Grace turned away from the men, and concentrated on Emily and Russell and Tyler, who were throwing a ball to one another. Tyler was happy. Emily was seeing an attorney in Mars Hill about joining his practice. They would sell Russell’s house and buy a larger home closer to Mars Hill. A new school for Tyler. Grace worried about that. But then, she worried too much.
“Throw me the ball, Emily,” Tyler called.
Emily threw, Tyler missed, then flopped onto the grass laughing. Emily ran to him, flopped beside him, and tickled him. Obviously she cared a great deal for the child. Now he would have a new house, a new mother, and a new school. It would probably all work out just fine for Tyler. It was Grace who would miss his bright little face, his quick hug in the hall when she went to Caster Elementary. Grace smiled. She’d come to love so many people since moving to Covington.
Ginger’s crabby voice interrupted Grace’s musing. “I haven’t seen it.”
“Seen what?” Grace asked, pulling her shoulders erect.
“The gown, the old woman’s wedding gown. First she tells me she’s wearing a hand-me-down, and then she refuses to let me see it. I know about these things. It’s probably horrible.” She nodded toward Emily. “Stubborn like her father, they can do such mean things to a person.”
“Oh,” Grace said, trying to see it from Ginger’s perspective and failing to do so.
The smell of Ginger’s heavy perfume wrapped itself about Grace. Grace sneezed, and turned away. This was the last, the absolute last time she would allow herself to be talked into any event with Ginger, after the wedding.
“Tell you what.” Ginger sidled over to Grace on the wooden bench. “I’ll come over. You show me the dress.” Her long face widened a bit with her toothy smile.
“I can’t do that,” Grace said.
Ginger drew back. Her voice rose. “And why not?”
“I promised your daughter no one would see it until she wears it down the aisle.”
“And.” Ginger pulled back. “I suppose you promised your son and his, his . . .” She waved her hand in dismissal of Charles. “. . . not to tell what they’re doing for the reception?”
“My son’s name is Roger, and Charles is like a son to me.” Grace swung her legs from under the bench and left the table to join the others in their game of catch.
45
Ripples
The week prior to the wedding saw the closing on the sale of the tearoom, and a series of parties in honor of Russell and Emily. The Tates threw a backyard barbecue, for which Old Man roasted a pig. Ginger and Martin hosted a formal luncheon at the Grove Park Inn in Asheville for family only, which of course included, at Emily’s insistence, Hannah and Amelia and Mike. Bob had the family in for cocktails at his apartment. He refused to let Grace cook for this event, and had it catered.
And finally the day arrived. On June 4 at ten in the morning, a radiant Emily walked down the aisle of the church in Asheville on her father’s arm, looking exquisite in Lurina’s satin wedding dress. Ginger sniffled softly from the front pew.
“Where’d she get that real pretty weddin’ dress, Grace?” Lurina, sitting next to Grace, asked.
“It’s your dress, Lurina, don’t you recognize it?”
“You don’t say? Well if that ain’t somethin’. She sure makes a pretty bride.”
Tyler bore the ring on a blue velvet cushion. He glanced at Grace as he passed and winked at her. Grace winked back. Tyler had grown up so much since she had first met him. She was so proud of him.
The wedding was lovely, the church a bower of flowers, the music traditional, the service short, with the vows written by Russell and Emily. There was no “obey” in their choice of words. Grace liked that. She hoped a new generation would find more happiness in a married life that stressed cooperation.
The reception that evening was perfect. The music was soft, the weather delightful with clear skies and a cool soft breeze. The buffet was bountiful and scrumptious. Tiny white lights on every tree limb gave the illusion of a fairyland. Charles had selected deep pink peonies for table decorations, and painted the windows the exact color of the peonies. Amazingly, the dance floor spanned the stream. Romantic, she thought, a very lovely touch. Grace counted eighty-seven guests.
Talk of this wedding, and the reception, would continue for weeks after the bride and groom departed for a honeymoon on the coast of Maine.
“Never seen a bride pretty like that Hammer girl,” P. J. Prancer reported to his staff at the hardware store.
“Food at that reception. Lord, I never did see so much food, delicious food,” Pastor Johnson reported to all who asked, and those who didn’t.
“The flowers in that church. Gorgeous. They must have emptied every flower shop in Madison and Buncombe Counties too,” Brenda said to Velma Herrill.
Lurina’s wedding dress, worn by Emily, caused the biggest stir. “Imagine, wearing a used wedding dress.” This from Alma Craine, gossiping with someone at the newly opened beauty salon on Elk Road.
Someone shopping in Prancer’s remarked, “Miss Lurina’s dress? What’s the matter, she couldn’t afford her own dress?”
The woman spoke so loudly that P. J. Prancer must have heard her, for he exited his glass-front office, a rare occurrence, and confronted her. “Listen up, Agnes,” he said. “Can’t imagine Ole Miss Lurina even getting married in it. It sure looked elegant on that young woman. Like it was made for her. Doubt the old lady ever wore it, marrying like she did at home. Probably she gave it to Emily. Mighty nice gift that was, I’d say.”
And the rumor became fact, that Lurina had never worn that dress, and had gifted it instead to Emily.
They spoke of Grace’s wedding cake: “Where’d she get a recipe like that with all them colored layers?” and “That Grace sure can bake up a good cake.”
“How about those fellows who put on the party?”
“You mean Grace’s son, and who’s that other fellow?” A raised eyebrow. “His partner? Well, they sure did put on one beautiful reception.”
“And everybody dressed up so nice and actin’ so friendly.”
“I liked the music. Good dancin’ music.”
“Did you hear they put the dance floor over the stream? Good thing nobody fell off. Who but some Yankee would of thought of that?”
And so it went, on and on for days, and into weeks, until the topic of chat shifted to the other big news on Cove Road.
“What you think about what Maxwell’s done? Why’d he want to make a park outta Jake’s land?”
“I hear tell he’s gonna do what they call a livin’ museum. Folks dress up in old-time clothes, and use old tools and stuff.”
“I got lots of rusty old tools if he wants them.”
“Well, it sure beats houses all over the land.”
“I hear tell Hannah’s gonna run a part of the place, something about gardenin’ and kids. That ought to keep the old busybody busy.”
This brought laughter. Someone else said, “Ah, she ain’t so bad, just wanted the land preserved, that’s all.”
“Why’d Maxwell do it, do you think? For that Hannah woman?”
“Naw. It’s gonna be named after his wife, in her memory, like some folks might put up a statue.”
“Hope things quiet down in Covington soon. We’ve had ’bout enough excitement round these parts to last a hundred years: television people, Lurina marryin’ Old Man, big fancy weddin’, Maxwell buying Jake’s land.”
And so it went, friends gossiping, neighbors gossiping, people being people.
But that night after the wedding and the reception, after the ladies, and Charles, Roger, Mike, and Bob doffed their formal clothes and put on grungies, they all collapsed on the front porch. The men settled on the steps. The ladies rocked. Stars ravaged the sky.
Roger and Charles had packed their van earlier, and would leave tomorrow. Local vendors would be by to collect tables, tablecloths, chairs, the dance floor, and the table settings. “Well,” Grace said.
“I’m sorry to see you two go.”
“All’s well that ends well,” Roger quoted the Bard.
“Yes indeed. It was one amazing week,” Amelia said. “So many parties. I’m quite worn out.”
“Well done, boys.” Hannah, closest to the steps, leaned over and patted Charles’s shoulder. “Tell Miranda, I send my love. Tell her to come see us soon.”
Charles’s hand reached back, and closed over Hannah’s. “I certainly will. And since Miranda and Paul liked the idea of a condo in Loring Valley, we’ll all be seeing much more of you all.”
“Which pleases me mightily,” Hannah replied, choosing to ignore the fact of its being in Loring Valley. She could tolerate that better, now that she knew the Anson land was secure for generations to come.
Then Charles’s face lit in a wide grin. He turned to Grace. “I asked Miss Lurina if she was the one who called the television people.”
“What did she say?” Grace was all ears.
“Sly old bird. She said, “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.’ I still think she did it.”
“I thought this was to be the great unsolved mystery of Covington.” They laughed good-naturedly. A short while later, Grace pointed to the heavens. “Look at those stars. That’s one of the things I love here, we can see the stars, and now there’ll be no light pollution on Cove Road to destroy it.”
“My goodness,” Amelia exclaimed suddenly, brushing her lap vigorously. “Will they never go away, these confounded ladybugs?”
“There can hardly be but a few stragglers these days,” Hannah said.
“But there are more of them every year.”
“You’re going to have to find a way to live with them, Amelia.”
“Like you lived with the possum in your wall? Never.”
“My possum’s gone, lured out, trapped, and taken away.”
Grace smiled. Her eyes met Bob’s. It didn’t get much better than tonight.
While the reception was going on, Jill had left a long message on the answering machine. Lurina and Old Man’s story would air in early August. She would let them know the exact date and time. Grace knew that on that night, everyone in Covington would forgo sports programs. Yes, indeed, she thought, the good folks of Covington will certainly have plenty to gossip about for a long while to come.
46
Among Friends in Covington
And so, with the tearoom sold, and the wedding and reception behind them, the ladies gathered, again, on their front porch at four in the late afternoon on a sunny June day, for a good, old-fashioned tea. Grace spread a lace runner over the table, and Hannah carried the silver tray from the house through the door that Amelia held open for her.
Once seated, Amelia said, “So much has happened in eight months.” Her eyes clouded. For a moment she fell silent, remembering Lance, then she smiled, and her whole face brightened. “Mother used to use an old cliché, What happens happens for the best. I think I’m starting to believe that. Everywhere I go these days, people are kind, they tell me stories about Madison County, and most of them let me photograph them. I even asked Miss Lurina and Old Man. She was a bit resistant, but I think that’s how she is at first to anything new. Old Man thought it was a great idea, right from the start, even said I should put their photo right on the cover of my next book. Should they be sitting on her porch holding hands, do you think?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Grace said.
“How lucky I am that Mike and my friendship survived Lance Lundquist.” She could say his name now. “You’re right, Grace, time and events, the vicissitudes of life, they do indeed test friendships. Mike’s and my friendship’s stronger now than ever. In fact, everything about my life is better.”
Hannah rested her head back on the rocker. “I sure learned plenty trying to get funding for Jake’s land. Met some nice people, and look how it turned out. Answer lay right here in our own backyard.”
“And all because of Bella Maxwell,” Grace said.
“I miss Bella,” Hannah said. “She was a very special woman. I’m sorry she never made it over for tea.” She changed the subject. “What do you think about leaving that wedding arbor where it is, as entrance to the backyard, and planting roses on it, sort of like the entrance to a secret garden? There’s a climber rose called Old Fashioned Bella. It’s a medium rose color.”
“A kind of memorial to Bella?” Grace asked.
Hannah nodded, “I’d liked to plant it so that it will grow over the arbor. I’ll always think of it, then, as Bella’s arbor.”
Grace twisted her head toward the arbor, still adorned with silk roses, and greenery. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, all those pink roses, even if they aren’t real?”
“How about painting all the windows that nice soft rose color?” Amelia had never liked the yellow window shutters.
The others agreed. Then Hannah touched Grace’s arm. “Wedding cake was the best.”
“Did we save some, freeze some of it so we could have it another day?” Amelia asked.
“There’s plenty in the freezer.” Grace smiled. “So many people have asked for the recipe.”
“Best cake I ever ate—moist, delicious.” Hannah rocked back hard. She felt magnanimous and satisfied.
“Will you type the recipe for me, Hannah, so I can make copies?”
“Of course I will,” her friend replied.
Their talk turned to the tearoom. “Selling the tearoom was as good for Bob as for me. There’s a time for everything.” She knew it seemed irrational to some people, that she and Bob had opened a business, and so quickly sold it. But Grace was certain that life flowed best when one listened to one’s instincts rather than to the opinions of others. They had learned much about themselves and one another during this venture. Each had a clearer vision of how they wanted to live life and use time. Nothing had been lost. They had even made a small profit on the sale.
“Bob seems quite content.” Amelia leaned over and poured them a second cup of tea.
“He is,” Grace said, smiling. “And I am too.”
“Remember when we first moved here, how quickly tea in the afternoons became a ritual for us?” Amelia asked.
Hannah smiled at her. “And I sure did miss it there for a while.”
“We’ve got to watch that our lives don’t get so jumbled or confused that we lose sight of what’s important,” Grace said.
Hannah stopped her chair from rocking. “I wonder, if we did it today, is there anything different any of you would add to our time capsule? It’s over a year since we buried it.”
“I’d laminate and put the Vienna cake recipe in it.”
“I’d add a photograph of our wonderful farmhouse taken from the top of Windy Hill, up there behind our house. I’d show the mountains beyond in drifts as they look in the evening most days.”
“I’d add the map of Covington.”
At that moment, one moving van, and then another, rumbled by. “That must be the Ansons moving,” Hannah said.
For a time it was quiet on Cove Road, and on the porch, and then Molly Tate Lund’s car went by, and they waved to one another. “It’s wonderful,” Grace said, “to be among friends here in Covington.”
Grace’s Multicolored Vienna Cake
Using three, nine-inch cake pans, this recipe will make one three-layer cake.
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
2 cups sugar
4 large eggs at room temperature
1½ cups self-rising flour
1¼ cups all-purpose flour
3 level teaspoons baking powder
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Red, yellow, and green food coloring
Preheat oven to 350°. Grease and lightly flour three cake pans and line the bottoms with rounds of wax paper.
In large bowl, with an electric mixer on medium speed, cream butter until smooth. Add sugar gradually and beat until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add eggs one
at a time, beating well after each addition. Combine the flour and baking powder in a separate bowl, then add to batter slowly, in four parts, alternating with milk and vanilla extract. Beat well after each addition.
Divide the batter into three small bowls and add the food coloring—two or three drops at the most—green to one bowl, yellow to another, and red to the third. You will have pale yellow, pinkish, and light green batters. Pour the batters into three different baking pans. Bake for 20 or 25 minutes. Watch carefully, and test with knife tip or toothpick for doneness. Be sure layers are baked through.
Let the layers of the cake cool in their pans for ten minutes, then remove and finish cooling on racks. When completely cooled, spread a thin layer of strawberry or apricot jam on top of the first and second layers as well as a thin layer of the frosting on top of the jam. Stack the layers, and frost the top and sides with cream cheese frosting. Keep cake in a cool place before serving.
Cream Cheese Frosting
2 (eight-ounce) packages cream cheese, slightly softened and cut into small pieces
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened slightly and cut into small pieces
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
5 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar
Makes enough frosting for a three-layer cake.
In a medium-size bowl, with an electric mixer on medium speed, beat the cream cheese and butter until smooth, about 3 minutes. Add vanilla extract. Gradually add sugar and beat well until mixed and of a consistency to spread easily.
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