How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  “How many people are you expecting at the shower, Mari?” she asked.

  I swallowed hard. “Fifty to sixty.”

  “Ah. A lot of work, then.”

  “Yes, ma’am. If it’s too much—”

  “Nah, I do this all the time. You just come on over to my place tomorrow afternoon. And don’t you dare bring any ingredients. I have plenty, trust me. We’ll knock out those cookies. And if Derrick shows up, I’ll boot that boy of mine right out the door. He wouldn’t be caught baking, but he’s notorious for eating the baked goods.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Derrick eating our teacup cookies.

  I thanked Mrs. Richardson—who insisted I call her Nadine—before ending the call.

  The following day passed quickly at the bank. Around two thirty I looked up when I heard a familiar voice traveling across the lobby. Derrick?

  All the female tellers clustered around him like ants around a piece of candy. I fought the temptation to hide under my desk. Why I felt so embarrassed, I could not say.

  Derrick glanced my way, then confusion etched on that handsome face. After politely weaseling himself away from my coworkers, he walked toward me, smiling. “Mari?”

  “Mari Hays, personal banker, at your service.” I flashed a professional, over-the-top smile. “How can we help? Do you need a loan?”

  He laughed. “No. I stopped by because I’m going to be filming a new commercial for your bank soon.”

  “Hey, it’s not my bank. I just work here.”

  “You know what I mean.” He gave me a playful look. “It’s the least I can do. Your manager, Bill Henderson, was my first Cub Scout leader. A boy never forgets his Cub Scout leader.” Derrick saluted me. Well, I guess it was a salute. Must be a Cub Scout thing. Regardless, it caused my already skittering heart to go bouncing down to my stomach and then back up again.

  “Ah, so it all makes sense now. That’s why you do commercials for Accentuate Bank.”

  “Yes.” He raised his hand, as if taking some sort of pledge. “I, Derrick Richardson, promise to do my best to do my duty to God and my country, to help other people—especially my scout leaders—and to obey the law of the pack.”

  “You have a pack?”

  He laughed and put his hand on my shoulder. “You have a lot to learn, Mari Hays.”

  I sure did, and he made a fine teacher.

  Derrick excused himself to talk to Mr. Henderson. I went back to work, waiting on a final customer before preparing to leave for the day. Still, I could barely keep my mind on my work.

  My shift ended when the lobby closed at three. Derrick was still deeply engaged in conversation with our bank manager. Well, that, and fending off flirtatious interruptions from a couple of my female coworkers. About the same time I had gathered my belongings, he shook off the giddy females and met me at my desk. “So are you headed to my mom’s place right now for the baking extravaganza?”

  “I am. If I can figure out how to get there.”

  “I happen to know the way.” He gave me a little wink. “Want to hitch a ride with me?”

  My heart flip-flopped. From the cubicle next to mine I heard my coworker, Shawna, give a little cough. I could guess her thoughts: Say yes, girl!

  And so I did. Five minutes later I was seated in the passenger side of his Dodge ram truck, headed to his mom’s house in the Memorial area. Under normal circumstances I would’ve been a nervous wreck, but his carefree conversation kept me at ease, as always. In fact, I found myself so comfortable around Derrick that I started to wonder why I’d ever been nervous in the first place.

  When we got to her house, he introduced me to his mother. Nadine didn’t look a thing like her son. Where he was tall and solidly built, she was petite and almost as round as the cookies we were about to bake. She was also covered, nearly head to toe, in powdered sugar. I even saw bits of frosting in her hair. Not that she seemed to notice or care.

  She wrapped her arms around me in a warm—albeit messy—hug. “Please forgive me,” she said as she led the way to the kitchen. “I’d like to say I don’t usually look like this, but I’d be lying.” A funny little laugh followed.

  “It’s true.” Derrick nodded and laughed too. “There’s a white haze in the air all the time here, and it has nothing to do with the ozone layer.”

  Sounded yummy.

  Nadine gestured to several trays of adorable, baseball-themed cupcakes. “I’m just wrapping up an order for a Little League team. Let me put them away, and we’ll get this party going.” She glanced at Derrick, her gaze narrowing. “You scoot on out of here. You’re trouble in the kitchen.”

  “What?” He feigned offense. “What are you talking about? You know I’m the best baker in this family.”

  “Humph.”

  “I plan to stick around and help.” He offered me a boyish grin. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  “Fine. Then suit up.”

  “Mom, really?” He groaned.

  “If you’re gonna stick around, yes.” She pointed at a baker’s rack with aprons hanging from the corner knobs. “You too, Mari.”

  I’d imagined what Derrick would look like in a tuxedo. I’d even taken the time to find photos of him in his uniform online. But I’d never—repeat, never—pictured the guy wearing an apron covered in powdered sugar and bits of cookie dough.

  Turned out, he looked pretty great in that too. And I must’ve looked okay after I slipped a hot pink-and-white “Let Them Eat Cake!” apron over my head, because he leaned my way and whispered, “You look like a pro, Southpaw.” All I could do was smile. Well, smile and listen as Nadine gave me instructions for the cookie dough.

  Turned out, her recipe was a little different from mine—only one egg instead of two and baking powder instead of soda. Interesting. A bit more flour, too, so the cookies would hold their shape.

  I mixed up three batches of the dough and then, at her instruction, put them into large zip-lock bags and placed them in the freezer to chill for a few minutes. While we waited, she prepped the royal icing. Or, rather, she had Derrick prep the royal icing. Turned out, the guy was pretty handy. Who knew? He kept a watchful eye on his whirring mixer, and I helped roll out the cookies and cut them to look like teacups.

  A short time later, I rolled out more dough and filled a couple more trays while the first two baked in the oven. I couldn’t believe how much better Nadine’s recipe seemed to be working. If the woman had seen my attempts at home, she would’ve cringed. Or maybe not. Maybe she would’ve taken my mess, plopped it back into the mixing bowl, and reworked it with her magic fingers.

  While we worked, Derrick and I kept a playful banter back and forth between us. Nadine joined in, her voice ringing with laughter as she told story after story about Derrick’s childhood. I’d never had so much fun baking before. Of course, that might have a little something to do with the yummy-looking guy scraping the royal icing from the edges of the mixing bowl.

  Nadine separated the white mounds of sweet, fluffy icing into several smaller bowls and began to add coloring gel. I watched as she worked to get the consistencies just right—thicker for the piping icing and thinner for the flooding icing. She passed off the bottles of icing to me just as the first two trays of cookies came out of the oven. They looked and smelled amazing. And they were shaped like perfect little teacups. The ones I’d made at home had looked more like little round blobs.

  Derrick tried to snag one of the hot cookies from the tray, but his mother slapped his hand with an oven mitt. “Not on your life,” she said. “These are for the bridal shower.”

  “But I’m the best man.”

  “If you want to live to be the best man, you’d better keep your fingers to yourself.”

  He grunted and waited until she’d turned toward me, then nabbed a cookie. I didn’t let on that I had seen him do it, but from the pained expression on his face, I knew it must’ve been too hot to eat. Still, he didn’t make a sound. Obviously, the boy did
n’t want to tip off his mama.

  “Speaking of bridesmaids, I hear you’re the maid of honor in this wedding.” Nadine gave me an admiring nod. “Never got to play that role myself.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am.” I put another tray of cookies into the oven. “I’m just a bridesmaid.”

  “No you’re not.” Derrick brushed the cookie crumbs from his hands and stared at me so intently I almost felt as if he could see my thoughts. “You’re not just a bridesmaid. You’re the one holding things together.”

  “I . . . I am?”

  “Sure. And I know why. The person who cares the most does the most. You clearly care the most, and Crystal is lucky to have you, not just as a sister, but as her go-to person. She really needs that right now.”

  Well, now. If that didn’t make a girl feel better about things, nothing would. I stood in complete silence for a moment, unable to think clearly, what with his flattery going straight to my head and all.

  “Speaking of holding it all together, let’s see if these cookies hold their shape once we get them onto the cooling racks, shall we?” Nadine dove right back into the baking project, never realizing that my heart was thump-thump-thumping after hearing her son’s sweet words.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Derrick take another cookie and pop it into his mouth.

  “I have eyes in the back of my head, son.” Nadine turned to face him, hands on hips. “And laser-sharp hearing. Now, quit eating the merchandise or this poor girl won’t have a thing to take to that party tomorrow.”

  We didn’t really have to worry about that. By the time the sun went down, we’d baked and decorated five dozen gorgeous teacup cookies. Nadine even took the time to help me with the cupcakes I’d left to the last minute. After feeding me dinner.

  Derrick stayed put, all smiles and fuzzy conversation, as if working in the kitchen making teacup cookies with a discombobulated bridesmaid was something he did every day.

  Maybe he did, in between innings. Or maybe, just maybe, this handsome best man was up to something else altogether. Yep. The cute little signature wink he gave me over the cupcake tray was a dead giveaway. Looked like Derrick Richardson was stirring up something a little sweeter than cookies and cupcakes. Maybe he was tossing me a pass. Hopefully my catching skills were a little better than my baking skills.

  I could barely sleep that night. My thoughts ping-ponged between the upcoming shower and the amazing time I’d had with Derrick and his mom during our bake-a-thon. Still, I needed my beauty sleep. I finally dozed off around one in the morning, but the oddest dream kept my imagination going.

  In the dream, Crystal and Phillip got married on home plate on a baseball field. Derrick stood on the pitcher’s mound, tossing teacup-shaped cookies at them. Nadine served as umpire, critiquing my swing when I came up to bat. And Sienna—ditzy, curvaceous Sienna—coached the whole thing from the sidelines while having her nails done. No wonder the game was so wonky.

  I awoke around seven, my head pounding. Still, I had to get busy. All the bridesmaids would be at the church early enough to set up for the noontime tea party. I could hardly wait to get started. With my sister’s happiness at the forefront of my mind, I pressed any daydreams about Derrick aside and got out of bed.

  By ten, the bridesmaids, Sienna included, were gathered in the fellowship hall of our church, Grace Chapel. I couldn’t quite believe the maid of honor had actually shown up—and on time, no less—until I learned Derrick planned to swing by the church at eleven to drop off tickets for an upcoming game. Ugh. No wonder Sienna had made the extra effort.

  My sweetheart of a baking partner came into the fellowship hall, walked right past the maid of honor, and headed straight for me.

  “Hey, you.” A broad smile lit his face. “Long time no see.”

  “I know, right?” I didn’t even try to hide a smile as I stared into his twinkling eyes. “You never call, you never write, you never bake me cookies . . .”

  He laughed. “Well, I’m here now. Speaking of which, this room looks great.”

  “Thanks. It took a village, but we got it done.”

  He gestured toward the tables, all decked out with teapots and teacups. “I get it now. It all makes sense. The cookies, the cupcakes, all of it. This is themed from A to Z.”

  “From T to T.” I laughed. “Do you really like it?”

  He smiled. “Well, I’ve never actually been to a tea party before, but if I had to go to one, I guess this would be it.” A playful laugh followed.

  Apparently Sienna noticed our interaction. If looks could kill, she would’ve taken me down with her hateful glare. I did my best to ignore her. Still, as Derrick launched into a jovial conversation about all the fun we’d had baking together, she and the other girls hung on his every word. I could see Cassie glance my way as if to ask, “Really? You baked with this guy?” I would explain later. Right now, we needed to get back to work before the guests started arriving.

  Derrick hung around long enough to hand out the tickets, not just to Sienna but to all of us. Then he headed out, giving me his best Cub Scout salute, which I returned. Actually, I think I returned it with a Girl Scout salute, but I couldn’t be sure. I’d only lasted in the scouts one year.

  As soon as he left, the girls swarmed me, asking question after question. I did my best to answer them as we finished decorating and setting out the sandwiches. Sienna kept her distance, but the penetrating glare continued.

  My sister arrived at eleven forty-five. She ooh’d and ah’d when she saw what we’d done, and she greeted the guests with great enthusiasm as they came into the room, but the strained smile I saw as she hugged her friends told me something wasn’t right. I did my best to push any concerns aside and focus on the task at hand. I had a party to host, after all. Clearly, Sienna didn’t plan to take charge. She’d disappeared into the kitchen to make a call. Go figure. So, as the guests arrived, ready for an afternoon of tea-party delight, I dove in, playing the role of hostess. And I didn’t mind a bit. My sister was definitely worth it.

  The shower—Thank you, Lord!—came off without a hitch. Even the ladies of Grace Chapel declared it the most glorious tea party they had ever attended. And boy, did Crystal ever rake in the goods. I’d never seen so many shower gifts. Still, as we loaded her car later, I could tell she wasn’t herself.

  I pressed the last gift box into the backseat and shut the door, then turned to face her. “Did you enjoy the shower?” I felt a little sad that I had to ask, but the somber expression on her face made me wonder.

  “It was beautiful, Mari. You did an amazing job.” She climbed into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition, but never looked my way. Very strange.

  I had no choice but to press the issue. “Crystal? What’s going on?”

  She shook her head, then started the engine and pulled on her seat belt.

  I know my sister pretty well. Something was very, very wrong here. “Crystal?”

  “You were amazing, Mari. I mean that. You always are. But the gifts?” She gestured to her backseat. “It’s pointless to load them in my car. Pointless to take them home. They all have to be returned.”

  “I’m sorry . . . what?”

  “They have to be returned.”

  “Are you saying you already have all these things? These are duplicates? If so, I had no idea. I—”

  “No. I’m saying that I’ve changed my mind.”

  My stomach felt like my heart had dropped straight into it. “Changed your mind about what? The things you registered for?”

  “No. The wedding. I’ve changed my mind about the wedding.” A lone tear trickled down her cheek.

  “W-what?” Surely I’d misunderstood. “Are you saying you’re not getting married?”

  She looked over at me, her eyes brimming. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m just saying that I’ve had what Mama calls a ‘Come to Jesus’ meeting.”

  “With who? Phillip?”

  “No.” She sniffled. “With myself.”<
br />
  “You had a ‘Come to Jesus’ meeting with yourself?”

  “Yes. About what I want, I mean.”

  “In a husband?”

  “No, not that.” Crystal brought her hand down on the steering wheel with a thud. “I know what I want in a husband. I adore Phillip. It’s just . . . the wedding.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s not what I want. I mean, I don’t want a big fancy wedding reception at a country club. I don’t want a thousand-dollar, five-tiered Crème de la Crème cake. I don’t want Dad to spend his life’s savings paying fifty-five dollars a head for guests to eat some chicken dish they won’t even remember the next day.”

  “Um, sixty-five.”

  “Sixty-five.” She paused. “I want something normal. Something I’ll want to tell my kids and grandkids about.”

  “Are you saying you’re changing the plan for the reception? Changing the venue?” Surely not. “The wedding is in less than a month.”

  She sighed and turned off the engine. “I know. It doesn’t make any sense, does it? But Mari, I just don’t think I can justify a show-offish wedding. I’ve never been that sort of girl. I’m the ‘Let’s go to a third-world country and take care of orphans’ kind of girl, you know?”

  “True.”

  “When I went to Haiti last summer, I saw all those kids living in poverty, and it broke my heart. I promised myself I’d come back a different person. I don’t like being a spoiled-rotten brat.”

  “You’re not. That’s not you.”

  She sighed. “I know. I’m just weak. I can’t say no to Phillip’s parents. But I need to get past that. I need to be who I really am, on the inside. And I’m not the kind of girl who throws away money on a ridiculously expensive reception just because she feels pressured.”

  “So, you’re changing . . . everything? You do know your wedding is in three weeks, right? And the guests already have their invitations with the address for the country club.”

  “I know, I know.” She groaned. “It’s too late, isn’t it?”