“Except for the thousands of dollars it cost me to pay for this shindig.” Pop’s voice rang out from behind me. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.”
Mama jabbed him with her elbow. “Really? Did you have to go and say that?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I took a sip and felt refreshed immediately as I swallowed the cold, sweet liquid. “Mmm.” I pointed to the lemonade stand decked out with fabulous yellow and white décor. “I can’t believe you pulled this off, Crystal.” I let out a whistle. “It’s like every little kid’s lemonade stand . . . on steroids.”
“I learned from the best, Katie Sue. You taught me how to do window displays at the hardware store, did you not? I’m figuring out how to make things visually appealing. And Corrie is the best helper ever.”
The youngster gave a cute little curtsy.
“I think they both did a mighty fine job,” Mama said. “Don’t you, honey?”
“Hmm?” Pop was too busy fixing himself a cup of lemonade to respond.
“I said—oh, never mind.” Mama rolled her eyes. “This is what you have to look forward to, Katie Sue.”
“Ooh!” Crystal pointed to the dance floor. “Oh. My. Goodness. Look at that, will you?”
“What?” I took another drink of my lemonade and glanced out onto the dance floor. I saw an unfamiliar young man walk over to Jane at the cake table and ask her to dance. She hesitated, then took his hand and they entered the floor together. “Brady, who is that?”
He shrugged and then swiped my glass of lemonade. “No idea.” He took a big swig and handed the glass back to me.
“I’m surprised you don’t remember him, Katie Sue,” Mama said. “It’s Prissy’s grandson Robert. You kids used to call him Snobby Bobby because he hardly talked to anyone. He was really shy when he was a kid.”
“And a little awkward,” Pop added. “You know the type.”
“No way. That’s Snobby Bobby?” I stared in complete awe. He’d obviously outgrown the awkward stage. And the shyness.
“He came into town the minute he heard about his grandmother’s surgery,” Mama said. “But you know Prissy. She insisted he come to the wedding tonight to represent their family. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. That’s great.”
Brady looked back and forth between Bobby and Jane, who seemed to be enjoying herself on the dance floor. “So, let me get this straight. If Prissy hadn’t backed over that cone, she wouldn’t have broken her hip. If she hadn’t broken her hip, Snobby Bobby wouldn’t be dancing with Jane right now.”
“That about sums it up.” Mama gave him a curt nod. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
“Wow. Just . . . wow.” He put his arm over my shoulders.
“And if we hadn’t gotten married tonight, they wouldn’t be out on that dance floor right now, so I guess we played a role too,” I said.
Brady laughed. “True. God sure knows how to take the rough things and smooth them out, doesn’t he?”
“Yep.” I leaned my head against his shoulder and sighed. “This will be a night to remember, for sure.”
“Since you said that . . .” Jasper wiped his hands on his apron and walked over to Crystal, who looked a bit unnerved. “We might just have some news to make the evening even more memorable. Now’s as good a time as any.”
“Guess so.” Crystal’s lips curled up in an impish smile.
“You’re having a baby!” Mama let out a squeal, which got the attention of several ladies standing nearby. “That’s it, right?”
I knew the truth, of course, but didn’t say a word. I’d let Crystal and Jasper share their own good news.
“We are adding to our family,” Crystal said. “But there might be a little more to the story than that.”
Okay, this caught me off guard.
“A puppy?” Pop asked.
“No, a little bigger than that.” Crystal pursed her lips together as if trying to keep from saying something.
“I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!” Mama took off across the courthouse lawn, doing a little jig.
I gave my sister-in-law a curious look, but she refused to share her news. She had something else up her sleeve. Hopefully she’d spill the beans—and quick!
33
Trip around the Sun
I’d never worry about age if I knew I could go on being loved and having the possibility to love.
Audrey Hepburn
You could’ve heard a pin drop when Crystal finally made her announcement.
“Jasper and I are adopting Corrie.” Her eyes filled with tears right away, and she pulled the little girl close.
“W-what?” I looked back and forth between my brother and his bride. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” My brother’s eyes flooded with tears too. “And just for the record, we’re both thrilled.”
“This is the best news ever!” I threw my arms around Crystal’s neck.
She returned the hug and then turned her attention to my mother. “And by the way, Mama Fisher, you were right. I’m havin’ a baby too!”
“Ooh, I knew it!” Mama threw her arms around Crystal. “This is amazing news! The best! My, but you two didn’t waste any time, did you?” She looked my way. “See now, Katie Sue? Honeymoon babies are the best. How do you think we got Jasper? Hmm?”
Ew. Too much information, thank you.
Dewey and Dahlia showed up at that very moment. My brother looked . . . strange. Like he wasn’t feeling well.
“You okay, son?” Mama asked.
“Too many shish kabobs?” Pop tried.
“I’m . . . fine.” He stuck his hands in his pockets but still looked a bit ill.
“Dewey, what’s up?” I asked.
“Well . . .” He shrugged as he looked me in the eye. “Katie, you know how everyone’s giving you marital advice?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I have some.”
“Okay.” I took Brady’s hand and we faced him. “What is it?”
Dewey’s eyes sparkled. “Never kill your older brother when he steals the show at your wedding reception.”
“Huh?” That made no sense at all.
Seconds later, with hundreds of guests looking on, Dewey dropped to one knee and ushered up the most beautiful proposal to Dahlia that anyone could’ve imagined.
Oh. My. Goodness.
She said yes before he even got the last few words out. The ring that he pulled from his pocket was on her finger lickety-split. The crowd went crazy, clapping and cheering and carrying on with lemonade toasts.
“Wait, let me guess . . .” I turned to Brady, speaking above the din. “You knew about this one too. Just like Eduardo. And Stan.”
“Yep.”
I would’ve asked him more, but a strange commotion off Main Street distracted me.
I could hardly believe my eyes when the mayor arrived leading a white stallion. He looked completely winded and red in the face, as if he’d rushed all the way here. What in the world?
Mayor Luchenbacher drew close and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, which he used to wipe his brow. “I had to work like the dickens to get here before the reception ended, but here you go.” He passed the horse’s lead off to me.
I held it, my gaze shifting to the gorgeous horse. None of this made sense. “What are we supposed to do with him, Mr. Luchenbacher?”
“Ride him, of course. I’ve got him all saddled and ready. You can ride and Brady can lead. It’ll make a great photo. The three of you heading off into the sunset—you, Brady, and Sovereign.”
“Sovereign?” Brady and I asked in unison.
“Yep, that’s his name.”
“Did Twiggy put you up to this?” I asked.
The mayor shoved his handkerchief into his pocket. Wrinkles formed between his brows as he asked, “Who’s Twiggy?”
“Never mind.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
Our wedding guests turned their attention away fr
om Dewey and Dahlia and toward the horse.
“I haven’t ridden a horse since I was seventeen,” I said. “And I’m in my wedding gown.”
“Sovereign won’t care what you’re wearing.” Brady nudged me with his arm. “And with a name like that, we have to do it. It’s a sign, don’t you think?”
“A sign I’m going to look like a goober in front of hundreds of people.” I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. I faced my husband head-on, completely flabbergasted. “Are you really saying you want me to ride that horse?”
“It might make for a fun memory. And you can’t deny that the people want it.” He gestured to the crowd.
I turned back to discover that approximately 150 of our wedding guests had their cell phones out, as if anticipating a great photo op. Jordan was perched and ready, camera in hand. Oh brother.
A little sigh wriggled its way up as I thought through the particulars. How could I possibly manage this?
“Just go for it, Katie,” Nadia called out. “You wouldn’t be the first bride to ride a horse in a wedding gown, and you won’t be the last. The dress will be just fine.”
“We’ll use the photos to advertise the Loretta Lynn gown,” Madge hollered. “It’ll be great.”
“My daughter rode a horse at her wedding,” Bradley Pennington said. “Of course, she was in a field, but I suppose that’s irrelevant at this point.”
“They’re right,” Mama said. “It’s the perfect photo op. Go for it, honey.”
“Whatever you do, do it quickly,” the mayor said. “The sheriff’s hot on my tail. Apparently there’s some sort of zoning restriction. No horses on the courthouse lawn. So get a move on, okay?” He looked back as if expecting the sheriff to materialize at any moment.
“Climb aboard, Katie,” Aunt Alva called out. “It’ll be better than any plotline on that stupid radio show we listen to.”
“Let’s get this ball rolling before the sheriff tosses you in jail,” Jasper called out. “He’s on his way. I can see him through the crowd.”
“For pity’s sake.” I looked at Brady and sighed. “Are we really doing this?”
“Looks that way.” He gestured to the crowd. “But no pressure.”
“Yeah, right. Easy for you to say. You’re the one walking. I’m the one riding.”
The mayor pulled a chair up next to the horse. I stepped onto it and gave my guests a wave. Approximately a hundred of them took flash photos. At one time. I found myself blinded by the light. Lovely.
“Okay, okay.” I hiked my skirt a few inches and put one foot in the stirrup. The edge of my petticoat got caught, but I somehow managed to lift my weight—gown and all. I could hear the click of photos being taken and realized Jordan had stepped beside me. Wonderful. After a bit of unladylike scrambling, I finally managed to straddle the horse without showing off too much of my petticoat. The crowd let out a cheer. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked.
Brady grabbed hold of Sovereign’s lead, and the horse took a few steps toward the sidewalk. Off in the distance I heard the sheriff arguing with Mayor Luchenbacher. Hopefully their little squabble wouldn’t split the town straight down the middle, like before.
Thinking about the split reminded me of Prissy. I ushered up a prayer for her.
Thinking of Prissy made me think of the WOP-pers and the role they’d played in my life. And thinking of the WOP-pers sent my thoughts whirling back to Queenie, the guiding light for our family. And thinking about Queenie reminded me of that infamous day at Cosmopolitan Bridal when I’d connected with Alva for the first time.
Thinking of Cosmopolitan Bridal reminded me of Nadia and Madge, how nervous I’d been to tell them the truth about not being engaged to Casey Lawson. Thinking of Casey reminded me that I needed to send Joni a thank-you card when we returned from Bali.
And thinking of Bali . . .
Well, it got me to thinking about only one person—the awesome fellow leading the horse across the courthouse lawn, beyond the lemonade and ice cream stands, and onto the Main Street sidewalk.
Brady. If all of those crazy things hadn’t happened, I would never have met him. If even one thing had changed, we wouldn’t be married today. Who could work things out with such remarkable precision, such a deft hand? Only One, and it was him I thanked right now—for my new life with the best guy ever, for an amazing job doing what I loved, and for opportunities yet to come.
Sovereign’s hooves clip-clopped past our family’s hardware store, past Ophelia and Bessie May’s new bakery, and toward the intersection of Main and Travis.
“Where are we going, Brady?” I called out.
He glanced up at me, his joyous smile disarming. “Into the sunset, of course. Duh.”
The hum of voices sounded behind me. I turned to discover that all of our wedding guests were following us.
“If we’re riding off into the sunset, we’re taking a throng of people with us.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Katie Sue. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Please tell me you’re not going to start calling me Katie Sue,” I pleaded. “Say it ain’t so.”
“Only when we’re in Fairfield, darlin’,” he crooned, his Southern drawl completely put on.
“And when we’re hanging out with the Mavericks players and their wives?” I asked.
“Then you’re my bride, plain and simple.”
Alrighty then. I’d be his plain and simple bride from Fairfield, the one who got roped into riding a horse down Main Street on her wedding day.
I glanced back at my family and friends and took note of the mayor still arguing with the sheriff, while Mama and Pop bickered about whether they should head back out in their fifth wheel or stay put in Fairfield now that they were about to become grandparents. Bessie May and Ophelia argued about who was going to take a meal to Prissy’s house when she was released from the hospital, and Queenie and Pap-Paul fussed about the weather. Alva and Eduardo, oblivious to all the complaining, sashayed down the sidewalk, talking about how this moment reminded them of some old movie they’d seen.
They were right about that part, but I still had no idea where we were headed. If we continued west on Main, we’d land at Dairy Queen. Might be a little weird to come riding into the DQ parking lot on a horse. In my wedding gown. With a couple hundred people behind me. Hopefully Brady would turn back before then.
Brady.
My gaze shifted back to my husband, who led the horse with a gentle hand toward the most brilliant sunset I’d ever clapped eyes on. In that moment, as I gazed at him in awe, I had to agree completely with what he’d said earlier. In spite of the chaos, in spite of the wacky people tagging along behind us . . . with Brady James at my side, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Prologue
If Uncle Lazarro hadn’t left the mob, I probably wouldn’t have a story to tell.
Okay, so he wasn’t actually in the mob, he only sold vacuum cleaners to a couple of guys who were. In the ’70s. In Atlantic City, New Jersey. Before I was born.
But still, mob ties are mob ties, right? And we Rossis certainly know how to take a little bit of yeast and puff it up into a whole loaf of bread—which means we’ve managed to elevate Uncle Lazarro’s story to folklore status. And why not? As my mama always says, “A little extra spice never hurts the sauce, just gives it more flavor.”
Depending on who you ask, it was a Damascus Road experience that did it. Uncle Lazarro swears he was blinded by a bright light that drove him backward to the ground, just like the apostle Paul in the book of Acts.
My Aunt Bianca, God rest her soul, told the story a little differently. In her version, Uncle Lazarro was hit by a bus on a city street late at night while walking home from a bar in a drunken stupor. She said the headlights came at him like two glowing snake eyes just before the kiss of death. She always exaggerated her s’s when she said the word ssssnake, which made the story more exciting.
Afterward, Aunt B.
would lift her tiny silver crucifix to her lips, give it a kiss, then roll her eyes heavenward and mouth a silent prayer of thanks to the Almighty—not just for sparing her husband’s life, but for returning his sanity and his religion.
Regardless of whose story you believed, Uncle Lazarro ended up at the Sisters of Mercy hospital in Atlantic City, where the nuns got ahold of him and led him to the Lord. He called it a “come to Jesus” meeting, and his eyes filled with tears every time he spoke of it.
According to my pop, my uncle gave up selling vacuum cleaners that same night. From what I hear, he was never quite the same . . . and neither was anyone else in my family. Funny how one event can change absolutely everything. In our case, it set the wheels in motion for the whole Rossi clan to end up in the most illogical of places—Texas.
Transitioning my story from the East Coast to the humid South would be impossible without mentioning my uncle’s love for pizza. It’s one of a million things we have in common, particularly when it comes to deep-dish, heavy on the pepperoni. He’s also keen on coffees, especially the flavored ones with the foam on top. So when he came up with the idea to move to Galveston Island in the late ’80s to open Parma John’s—a pizzeria featuring the ultimate in Italian coffees—everyone took the news in stride.
Likely, my parents were intrigued by Lazarro’s suggestion that they join him in this new venture. My pop, heaven help him, has always been lactose intolerant. I’m still not sure what motivated him to follow after this mozzarella-driven Pied Piper. Probably just his overwhelming love for his older brother. Love and loyalty—these have always been powerful opiates in the Rossi family. I’ve found them to be both a blessing and a curse.
How my uncle settled on Galveston Island is another story altogether, one that involves the untimely passing of my beloved Aunt Bianca, may she rest in peace. Upon her deathbed, she mumbled these strange and startling words: “Toss my ashes into the Gulf of Mexico.” At least we think she said the Gulf of Mexico. My mother insists she must’ve meant Galva Messio’s, her favorite shoe store. Then again, my mama is always looking for an excuse to shop.
Every Bride Has Her Day Page 27