Jeremiah looked at me and then back at my dad and then back at me. I shook my head just slightly. I had this vision of him asking my dad for his blessing, and it was all wrong. My dad couldn’t find out before my mother.

“I’m going to be interning at my dad’s company again,” Jeremiah said.

“Good for you,” my dad said. “That’ll keep you busy.”

“For sure.”

My dad looked at me. “What about you, Belly? Are you going to waitress again?”

I sucked soda from the bottom of my glass. “Yeah. I’m gonna go in and talk to my old manager next week. They always need help in the summer, so it should be all right.”

With the wedding just a couple of months away, I would just have to work doubly—triply—hard.

When the bill came, I saw my dad squint and take a closer look. I hoped Jeremiah didn’t notice, but when I realized he hadn’t, I wished he had.

I felt closest to my dad when I was sitting in the passenger seat of his minivan, studying his profile, the two us listening to his Bill Evans CD. Drives with my dad were our quiet times together, when we might talk about nothing and everything.

So far the drive had been a quiet one.

He was humming along with the music when I said,

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

I wanted to tell him so badly. I wanted to share it with him, to have it happen during this perfect moment when I was still his little girl in the passenger seat and he was still the one driving the car. It would be a moment just between us. I’d stopped calling him Daddy in middle school, but it was in my heart—Daddy, I’m getting married.

“Nothing,” I said at last.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him before I told my mother. It wouldn’t be right.

He went back to humming.

Just a little bit longer, Dad.

Chapter Eighteen

I’d thought it would take at least a little time to adjust to being at home again after being away at college, but I fell back into my old routine pretty much right away.

Before the end of the first week, I was unpacked and having early-morning breakfasts with my mom and fighting with my brother Steven over the state of the bathroom we shared. I was messy, but Steven took it to a whole new level. I guessed it ran in our family. And I started working at Behrs again, taking as many shifts as they would let me, sometimes two a day.

The night before we all went to Cousins for the dedication of Susannah’s garden, Jere and I were talking on the phone. We were talking about wedding stuff, and I told him some of Taylor’s ideas. He loved them all but balked at the idea of a carrot cake.

“I want a chocolate cake,” he said. “With raspberry filling.”

“Maybe one layer can be carrot and one can be chocolate,” I suggested, cradling the phone to my shoulder.

“I’ve heard they can do that.”

I was sitting on my bedroom floor, counting my tips for the night. I hadn’t even changed out of my work shirt yet, even though it had grease stains all down the front, but I was too beat to bother. I just loosened the necktie.

“A chocolate-raspberry-carrot cake?”

“With cream cheese frosting for my layer,” I reminded him.

“Sounds kinda complicated to me flavor profilewise, but fine. Let’s do it.”

I smiled to myself as I stacked my ones and fives and tens. Jeremiah was watching a lot of Food Network since he’d been home.

“Well, first we have to be able to pay for this alleged cake,” I said. “I’ve been taking all the shifts I can, and I’ve only got a hundred and twenty bucks saved so far. Taylor says wedding cakes are really expensive. Maybe I should ask her mom to bake the cake instead. Mrs. Jewel’s a really good baker. We probably couldn’t ask for anything too fancy, though.”

Jeremiah had been silent on the other line. Then he finally said, “I don’t know if you should keep working at Behrs.”

“What are you talking about? We need the money.”

“Yeah, but I have the money my mom left me. We can use that for the wedding. I don’t like you having to work so hard.”

“But you’re working too!”

“I’m an intern. It’s a bullshit job. I’m not working half as hard as you are for this wedding. I sit around an office, and you’re busting your ass working double shifts at Behrs. It doesn’t feel right.”

“If this is because I’m the girl and you’re the guy … ,” I began.

“That’s not it, dude. I’m just saying, why should you have to work this hard when I have money in my savings account?”

“I thought we said we were going to do this on our own.”

“I’ve been doing some Internet research, and it looks like it’s going to be a lot more expensive than we thought. Even if we go really simple, we still have to pay for food and drinks and flowers. We’re only getting married once, Belly.”

“True.”

“My mom would want to contribute. Right?”

“I guess… .” Susannah would want to do more than contribute. She’d want to be there every step of the way—dress shopping, deciding on the flowers and food, all of it. She’d want to do it up. I always pictured her there on my wedding day, sitting next to my mom, wearing a fancy hat. It was a really nice picture.

“So let’s let her contribute. Besides, you’re gonna get really busy with wedding-planning stuff with Taylor. I’ll help as much as I can, but I still have to be at work from nine to five. When you call caterers and flower people or whatever, that’ll have to be during the day, and I won’t be able to be there.”

I was really impressed that he’d thought of all this. I liked this other side of him, thinking ahead, worrying about my health. I had just been complaining about cal-luses on my feet too.

“Let’s talk more about it after we tell our parents,” I told him.

“Are you still nervous?”

I’d been trying not to think about it too much. At Behrs, I focused all my energy on delivering bread baskets and refilling drinks and cutting slices of cheesecake.

In a way, I was glad to be working double shifts, because it kept me out of the house and away from my mother’s watchful eye. I hadn’t worn my engagement ring since I’d been home. I only pulled it out at night, in my room.

I said, “I’m scared, but I’ll be relieved to finally have it out in the open. I hate keeping things from my mom.”

“I know,” he said.

I looked at the clock. It was twelve thirty. “We’re gonna leave early tomorrow morning, so I should prob-94 · jenny han

ably go to sleep.” I hesitated before asking, “Are you driving up with just your dad? What’s the deal with Conrad?”

“I have no clue. I haven’t talked to him. I think he’s flying in tomorrow. We’ll see if he even shows.”

I wasn’t sure if it was disappointment I was feeling or relief. Probably both. “I doubt he’ll come,” I said.

“You never know with Con. He might come, he might not.” Then he added, “Don’t forget to bring your ring.”

“I won’t.”

Then we said good night, and it was a long time before I could fall asleep. I think I was afraid. Afraid that he was coming and afraid that he wasn’t.

Chapter Nineteen

I was up before the alarm; I was showered with my new dress on before Steven was even awake. I was the first one in the car.

My dress was lavender silk chiffon. It had a tight bod-ice and narrow straps and a floaty skirt, the kind you’d spin around in like a girl in a musical. Something Kim MacAfee might wear. I’d seen it in a store window in February, when it was still too cold to wear it without stockings. Stockings would ruin it. I’d used my father’s for-emergencies-only card, the one I’d never used before. It had stayed in my closet all this time, still covered in plastic.

When my mother saw me, she burst into a smile and said, “You look beautiful. Beck would love this dress.”

Steven said, “Not bad,” and I gave them both a little curtsy. It was just that kind of dress.