Brides at Coconuts (Coconuts Series)

by Beth Carter

  She reheated her coffee in the microwave. Secretly, she was happy this happened. She didn’t need two head-butting chefs. I never should have let Julio talk me into hiring him in the first place.

  Moving to her kitchen bar, she plopped on a barstool and scrolled through her contact list. I’ll email some of my chef friends to see if they know of a pastry chef. Maybe an unattractive one.

  Chapter 30

  Juggling two babies under one arm, Suzy struggled to pour a cup of morning coffee. Since the twins were born, Ken’s work load had increased. “Bad timing but Daddy loves you,” she said to the babies. She sat the mug on the counter, carefully clasped both babies, and kissed their pudgy, pink cheeks. One by one, she said, “Good morning, Maggie. Good morning, Matthew. Mama needs coffee. Please don’t cry until I have at least one cup.”

  After making her way toward her favorite yellow floral chair and matching ottoman, Suzy placed both babies on her chest, cradled them with one arm, and enjoyed hot java with her free hand. Happily, the twins cooperated, but before she had finished half a cup, she smelled a stench that would make anyone’s toes curl. I knew five minutes of peace was too good to be true. Edging off the couch, Suzy peered at both babies as she padded to the nursery. “Okay, who’s the guilty party?”

  After she cleaned up Maggie and washed her hands, Suzy’s business line rang. She put the babies on the floor and answered in her best non-harried voice, “Weddings by Suzanne.”

  “Hello. Good morning. I was inquiring about a consultation,” a woman said as one of the twins squealed. “Is—” The woman hesitated. “Is that a baby?”

  “It’s two, actually.” Suzy smiled into the phone. “I recently had twins. How may I help you?”

  “Uh, I need a wedding planner but—” The young woman paused. “Sorry, I’m not comfortable with this. I’m not a kid person. Thanks anyway.” She hung up.

  Suzy stared into the phone. And this is why women go on maternity leave. She got on her knees and blew on the babies’ bellies. “You’re more important than my wedding business, anyway. Much more.” As she made her way toward the kitchen to refill her coffee, Suzy caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and frowned. I guess I should make more of an effort with my appearance. Hair askew, she didn’t wear a drop of makeup which made her look like a ghost against her fair pallor. She burst out laughing. If I were a young bride, I would have hung up too.

  Chapter 31

  The week flew by as Hope anticipated going to her first-ever Homecoming with a date. An actual date. She peeked out her window a hundred times and couldn’t wait to see Tucker again.

  Her eyebrows shot up when a sleek white limo parked in front of her house. Her breath caught. She felt like one of the seniors at Hilltop sans pimples. Twirling in front of a mirror, she clapped her hands together like a little kid.

  She glanced back out the window as Tucker bounded toward her front door in seemingly three steps.

  Hope beamed as she peeked through the peephole. He wore jeans, red suspenders, and a dark gray suit jacket. He looked dashing. I think I’m in love. Is this the feeling? It must be.

  Her heart thrashed in her chest as she waited all of five seconds before he rang the doorbell. Throwing open the door, she felt like her face would crack from constant smiling. His eyes crinkled as he held one hand behind his back.

  Hope felt her lips twitch as she enjoyed the moment. “Someone looks mischievous.”

  Tucker reached for her hand. “You might say I’m excited to go to my first Homecoming with the most beautiful woman in Crystal City. Heck, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “Stop it.” Hope absentmindedly fluffed her frizzy hair as happy tears pricked her eyes. “And I have the most handsome date.”

  He winked before producing a plastic container from behind his back. It contained a wrist corsage with two red roses and baby’s breath. After he pried the lid open, Tucker held the flower toward Hope. “May I?”

  Hope felt faint and reached for the door to steady herself. She never dreamed a man would pay this much attention to her. They never had before, so why now as she neared forty.

  Sure, her friends always did their best to boost her confidence but she knew she wasn’t gorgeous like them. She was more . . . ordinary. It felt incredible to be on this end of the spectrum. She thrust her stubby wrist forward. “I hope the band is wide enough.”

  Tucker gently placed the delicate flower on her wrist. “It’s way too big for your dainty wrist. I should have gotten one with a smaller wrist band.”

  Hope laughed as she stared at the tight band, hoping her fingers didn’t go numb. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” Teetering on the porch step, she leaned forward to kiss Tucker’s cheek. He turned in time to kiss her full on the mouth and held her tight for several seconds.

  Hope wished she could savor this moment forever. “I’m so happy we met.”

  “Thank goodness you didn’t mind being stepped on in Nashville last spring.”

  She elbowed him playfully. “You’re a great dancer, especially the two step.”

  “Think they’ll play country music tonight?”

  As she locked the door, she shrugged. “Doubtful. It’s an eighties theme.”

  Tucker bent down to pick up the empty plastic container. “An eighties party, huh? Old school. I like it. I should have worn an all-white John Travolta leisure suit.”

  “That would have been cool. Do you have one?”

  “Nah.”

  Hope chuckled. “I was excited to hear it’s an eighties theme because I have big hair every day.”

  “You have beautiful hair.” Tucker extended his arm. “Ready?”

  They crossed the yard and climbed inside the limo. Tucker introduced Hope to the limo driver and she gave him the school’s address. As they settled onto the cool tan leather seats, Tucker propped two crystal glasses on a tray. “Champagne or wine?”

  Hope gazed into his soft eyes. “Am I in heaven?”

  ~ ~ ~

  As Hope and Tucker entered Hilltop’s cafeteria, she was well aware of the students’ stares. Seemingly, every single Hilltop student noticed she had a date. After all, they had rarely seen her dressed up and never with a man. She held her head high and waved to surprised students, as she and Tucker held hands and strode across the room.

  A silver disco ball hung above the center of the cafeteria. Tables were pushed along the sides to make room for the dance floor. A DJ tested his equipment in the corner and several moms and dads were behind a refreshment table. A couple of the mothers winked at her. She waved shyly as she steered Tucker toward a table.

  Before they sat down, Britney bounded over. “Miss Truman you look bea-u-ti-ful.” She eyed Hope’s date as she obviously waited for a response.

  “Thanks, Britney. Meet my friend, Tucker.”

  He extended his weighty hand and so did Britney.

  The student stared at both of them. “Are you two dating? I didn’t know you were dating, Miss Truman. This is exciting.”

  “Slow down, Britney,” Hope said.

  “Yes, we’re dating.” Tucker leaned back on the folding chair, apparently enjoying the student’s intrigue.

  “For how long? How did you meet?” Britney asked.

  “Britney. Don’t ask such prying questions.”

  The young girl appeared hurt. “You do.”

  Hope softened. “I’m a counselor. I’m supposed to pry. That’s part of my job. But to answer your question, yes, we’re dating. We met last spring and reconnected.”

  “Interesting.” Britney turned to Tucker. “Nice to meet you.”

  The DJ asked everyone to get in a circle and do the chicken dance. “I’m not doing that,” Hope said.

  Tucker tugged on her hand. “Yes, you are. We’re here
to dance. You said so. Who cares if we have to flap our arms and legs.” He chuckled. “Bawk. Come on.”

  Chapter 32

  Relieved the silly chicken dance was over and hoping no one took photos to plaster online, Hope studied the growing crowd. A few male students wore white suits mimicking John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Some of the guys wore wigs with longer hair and a few had mullets. Shoulder pads, spandex, and body suits abounded. Some women were dressed like Madonna; others like the actresses on Falcon Crest and Dallas in glamorous long dresses and chunky jewelry.

  Hope chuckled. I love how everyone got into the spirit. She pointed toward the tables. “It looks like the rec committee did their homework.” Each table had a Rubik’s Cube on every plate and eighties-themed candy adorned the table tops. She reached for a package of Skittles while Tucker grabbed a Twix. Pop Rocks and Nerds were scattered about and a giant screen featured trailers for popular hit television shows like Miami Vice, The Dukes of Hazzard, Who’s the Boss?, and Full House. “Boy that brings back memories.” Tucker pointed. “I loved Magnum P.I.”

  Hope grinned. “My favorites were Seinfeld and Dallas.” She stared at the students who fully embraced the theme. Many wore neon colors and the girls had highly teased or crimped hair. All donned oversized earrings and some had high side ponytails with scrunchies. Several of the male students wore acid-washed jeans or colorful parachute pants and biker jackets. Some of the girls were dressed in workout clothes, leggings, and tennis shoes. “Amazing. The kids must have made our local vintage store owner very happy this month.”

  They made their way toward the refreshments. Reaching for two sodas, Tucker handed her one. “What’s on the menu or is there one?”

  “It’ll be sparse. Just some punch and maybe snacks. The kids mainly want to dance.” Hope led Tucker toward a table near the big screen. The video had switched to popular movies from the eighties. “Oh, man. I loved E.T.”

  Tucker turned toward the screen. “My faves were Batman and Back to the Future.”

  “Oh, look. The Color Purple,” Hope said. “That was certainly an eclectic decade.” She reached for Tucker’s hand. “I expect Joan Jett or Joan Collins to walk in any minute.”

  The DJ called everyone out onto the dance floor. “Good evening, Hilltop High. Let’s get this party started as we take a step back in time.”

  “Footloose” by Kenny Loggins filled the air. Tucker tugged on Hope’s hand. “This is as good a time as any.”

  Students crowded around them, laughing and pointing at each other, and dancing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The DJ played several eighties hits including “Bad” by Michael Jackson, followed by Bryan Adams’ “Heaven,” and “I’m So Excited” by the Pointer Sisters. Between announcing songs, he said, “Gag me with a spoon,” after someone yelled out a Taylor Swift song request. Another teen shouted the name of a current, popular band. The DJ yelled into the mic, “Barf me out.” Perplexed students scrunched up their faces while Hope and Tucker snickered. Noticing the kids’ reactions, the DJ said, “Don’t have a cow, man. This is eighties lingo. Get with it and party, kids.” He held up a boom box to illustrate his point.

  Hope giggled about the baffled students who continued to screw up their faces. “They must have forgotten to Google anything about the eighties except for attire and big hair.”

  “I remember all of those terms. Props to the DJ for doing his homework.” Tucker squeezed her hand. “This party is choice.” He chuckled. “Was that said in the eighties?”

  Hope nodded. “Yeah. Good job.” She led Tucker to a table but the couple did an about face as the DJ began playing “I’ve Had the Time of My Life.”

  “Let’s dance to this song from Dirty Dancing.” Tucker wrapped his arm around Hope’s waist.

  “I loved that movie.” In the middle of the dance floor, Tucker put his arms around Hope as the song played. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she closed her eyes and lost herself in the moment. I wish I could stay here forever. I hope he feels the same.

  As they danced, all eyes were on their counselor, unbeknownst to Hope. When the song ended, the students clapped and whistled. Startled, Hope looked up and noticed everyone had circled around them. Only she and Tucker had been dancing. She was so lost in her new feelings, the music, and the way Tucker felt next to her, that she hadn’t realized everyone had stopped dancing to watch.

  Tucker peered into her eyes. “I guess you’re pretty famous around here. They sure aren’t clapping for me.”

  After they danced to a few more songs, Hope wished they could leave and glanced at her watch. She suppressed a yawn, “We’ll be off of chaperone duty in less than five minutes. Let’s do one last walk around the room.” Hand in hand, Hope and Tucker passed a table with Willow and Larry-Mac who either failed to get—or ignored—the themed party memo. Willow wiggled her eyebrows. Hope knew the next school day would include an inquisition but was grateful when Willow waved them on, saying, “You two leave. Mac and I will lock up.”

  Reaching for the Pop Rocks, Tucker said, “I feel like a kid again. This has been fun.” Several students filled the dance floor to squeeze in one last dance as Tina Turner’s “We Don’t Need Another Hero” filled the cafeteria.

  “We always need heroes,” Hope said. “You’re mine.”

  “Ditto, beautiful.” Tucker put his arm around her shoulders as they traipsed down the long hallway past trophy shelves and art displays. “Why don’t we go for a long ride in that limo and make out like school kids?”

  Giddy, her stomach butterflies swirled. “That sounds gnarly.”

  Chapter 33

  Cheri had been stressed for over a week about work and The National Enquirer incident. Cole had seemed more aloof, which was totally unlike him. She got her catering business on steady footing, did her best to handle the food critic, and continually reached out to her mom who was rarely available. Tired of the grind, she impulsively drove to Cole’s farm.

  She drove forty miles on autopilot, determined to win Cole’s trust. When she arrived, she parked out of sight near his cattle guard and barbed wire fence. Dialing his number and before he could say, ‘Hello,’ she said, “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t come clean about everything. Will you forgive me? I really want to start—”

  “Slow down, little pony. I’ve missed you too. Somethin’ fierce, actually,” Cole said. “Why don’t you come over soon? I’ll grill somethin’ fancy for you.”

  Cheri smiled into the phone. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll be there in one minute.”

  “One minute?”

  “You could almost toss a stone and hit me.”

  He laughed as he craned his neck in an attempt to see her. “It’s throw a rock but I get the gist. See you soon, New York.”

  Standing on his wide front porch, he had one hand in his jeans pocket and another against a pole. She ran across his yard and buried her face in his chest. “I’ve missed you, Cowboy.”

  “Feelin’ is mutual.” Cole stroked her hair and held her close. I’m glad you called. It was going to be a lonely weekend with the cows and chickens.”

  She heard “bwak, bwak,” and turned toward the sound. Several white hens, chicks, and a gorgeous, strutting rooster crossed his yard. “When did you get these?”

  “When I got lonely for you.” Cole pointed toward the rooster. “He likes to get me up way too early but he’s a reliable alarm clock.”

  “Where do they sleep?” Cheri watched the chickens peck the grass.

  “I built a chicken coop on the side of the house but they roost in that tree at night.”

  Cheri’s mouth fell open. “They sleep in a tree? Are you kidding?”

  “Serious as a heart attack.” Cole watched the chickens strut around the yard. “If you’re here around five in the evening, you’ll see them
fly up and pick a branch. It’s pretty cool.”

  “That’s amazing. I have so much to learn about farming.” She put her arms around his waist. “But back to us. I’ve missed you.”

  “Ditto.” With a crooked smile, he said, “Any more secret fiancés or boyfriends I should know about?” She shook her head. Cole stared into her eyes. “Any more secrets, period? I don’t like bein’ in the dark.”

  Cheri’s parents’ troubled marriage entered her thoughts. She had briefly mentioned it but didn’t go into detail. But as she studied his rugged jawline and sky-blue eyes, she blurted out, “My dad may be having an affair with a French fashion designer in Paris. She’s barely older than me. My mom is finally getting suspicious.” She took a breath. “I’ve been worried about them for a year.”

  “That’s a big secret, all right.” Cole cocked an eyebrow. “A pesky French fashion designer, huh? That’s somethin’ I deal with daily—right after I gather chicken eggs and milk my cows. New York, I’m sorry to hear about your parents—really sorry—but this shows we don’t have much in common, do we?”

  Her face crumpled. Placing both hands around his tan face, Cheri kissed Cole softly, then more urgently. “This. We have this in common.”

  When they came up for air, Cole maneuvered his cowboy hat after her kiss nearly knocked it off. Cheri reached for his hands. “I have an idea. We need to find more common ground, find mutual friends. Why don’t we plan a party?”

  “Where? At Coconuts?” He asked.

  She shook her head. “Right here. At Soggy Bottoms.” Cheri winked. “Maybe you can find entertainment and some of that nasty moonshine.”