interacted with the living. “But you can do all the things judges can, right? Like . . . you can marry people?”

Ralph’s eyebrows flew up, and he looked from me to Bill. “You two seem a little young.”

“No,” Bill said quickly, and I could see that the tips of his ears were turning red. “Not me and Charlie. We’re not . . . I mean, we’re just . . .”

“It’s for my sister,” I said, jumping in, noticing that almost everyone else had made their way into the ballroom by now, and starting to talk faster. “She’s getting married tonight, and we’re down an officiant. They’re not religious, so we need to find a judge. . . .”

“Let me guess,” Ralph said. “Someone got ordained online, then found out you can’t do that here?” Bill and I nodded, and Ralph shook his head.

“So, would you be willing to do it? You can keep the suit,” I promised recklessly. “And even attend the wedding if you want. You can have dinner and everything! Um . . . do you like salmon?”

“I get to keep the suit?” Ralph asked, looking down at it again. I nodded, hoping that Rodney would care more about getting married than he would about getting married in the right clothing. I smiled hopefully at Ralph, and saw Bill doing the same.

“You’d really be helping us out,” I said. “And if you don’t want to stay, you wouldn’t have to—you could just drop in, marry them, and head out again.”

“Please?” Bill asked.

Ralph sighed. “Fine,” he said, reaching into the pocket of Rodney’s suit—apparently, now Ralph’s suit—and pulling out a business card. “E-mail me the details, the location, and when you’ll need me for the ceremony.”

I let out a long, shaky breath. “Thank you so much,” I said, as next to me, Bill nodded fervently. “We really, really appreciate it, and—”

“All right,” Ralph said, starting to look uncomfortable. “Just send me the information, and I’ll see you tonight.”

“Thank you,” Bill called, a little too loudly. Ralph gave us a smile that was more grimace than anything else, and hurried into the ballroom, probably trying to get there before we could ask him for anything else.

I looked over at Bill, who just shook his head. We headed back the way we came, waiting until we were out of the ballroom before either one of us spoke. “Oh my god,” I said, once we were in the clear. I shook my head, feeling like I was on the verge of bursting into giddy laughter.