by Vicki Batman
“My future. A store.”
Jenny nodded. “Gotcha.” She dropped his check and disappeared into her room. She returned with a paper of her own, which she placed side by side with Allan's. “Here's mine. For your future.”
I pressed my lips into a level line and held back the overwhelming emotions which threatened to make me weep like a two-year-old. “I can’t take it, Jenny.”
“You can. It’s time.”
I examined the check. The dollar amount—notable. Hers matched Allan’s—five thousand dollars. “This is your life savings.”
“Some. Not all.”
“I-I”—I brushed my hand over my forehead, feeling the asphalt dust on my fingers—“I hate the highway job.”
“Of course, you do. It wasn’t the career you were meant to have.”
Jenny circled the peninsula and barely patted my shoulder. “Maybe I’ll quit Tuckers and join you. We can open a store. We can develop a business plan. Who knows?”
My eyes went large. “You'd leave your buying job and join me?”
Rubbing her chin, she nodded. “I might.”
“Okay, we can talk. Think. But first, a shower.”
“The water bill says you’ve been taking looonnng ones,” she said. “You’re wasting precious resources.”
“The drowned rat has resurrected.” I laughed. My prospects had changed. With a best friend by my side and money from another one, I felt empowered. “Hey.”
Jenny swiveled about.
“Want to go somewhere with me?”
She squeezed her brow. “Depends. Where?”
“Wedding Wonderland.”
“Oh.” She crooked aside her head. “Back to the crime scene?”
I nodded.
Jenny pursed her lips. “Okay. Give me a sec.”
****
After I showered away the road dirt and dressed, I let Jenny drive us to Wedding Wonderland in her car because she vowed to never ride in the scary rental. She steered into a spot near the storefront and killed the engine.
Amazed, I stared into the blackened abyss. I opened the car door and exited. Jenny did the same thing. We circled the front end and leaned against the front bumper. I couldn't take my gaze off the overcooked remains.
Jenny knocked my side with her hip. “You got the willies?”
“I should.” A chill raced up my arm. Scary. I nodded. “I do.”
“Wouldn't blame you if you did have them. I do even now. I grew a few gray hairs when I heard how you escaped. Luckily, I have an excellent hairstylist.”
I shifted my gaze to the area of the storeroom office and gulped. A terrifying pain rooted in my chest and made my pulse pound. If a few more minutes had passed, I would have been a goner. “Looking at it, I’m amazed I got away. Not an experience I want to repeat.”
Thank goodness I'd been determined to save myself.
The ruins of the men's haberdashery couldn’t be missed either. All the wet, charred, broken remains. Can’t work at that store either.
I rubbed the scar on the top of my hand where a cinder did its best damage when the gowns flamed and spouted. “I think I trust people too much.”
Jenny tilted her head. “Being kind is a virtue. Your mother raised you to be so. To work hard. To respect others.”
I gave a negative toss of my head. “I'm naive. I trust easily.”
“You won't go through this again.”
“No. Never.”
Another car rolled into the lot and parked beside Jenny’s. I looked over and saw my mom— What is she doing here?
Mom exited her vehicle and moved toward Jenny and me. “Hi, girls.”
I stood straighter and kissed her cheek. “Mom.” I did my best not to choke.
“Mrs. Cooks.”
“I was headed home when I saw you two.” She crossed her arms over her chest, almost transfixed by the devastation. Then she turned. “You okay?”
“Yes.” I went back to rest against the front bumper and stare at Wonderland.
“Jenny, is she?” Mom asked.
Jenny wobbled her head. “I think so. However—”
“I can’t wait to hear.”
“You should ask about her latest temporary job.”
Label my best friend a traitor.
Mom’s perfectly plucked and outlined eyebrow arched. “Oh?”
“Highway flagger.” I said out the side of my mouth for Jenny's ears, “Bigmouth.”
Jenny barely giggled.
Mom huffed a sigh. “I need a moment.” She dropped her handbag on the hood of Jenny’s sedan and took out…her checkbook. After she scribbled for a bit, she ripped off a sheet and folded my fingers over it.
I looked at the paper. The amount written— Whoa! My heart flipped over. “Mom?”
“For you…to open your store.”
“How funny,” Jenny said. “I gave her a check. Allan did, too.”
I passed back Mom's offering. “I can't take your money.”
“Why not?” Mom asked. “You took Allan's and Jenny's. You can take mine.”
“I’m just thinking about theirs. I didn’t commit.”
“Maybe you should. I have faith in you and so do your friends.” Mom grinned.
“You people don't get it.” I so didn't want to confess my innermost truth.
“Get what?” she asked.
“What-what…” And from God knew where, I blurted out, “what if I fail?”
“You think we'd let you fail?” Jenny snorted. “Not in our lifetime. Besides, failure isn’t such a big deal. People who fail learn something.”
“You’ve never failed.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “I did fail a long time ago.”
“When?”
“At sixteen. I took the driving test three times. Parallel parking’s a killer.”
I raised my gaze to the heavens.
“It was awful,” Jenny said. “My brother drove me everywhere until I passed the driving section. My parents insisted I pay him, too.”
Mom and I smiled at each other.
Mom nodded. “I failed once.”
“You?” I pointed.
“Me. Pot roast 101. Raw. Your dad ate a huge piece and never said a word. Luckily, he didn’t get ptomaine.” Mom stuffed her check in my hand again. “Do it, Hattie. I have every confidence in you.”
“In me?”
“More than you know.” She recrossed her arms and looked at the building remains. “Now, we have another quandary. What to do about Tracey's wedding dress? As you know, the one she bought at Wedding Wonderland is all gone. Poof.”
I stuffed the check in my front pants' pocket. “I have an idea—”
“What?”
Jenny and Mom looked at me as if I’d never had a brainwave before now.
“You're such alarmists. I could call the alterations lady, and we could do a nip and tuck on Mom's gown.”
“My gown?” Mom bit her lip. “Would Tracey wear mine?”
“She would.” I wound my arm with my mother’s and laid my head against her shoulder. The scent of roses tickled my nose. “It’s the best alternative. I don't know why we didn't think of it anyway.”
Mom melted. “I would like her to. What can we do about the cake?”
I found a small stone at my feet and picked it up. I lightly tossed it in the air a couple of times. As Jenny opened the car door, I halted long enough to rest my hand on the top of the hood. “I have an idea about the cake, too. How about cupcakes decorated like flowers and arranged on tiered cake plates?” With a smile, I walked to the passenger side and slid inside the vehicle.
Jenny started her sedan. “Smarty pants. Guess you did learn something while working here.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tracey looked beautiful as she glided along the aisle toward her hubby-to-be, her hand resting on Dad’s right forearm.
The alterations lady had worked her magic on my mom’s wedding gown. She transformed it into a slightly new
style—off shoulders, minus the peplum. And for Tracey’s veil, Mom and I took a headband of synthetic pearls and sparkling crystals and attached a simple fine net that trailed the red carpet behind her. Since Tracey didn’t have many choices, seeing her now, what else could have been more perfect?
Dad’s left hand covered Tracey’s as he looked at her with adoration.
Maybe someday I will feel like they do.
From the bridesmaid’s point of view spot at the altar, I glanced at Mom, who touched a tear with a vintage hankie edged in my grandmother’s handmade white tatting. I knew her consuming thought—one down. And one to go.
Whatever.
I sent my gaze to Stuart, who looked the personification of the bridegroom with a grin rivaling a jack-o’-lantern’s, except not ghoulish, just big and toothy. Shoulders squared, he was dressed in an impeccable black tux. After Tracey parted from Dad and joined Stuart, she tilted her gaze to meet his. Every emotion passing over her face showed how much she loved him. They clasped hands and turned to face the minister.
Looking past Stuart, I saw Allan solemnly observing the couple as they prepared to say their “I Do’s.” Then I noticed he watched me lean left and take her bouquet fashioned from grocery store roses and lilies. I’d tied them with a white satin ribbon.
Light danced in Allan’s eyes and warmed my heart. Overcome with embarrassment, I dipped my chin and breathed in the perfume from the stargazer lilies.
Jenny nudged my back, which woke me from the land of daydreams. On the open Bible held by Reverend Walsh, I dropped Stuart’s wedding band at the same time as Allan dropped the one he held. The rings clink-clinked together on the book's interior seam.
One by one, and then together, Reverend Walsh blessed the gold circles. Tracey and Stuart exchanged their vows and slid the bands over their ring fingers. Reverend Walsh introduced the radiant pair to the congregation. In a princely fashion, Stuart tilted to kiss his bride.
For a small moment, I imagined myself in my sister's place with the man I loved in Stuart's. I swore to myself things would change one day, and maybe-maybe-maybe it wouldn’t be so far off either.
I set my hand on Allan’s forearm and followed the newlyweds along the aisle to the narthex, where the party paused for cheers and hugs.
Allan stole a peek at me, and I winked back. I curled my fingers with his. I was all too aware of how good he felt and what I felt in my heart.
****
The wedding party gaily transferred to the church’s banquet hall, where we found our places at the head table.
Mom and Mrs. Wellborn pitched in to drape the tables in white damask tablecloths, the kind all women of their generation owned. Pale teal napkins folded into triangles had been set in front of each chair. Shiny silver-plated forks on the left, knives and spoons on the right. Thankfully, Mom was able to hire the caterer originally booked.
The Funsisters and I had placed white Japanese lanterns in the center of the tables with battery-operated tea lights in each one. Long strands of twigs decorated with white, seed-like beads serpentined around the centerpieces and the length of the table. As the sun dipped into the west, the candlelight created an enchanting ambiance.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen alternated every other seat, and naturally, Allan and I sat side by side. Something compelled me to slide my hand along his thigh, which he promptly grasped, playfully shaking his other finger in my direction. But he didn't let go until the staff served our meal.
The guests dined on grilled chicken or salmon covered with lemon beurre sauce, an assorted wild greens salad topped with finely sliced apples and seasoned with a vinaigrette dressing, scalloped potatoes layered with gruyère cheese, and thin asparagus sautéed in olive oil and garlic. The food melted in my mouth.
As the dining portion of the evening ended, Allan offered up his best man's speech. I crooked my head to stare in wonderment. When I recited my maid of honor ditty, I brushed tears from my eyes and once—or twice—paused to collect myself.
Tracey and Stuart blotted their tears after my words.
Mother boohooed.
I lifted my flute filled with champagne.
The guests toasted each other and drank the bubbly.
My sister finally found the true happiness she deserved.
I returned to my seat and placed my napkin to the corners of my eyes.
“Good job,” Allan whispered. “You gave them tears and laughter and no silly jokes.”
“I’m fresh out of silly jokes.”
The bride and groom walked hand in hand to the cake, which wasn't a cake. The Funsisters, Mom, Mrs. Wellborn, and I spent the prior afternoon creating white cupcakes with lemon curd swirled in the batter. Mrs. Wellborn used her cake decorating skills to fashion marbled pink and rose dahlias on the tops. I added three silver dragées to the flower’s center.
Everyone declared our effort beautiful, and “quite innovative,” whispered one of Mom's church friends.
Stuart fed Tracey and vice versa with no face-smashing mishap. Then with a nod to the DJ, they made their way to the center of the dance floor. The newly marrieds circled the room in a Viennese waltz, dipping and swirling artfully.
When the number ended, the rest of the party joined the couple and danced the exhibition tango number rehearsed with Ms. Yolanda, complete with a rose in my mouth.
Afterward, Stuart and his mom danced. Their talent captivated every guest.
With a firm grasp on my bicep, Allan maneuvered a slightly breathless me onto the balcony, which overlooked the garden.
He jerked the tail of his bow tie loose and unfastened the top shirt button. Determination encompassed his face—flat lips and squinchy eyes. A man with a plan.
Maybe I know his plan.
I shook him off and pushed my hands onto my hips. “What’s going on?”
“I have a plan, sweetheart.”
Ha. “Of course, you do.”
“My plan’s better than your plan. Yours”—Allan nodded toward the banquet hall—“would be to dance to ‘YMCA.’ ”
“Rats.” I made a fake move to go back to the dance floor. “I can’t miss my favorite—”
“Hold on, sweetheart.” He grabbed my hand and circled me to his chest.
Sweetheart. I love hearing him call me sweetheart. “Whatcha want, cowboy?” I narrowed my eyes. “You sorta like dancing. Waiting for a specific song? By the way, what is your favorite song?”
“My favorite song is ‘L-O-V-E’ by Nat King Cole.”
“An oldie but a goodie.” I remembered Dad played the album all the time. I intended to use that song as my wedding dance.
Right then, the mentioned favorite floated out the door toward us. Perfect timing.
Allan wrapped his arms around me and edged his body closer. He swayed with the music and sang very softly in my ear, “L is for how you drive me crazy.”
Who would guess my man could be so romantic?
I moved in sync with Allan and snuggled my mouth to the spot on his neck. I took a deep whiff of the piney soapy smell I adored and automatically pressed a kiss. “O means the obstinate one with me.”
Allan dropped his chin and kissed my temple. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I murmured. “V means the very vixen in me.”
He laughed. “Vixen—funny.”
“You know, you haven’t answered my question. What’s up?”
“I brought you out here because we haven’t had time for an honest, one-on-one conversation.”
“And?” I locked my arms around his neck. “You know we've been crazy busy getting Tracey and Stuart's wedding pulled together.”
“I know. That's why I cut you some slack.” Allan fixed his chocolate brownie gaze on me. “Did you quit the highway department?”
“You'll be glad to know my good news.”
He lifted one brow. “What good news?”
“Yes, well”—I ducked my chin—“I’m no longer employed by the highway department.”
Showdown.
I laced my fingers together to curb the unsteadiness flowing in me and looked at my shoes.
Allan and I stood toe to toe. With a finger, he lifted my chin. “I know what you thought once, but you were wrong. A while back, you wondered if I would propose.”
Shamefaced and embarrassed, I dropped my head again and nodded. I’d slammed the door in his face after he asked me to “choose him.”
“Not how I would propose,” he said.
The glint reflected from his iris resembled old gold. “It isn’t?”
Heat burned my cheeks. I looked into his eyes. All I felt and knew was hope and heart. Hope for the future. Heart to share with love. I prayed and prayed he still wanted me. I desperately wanted him.
“No, sweetheart. You deserve something special, like on top of the Eiffel Tower or the Empire State Building. On a hot air balloon ride or over a candlelit dinner at a French restaurant. I would not have asked you to marry me on my deathbed the way Stuart proposed to Tracey.” He guided me against his chest.
His heat and scent encompassed my body. All man. My man.
“I’ve loved you all my life.”
No surprise what he intended to do, and he knew I knew. With a little hesitancy, I glanced into his gaze. “Allan—”
“Hattie,” he said. “You make my blood heat—”
Oh God, not that blood boiling lecture again.
“—in a good way.”
“Yes!” I smiled right before his lips found mine.
His kiss touched tenderly at first, then devoured deeper and intensely, taking in my whole mouth. All cognition evaporated as his arms enveloped me even tighter.
I pressed into Allan. I glided my left hand over his shoulder to splay along the back of his neck, encouraging and urging.
And he gave.
I moaned.
“Get a room.” Giggling and light clapping followed.
Allan broke the kiss. The dancing stopped.
I pressed my forehead to his chest. After a bit, I stole a look in the direction of the voice. Jenny. No big surprise.
Her countenance radiated pure happiness with a tinge of smirky-ness as she continued past with Mr. Who-Uses-All-The-Hot-Water. His arm encircled her waist.
As she passed us, from over her shoulder came “Told you so.”