Buzzkill (Pecan Bayou Series)

by Trent, Teresa

  “To be honest with you, no, I’ve never taken any wedding photos before,” Bernard admitted. “You’ll be my first, and I hope for a start in a brand-new direction in my photographic career. Are you the … groom?”

  “Hardly.” Mr. Andre looked around the room at pictures of children in various poses holding bats and soccer balls. I glanced around and saw a gigantic cockroach come scurrying out of the wall and head toward Charlotte. I started to raise my hand to tell Bernard about the bug when Charlotte looked down and quickly smashed her foot on the unsuspecting roach. A crunching noise could be heard across the room, and when she lifted her foot, the insect was flattened. She had not only smashed the bug, she had obliterated it. She was nonplussed by the creature.

  “Oh my,” said Mr. Andre, covering a smile with his hand.

  Bernard grinned, revealing a slight overbite. “You sure do know how to handle a bug.”

  Charlotte flushed and put her hand against her neck. Maggie stepped forward. “Yes, she’s very good at crushing innocent things that cross her path.”

  “My dear, would you have a tissue?” Charlotte asked Bernard, ignoring Maggie’s comment.

  Bernard scurried to the back of the store to find something to put the bug into. He returned shortly and handed a wad of tissue to Charlotte. She neatly wiped off the bottom of her shoe.

  “Oh my, that didn’t get it all. Maybe just one more,” she said, her voice still in a high friendly tone. She handed the soiled tissues to Bernard, who ran to the back once again, grabbed another tissue and hustled to the front. She cleaned up the bug remains and handed it back to him. I shifted my gaze from Charlotte to Bernard and noticed he was taken with her. His eyes were glued to her, and he responded to every little nuance. It was a little disgusting.

  She then turned to me and tapped the notebook I had been holding closely during the exchange.

  “He seems like a lovely man. Why not try him?”

  Aunt Maggie and I both registered surprise. Now that we were here, even I could see he was not the right kind of photographer for our wedding.

  Mr. Andre stepped forward. “No, he won’t do. Unless we want to have Betsy and Leo posing in a human pyramid with the maid of honor and the best man. This man’s abilities are not up to par for a Mr. Andre wedding. I have my own photographer, Betsy. We will use him.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Price,” I said. “You should know that we also had to cancel out on Lenny Stokes the florist, too. So don’t feel too bad.”

  “I can see firing that old goat,” he replied, “but I think I at least deserve a chance at a wedding.”

  “Send me your information and some photos of something other than a ten-year-old with a baseball bat. Maybe I’ll be in touch for future weddings,” said Mr. Andre as he walked out the door.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Two days later, I stepped out of the dressing room looking like the top of a wedding cake. I heard my mother gasp as I ascended onto the white platform in front of two large mirrors. Aunt Maggie stood with her arms crossed, smiling. Moisture was rimming her eyes.

  Charlotte stepped forward, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. “Oh Betsy, you look beautiful. I can remember when I was a happy bride … of course, that was before I married your father.”

  I had decided to wait to tell Leo about Charlotte. Leo was at a conference for a few days, so I had left him a simple text about a surprise.

  “Do you like it?” I said.

  “It’s lovely, dear.”

  “Mr. Andre might know about everything else, but you picked a beaut of a dress,” Aunt Maggie said.

  I’d bought my dress before Christmas and paid for it and the alterations on sale. It seems there is a good time and a bad time to buy a wedding dress. I was pleased to get it for half the price it would be selling for in the months of April through July.

  “Too bad Mr. Andre was busy with another wedding today,” Charlotte said as she approached me. Her eyes narrowed. “There is just one thing, if I might bring it up.”

  Lavonne Rogers, the seamstress who had been circling around me fluffing out the soft satin hem, looked up at my mother over the black-framed glasses perched on the end of her nose. She steeled herself for yet another mother-of-the-bride helpful opinion, her lips pressed into a thin line around a straight pin.

  “I just think you might want to take it in just a little bit in the bust and give it more support,” Charlotte said.

  “I think the bust fits exactly right,” Lavonne said as she put both of her hands under my arms to pinch in the seams. I looked at my breasts in the mirror. Were they really starting to sag? They had seemed okay to me yesterday, but I have to admit I didn’t spend much time examining them. Lavonne’s fingers clenched material between them as she pulled the bodice in tight. I was beginning to feel like Scarlett O’Hara being laced into a corset before the barbecue.

  Lavonne sighed and cocked her head to the side as she examined the new me. “Now she looks like she’s busting out of the wedding gown, and we certainly do not want that.”

  “Well, I have to admit maybe that doesn’t look as good,” my mother said. “Betsy, are you gaining weight? It seems like maybe you’ve put on a couple of pounds even since I’ve come into town. Nothing to be concerned about. All brides put on a few pounds, what with the rushed eating and crazy schedules. Not to mention … other situations.”

  “Charlotte!” Maggie said. I knew just what she was implying, and there was no “other” situation.

  “Sorry.” She stepped back a few feet, pretending to look at the gown, but I knew she was really getting herself out of Maggie’s reach.

  “So what do you think, Betsy? Should we take the dress in just a little bit in the bust?” Lavonne asked.

  “I think …” I looked at the bodice as Lavonne clenched and unclenched the seams at the side. My eyes caught Maggie’s, and she seemed happy with the fit. “I think I like it just the way it is.” I glanced over at Charlotte, who raised her eyebrows as if to say, oh well, it’s your mistake to make.

  I had always wondered what it would be like to have a mother around to help me make important life decisions. After a few days of this wonderful bonding experience, I wasn’t so sure. It was difficult having another opinion to contend with all the time. Did I need to pay the same amount of respect for an absent parent?

  “I’m glad you think that Betsy,” Lavonne said, “because this dress just looks gorgeous on you. You’re going to be a beautiful bride.”

  “Thank you, Lavonne.”

  “So I’ll bet you are as busy as a little bee taking care of all the wedding details.”

  “Yes we are,” I said. “We’ve already rejected a photographer and Lenny Stokes’s place for flowers. We’re now going to try to use Baskets of Bluebonnets.”

  “Advice of Mr. Andre,” Maggie said.

  Lavonne’s eyes shifted to the side. “Lenny Stokes? You know, I’ve been living down the road from the Stokeses for the last ten years, and if I could afford to, I’d move. That man has been nothing but trouble,” she said. “Do you know he threatened to take me to court over property boundaries? We have a stream that separates our two properties, and Lenny claimed the stream is his, but according to my plat map the spring belongs on our property. We had to send over a lawyer with the proper documentation to shut him up. Even though we did all of that he still is crossing over onto our land and using that stream to siphon off water for his wildflowers. He thinks he knows everything about flowers, but let me tell you, I’m pretty good at growing irises, and he’s so lazy he never even cuts back half of the dead leaves on his. No wonder new leaves can’t form. If I wasn’t a seamstress, I could put that man out of business. I wish I could put him out of my misery.”

  “I’ve always liked Lenny’s flowers,” I said. “Lenny might be hard to get along with, but Martha is so sweet.”

  “I’d have to politely disagree on that one,” countered Lavonne.

  “I think she’s nice, Lavonne,” said Ma
ggie. “Martha is always doing things for others with her church, but Lenny is another matter altogether.”

  “Well, having Lenny on board, all I can say is the last thing you need at a wedding is one more diva,” said Lavonne.

  “Yeah, we already have Mr. Andre,” Maggie added.

  “I’m just saying, it’s important to follow your instincts and use people you know when you’re doing something like putting on a wedding.” Lavonne patted me on the back. “I’ll stitch up the hem and then you’re ready. When can I expect your bridesmaid, Elena, to do her final fitting?”

  “She hasn’t been in here yet?” I said. We had planned to come in together weeks ago, but she’d had to cancel because of work.

  Charlotte’s brow furrowed. “Just how trustworthy is this Elena girl?”

  “She is very trustworthy,” I said. “She works with dad, and well, sometimes they get busy.”

  “She works with your father? Will she be wearing a gun on her hip at the wedding?”

  “Not unless I have Lavonne here sew up a white silk holster. Elena doesn’t really like wearing a lot of dresses. She’s probably stalling.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Charlotte said.

  “No, you don’t get it. She’s dating the district attorney, although it wouldn’t matter to me if she didn’t have a boyfriend. She just doesn’t like dresses, that’s all. If I’d have come up with a pantsuit for her to wear instead of a red velvet bridesmaid dress, she would have been a much happier person.”

  “I can do that you know,” Lavonne chimed in.

  “I’ll get her in here, Lavonne. I promise.”

  “What kind of woman hates to wear dresses?” Charlotte said.

  The door jingled behind us and Prissy and Nancy Olin stepped inside. Prissy looked up at me and then gave her mother a frustrated look.

  Nancy Olin patted her daughter’s arm and said in a hushed tone, “Don’t worry, sweetums, you will look beautiful on your day, too.”

  Lavonne patted me on the back. “Okay, Betsy, you can go ahead and change. My next customer is here.”

  Maggie was closing up Mr. Andre’s binder when Nancy Olin came over to her. “I see you’re using Mr. Andre. We’ve already hired and fired that man.”

  “Why?” Maggie asked.

  “Why?” Prissy repeated, inviting herself into the conversation. “He was simply unreasonable. You would think he was the one hiring us. Not acceptable. He also said we were difficult to work with.”

  “That’s hard to believe,” Maggie said under her breath.

  “We decided we can do a better job ourselves,” said Nancy with a strained smile.

  “Mama? Do these pants make me look fat?”

  “Well, you could use a bigger size,” Lavonne started to say. Nancy clamped a hand down on Lavonne’s shoulder and squeezed hard enough to stop Lavonne in mid-sentence.

  “You’re beautiful, baby,” she said between clenched teeth. She pulled Lavonne over to the side. “Prissy has these little outbursts, and with the wedding coming up she is having some pretty heavy panic attacks. We will do anything, I mean anything not trigger one. Get me?”

  Lavonne’s raised eyebrows and look of shock were enough to answer Nancy Olin, mother of the monster bride.

  Somehow this little exchange gave me confidence in Mr. Andre. Now I knew he was strong enough to handle anything, even wriggling out of the clutches of the satin nightmare of Prissy Olin.

  CHAPTER TEN

  That night I dropped my newly found mother off at Wilhelm’s Bed and Breakfast. She had been staying there for several days, and for that I was relieved. Having her as a houseguest would be a lot for me to take on right now.

  I knew I needed to try to make sure that everything was all right with Aunt Maggie. We had spent the day together, but every time I tried to get her alone to see how she was feeling about Charlotte being in the picture, Charlotte intervened. With Charlotte gone all those years, Aunt Maggie had acted as my surrogate mother. With the wedding, I worried she was thinking I had replaced her. I had always dreamed of meeting my mother, and somehow it didn’t involve her stirring up and upsetting every person in my life.

  It was like a fantasy for me. We would see each other across the room. She’d be in one of those filmy-looking shawl things, and upon seeing me, she’d have a tear in her eye. She was so sorry she’d given me up. Her life had been nothing but misery since she last left me. We would meet, and because we were so genetically connected, we would be able to talk about anything instantly, as if the years had never passed between us. We would talk as if we were old friends and laugh before the other person even finished her joke. What a wonderful dream.

  As I pulled into Maggie’s driveway, Zach, who had joined us after school, now sat up in his seat. “Mom, why are we here? We need to get home in time for me to see how those filled donuts are made on TV. I’ve been waiting for this show all week.”

  “I know, Zach. But I need to talk to Aunt Maggie.”

  “Tonight? Danny will be watching High School Hijinks again. That’s all he ever watches,” Zach whined. “I thought you spent the day with her, anyway.”

  “I just need to talk to Aunt Maggie for ten minutes.”

  “You never talk for ten minutes. Ten hours, maybe, but not ten minutes.”

  “I’ll try, okay, bud?”

  He snorted his reply.

  I got out of the car and walked up the stairs to my aunt’s red brick house. I could smell beef stew on the stove inside. I opened the front door.

  “Anybody home?” I called out.

  “In here.”

  My Aunt Maggie was carefully placing silverware on a blue linen tablecloth. She was a diminutive person, barely reaching five feet. Danny was now about the same height with fifty more pounds on his frame. After many years of caring for Danny with my Uncle Jeeter, she now took care of their son on her own. Some days could be difficult as she dealt with Danny’s stubborn streak or the confusion that would strike him whenever he was in pain, but she got herself through it all. Aunt Maggie had been the only mother I had ever known, and today she was going through another difficult day, this time with me.

  “We need to talk,” I began.

  “Aunt Maggie, can I eat too?” Zach interrupted.

  “Certainly.” She turned from the table and went into the kitchen, bringing out two more plates. She clunked them down on the table.

  “No, we’re imposing,” I said. “I just needed to talk to you about Charlotte.”

  “Nothing to talk about.” She re-entered the kitchen and came out with a tureen full of stew.

  “I think there is.”

  “No, there isn’t. You are now reunited with your mother, and it’s as it should be. I had no right to assume I would be the only one involved in your wedding planning.”

  It felt like the walls were closing in on me. “Really?” I was amazed at her lack of resolve. One thing about my aunt – she was small, but mighty. I had seen her fight Danny’s battles for years, but tonight it seemed all of the fight had gone out of her. I had always thought of her as the queen of Plan B. If one way didn’t work, she’d find another. When my mother left, she had stepped in to mother me. When my husband left, she stepped in to be my shoulder to lean on and had encouraged me to start a new life as a writer.

  She was a genius at adapting, but tonight that part of her seemed to be gone. Tonight she was out of imagination, out of crazy Lucy-and-Ethel ideas and resigned to the intrusion of Charlotte.

  “Maggie, you had every right to think you would be a big part of planning my wedding,” I protested. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “You have been …”

  My phone rang in my pocket. I had given Charlotte my cell number, and she had made good use of it in the last few days.

  “Yes?” I answered.

  “You’ve got to get back over here,” Charlotte said. “They are having some sort of German thing downstairs, and the smell of the bratwurst is making me ill.”

  “Charlotte,
you’ve been there for days now. The brat smell is just now getting to you?”

  “That and the never-ending polka music.”

  “So what do you want me to do? Try to find you another hotel?”

  “Wilhelm said I had the last room in town.”

  “How does he know that?”

  “There’s some big cowboy poetry convention meeting out at the Loper Ranch. I thought that old guy was dead. Heaven knows his movies haven’t been shown for fifty years.”

  “He is dead. That’s his daughter’s place.”

  “I hate to impose, but could I stay with you until I can get a room?”

  I drew in a tired breath and looked over at Maggie, watching with a look of disgust on her face. “I guess so.”

  “Thank you, dear. I’ll have my bags packed and be sitting at the curb when you arrive.” The line clicked dead.

  “That’s the thing about Charlotte,” said Maggie. “She seems so nice at first, but once you get to know her, you figure out she’s the one who’s running the show. She sure put my brother through it.” With that she turned her back on me and headed to the kitchen and came back with a small plastic container full of stew for Zach.

  “I’m sorry about this,” I said. “Zach, we need to go.”

  “Already? Great!” He ran back into the dining room.

  “I really am sorry,” I said again.

  “I know.” She turned from me and pushed back through her kitchen door.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “You’re sure I’m not inconveniencing you or anything?” said Charlotte.

  “No, it’s fine,” I said as I punched at a couch pillow, trying to make it resemble something that would support my head without causing a nagging pain in my neck. Charlotte walked back into my bedroom. I had intended to put her on the couch, but she needed a firm bed for her bad back. Having only two usable beds in the house, I was now relegated to sleeping in the den.

  How did I ever get myself into this position? A week ago I had been happily planning my own wedding. Now I was being led around by a mother I barely knew. It just didn’t seem right.