by Kay Shostak
Etta chooses butter pecan, and Jackson tries red velvet. I like chocolate with nuts or fudge, but the other two choices are the pink bubblegum Bryan got, and orange and vanilla cream. While I’m deciding, I’m distracted by the drive-thru robber story, and at the end I just point and nod to Miss K, who is standing over to the side, holding my empty cone. Whatever I get will be fine.
Miss K bends into the ice cream case and comes back with a scoop of orange and white. As she stands up, she give a little swing to her head to make her braid fall back across her shoulder. “There you go.” Pushing the ice cream down into my cone, she takes her time, then finally handing it to me asks, “So, how was that Italian place? Go there much?”
“What?” Even though I’ve got my fingers on my cone, she won’t let go. I look up, and she’s staring at me. “Um, The Italian Bistro? We’re having the rehearsal dinner for our son there tomorrow.”
She nods, but still won’t let me have my ice cream. “But today? Looked like things got exciting.”
Now I might not want my ice cream. My stomach doesn’t feel that great. “Today? Um, why?”
Lifting her hand away from my cone and backing up, she raises her eyebrows. “You should know.”
Jackson has paid and he, his mom, and Bryan are near the door when Savannah comes in. “Here she is,” Jackson says. “Hers is the extra one I paid for.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she says as she holds the door for him, Etta, and her brother to leave. When the door closes, she comes to me, and I notice she doesn’t look in an ice cream frame of mind.
“What’s wrong?” I ask while preoccupied licking the drips running onto my fingers.
“You and Peter. I thought that was, was, well, nothing. What were you doing today?”
Mid-lick, I glance back at Miss K, who looks like one of those huge old Galapagos turtles with their heads extended out as far as possible. Not surprisingly, it’s extended in my direction. “Today? Me and Peter?”
She then holds up her phone three inches from my face. “You are on TMZ. They have video.”
“Video of me? Doing what?” I hold out sticky, orange fingers toward her phone, but she jerks it away.
“Yeah, you and Jordan fighting over Peter in some dark restaurant.”
See, this is why staying in the moment is highly overrated. Some moments suck.
Chapter 48
“Well, at least you’re the one being cheated on instead of being the one doing the cheater,” Laney opines the next morning. “And you look pretty darn good in the video.”
“I’m not either. There is no cheating. Where did they come up with that story?” I ask, as we walk up the sidewalk along the downtown shops. Missus is hosting a bridal tea this morning for both Patty and Anna. Last I’d heard, Patty wasn’t invited, but then after Anna came back home from her stay in Athens, Patty was invited. Gertie, too.
I have on a silver-blue skirt and short-sleeve, white blouse. Laney is wearing a caftan. It’s a nice caftan, rich jewel tones and a silky material, but still a caftan. Her hair is as large as ever, glossy black and curls that stay where they belong. Susan won’t be here this morning as she’s come up with some issues about moving the reception to the park, but nothing she can’t handle, she’s assured us all. Etta begged off saying she wants to reserve her strength for the rest of today’s festivities.
We cross the street and walk up the sidewalk, where the thick green and white leaves of FM’s hostas are all crowned with light purple flowers on the ends of thin, single stalks. They bob in the morning breeze and dart at our knees. The small front lawn is crisp and perfect, edged in old bricks. On the gray and salmon porch, turquoise pillows and cushions adorn the wicker furniture. Big ferns in hanging planters, still wear glistening strings of water droplets from their morning watering. It’s hard to believe that a few short weeks ago, this house had a tree lying on it. .
Laney steps back for me to go up the porch steps first. She gathers the long skirt of her dress out of the way.
“That’s a beautiful caftan,” I say, watching her face for any reaction.
She only sighs as she motions for me to walk on ahead, then asks, “And why can’t you ask Peter how TMZ got it?”
“One, because he won’t answer my phone calls, and two, I’m scared to be anywhere near him. I guess what all the celebrities say is right: the paparazzi are just everywhere.”
She laughs as she joins me on the porch. “Seriously, Carolina? The paparazzi?”
“Well, how else do you explain it?”
She just shakes her head, and we both turn when the front door is opened. Missus looks at Laney, and her eyebrows dip; then she looks at me and does a slow head shake. “What in the world have you dragged my son into now?”
Laney’s caftan comes in handy as an invisibility cloak when she fluffs it out and breezes in the door between me and Missus, grabbing my hand and pulling me in her wake. “We want to say hello to everyone. Thanks, Missus.”
In the formal living room, we find the other guests, along with the guests of honor. Patty looks scared to death, Anna looks bored to death, and Gertie looks pert near death.
This should be fun.
Laney leads us to the girls and then pushes me towards the seat next to Gertie. “I’m sure this is reserved for the mother of the groom. Or is Andy’s mother sitting here?” Laney asks. Patty’s shrug is tight, Anna’s is loose, and Gertie closes her bloodshot eyes and shakes her head.
The lady I remember from the picketing waves at us, “No, I’m right here.”
So I sit down in the seat Laney chose for me.
Gertie opens her eyes, barely. “Hi, Carolina.”
“Are you okay?”
“No. No, I’m not. Guess you know I got in late last night. Hope we didn’t wake you up.”
“I didn’t hear you. You said, ‘we’? You and Patty?” (Funny, but I already know the answer to the question. You probably do, too.)
Gertie snorts. “Not much left you can get arrested for in most states, but I believe doing what I was doing last night with your own daughter might just be illegal in all fifty.” She snorts-laugh again and looks more alive. “Did you see Bill this morning? He was still sleeping when I pulled myself out of bed for this tea rigmarole thing.”
Savannah is here helping serve along with Jenna and Angie and Susie Mae. Bryan spent the night with a friend we ran into at the ice cream store, so at least this stranger, Bill, Gertie picked up, isn’t in the house with my kids. Just my mother-in-law. “So,” I say. “Where did you meet this Bill?”
She pushes her hair back with both hands and takes a deep breath. “Oh, we go way back. He lives up on the mountain where my family used to live. We get together every so often. You know I needed a date for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, of course.”
“Of course.” How could I have forgotten there are social expectations which simply must be followed? For crying out loud. I do feel a little better that she didn’t just meet him last night out at the Chili’s at the four-lane. “Maybe I should let Etta know he’s there,” I say as I pull out my phone and text her.
Missus calls us all to attention and makes the introductions. In the midst of her hostessing duties, my phone dings, and she scorches me with a look. When she looks away, I read the text from Etta. “Yes, I know. Delightful man. I made him breakfast.”
Risking another fiery look, I whisper to Gertie. “Etta made him breakfast, so he’s up.” I smile when she looks at me, but my smile falls when she stands up.
“Gotta go.” With her long legs, she steps over and around those of us between her and the door. In the hall, with no one in her way she makes even better time, and when the heavy door slams, our tea cups shiver in their saucers. Now, I’m getting lots of hot looks. From everybody.
“What did you say to her?” Savannah asks.
Am I the only one that hears the judgement in that?
“Me? Nothing. I mean, nothing except that…” Okay, there’s no way to expla
in what I said.
“She wasn’t feeling well at all, bless her heart,” Andy’s sweet mama says. The last and only time I saw her was at the MoonShots protest Sunday morning, a week ago. She’s a little thing, even when she’s not standing next to her huge husband and son. She’s wearing a raspberry colored dress, hose, and smart little heels, holding her tea cup in one hand while her other is folded lady-like in her lap. She lifts that hand to pat Patty’s hand and repeats, “Bless her heart.”
Patty just melts. It’s stunning to watch someone who has had so little kindness in their life receive kindness. Makes me love Andy’s mama and realize that more than anything I want Patty and Andy’s marriage to work out. And while I’ve been all caught up in Will and Anna, I’m reminded that this is a real wedding for Patty and Andy.
“Yeah, she wasn’t feeling well at all, honey,” I say and smile extra sweetly at the big, uncomfortable girl.
Patty grins back at me, her nervousness gone. She even laughs a bit. “Hate Momma’s not feeling well. I just figured she was racing back to Bill if he’s out of bed. She can’t never get enough of that man.”
Well, then, there’s always that.
“Can’t help but appreciate Gertie getting us out of Missus’ little tea party early,” Laney says, as we step off the front porch and into the midday sunshine. It blasts the sidewalk and makes the hosta flowers hang their heads. When summer hits in Georgia, you know it. I dig in my purse for my sunglasses, and Laney swirls her caftan to make a breeze.
At the main sidewalk, Laney turns left instead of crossing the street.
“Where are you going?” I ask as I follow her.
“Peter’s.”
“Why?” I’m still with her, but I can peel off to cross the street at any time.
“To find out what in the world was going on yesterday. Don’t you want to know if he’s having a fling with Miss New York?”
“I do, but I don’t think we can just ask him.”
She stops and turns around, hair and caftan both in full motion. “Of course we can. We’re his friends. Besides, something else is going on.”
But when we get to his house, there are only workmen around, so we finally cross the street and head to our cars. “I feel like I haven’t really talked to you in forever,” I say as we pass Ruby’s. “We haven’t been out for coffee in a long time.”
“Yeah, well, you know… with the new job and all,” she says.
“How are things going at Charming House?”
“Okay, I guess. It’s not like working up at Crossings with you and Susan, or even Missus. They don’t let me have control.” She steps off the sidewalk behind me toward her car. “And you know how much I like to be in control.”
I laugh, but she doesn’t join in. By time I realize that and stop to look at her, she’s in her car with the door closed and the engine starting.
My car is across the street, but as I look for traffic, I see Jordan outside of MoonShots on her phone. Couldn’t ask Peter, but there’s no reason not to ask Jordan. At least, none I can think of in the half-minute it takes to walk up to her.
“Hey, got a minute?” I say when she ends her phone call.
“Sure. I need to go upstairs and change shirts.” She’s pulling at her knit, long-sleeved shirt. “You can come.”
We walk back into the building, and I nod and speak to the young man behind the counter. Jordan just passes through and then pushes out the back door with me in her wake.
“You don’t have a way to get upstairs without going outside?”
“Nope, but it’s not really a big deal.” We climb the metal stairs, and at the top, she points to one of the chair on the covered deck area. “Wait here. Be right back.”
There’s no breeze, and the heaviness of the air feels like real weight. I wipe the back of my neck with my hand and sit back in the chair. After all that hot tea—only Missus would serve hot tea in June in Georgia—a glass of water would be lovely. I step to the glass door and look in. I don’t see Jordan, so I slip in, grab a glass out of the wire strainer and fill it from the tap. As I’m leaving, I hear the bathroom door open, but I’ve had time to sit back down and drink half the glass of water before Jordan comes out.
“There, that’s better,” she says when she does. “How do you people survive down here with this heat? It’s absolutely suffocating.”
“You get used to it.”
“Thankfully, I don’t have to.”
“You’re leaving?” I ask.
She nods. “One way or another. Listen, sorry about you getting caught up in that yesterday. The story was so obviously full of holes that it only made it to the show’s website, and it’s even been taken down from there now.”
“Do they follow you everywhere?”
“Who?” she says from near the stairs. She hasn’t sat down since she came out.
“The paparazzi? They were obviously there yesterday following you I assume.”
“Oh, no.” She looks down the stairs and away from me. “That was something I set up on purpose.”
“What? Why would you do that?” I stand as she starts down the stairs. “Jordan, what’s going on?”
She only shakes her head and keeps walking down. At the bottom, she turns around and watches me as I descend. She smiles, but looks so smug. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter now.” She opens the door and holds it for me to go inside. I do, and then I hear the door close behind me. But no Jordan. Okay, guess we were done talking.
Chapter 49
“It’s not like they used your name. Or even Peter’s. Maybe she was trying to make Diego jealous?” Jackson is buttoning the cuffs of his shirt and is turned away from the bathroom door where I’m standing. He turns when I clear my throat, then says, “Look at you.”
“Like it?” When I went shopping for a dress for the wedding, I found a perfect dress for an evening out, on sale. When Anna wanted a rehearsal dinner, after the initial panic, I realized I already had the perfect dress. It’s a deep plum and sleeveless, except for little piece of gauzy material that drapes down off my shoulders. Its low cut, just enough, and has a flare at the tail of the skirt, at my knees, to make it feel fun and princessy. Already this summer, I’m appreciating the short haircut I got in the winter, even if it was forced at the time. And with my neck and shoulders bare in this dress, the haircut looks even cuter. Plus I did some fluffing of the spiky parts.
Jackson holds me and puts his lips on a very sweet spot just below my ear. “You look amazing.”
“You know there’s nothing with Peter, or anyone else, right?”
“I do. And it was fun you reminding me, again, last night when we got home. I should probably drop TMZ a thank-you note.” He growls and pulls me tighter. “Maybe you can remind me again later, when you have to take off this dress.”
“I’m serious, it was scary how far apart we got. We can’t forget that it can happen so quick.”
He pulls back to look at me. “And I am serious, I will need frequent reminders.”
I smack his arm, kiss him, and pull out of his arms. “Let’s go. Hope Bryan and Savannah are ready.”
Opening our door, Savanah jumps a bit. She was just getting ready to turn onto the stairs after leaving her room. “Your dress looks good, Mom,” she says, but she’s not looking at my dress as much as she’s studying our faces. She takes a deep breath and smiles. “You both look good.”
Jackson steps back for me to follow our daughter down the stairs. “It’s a big night out for the Jessups, isn’t it? Bryan, you ready?”
“Yep, down here. Will left and said he’d meet us all down at the church.”
Jackson tosses his keys to his youngest. “Want to start the car, get the air going?”
Bryan not only catches the keys, he doesn’t even look that excited. “Sure, Dad.”
I’m left on the bottom stair with my mouth hanging open. “Jackson. He’s not old enough to start the car.”
Jackson grins. “Sure he is. Will wa
s doing it earlier than this, remember?” He goes out onto the porch.
Guess I do remember, but Will was the oldest, and I was ready for him to grow up. Bryan is the last one. In the kitchen, I transfer my driver’s license and favorite lipstick into my ancient little black purse. Savannah is drinking a bottle of water and leaning against the counter.
“Mom, I’m sorry for jumping on you about the video on the internet last night. I know it was just a mix-up.”
“Thanks. I tried to talk to Jordan about it today. She said it was something she set up? She also said she’s leaving.”
“Great, she’ll probably just leave MoonShots hanging, and I won’t have a job now for the summer. Just great. Hey, Meemaw, I like that skirt.”
Etta has on a yellow skirt and royal blue, short-sleeved sweater. “I don’t know if the colors work, but it was the best I could find. Anything I wear, I’m still a little round grandma. Soon to be a little round great-grandma.” She winks and puts her arm around Savannah’s waist, then asks me, “Is the other lady that’s staying here coming tonight?”
I hang my purse on my arm. “She’s coming to the rehearsal dinner, but not the rehearsal, and then will be back here to spend the night. The car should be cooled down if we’re ready to go.”
Savannah tips her head to look down at her meemaw. “So you’re not upset about them having a baby?”
Etta nibbles her lip. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy or that it’s the best way to start out a marriage, but I’ve been around long enough to know that a baby doesn’t care if the world it’s coming to is ready for it. It just comes and turns that world upside down. Ready or not.”