Love, Alabama (Alabama Series Book 2)

by Susan Sands

  Emma’s cheeks turned bright red. “Mom.”

  “It’s alright, honey. We’re all doing it.” Maureen laughed at her daughter’s embarrassment. “He seems like a nice young man. And it’s unnatural for a healthy woman your age to go without—you know—enjoying the physical company of a handsome, hearty young man. And he looks very hearty, if you know what I mean.”

  “Mom! I don’t want to discuss my sex life with you, if you don’t mind. No offense, but it makes me uncomfortable.” She continued to blush four shades to Sunday.

  “Oh, pish. You young ’uns always think we don’t know anything about sex, but let me tell you—

  “Mom, are you finally having ‘the talk’ with Emma?” Maeve asked, surprising both.

  “Ha. Pretty sure that ship sailed years ago,” Jo Jo said behind her.

  “Yeah. She was the one who gave me the talk.” Cammie chimed in.

  Maeve, Cammie, and JoJo breezed in, equally lovely, each a slight variation of the other. All were exceedingly beautiful in matching dresses.

  Maureen laughed at their chatter, which so reminded her of all the years past. The four girls spent their lives bantering with one another, often including Ben. The good-natured poking at one another would likely continue until they were old and gray.

  “I was just noticing the color in Emma’s cheeks. Doesn’t she look pretty this morning, girls?” Maureen couldn’t resist.

  The others gathered around their sister, giving her their full attention.

  Maeve said, “She getting some, y’all.”

  “I do believe you’re right, sister,” Jo Jo agreed. “That Matthew is to be congratulated. I wondered if she’d ever be open for business again. Did you notice the way he was looking at her last night?”

  “Like she was a big ole piece of cheesecake.” Maeve suggested.

  “More like he couldn’t wait to get her home alone,” Jo Jo said.

  “She’d better watch out, or all the fiery wenches in town will be after him. Once they see she’s gotten herself a man again, it’ll be like throwing down a gauntlet and saying, ‘Come take him if you can get him, ladies,’” Cammie said.

  She would know. Her now-husband, Grey, had been stolen in college by her best friend through a very well-planned drunken seduction that had resulted in pregnancy. It had taken many years for them to find one another again and for Grey to gain Cammie’s forgiveness.

  *

  Emma narrowed her eyes. “Are y’all finished yet?”

  The sisters looked around at one another, then nodded, silently agreeing that they’d said their piece for now.

  “I appreciate your snarky comments, and, yes, Matthew and I have, uh, enjoyed each others’ company a couple times, but don’t read more into it than there is. We are friends. I know that sounds weird, but he’s here alone, and we’ve hit off—”

  Someone snorted and muttered, “I’ll say.”

  Emma held up her hand to prevent further snark at her expense. “Anyway, I would appreciate your just backing off and giving me some space to just take this one nice little step at a time, if you don’t mind. And, for heaven’s sake, leave Matthew the heck alone.”

  “We like Matthew, and are thrilled he’s finally fed the beast,” JoJo said, then she turned toward their mother, “Sorry, Mom. You might want to cover your ears.”

  Mom said, “Oh, please. There’s very little that shocks me at my age.”

  “Fed the beast?” Emma challenged Jo Jo.

  They obviously weren’t finished with their commentary.

  “I mean, you haven’t had your itch scratched in a long time, have you?” Jo Jo suggested.

  “Uh, could we get on with the wedding business instead of my sex life?” Emma asked the room.

  “Sex? Who’s having sex?” Ben strolled in the room through the open doorway.

  “Everybody here except you, apparently,” Cammie said.

  “Emma’s having sex?” he asked.

  Emma would’ve been the odd girl out unless she now wasn’t.

  “Yes, I’m having sex!” Emma nearly shouted.

  Too bad the door was opened, because the rest of the groomsmen were right outside and popped their heads in at her loud proclamation.

  Junior was the first to bite. “Emma, you doing the horizontal hokey-pokey? I’ll have to kill that Matthew, now. Shit. I thought he was a good guy.”

  “No one is going to kill anyone, except me, if y’all don’t be quiet and leave my sister alone. We can harass her, but not you. Get out—all of you guys. We need a minute with Mom. Ben, you can stay if you want,” Maeve said.

  She was the oldest, so she took the lead in such situations.

  Ben went over and kissed his mother on her forehead. “I’ll be outside. Love you, Mom, and couldn’t be happier for you and Howard. Y’all can do your crying, kissy girl thing now without me.”

  Ben closed the door behind him and the sisters all moved in together with their mother to do the crying, kissy girl thing.

  “You girls are the best daughters a mother could ever hope for. I love you all so much and hope you know how much I appreciate your efforts to accept Howard into the family. I understand how much of a shock all this has been, for you, especially, Maeve.”

  “I’m happy for you and Howard, Mom. I mean it. Today is a new chapter for our family.” Maeve had teared up.

  Heck, as Emma looked around the sister circle, they’d all teared up.

  “We’re all happy for you and Howard, Mom. We’re the lucky ones,” Cammie said, and they all nodded.

  “Tissues?” Emma grabbed the box sitting on the dressing table and passed them around for dabbing any tear smudges.

  “It’s almost time for the pre-wedding photos. I’ll bet Lucy and Samantha are outside chomping at the bit to join the fun,” Cammie said.

  “They are adorable. I finished their hair and makeup a little while ago,” Emma said. “How do you feel about their sparkly Converse high tops?”

  Maureen said, “Honey, I don’t care if they walk down the aisle barefoot. Those girls can wear their high tops with flowers in their hair if they want.”

  Maeve rolled her eyes and sighed. “I guess we’ll have bigger battles to fight as they get older.”

  “It’s my wedding and we’re not going to worry about what anyone else thinks, okay? Those who will gossip, will gossip. Goodness knows they’ll have options in their choice of topic with us. We’ve invited nearly every single top information-spreader in town, so believe that whatever information gets around town will be straight from the horses’ mouths.”

  “You’re a brave woman, Mother Laroux,” Maeve said, laughing. “Converse high tops will be the least of our worries, I’m guessing. We’re serving alcohol in a dry county at one of the biggest social events of the year. Tongues will be wagging, no doubt.”

  Her mother placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder and pulled her aside as they were making their way outside for pictures. “Honey, you know I had to invite Tad and Sadie. Tad makes it known that he expects them to be on pretty much every guest list in town. And I have a feeling he wouldn’t miss this one, considering half the town will be here.”

  “I just assumed he was coming.” She gave her mother a bright smile. “It’s not what you think with him, you know. I don’t have feelings for him—he just acts weird around me sometimes, is all.”

  The photographer began lining them up before they could speak anymore about it, and the photos would commence for the next hour or so. That was the nice thing about an evening wedding; there was no big rush. They’d made sure to start the process early, so everything was ready and there was plenty of time to prepare and visit. They’d all had so much practice planning other people’s weddings that it had all gone very smoothly thus far.

  Emma had enjoyed last night’s intimate rehearsal dinner sitting at Matthew’s side in the private dining room at Chez Philippe, one of the few really nice restaurants in town. She’d been at ease with his occasional easy smil
es and gentle caresses on her arm. He’d been affectionate around her family and seemed comfortable. And they’d treated him to a similar harassment of one another. He’d fit in like even Tad hadn’t way back.

  *

  Mom hadn’t been specific about how many people she’d invited to the wedding. Emma understood that her mother had been planning and executing weddings in this community, both huge and tiny, for so many years that she could do it with a hand tied behind her back, so Emma had done whatever was asked of her in the way of helping, but had stayed out of the specifics. Mom had employees for that sort of thing. But, wow, there was quite a crowd here—like the entire town. Everyone Emma had known since birth, pretty much.

  All these familiar faces, both beloved, and a few not so much, stared with great interest as the Laroux family displayed themselves, hopefully to their best advantage. Emma wanted this day to be as wonderful as possible for Howard and her mom. Because as much as Mom said she didn’t care what people in town thought about them, Emma understood how this wedding executed Evangeline House’s finest skills. It would be great for business and for Mom’s reputation to pull off the wedding of the year—her own. St. Luke’s Episcopal Church was decked out with mountains of lovely white lilies and roses. The light, clean smells wafted through the pews, mixing with the beeswax of the hundred-plus candles that lit the sanctuary. The old church hardly needed dressing up, as it was surrounded by handcrafted stained glass windows, each their own work of art. The pews were carved wood, worn smooth by at least a half century of parishioners sliding in and out of them Sunday after Sunday. It was a holy place, whether or not those who frequented it were quite so holy was left up to the Almighty for such judgment.

  Emma grew up attending Sunday services here with her family every week. She and her four sisters, often dressed alike, with Ben doing his best to make them shriek in church by pulling a pigtail or sneaking in a pinch here and there. She didn’t make it to church quite as often these days, but when she did, mostly on holidays, she felt a peaceful calm overtake her, as she did today. It was right, this wedding. She sensed the blessings it would bring to them all.

  Now, if they could get through this day without any catastrophes at the hands of the townsfolk. Because as calm as things were this second, with the strains of the string quartet and the quiet, awed whispers of the guests taking their seats, Emma knew from experience that corralling this many people in the same place with alcohol for several hours at the reception, there was bound to be some sort of ruckus. Often, alcohol wasn’t even necessary, but it sure helped speed up the process.

  As the music began for the bridesmaids to be escorted up the aisle, Emma’s excitement grew. Her escort was her brother, Ben, since they were the only two single adult wedding participants. He wiggled his eyebrows at her in the way that always made her laugh. It ensured her genuinely smiling all the way to the altar to meet Cammie and Jo Jo, who were already standing with their bouquets, gorgeous as always. They were ordered youngest sister to eldest. Maeve would be next, then Rose, Mom’s matron of honor, would walk beside her down the aisle. The two women had been together through thick and thin for all the years since even before she’d married their father. Rose had helped raise all the Laroux children, alongside her own, and she’d been Mom’s right hand in running Evangeline House with her team of ladies who’d cleaned and assisted during events. The black woman was Mom’s best friend in the world. Even during and beyond the Civil Rights movement, they’d had each other’s back.

  And Mom wouldn’t have had anyone else beside her right now. Rosie had fully retired last year, but still popped by, shared coffee, and clucked over anything that seemed out of place at Evangeline House.

  Rose was beautiful today in her blush suit, a similar color to the younger bridesmaids, though cut in a more matronly style. She had a twinkle in her eye as she held Mom’s arm. Her children were all lined up in one of the closest pews, some with their significant others, and others were still single. But they were family to the Laroux gang as well, and therefore designated as such in the proceedings.

  Mom was radiant as she kept constant eye contact with Howard the entire time, sparing a quick, loving glance toward her offspring just before Rose handed her off to her beloved.

  “Dearly beloved—” The minister, who resembled Ichabod Crane in his last years, began the ceremony.

  Tears welled in Emma’s eyes. There couldn’t be a more perfect day.

  She noticed Matthew, sitting in the pew between two women—two really gorgeous women. One was Sabine O’Connor, which made sense, since Sabine was bound to have been invited, and if he’d been seeing her as his therapist, she was one of the few people he’d likely gotten to know in town. The other one, well, she was a different story altogether. This gal wasn’t your typical Ministry resident, in fact, Emma hadn’t seen her around. She appeared slick and edgy, with skillful makeup, her hair cut in an asymmetrical style that was longer on one side, perfectly straight and razor sharp at her jawline. It was then Emma noticed the streak of deep color in her dark hair, and the row of earrings. The stylist from New York. She currently had her hand on Matthew’s arm as he leaned in close to hear what she was whispering.

  *

  Matthew sat in the pew and waited while the wedding party took the post-ceremony photos. The ceremony had been romantic and filled with such emotion that he’d wished he’d had been able to film it with his equipment. There were near-perfect moments where life outdid cinematography. This had certainly been one of them, but would have been nice to catch it in cinema quality with all the lighting and angles it deserved.

  He watched as Emma crossed her eyes at her young niece, Suzie, making her laugh hysterically. Suzie was the flower girl for today’s event, and her bouncing blonde ringlets and large, blue eyes reminded Matthew of a China doll his sister had as child. “Aunt Emma, you’re sthoo funny!” Suzie had a lisp that was almost as adorable as she was.

  “Okay, last one. Let’s get one of all the ladies. Guys, you are done. Go and wait for your dates.” The photographer was an energetic, young man who’d managed to snap several hundred photos within the last couple of hours. Matthew could spot a good one, and this guy was definitely talented at coaxing the right shot from subjects. Matthew had worked a little as a photographer’s assistant during his college days through his cinematography internship.

  “So, you managed to sit between two beauties for the wedding,” Grey Harrison, Cammie’s husband sat down beside him, grinning.

  “It just kind of worked out that way, but I can’t complain,” Matthew said.

  “Sabine is a good friend and awesome therapist. Don’t know the other one.”

  “I don’t know anyone in town, but I know Sabine and Tess. Tess is the new stylist the network sent from New York to work on the set. She just arrived this week, so your mother was kind enough to include her after Cammie explained the situation.”

  “When did you meet Sabine?” Grey asked, then realized his mistake, after a second, or maybe seeing Matthew’s expression.

  “Oh, sorry. Not my business. She’s our family counselor, but we also consider her a friend.” He confided to Matthew, which went a long way in easing the awkwardness of the conversation. “She’s been a godsend in helping us sort out all kinds of messy stuff after my late wife died.”

  “Sorry for your loss, man,” Matthew said.

  He didn’t know what the other man had gone through, but losing his wife and the mother of a child must have been pretty gruesome.

  “Yeah. We’re all doing really well now. Samantha and I are in a good place, and now we have Cammie.” He grinned like the luckiest bastard in the world.

  “I’m working with Sabine on a couple things. New Yorkers all have issues and therapists, you know.” Now why did he admit that to another guy, especially one he barely knew?

  Grey gave a short laugh. “Best way to deal with things and move on, dude,” Grey said. “If anyone would have told me I’d be discussing the
benefits of counseling with another guy a year ago, I’d have said they were high.”

  “I guess we have to do whatever works to get through some of the worst stuff.” They were obviously both really uncomfortable discussing their shared need for seeking help, but it was good to know Matthew wasn’t the only man around here who’d seen Sabine professionally and made progress.

  “What are you two up to?” Cammie asked. “Either you’re plotting something or having a bonding session. What is it? Football? Cars?”

  “Football,” both answered, then looked at one another and burst out laughing.

  Cammie narrowed her eyes at one another. “I don’t buy it. Come on, let’s head over to Evangeline House. Hopefully, the natives haven’t torn the place down by now.” She turned her head as Emma approached. “Great timing. Are you ready to head over to the reception?” she asked her sister.

  Emma didn’t really meet his eyes. “I’m ready,” she said.

  What was up?

  He gently pulled her back by her elbow and spun her against him as the others walked ahead toward the exit. “Hey, wait a second. I haven’t had a chance to tell you how hot you look today,” he murmured into her ear.

  “Hmm. Wasn’t sure you noticed.” She felt stiff in his arms.

  “What?”

  “You seemed, uh, distracted during the ceremony.” Her eyes glittered.

  He’d never seen this expression on her face except when they’d discussed or been near the mayor.

  Tess. She’d asked him a couple questions during the wedding. Of course. “That was Tess, the new stylist. She was asking who everyone was.”

  “Poor timing, and pretty darn rude, if you ask me.”

  “I guess. I didn’t want to ignore her. She’s pretty uncomfortable and likely figured no one was watching her.”

  “Maybe. I’ll admit I whisper at weddings sometimes. She’s really stunning.”

  “Who, Tess?” He considered that a moment. “I guess. But she’s most definitely not my type.”

  “Why?”

  “Why isn’t she my type?” He had to think a second. “Well, she’s kind of edgy in a defensive kind of way. You know, the tattoos and blue hair kind of way. I mean, I don’t dislike that kind of thing. I run across it all the time in the industry as the norm rather than the exception, but it’s not my preference in a woman’s bearing. She’s a little—crusty.”