And that month would be enough time to see if he could find his dream again. To work out the numbers, come up with a business plan, put out feelers for more customers.
“What happens when one of Billy’s friends wants a car too?” Dan asked.
Max shrugged. “Dunno.”
Dan leaned back against the counter and blew out a breath. “You know we’ll always be here for you,” he started.
“So when I fail, I can come crawling back to the family.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t say Great opportunity, Max, have fun in January either.”
“You’re an important part of what happens here in this store. We depend on you.”
“Store won’t fall apart if I leave. I’m management. I’m replaceable. You’re the art. You love it. You’re where you belong. And I’m—”
He was here because it was convenient and easy. Because he’d been using his job with his family to save money until he moved in with Gramps and Gran. Somewhere in the past three years, all the family commitments, then Merry, then losing his grandparents so close together, Max had fallen into the easy daily routine of coming to work here because it was stable and steady and dependable when so much else was in upheaval.
But it was time to move on.
It was time to find out if he was supposed to be management in his family’s jewelry shop, or if it was time for him to take a chance and fall back in love with old cars.
Merry had been right last year.
He hadn’t held out on telling her about his family’s business because he honestly believed she’d be a gold digger. He’d held out because he didn’t want to admit to her that his life was boring.
“You belong here, Max. It’s not about the building. It’s not about the jewelry. It’s not about the job. It’s about family. You’re an integral part of our family.”
And there was the subtle guilt that Gramps had dished out for so many years too. “You get that out of a fortune cookie? We supposed to add in bed to the end?”
Dan’s mouth hitched into a grin, and Max turned back to unlock the cabinets beneath the glass display counters. “I’ll get the rubies out. Can you grab the diamonds?
They went back to more mundane everyday conversations, the subject of Max and cars and vacation dropped.
But it was still on Max’s mind. Everything Dan and Rachel didn’t understand.
Cars.
Merry.
And an unbidden image of him driving through some foreign countryside in an old Ford convertible, past vineyards and through quaint towns while a brown-eyed, dimpled girl laughed in the passenger seat.
Max still had dreams.
He just didn’t know how he’d get all of them.
* * *
For a woman who’d had sex with a hot guy two nights in a row, Merry was very much out of sorts.
Maybe because she hadn’t seen him today. Not that she’d expected to. Unlike her, Max had regular work hours. But he hadn’t called either. Not that she’d given him her number, but he knew where she was staying.
Zack Diggory is such a stick in the mud, Phoebe Moon whispered.
Keep thinking that, kid, Merry silently answered. The Zack Diggorys of the world grew into the Max Gregorys, and Max Gregory was anything but a stick in the mud.
Not that she needed to be thinking about Max.
Because he wasn’t honestly her problem today. He couldn’t be, because they were simply old friends exploring short-term benefits.
She had snuck out of his place last night. Of course he wouldn’t call.
So she’d convinced herself that her mood had nothing to do with Max. Instead, she was suffering a healthy dose of pins and needles from knowing The New York Times list would be available to Janice sometime today. Or, possibly, her mood was a direct result of the bridezilla mother effect.
Despite what Merry had told Max last night, Mom couldn’t get married in her sleep.
And it was starting to show.
“Can you believe the nerve of some people?” she pronounced after waking Merry from a post-florist-disaster nap late Wednesday afternoon.
Merry squashed the desire to check her phone for a message from Janice and instead looked at Mom.
This new problem couldn’t have been the dresses. Those were safely tucked in the B&B’s laundry room behind a locked door. Probably wasn’t the groom either. Mom rarely got upset with her grooms, which, Merry was beginning to realize, was probably a sign of unhealthy relationships. She hoped it wasn’t the cake, because Kimmie had been a total sweetheart at lunch every day this week. “Caterers, minister, or photographer?” she asked.
“The bachelorette party!” Mom shrieked.
Merry rubbed her eyes and sat up. “We’re human. Someone has to have nerves.” She hadn’t mentioned Daddy to Mom. No need to worry the bride with news that her ex-husband was possibly planning to steal the most famous diamond in town on the eve of her seventh—or was it eighth?—wedding. Eighth, Merry decided. The one where Mom left her groom at the altar counted because they’d had to do all of the planning. “Now, what have the bachelorettes done to ruin your special day?”
That stress line almost appeared between Mom’s eyes. “Don’t get smart with me, missy. I’ve never had a karaoke bachelorette party, and by God, some special event won’t stop me from having one now.”
Behind her, Patrick winked a sad wink. “Melodie’s is closed to the public tomorrow night.”
“Ah. The horrors.”
“Watch your tone, young lady. They might be closed tomorrow night, but they’re open tonight, and that’s close enough. Meredith, get dressed. We’re going karaoke-ing.”
“We’re wha…?”
“Karaoke-ing. For the bachelorette party,” Mom said. “Tonight. I hear Billy Brenton himself shows up sometimes. Such a nice gentleman. Too bad he’s married.”
“Too bad for you, or too bad for me?”
“Meredith. Such a question. But I do hear some of his band members are single.” She flicked her wrist. “Anyway. I’ve already started our set list.”
“Awesome.” On second thought, thank God Max hadn’t called. If Merry had to suffer utter humiliation, she preferred it not to happen in front of sexy quasi-ex-boyfriends. Or was he a sexy ex-quasi-boyfriend?
Who cares? He’s hot, Phoebe Moon said.
That girl really needed to remember she was only thirteen.
“Are we doing this drunk or sober?” Merry asked.
“You have a lovely singing voice, sweetheart,” Mom said.
“You do.” Patrick lingered in her doorway and nodded vehemently. “You shouldn’t hide your talents.”
The man was adorable, if still a touch on the pale side. “Thank you, Patrick. Will you be joining us?”
“Oh, no, a groom isn’t allowed at the bachelorette party. Besides, my brother and nephew are getting to town tonight.” He winked. “I think your mother might’ve mentioned that Richard is about your age.”
Merry would miss Mom, she was beginning to realize, but she wouldn’t miss the romantic meddling. “Great.”
Mom sighed. “I’m afraid she’s hopeless.”
“Cheer up. I could be hopeless, unemployed, and dealing Beanie Babies out of your basement.”
“At least I’d see you more often than every Christmas, wedding, and Talk Like A Pirate Day.”
Oh, Phoebe Moon and the Pirate Wedding. That had a ring to it. “I see you at least every other month. And you’ll never let me live down my freshman year of high school, will you?”
“Any child who can convince her gym teacher she’s a time-traveling victim of gender reversal and is actually Blackbeard come forth to plunder cafeteria food is a genius worth celebrating. Don’t hide your light, Merry. Never hide your light. Now, let’s go sing.”
An hour later, with no more sightings of either Max or Daddy, and no phone calls or emails from Janice, Merry followed Mom into a barn in the middle of town.
&n
bsp; And by barn, she meant karaoke bar with a straw problem. Straw bales decorated every surface. They were beside the karaoke stage, lined beneath the wooden bar, in the rafters. A few bales had red noses and reindeer antlers attached, and Merry half-expected to see a Santa Cow or Elf Sheep waddle out from the swinging doors to the kitchen.
Mom’s linen pants and silk blouse didn’t exactly fit in, but then, neither did Merry’s wool skirt and Mom-approved Christmas sweater.
“Oh, isn’t this quaint,” Mom exclaimed over the country twang coming from the speakers in the barn’s—er, bar’s rafters. “Look, Merry, we can be the American Gothic couple! You be the farmer. I always wanted to be the farmer’s wife.”
The hostess grinned at them. Her freckles were painted on, but her straw hat, braids, and overalls seemed real enough. “Aww, you two are just too cute. Here, I’ll get your picture.”
Merry dutifully stood behind the six-foot-tall wooden board with the old farmer and his wife painted on it and stuck her head through the higher cutout while the hostess snapped a few pictures on Mom’s phone.
“Just the two of you tonight?” she said.
“It’s my bachelorette party.”
“Well, yee-haw. We’ll get you a veil, hon, and you just let us know what songs you want to sing.”
They were seated at a wobbly table near the doorway to the bathrooms. Merry spotted some familiar faces amid the hay bales, but no one she’d spent enough time with to recognize immediately by name.
“Smile, Merry,” Mom called over the sounds of three middle-aged men on stage doing an out-of-sync version of Vanilla Ice’s “Ice Ice Baby.” “I know my weddings can be trying for you. But I’m so grateful for how good a sport you always are.”
An unexpected lump knocked on Merry’s throat, asking permission to come in and take up residence. “Patrick’s a good guy,” Merry called back. “You should keep him.”
Patrick would keep Mom safe. He’d help her every time the bursitis flared up in her hip. He’d assist with redecorating the house, plant flowers in the garden, and listen to her worries over whether the maids had done an adequate job or if she should hire someone new.
He’d load the Christmas tree with presents, and he’d assure her she was loved, even if Merry couldn’t be there for next year’s Talk Like A Pirate Day, Fourth of July fireworks, or other regular visits.
“I always plan to keep them,” Mom said. “They don’t always want to be kept though. But I’ll always have you.”
She shoots, and she scores! Phoebe Moon crowed. Straight hit to the guilt bull’s-eye.
A perky blonde in the same straw hat, red plaid shirt, and painted-on freckles bounced up to their table. Unlike their hostess, this one had a single braid and a jean skirt. “Hey, ladies. I hear this here’s a bachelorette hoedown!”
“No bachelorette hos here,” Merry said.
The blonde’s brow crinkled.
Mom kicked Merry under the table. “Two tequilas, please.”
“Mom, I’m driving.”
“Those are both for me, honey.”
Phoebe Moon sounded the alarm gong.
Had Mom seen Daddy? She wasn’t usually a heavy drinker. Not even when she married Yo-yo at the Bellagio in Vegas.
“Iced tea,” Merry said to the waitress. “And what do you have with cheese?”
But she’d need something more than even Stilton Gold to handle her mother if Daddy had paid a visit to her too.
“Not much give in that dress,” Mom warned.
The best the barn had was cheese goo on nachos, so Merry went with a burger and a salad and promised to walk it off tomorrow. Mom asked for a side of coleslaw to soak up her tequila.
Mom watched her figure, but coleslaw and tequila for dinner?
First, gross. Second—“Everything okay with you and Patrick?”
“Oh, you know the trouble never starts until the third month of marriage. Do you remember when we used to sing ‘Tiny Bubbles’ at bath time? We should sing that tonight.”
“Mom—”
“Don’t let me be your example. Or your father. You’re such a good girl. You could be so happy. You could have forever. You deserve forever. All you have to do is believe, sweetheart. Just believe.”
Merry struggled to find a normal smile. “You really want grandchildren.”
“I want to know that I haven’t screwed you up forever.”
Never let it be said Mom didn’t know how to throw a memorable bachelorette party. “Mom, you saved me.”
“You should’ve gone away to college. You should’ve had spring break. You should’ve been able to get a normal job around people and dated whomever you wanted. If I’d taken you away sooner—”
“I might’ve run away from home and joined the circus.” Merry blinked back the unwelcome intruders in her eyeballs threatening to betray her emotions. If she let the first little boogers through, she’d start thinking about getting on a plane on Sunday, and then she’d be lost. “It was my secret dream when I was ten.”
Mom’s eyes went shiny. “I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?”
This was what she should have if she hit the bestseller lists. Celebrating. Happy crying. Being somebody.
But she couldn’t even celebrate her successes without worrying she would be celebrating Daddy as inspiration. “You say that to all of your kids.”
Mom’s lips spread in a thin smile. “Not often enough.”
Merry squeezed her hand. “Love you, Mom.”
“You didn’t when you were fourteen.”
“I couldn’t. It’s in the fourteen-year-old’s rule book. You just don’t remember because you’re ancient.”
Mom humphed, dashed her fingers under her eyes, then grabbed the song list from the wire rack holding the salt, pepper, and ketchup. “Just for that, we’re singing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ tonight.”
“Ooh, can we follow it with ‘American Pie’?”
“Maybe I raised you right after all.”
Between Mom’s tequila and Merry’s secret love of belting out karaoke songs, she almost forgot about Daddy and about waiting for Janice’s call.
But she didn’t forget about Max.
They reclaimed their seats after a rousing rendition of Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” when Merry noticed Zoe and Pepper at the next table.
Mom noticed too.
But unlike Merry, she seemed completely oblivious to the weird tension. Or perhaps having so many ex-husbands now qualified Mom to feel completely at ease with tension. “Zoe! Pepper! It’s my bachelorette party. Won’t you join us?”
The two women shared a glance. “Oh, we shouldn’t—”
“We wouldn’t want to intrude—”
“Nonsense. Parties are more fun with more people, aren’t they, Merry?”
“Absolutely,” Merry agreed.
She couldn’t blame Zoe and Pepper for not wanting to be her best friend. She’d hurt Max, and there was a very real possibility she’d do it again.
Still, Merry could put on the all’s-fine-here show for the sake of her mother’s wedding week.
Zoe and Pepper shared one more look, then scooted over to Mom and Merry’s table. “I thought we’d set up your bachelorette party at the bowling alley tomorrow night,” Zoe said.
“I changed my mind.”
Zoe flashed a sweet dimpled smile. “As is a bride’s right.”
“Pepper, how’s the fund coming for your mission on Saturday?” Mom asked.
Pepper flinched. “Very nicely, thank you. I just realized I never asked how you met Patrick.”
Zoe blew out what looked to be a relieved breath, then clapped her hands. “I love how-we-met stories.”
And that was all the nudging Mom needed. “It was quite romantic. My tire went flat right outside his house, and he came out and put on the spare for me, then insisted on following me to the nearest tire store to make sure I was safe.”
Merry tipped her glass up to avoid suggesting how Mom’s t
ire had conveniently gone flat in front of a millionaire’s home.
She’d met two other ex-husbands the same way.
“Oh, what a sweet man,” Pepper said.
“I hear that’s a good way to meet serial killers too,” Zoe offered. “But good on you! I haven’t managed to do love right once. You’re so brave to try it twice.”
“Oh, honey, men are like shoes,” Mom said. “You keep trying them on until you get it right. Patrick will be my sixth…no, seventh husband.” Her lips curved in a not-so-funny smile that she aimed at Merry. “I always forget about your father.”
“If only it were that easy.”
Pepper lifted a glass. “To lucky number seven.”
“He’s a good guy.” Merry lifted her own glass. “I like him.”
“And healthy again,” Zoe said.
“So very healthy,” Mom agreed.
They clinked and drank, and Mom convinced Zoe and Pepper to join them, along with a random waitress, for the Spice Girls’ “Wannabe.”
And because Pepper had ten sisters—ten!—she insisted they do “We Are Family” too. Except when she sang that she had all her bitches with her, Merry snorted so hard in the microphone that the sound system screeched. The next chorus, Mom squealed like a pig after Pepper sang about her bitches, and soon none of them could sing anymore for laughing.
The deejay ordered them to take a ten-song time-out, so they returned to their table, laughing. Almost as though the tension had never been there at all.
Pepper told stories about her sisters. Zoe added her own stories about karaoke nights gone bad. Mom shared a story or two about her ex-husbands that Merry had never heard, and Merry was smiling so big her cheeks hurt.
Had she ever smiled that hard?
“You two are party animals,” Pepper declared.
“It’s too bad Patrick and I are so far away in St. Louis, or we’d come back often,” Mom said. “But Merry’s close. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Close enough to hop over and boink Max regularly if you weren’t flying off to France, Phoebe Moon said.
Merry needed to get that girl a muzzle.
Possibly Mom too, since Zoe and Pepper were both eyeing Merry with those daggers labeled Max Defenders. “It wouldn’t be the same without you, Mom,” Merry said.
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