Claire sat when the last goods were laid.

Clarence opened the date. Beauty shared that she wished a garden wedding and Claire interrupted midway.

"That would be great and we will invite the big shots in the culinary industry. Oh, I'll be busy from now on." She placed a notebook on the table and scribbled.

Clarence saw Beauty's helplessness. "Mom, please let Beauty finish."

"Oh dear, sorry. Go on." Claire smiled and waved her hand at Clarence. She sipped from a cup.

"Ah, actually, I only want a small wedding."

Clattering sound resounded. Claire spilled the coffee.

"What? Just a small wedding? And...but...are you sure?"

Clyde held Claire's hand and waved at a helper. The helper left. "Don't forget, dear, this is their wedding. Not ours." The helper came back with cleaning materials.

"Oh, oh my, what have I done? Sorry, sorry, I don't mean it. Okay, proceed as you wish but it would be nicer to invite some few bigshots." She looked at the young girl asking for an affirmation.

Beauty remained silent. She didn't know what to say. For her, a small meaningful wedding was more memorable. However, how could she tell her future mother-in-law without offending?

Clarence saw her difficulty. "Mom, I also agree with her. Just friends and family. We always meet these bigshots on special occasions. In fact, they would be there at your Christmas party. Please let the wedding be exclusive." Clarence held Beauty's hand tighter for a.s.surance while his eyes secured on his mother.

Claire sighed and looked at them then sighed again. "If...if...if." She breathes deep, "Can I not invite my society friends. You know who they are?" Claire begged but worried that she would be denied.

"Mom, I don't want to hear political speeches on my wedding day. Please."

Claire's eyes got misty. "I...I..." She took a napkin and tapped under her eyes.

"Maybe, invite a few?" Beauty glanced at Clarence, asking for his approval for his mother's sake.

"No way. These guys will use all opportunities to make an election campaign out of every situation they're in."

"How about the wives only?" Beauty added.

"Do you think you can exclude the husbands when they know whose child is to be wed? They'll make an issue out of a molehill."

"That's way too much, Clarence." Clyde b.u.t.ted in. "Claire, let them decide on the invitation list. End of topic."

"Okay, okay." Claire cleared her throat and drunk another cup of coffee in one gulp while she continued tapping a hanky under her eyes.

"Mom, sorry for this but I have one request from you. I do believe you would love this one better than the list." Beauty couldn't bear to see Claire unhappy. She gave the other her radiant smile.

Claire's eyes brightened a little. "Oh, what is it?"

"Mom, it would be my honor if you'll be the one to choose my wedding and entourage's outfit."

Tears fell on Claire's eyes. "Really? You really mean it?" She jumped at her feet.

"Yes, Mom."

"Splendid. I would love to. No taking back of decision. My heart can't bear more denials." Claire was bouncy as ever and asked the helper to send out more sweets and delicacies.

"Of course, I know you're good on this better than me."

"Oh, I can't wait for this planning talk to finish. I'm so excited for you to meet my beloved seamstress and hairdresser."

Clarence looked at Beauty with approval. Bella and the rest did the same while Claire continued her frenzied planning. She took a book of wedding dresses and showed it to everyone.

. . . . .

NIght time, Clarence grew tired of the training with Ronald.

"A month has pa.s.sed and yet, you're still far from doing your stances properly."

"Man, is there a faster way to learn all these stuff?" Ronald laid on the floor with sweats all over.

"No way, there's no shortcut here. It took years for me to build myself, how much more with you?" He gestured Ronald's aching and almost couldn't stand body.

"What a disappointment I am?" Ronald covered his eyes with his arm and a tear fell near his ear.

"There's no need to feel bad. You're just not cut out for heavy physical exercise."

"I want Jenna to be proud of me."

"She is in fact very proud of you trying for her father. Don't overlook her feelings."

"I know but I..."

"Stop this melodrama, okay? You're a funny guy, not suited for dramatic scenes." Clarence threw a towel to Ronald.

"Is being funny enough?"

"Jenna loved your jokes so that's enough. You love her, do you?"

Ronald sat up and wiped his face. "Of course, I don't know if I can live without her."

"Then just be honest to Uncle Arnold. Aunt Gertie is actually against you from training hard. She will make my uncle face the truth."

"Uncle Arnold didn't push me to do this. It's just..."

Clarence filled halfway. "You don't want to see him disappointed."

"Yes, I want him to be proud of me as Jenna's husband."

"Don't worry about that. I told him you're really not cut out..."

"What? How could you? This is shameful." Ronald reacted without thinking.

"Did you hear what I said? He was thankful enough that I tried. Just get on your wedding plans." He started to walk out of the gym. "By the way, one thing that could make him happy is a beach luau before the wedding."

"Really? Thanks for the hint." Ronald beamed but recoiled as he stood slowly. He moaned as he gently stroked his back and b.u.t.tocks.

The next day, Ronald bowed deep at Arnold and Gertie for his incompetence of which the two shrugged it off.

Also, he asked that he will try his best to take care of Jenna in spite of his situation.

"Just love our daughter and take good care of her," Gertie said as she embraced Jenna. Jenna snuggled and cried a little.

Arnold accepted with ease and gave his blessing. However, his smile was enormous when Ronald announced that they would have an engagement luau at Camotes Island.

Jenna's mother scolded Ronald for trying to impress Arnold. She told him that there's no need for it. Arnold pulled Gertie away with a smirk. "Let the young'uns do their planning. Let's get out to buy your s.e.xy swimsuit."

"Haha, you, naughty." Gertie laughed and pinched Arnold while the other enjoyed feigning torturous pain.