Zach got me was ‘too intense.’
I turn back to Vicky, who’s wide-eyed now.
“I’m sorry. My fiancée tossed out the last wedding planner we had, so we have a new one, and I didn’t like her from the get-go but…” I lift my hands, shrug. “You don’t want to mess with a bride-to-be.”
Vicky shakes her head. “When is the wedding?”
“In three weeks,” I tell her. “Wedding planner was supposed to call. I just stopped by because I was convinced from the way Trinity described this place that it might be too small for all the guests.”
Vicky holds up her hands. “Trinity?”
“Malone.” I move my chin to the side. “Daughter of Keith and Monica?”
Vicky puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh my…I…” She shakes her head. “I didn’t even know she was old enough too—” But then her jaw clicks shut. “I’m going to check the register straight away.”
I let her walk a few paces before following. She leads me back through the nave, to a small office beside the foyer.
“If we decide not to get married here, would you send her baptismal records over to Father Kennedy? I’ll give you his email address.”
“Oh, we don’t keep electronic records,” Vicky says. “But I can always fax the certificate through to him.”
I take my phone out, put down her details as a new contact even though the certificate is useless to me. I need the record the parish keeps where they note the parents’ names and, usually, an address. It’s a long shot, but right now it’s all we have.
She motions to a chair, and we sit in stuffy silence as she opens a big ledger and makes a note of the impending wedding in three weeks.
“Where were you baptized?” she asks, peering at me over her glasses.
Some things you don’t lie about. “I wasn’t.”
The temperature inside the room drops a few degrees.
“Do you have any of the documents with you?”
The sudden chill in the air spreads right to my lungs. “Documents? Like my social security number?” I reach for my wallet, but she shakes her head.
Ticking off on her fingers, she starts up, “I need your Freedom to Marry letter, your dispensation form, your civil marriage license, and the information for marriage form.”
Christ.
I almost cross myself again hearing that list.
“Guess I have another wedding planner to fire,” I murmur, as if to myself. “Is there still time for me to get those, or do we have to postpone? I hope not. I’ve already lost the deposit on a cake because the previous planner had the dates wrong. And don’t even get me started on the flowers. Did you know that, apparently, peonies are only beautiful if they haven’t opened all the way?”
I’m not an actor like Cass. Hell, even Apollo could have done a better job convincing this woman that I’m a groom in a pickle. But I got the gig because any sister of the cloth would be too shocked Cass didn’t catch flame when he walked into the chapel to deal with him, and Apollo…well…he gets distracted sometimes.
Also, I had sisters. Which apparently makes me the closest thing to a wedding expert we have.
Thankfully some of my frustration comes through because, even though I’m not Catholic, Vicky softens a little to my plight. “No dear. If you go down to the courthouse today, you should have everything you need in a week or so.”
“Can you…” I stop for a second, make it look like I’m calming myself. “Can you please just check if you do have Trinity’s records? With my luck, I’ve come to the wrong church.”
“Oh, you’re in the right place,” Vicky says, mothering mode now fully engaged. “But it’s a good thing you ask, because some of our records were destroyed in a fire a few months ago.”
And there it is. That’s why she was so uneasy seeing a stranger in the chapel. There’s a shadow in Vicky’s eyes that wasn’t there before.
She goes over to a metal filing cabinet and opens it, her back to me. “What is her date of birth?”
I check on my phone, give it to Vicky.
I’ll be pushing it if I ask, but it’s burning me up. No pun intended. “A fire?”
At first I don’t think she’s going to answer, but then she lets out a sigh and closes the cabinet. I already have my suspicions before she starts talking, and when she’s done, they’re confirmed.
“Terrible thing,” she murmurs. I can’t help but notice she’s empty-handed as she adjusts her glasses and takes