by Linda Apple
Skye held out her hand, but Momma wasn’t having anything to do with that. She pulled her into a big bear hug. I would have given a hundred dollars if I could have caught Skye’s shocked expression on film. Then Mom turned to Glen and hugged him, only Glen enjoyed her embrace.
“Hey, what about me? Don’t I get a hug?”
Momma swiped the air. “I was saving the best for last. Get yourself over here.” When she wrapped her arms around Ty, I saw him visibly relax. Perhaps this was the mother’s touch he longed for.
“Okay, kids, what’ll it be? Chocolate or coffee?”
Skye took coffee, black. No surprise there. Glen, on the other hand, looked like a kid with his nose pressed against the candy counter. “Are those chocolate chunk cookies?”
“Yep, my special recipe. Eat all you want.”
Glen took one and shoved it in his mouth. He looked toward the ceiling and moaned. “Oh, man. Miss Cladie. I think I’ve died and gone to cookie heaven.”
That’s all it took. Mother was in love with the boy. “Baby, eat every last one if you want. I can always make more. Now, coffee or hot chocolate?”
“Hot chocolate. Do you have marshmallows?”
Momma stuck her hands on her hips. “Of course I do. Can’t have hot chocolate without marshmallows.” She lifted the lid off what I thought was a sugar bowl. It was full of miniature marshmallows.
Glen rubbed his hands together. “Great. I’m starved.”
Momma frowned. “You’re hungry? Child, follow me. I have some leftovers I can heat up for you in a jiffy.”
Like a puppy, Glen followed close at Momma’s heels into the kitchen. In no time at all, they returned. Momma’s expression attested to the satisfaction she felt at Glen’s dinner plate full to overflowing.
Over the next hour, Momma carried the conversation asking questions and making all of us laugh. Well, everyone but Skye. She nibbled on a cookie, smiled occasionally, but mostly she observed with those keen eyes of hers. I’d seen that intense expression before, the kind that makes you want to admit to doing something when you really didn’t. Who had that same look? Then it came to me. Nathan Wolfe. The girl seemed a natural. No doubt she’d go far.
When it was time to leave, Skye rose and thanked us. Glen, however, hugged mom. “Thanks Miss Cladie for those rockin’ cookies and the awesome food.”
“Why you are welcomed, grandboy.”
He snapped his fingers. “Hey, that’s right. What should I call you?”
Momma thought about Glen’s question. “Well you have a grand mother. And truth be told, I’m not so grand.”
Ty hugged her to his side. “You are too, Momma Cladie.”
Mom thought a minute. “I called my grandmother Big Momma. How about that?”
Glen nodded. “Perfect. You’ve got something my grandmother seems to have lost. You’ve got a big heart.”
Momma patted her hips. “And the name fits my hips as well as my heart.”
Glen waved her off. “Don’t even go there. You are beautiful in my eyes.” He hugged her again, kissed my cheek, and then wrapped his arm around Skye’s shoulder. “Let’s go, sis.”
She glanced back and waved as he led her out. When they had walked outside, Ty heaved a sigh. “Well, that went okay, right? At least with Glen.”
“Actually, it did.” I laid my hand on Momma’s shoulder. “Thanks to you.”
“One down.” She lifted her index finger. “And one to go. Won’t be no time till Skye fits right in.”
“Thanks Big Momma. See you tomorrow.” Ty wrapped her in a grateful embrace then held her at arms’ length. “And just for the record, you are the grandest lady I know besides your daughter.”
“Why thank you, son.”
Ty gave me a quick kiss. “See you at Molly Kate’s tomorrow to discuss photos for the wedding?”
“Tomorrow.” I waggled my fingers. “I love you.”
“Love you back.”
I watched him jog to the truck and thought about Skye. She never mentioned Nathan. But she wanted to—bad. That probably explained her restraint. I was glad I didn’t have to pull the Nate card. I wanted to forge a relationship with her on my own, and only had a week to do it seeing how he was arriving next week. It would take a miracle, but Momma says miracles slap us in the face every day.
I needed a good slap.
Chapter Eight
Everyone has a story. The happily ever after depends on our attitude.
~Avalee Preston
A soft tapping on the door drew me from the fog of sleep. “Avalee? Honey? Be waking up. We are supposed to be at Molly Kate’s at ten.”
I pushed the hair out of my face and peeked through one eye at the clock. Nine? What the heck? I hadn’t slept that late in years. “Okay, I’m getting up.” I lied. I continued to luxuriate under the soft mountain of puffy duvet deliciousness. The stress of yesterday must have really taken its toll on me.
At long last, I threw the covers back, stretched, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. If it were not for the aroma of coffee wafting up the stairs, I would have fallen back. Instead, I slipped on my robe and slippers and lumbered down the stairs.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” My sainted mother poured a cup of dark roast and pushed it in my hands.
Through a yawn I managed to say, “Morning.”
“Hungry?”
“No, my stomach is still in bed.” After several sips of my morning elixir, its magical, mental-mist clearing properties kicked in gear. “Besides, I’m sure MK has quite a spread ready and waiting.”
“I’m sure she will.”
“It’s hard to believe little Jema will be married in only five days.” Nostalgia tinged Mom’s voice. “And there is so much to do.”
“Not really. Jema and Levi are planning a very small wedding, thank the Lord.”
“Are any of his people coming?”
“No. Jema told me that he really doesn’t have any people left except for a sister who disowned the family years ago.”
“What on earth for?”
“She didn’t like being known for her wealth any more than Levi. So, she took her part of the inheritance, changed her name, and disappeared. No one knows where she is or even who she is now.”
“She doesn’t even keep up with her own brother?”
“Doesn’t appear to. I seem to remember Jema saying something about her being resentful that Levi was the heir just because he was the oldest and a male.”
“So, in other words, she picked up her marbles and left the game.”
“Exactly.”
Momma peered into her mug. “I need a refill. How about you?”
“Please.” While she filled our cups, I thought about Skye. Nathan would arrive in three days. I wanted to at least see if I could start a relationship with her on my own. “I’m thinking of texting Skye and see if she wants to meet for lunch.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Here.” She held out my cup and sat at the table. Running her hand over the butter-yellow tablecloth Mom said, “She’s a hard one to read all right, and I usually have good instincts about people.”
“Frankly, she behaved better than I expected after the evening I spent with Emma Jackson.” I wrinkled up my nose. “Bleh.”
“Baby, let me tell you a little about Emma.”
“Do I want to hear this?” I propped my chin on my hand and looked into mother’s solemn face.
“Yes. Maybe if you understand a little about her past, it would help you to consider the source and realize you are not the reason for her misery, only the target.”
“Oh, well, I feel better already, being a target and all.”
Mom tucked her chin and gave me the look. “Anyway, Emma was raised across the tracks—literally.”
“Shanty Town?” Wow. This was news.
“Yes. I was a couple of grades ahead of her, but we all knew each other. Her mother, Lola, was a single parent. Emma’s father was an immigrant worker passing through. He pro
bably never even knew he had a child. When she was born, she and her mother lived with the grandparents. Of course, they were dirt poor. If a trip around the world cost a dollar, they couldn’t have made it to the state line. They ate from the garden and what Lola’s daddy shot or caught. They had a milk cow, and chickens, so they didn’t starve by any means. Her clothes were homemade, which wasn’t unusual when I was growing up. All our mothers sewed. But Emma’s dresses were made from the material taken from her grandmother’s worn out dresses or from flour sacks.”
Momma stared off. “I can still see young Emma at school in a rag-tag dress, the product of an unwed mother which in those days was unheard of, carrying her lunch in a tow-sack.” Momma returned her gaze to me. “If I had to describe her life as a child in one word, it would have been shame. No one, and as ashamed as I am to admit it, me included, had anything to do with her. And even if we were inclined to try and befriend her, our parents forbade it.”
Shame. While mother spoke, it occurred to me that Emma Jackson and I struggled with the same thing.
Momma kept on with her story. “When she was sixteen, Emma got a job at the Piggly Wiggly. It was brand spanking new. The first self-serve grocer. Up until then we went to Hanson’s, gave them our list and they bagged our order up for us. Emma worked hard. She learned how to use make-up, bought new clothes and had her hair styled. That girl turned out to be a right pretty thing. Marcus Jackson sure thought so. He stopped into Pigg’s for groceries, they met, and the rest was history.”
“They met? Didn’t he already know about her?”
“No, he’d just moved from Illinois to set up a family practice in Moonlight. They married and Emma began to enjoy life as a respected lady, and when the money came rolling in, she let it go to her head. Then, when little Marcus Jr. came along Emma was obsessed with him, vowing he’d never suffer the shame she had.”
“Why wasn’t she as obsessed with Ty?”
“Ty didn’t come along until years later. She loved him, of course, but I think from the start she lived vicariously through Marc. He was a bright lad, as you well know.” Momma tilted her head to the side. “I guess you could say he restored her pride. Anytime she met her old school mates, including me, she made sure to let us know her son out-shined all of our kids.”
“But not Ty?”
“He just came along a little too late. And when he was old enough to follow in his dad’s footsteps as Marc had, he refused, which bitterly disappointed Emma, as you well know.”
“Isn’t it odd? In a way, she is doing the same to Ty as her classmates had done to her.”
Momma sighed. “That’s the sad truth.” She rose and took our cups. “But my reason for telling you her story is so you might find it in your heart to give her grace.”
“Does Ty know about his mother?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it. Emma has wiped out that time of life like one wipes chalk off a blackboard.” The cuckoo bird chirped nine-thirty. “Lord a’mercy, we better get a move on.” Momma yanked off her apron.
“I’ll be ready in a jiff.” I rose and climbed the stairs. As I dressed, I thought about what Mom had told me. Sad story, but a lot of people had sad childhoods. That wasn’t an excuse for being mean as a junkyard dog was it? I mean, she had a choice, right?
Chapter Nine
Forever friends, plans, and Martini Mondays. Life is good.
~Avalee Preston
Just as I predicted, Molly Kate had a huge spread of food, including our traditional celebration mimosas, of which Jema and Lexi were already partaking. Lexi held hers up. “Hi y’all. We waited on you like one dog waits on another.”
Jema turned from the dining room buffet and hurried over to us. She looked fabulous. The air about her seemed as if she might burst out in hilarious laughter at any minute. Her eyes danced behind her gold wire-rimmed glasses. I noticed her hair was highlighted too and cut in a short shaggy style. Very flattering. No doubt this was David’s handiwork.
After Lexi handed us our mimosa, she lifted hers, “Girls, I propose a toast. Here’s to our forever friend, Jema. May she and Levi live long and love fully.”
We lifted our glasses and cheered, “Here, here.”
Jema’s eyes glistened as she lifted her glass again. “And here’s to you. My friends whom I love as dearly as sisters.” She looked in Mom’s direction. “And as a mother. May nothing keep us apart.”
“Here, here, and amen.” Momma took a sip of her drink. “Whoa, who mixed these things?”
Molly Kate jerked her head toward Lexi. “Really? Need you ask, Miss Cladie?”
“Oh pssh.” Lexi nodded at Momma. “Keep drinking. You’ll get used to it.”
“Okay girls, let’s get this show on the road.” Molly Kate wandered to the dining room table. How about a progress report.”
“I’ll start.” I pulled sketches from my portfolio. “I’ve ordered dozens of white roses, and I plan to enhance some with crystal bits. In the bouquet, I’ll add lacy fern and drape the handle with strands of white pearls.”
Jema drew in a breath. “Oh, that is so beautiful.”
“I’ve also ordered enough flowers to refresh the arrangements from MK’s wedding, so we are good to go there.” Counting on my fingers, I ticked off all the other things that were on my list. “I picked up gold candles to put in the glass vases we already have, ordered indoor sparklers, loads of confetti, gold and silver party poppers, gold and black party horns…oh, and are you ready for this? A balloon drop!”
Lexi frowned. “Say what?”
“This is going to be so fabulous. Wherever Jema and Levi decide they are standing, and all through the room, I will have netting hanging from the ceiling filled with gold, silver, pearl, and black balloons. So, when Jema and Levi say ‘I do,’ the first balloon drop will fall over them. Then with each stroke of midnight, the others will fall as we kiss the New Year in. Isn’t that the coolest thing ever?”
“Well,” said Momma. “What about those of us who don’t have anyone to kiss?”
“Y’all can play with the balloons.” Lexi reached for a piece of banana bread.
Jema clapped her hands like a little girl. “I love it.”
“Heck, that makes a gal want do-overs,” said Molly Kate. “I’m jealous.”
“Sorry MK, but Ty and I are next. Besides, none of us will beat your fabulousness in that crimson Mae West dress.”
Molly Kate stood and struck her best Mae West pose. “You have a point.”
“Anyway, that’s it for me. Who’s next?”
“Me.” MK pulled pictures from her folder. “Okay, here are some sketches of cakes I’m thinking about. I’ve designed a small cake for the wedding and a large one for the reception on New Year’s Day. I’m thinking a three-tiered white cake. The bottom tier will have gold scrolls, the middle will have pearls, and the top will have crystal sugar.”
Momma piped up. “You aren’t using that nasty fondant are you?”
Molly squinched up her nose and pursed her lips like she’d just smelled rotten cabbage. “Heaven’s no. That stuff tastes like the play dough I tried to eat as a kid, only sweeter. No matter how pretty it may make the cake look, it still isn’t enough reason for serving nasty. Besides, I can make buttercream look as smooth.”
Momma nodded. “Good. I had a lady once tell me the fondant was supposed to be peeled off to get to the buttercream underneath, but who wants an extra step between slicing and eating cake? Besides, it would be rude to lick the frosting off the fondough.”
“Oh, MK, that is amazing!” Jema’s delight felt palpable. “How many will the reception cake serve?”
“Around fifty depending on how it is cut. But I’ll also have a groom’s cake and cupcakes.” Molly snapped her fingers. “Which reminds me. What should I put on Levi’s cake? Something Canadian?”
“How about a Canadian goose?” Lexi sniggered at her own pseudo-cleverness.
“Cute Lex.” Jema thought about the cake. “Well, he likes an
ything chocolate, loves Guinness beer, sports, and nature.”
Molly’s creativity went into full swing. “How about a moose wearing Levi’s favorite sports team’s logo, holding a Guinness?”
“Perfect! He will love it. I’ll check to see who his favorite team is.”
Lexi raised her hand. “Need a buttercream tester? I’m available.” She slapped her rear. “Seeing how I’m the only one not getting married. Doesn’t matter how big my butt gets.”
“Now, Lex,” I said. “You never know. Nate may come through.”
“Naw. He isn’t the marrying kind. I can tell. Neither am I really.” She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “Que sera, sera.”
“I don’t know. Neither Jema or I expected to get married and now look.” This thought never ceased to amaze me. I was going to be married in May. Wow.
Molly faced me. “And you are going to keep with tradition and have your ceremony in the mansion, right?”
“I thought you’d never suggest it, but I’m warning you it is going to be big and traditional. Even though I’m an old lady now, this will still be my first wedding.”
“Finally,” Momma added.
“Okay, let’s talk the day of the wedding. But first,” Lexi held up a finger and looked at Molly Kate. “Are there anymore mimosa makings?”
“Are you a bottle-redhead?”
Lexi smacked Molly on the arm. “Oh, hush up. I’ll be right back.”
While we waited, Jema perused the sketches and plans. “Five days. Just five days and I’ll be Mrs. Abrams. It is almost too much to take in.”
“Well, this will help you.” Lexi carried a tray of fresh drinks. After we’d all been served, Lex commenced. “I talked to Tryna and David about doing our mani/pedis and hair. And they both agreed.” She turned to Jema. “I hope you don’t mind, but I promised them big bonuses seeing how they are working on a holiday.”
Jema grinned. “You’re better at spending Levi’s money than me, and that’s saying something.”
“Well, it is for a good cause—us. We’ve got to look fabulous in the wedding photos. Besides, Tryna makes killer margaritas.”