Pennies From Heaven (The Bella Novella Collection Book 3)

by Janice Thompson

  “That’s how it is with folks in Splendora, Bella.” Willy’s eyes misted over. “I’ve never met people as willing to roll out the red carpet—or in this case, the garden path—for those they love.”

  “Yep. Up here in Splendora, we’re all about relationships.” Donny gave me a broad smile and then turned to wait on a customer.

  Off in the distance D.J. got my attention. He held up a Life is Splendid in Splendora magnet. “Think we should get this for the new van?”

  “Duh.” I nodded. “Of course.”

  He paid for the magnet and a handful of snacks, then we corralled the kiddos back to our family’s recently purchased van, leaving the rest of the Rossi family to drive to Dwayne and Earline’s without us.

  Minutes later D.J. pulled our vehicle into the driveway at Rigas Roses and I gave the property a solid once-over, as if seeing it for the first time. In some ways this was a first. . .I was now seeing it as a wedding coordinator, sizing it up for the big day.

  In the back of the van the older kids bickered and the twins started to cry. I unbuckled and turned back to tend to them, my mothering skills kicking in.

  “Should I wait here for you?” D.J. looked a bit concerned as he voiced the question. “I hate to get all of the kids out while you’re having your meeting. They’ll run amuck in the garden.”

  “Run amuck?” I laughed, then leaned over and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek. “I love how you phrase things.”

  “Just speaking truth. They’ll have all those roses pulled up in no time.”

  A tap on my window alerted me to the fact that we weren’t alone. I turned to discover the groom-to-be, Cecil, standing there with Lily at his side. Seconds later I had my window down and we were chatting full-force. Lily’s enthusiasm bubbled up and consumed us all.

  “Y’all gettin’ out of that high-falutin’ vehicle or stayin’ in there all day?” Cecil asked after a few minutes.

  “D.J.’s worried the kids’ll run amuck,” I said, and then giggled. “And they will.”

  “You want to go on ahead to your mama’s place, D.J.?” Cecil directed his question to my hubby. “Lily and I will bring Bella when we’re done here.”

  “You don’t mind?” My husband looked more than a little relieved as he asked the question.

  “Not a bit.” Cecil’s warm smile was convincing enough.

  I blew kisses at my babies, gave my sweetie a gentle peck, then grabbed my purse and scooted out of the van. As they pulled away, I gave my precious family a wave.

  “D.J.’s a super hero.” I spoke the words aloud, though I hadn’t meant to. “He’s going to get some sort of husband of the year award, or maybe some extra stars in his crown when he gets to heaven. No kidding. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” A wave of joy washed over me as I spoke those words aloud. I believed them with my whole heart. What a gift D.J. was—straight from heaven.

  “Aw, he loves you, Bella.” Lily gave me a little shrug. “That’s how love is. It gives and gives and then gives some more.”

  Looked like this bride-to-be had already learned one of life’s more difficult lessons, for sure.

  Cecil’s parents arrived a few minutes later. I’d never met the couple before but could tell right away that they felt a little out of place with the Rigas family, if such a thing could be judged from Mrs. Davidson’s expression. She brushed one of her palms against the sleeve of her faded blouse and took a few steps in our direction.

  “Mama, this here’s Bella.” Cecil gave me a nod. “Bella, this is my mama, Margaret.”

  “Good to meet you, Mrs. Davidson.” I nodded in the direction of the woman, who took to fussing with her hair. “Er, Margaret.” I got that same weird feeling I always got when calling one of my elders by their first name. For some strange reason, even though I’d more than morphed into a full-blown adult, it felt strange to call folks in my parents’ age group anything other than Mr. or Mrs.

  “Everyone calls me Moggie.” The woman stretched out her hand and I took it. She looked around the garden, her eyes widening. “Mr. and Mrs. Rigas, you have a beautiful home.” If she’d wanted to say more, the words were stuck to the roof of her mouth. She gazed—eyes wide—at the expansive lawn and gorgeous home. In that moment, no one needed to share a word for me to understand what she was feeling. This poor woman felt out of place in her son’s new world. Still, she plastered on a smile and greeted Mrs. Rigas with a hug.

  “Please, call me Lena,” Mrs. Rigas said. “We’re in-laws now.”

  “In-laws.” Moggie gave a slow nod. “That’ll be nice, Lena.”

  “Better’n bein’ outlaws!” Mr. Davidson chimed in, then pulled off his cowboy hat and swiped the sweat from his balding head. “Dontcha think?”

  “Absolutely.” Mr. Rigas extended his hand and Cecil’s father shook it—without wiping the sweat from his own first. Ack. Not that anyone else seemed to notice or care. Well, no one but Cecil, who cringed.

  “We don’t see a lot of places like this in Cut-n-Shoot,” Mrs. Davidson explained. “It’s lovely.”

  We made our way through to the garden and Cecil shared his ideas about the upcoming reception with excitement lacing his every word. “This is where we’ll put the trellis I’ve built.” He pointed to a lovely spot just south of the greenhouse.

  “Oh, Bella, you should see the trellis. It’s unbelievable.” Lily slipped her arm through his. “You know what a craftsman Cec is. He’s done the most magnificent job weaving the branches together. We’re going to cover them in greenery and fresh flowers—maybe soft pink hydrangeas and some baby’s breath. Then we’re going to add some white chiffon, to make it look more romantic.”

  “Sounds gorgeous.”

  “Oh, I know it will be. We thought it would be a great place for photos. I can’t wait to see it in place, all done up.”

  “You’re a miracle worker, Cecil. Who takes branches and turns them into a work of art?”

  Cecil’s cheeks blazed pink at all of the flattery. “Aw, thanks. I thought I might ask D.J. to help me with some of the other things. We have lots of ideas and need to move quickly.”

  “We want to turn Rigas Roses into Paris, right down to the Seine River. In the meantime, let’s talk about the layout here, if you don’t mind.” Lily began to stroll the garden, filling me in on all of her ideas, most of which were elegant and lovely. I could almost see it now.

  After a few moments she paused for breath and I threw in an idea. “So, I had a thought. Let me run it by you. Feel free to nix it, by the way. Just have to share.”

  “What is it, Bella?”

  “Well, you know how they have little French cafes in Paris? They’re so quaint and sweet.”

  “Sure.”

  “What if Cecil and D.J. built out some faux fronts that looked like French cafes and restaurants. Right over there.” I pointed at a clearing near the greenhouse. “They could serve as the backdrop for the buffet tables and the wedding cake. I think that would be lovely. What do you think?”

  “It’s perfection.” She glanced up at her beaux. “What say you, my handsome carpenter?”

  “I say ‘Show me a picture and I’ll do my best.’” He swept her into his arms and planted several kisses in her hair.

  “Aren’t they just the most darling couple?” Mrs. Davidson gave them a winsome look. “I raised such a wonderful boy.”

  “He’s a keeper.” Lily gave him another kiss.

  “Speaking of ideas, I saw the loveliest one online,” Mrs. Rigas said. “One bride used perfume bottles as vases to hold the roses for her table centerpieces. Chanel, of course. And Yves Saint Laurent. Very French.”

  “I hate to state the obvious. . .” Lily gave her mother a knowing look. “But women in Splendora probably don’t have a lot of Chanel bottles sitting around. You know?”

  “True.” Mrs. Davidson nodded. “If the women ‘round here are like the gals in Cut-n-Shoot, they’re more likely to spend their hard-earned dollars on deodorant,
not fine French perfumes. No offense to the Chanel #5 crowd, of course.”

  “None taken.” Mrs. Rigas’s cheeks flamed pink. “It was just a suggestion. And for the record, I have quite a few bottles I’ve collected over the years. You can use those if you like, Lily.”

  “I’m happy to use what you have, if we decide to go that route.” Lily gave her mother a quick hug. “I was thinking maybe we could use a variety of Paris-themed items for the centerpieces, not just flowers in vases. You know. . .mix it up.” Her eyes took on a dreamy expression. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved the idea of Paris in the springtime. And what better place to carry out my girlish fantasies than right here, in the garden? Our rose farm is the most beautiful place I’ve ever known.”

  She wasn’t kidding about that. I’d never seen such colors before, and the scent was heavenly. I could almost picture heaven looking and smelling just like this.

  As we approached a concrete bench just off the path, Lily’s eyes misted over. “When I was a little girl I’d come out here to pray.” She pointed at a concrete bench. “This was my prayer chair. That’s what I always called it. I’d sit on my prayer chair, surrounded by the loveliest aroma of roses, and talk to God about all of my problems.”

  “Problems?” Her mother gave her a curious look. “Like what?”

  “Like having a twin sister who always wanted to steal my thunder, for one thing.” Lily quirked a brow. “Anyway, this garden is special to me and it’s going to be the very place we get to celebrate our reception.”

  She rose and took Cecil’s arm and we continued our walk down a winding path to a clearing with roses framing both sides.

  “What a perfect location for the reception.” I said, my imagination kicking into overdrive. “It’s as if this very spot was ordained from the beginning.”

  “I believe it was.” A beautiful smile turned up the edges of Lily’s lips and she leaned against Cecil. “Just for the two of us.”

  “I hate to be a kill-joy,” Mr. Davidson said, his gaze shifting upward to the sky. “But what if it rains on the 30th of April? Is there a backup plan?”

  Cecil shrugged. “I’d like to believe it won’t rain. That’s what I’m praying for, anyway. But if it does, we’ll just make the reception hall at the wedding facility into a Parisian garden. It can be done.”

  “Yes, I’ve worked at the wedding facility for a while now,” Lily said. “And we’ve transformed a lot of spaces for brides. I’m sure Bella could help me figure it out. But, again, it’s not going to rain.”

  “She has a special connection with the Lord,” Mrs. Rigas said with confidence. “Always has. They’re like this.” She pressed two fingers tightly together.

  “Noah was pretty close to God, too,” Mr. Davidson muttered, “But that didn’t stop the Almighty from flooding the earth.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I do think a backup plan is always a good idea, ladies.”

  “Oh, definitely.” Fine lines appeared around Lily’s eyes and her smile faded.

  I gave her what I hoped would be a comforting look. “Just remember, Lily, that no matter what happens, it’ll still be your special day. Well, yours and Cecil’s.”

  “Yes, don’t let anyone rain on your parade.” Mrs. Davidson clamped a hand over her mouth. “Not saying it’s going to rain. No, I’m not.” She backed away, muttering something about umbrellas.

  “They have a point,” Mr. Rigas said. “And it’s good to be prepared. Maybe we’d better have some tents on standby. You think?”

  Mrs. Rigas began to hum a little song and before long had taken to singing out loud.

  “What is that, Mama?” Lily asked. “Sounds familiar.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Rigas’s cheeks flushed pink. “Just an old song. Pennies from Heaven.” Her melodic voice rang out, along with the words, “Every time it rains, it rains pennies from heaven.”

  “Well, there you go,” Mr. Rigas said with a nod. “That’s the only kind of rain we’ll allow at my daughter’s wedding. Money, falling from the sky.” He chuckled. “After marrying off two daughters in one year I’d say I need some pennies to fall from heaven.”

  This, for some bizarre reason, led to a discussion from Cecil’s dad about an article he’d read about a fella being killed by a penny tossed off of the Empire State Building. “Not sure we want money falling from the sky if it hits us on the way down,” he said with a knowing look in his eye.

  Well, there was a cheerful thought.

  As we walked toward Cecil’s truck I overheard his father say something about a special gift for the couple. This aroused my curiosity, of course. Not that it was any of my business. Still, his parents seemed like a fun pair, even though they looked a bit out of their element with the Rigas family. No worries, though. I had a feeling they’d get along just fine with the rest of Splendora’s residents, particularly Twila, Jolene and Bonnie Sue. For sure, the rest of the afternoon would give me plenty of opportunity to find out first-hand.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Chercher la petite bête

  Translation: to look for the little beast

  (To always look for something to complain about/splitting hairs)

  Minutes after leaving the Rigas home we pulled up to Earline and Dwayne’s place to find the whole town of Splendora gathered on the lawn. Well, most of the townspeople, anyway. I’d rarely seen this many picnic tables in one place. If today’s turnout was any indicator of what Lily and Cecil’s wedding guest list would look like, I’d better plan for a crowd.

  “Oh, look!” Lily’s voice radiated joy as we took several steps toward the group. “Everyone’s here.”

  “And then some.” Cec looked a bit mesmerized by the sheer number of people who’d shown up to offer their congratulations.

  “Well of course they’re here.” I turned back to face the happy couple. “You two are loved by all. What else did you expect?”

  “I’m not sure. I just hope my parents can handle all of the hoopla.” Cecil gestured with his head toward an unfamiliar man and woman who were climbing out of an older model truck parked along the edge of the road. “They’re used to a pretty quiet life in Cut ‘n Shoot. You know?”

  “This oughta wake ‘em up.” I bit back a chuckle. “Wide awake.”

  “My mom and dad are definitely small town folks.” The expression on his face clued me in to the fact that the scene in front of him caused some degree of concern. But, why?

  “Surely Cut ‘n Shoot isn’t smaller than Splendora?” I tried to picture it. Nope. Couldn’t imagine it.

  “Yeah, it is.” Cecil raked his fingers through his hair. “They’re country folks, really. Not used to big city life.”

  “Did someone just say that Splendora was the big city?” My good friend Twila approached, her bouffant hairdo blown about by the wind. I took in her blouse, kind of a hippie number from the 1970s with crazy colors. “Never thought I’d live to see the day that our little town would blossom like this. . .” She gave me a warm hug. “But I suppose it’s true. We’re growing like a dandelion weed and half the folks are just as wild.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Cec muttered.

  As the Davidsons approached, Twila gave them a thorough once-over. “Well, who do we have here?”

  Cec’s smile seemed a bit strained. “Twila, meet my mama and my dad, Moggie and Herb Davidson.”

  “Pleased to meet you. Name’s Twila. I’m the mayor of Splendora.” She stuck out her hand in their direction and Mr. Davidson shook it, albeit slowly.

  “Oh, a female mayor.” Mrs. Davidson gave her a suspicious look. “That’s very interesting. Where we come from, over in Cut ‘n Shoot, we’ve never had a woman mayor before.” Her nose wrinkled. “We did have a gal run for City Council once, but she didn’t win. Between you and me, I think it was her drinking that made people think twice. Everyone knew what Lora-Mae was really sipping in that Sonic cup of hers and it wasn’t a green tea slushy.” Moggie gave Twila a curt nod. “Anyway, we’re happy to
be here.”

  “And on such a blessed occasion!” Bonnie Sue, Twila’s best friend, stepped into place alongside us. “An engagement party.”

  “Did I hear you say you’re from Cut ‘n Shoot?” Twila put her hands on her ample hips. “Is that right?”

  “Yes’m,” Mrs. Davidson responded. “Took us a good forty-five minutes to get here.”

  “Well now, this is fun news.” Twila put two fingers in her mouth and blew the loudest whistle I’d ever heard, which she followed up with a piercing shout. “Jolene!” she hollered. “Get yerself over here right now. Got someone I need you to meet!”

  Seconds later, Jolene, another of the Splendora ladies, joined us, beads of sweat trickling down her white blouse as she fought to catch her breath. “What is it, Twila?” she huffed, putting a hand on her chest. “I was right in the middle of pouring my sweet tea and nearly dropped it. You scared me to death, hollerin’ like that. I raced right over. Did someone die?”

  “Not yet.” Twila put a hand on Jolene’s shoulder. “Just wanted you to meet Cec’s folks. They’re from Cut ‘n Shoot. Thought you might find that interesting, considering your. . .history.”

  At once, Jolene’s eyes widened. “Are you, now? You wouldn’t happen to know a feller named Cotter Puckett, would you?”

  “Cotter’s an old friend.” Mr. Davidson’s eyes lit up as he spoke. “Do you know him?”

  “Know him?” Jolene snorted and brushed her hands on her broomstick skirt. “That old fool asked me to marry him. A’course, that was a dozen years ago, roughly. I broke his heart, I’m afraid, but I just couldn’t do it, him being a foreigner and all.”

  “Foreigner?” Mrs. Davidson looked truly perplexed by this notion.

  “Oh, he’s a foreigner, all right.” Jolene rolled her eyes. “The man has Roman eyes and Russian fingers, if you get my drift. Didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, and, well, if you know Cotter, you realize he’s a pretty big fella, so I couldn’t really throw him very far.”