honor; I’ll plan the party. Just be ready to have fun.”
“But what are you going to do?” Amy demanded.
I shrugged, dipping a shrimp into the cocktail sauce. “It’s going to be a surprise.”
And it was going to be a surprise, even to me.
And that is how I ended up in charge of a wedding-related event after I’d messed up my own fake wedding in high school.
Walking home, I kicked myself for opening my mouth. Arts and crafts wouldn’t have been that bad of an activity. As long as I didn’t have to use a glue gun. Those things hate me. When I got home, I pulled the mail out of the box and flipped through it as I paused at the front door. I guess it was just the right time of the year, but my mail was filled with wedding flyers along with the multiple credit card offers. I flipped through the mail, separating it into two piles: throw away and take a peek at. The peek ones were bills. I put those on the kitchen table and threw the others in the recycling.
I opened my laptop and Googled Vegas bachelorette parties. Some of the choices made me blush. Others made my pocketbook run and hide. Seriously, why had Amy thought having the party in Vegas was a good idea? She was a beach girl. She liked sand and surfing and bonfires. All things I could have set up just down the road with no problem at all.
I sighed as I pulled out a notebook and started making a list. I’d write down the ones I liked, the ones I loved, and the ones that weren’t bad. Then I’d rank them in terms of practicality and costs.
When I’d said I’d plan the party, did that mean I’d pay for it as well? I’d have to Google that too. Maybe it was a requirement of being a maid of honor. The dress had already set me back more than a few dollars. Now I needed to pay for fun and games for everyone?
Maybe my aunt would know. I glanced at the clock and picked up the phone.
“Coffee, Books, and More, may I help you?” My aunt had on her customer voice. Friendly, easy to talk to, and approachable.
“Hey, it’s me.”
A barely audible sigh came over the line. “What do you want, Jill? The store can get by without you checking in every hour you know, right?”
“I’m not checking in. I called to see what you knew about bachelorette parties. Does the maid of honor have to pay for it?”
“I take it Amy talked you into handling the event?” My aunt spoke to a customer about a children’s book. I waited until she finished.
“No. I mean, yeah, I’m handling it, but it was my idea.” I had a bad feeling about this.
My aunt laughed. A mix between a tinkle and a snort. “She told me she was going to get you to handle it this morning. I didn’t think you actually had a choice in the matter. Amy can be pretty persuasive.”
“Pretty tricky, if you ask me.” I sighed. I hadn’t even seen the trap my friend had laid. “So do you know if I have to pay for it?”
“No, you don’t. Ask Amy what your budget is. That way you’re both on the same page and you don’t get stuck with stuff she didn’t want you to order. But you should offer to chip in some money. Just because you’re friends.” My aunt spoke to another customer. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll leave you a package under the counter. Open it tomorrow as soon as you get here.”
“What is it? Did you get me a kitten?”
Now the laugh was more relaxed, lighter. “Not even. Besides, Emma would have a fit. She’d be jealous. I’ve got to go. I’ve got a line of people waiting for me.”
I kind of doubted that, but I hung up the phone. Tomorrow, I’d worry about the party, and I’d stop by City Hall at lunch to see what Amy had in mind and what her budget was. It only seemed fair.
I glanced at my golden retriever, who was sitting by the door, watching me. She probably wanted—no, needed—to go for a run. And I was too good of a pet owner to squash her dreams.
Greg would be home soon, and we’d be grilling pork chops and corn for dinner. We tried to eat together during the week most days because if he was going