by Barbara Lohr
In a few minutes Harper was back, handing Cameron his phone and taking the seat across from him. “Why don’t we put your mother on speaker phone. That's okay, isn’t it?”
No. “Of course it's all right.” He set the phone between them and pressed the button.
His mother picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Mama. It’s Cameron.”
“What's wrong? We just talked on Thanksgiving.” Nothing like a warm hello.
Crossing her legs, Harper began to jiggle her right foot. Her feet were bare, and the pink polish caught his eye. Even in a situation like this, she could distract him. “We’re calling with good news.”
“Ye-ah-ss?” One word sounded like three put together and ended on a down note.
“Harper and I have decided to get married here. At the house.”
~.~
Silence. Harper should know better than to expect excitement from Esther. Cameron's mother was a woman who gritted her teeth and endured life. Harper found it amazing that Cameron had come from this family.
Wanting to help, she jumped right in. “Mrs. Blodgett, this is Harper. We felt so bad that you couldn't come to the wedding. After all this is an important family occasion.” Cameron was frowning. Was he upset that she’d taken over the conversation? “My family is so eager to meet you.”
“And why would that be?”
“Mother.” The one word from Cameron completely changed the tone of the conversation. “Of course Harper wants you to meet her family. The mansion where we were going to have our wedding in Chicago, well, some frozen pipes broke and flooded the place. So for a lot of reasons, we’re having it here.”
The last thing Harper wanted was to railroad her new mother-in-law into something she wasn’t comfortable with, but darn it, her family was beginning to think this was very weird. Heck, the Kirkpatricks got together for Nascar races and football games almost every Sunday. “We certainly hope both families will come,” she interjected. Cameron wouldn’t even look at her.
“Well then,” his mother finally said. “I'll check with Lily. She may be able to—”
“Mother?” Cameron’s voice cut through her meandering excuse. Harper understood his frustration but didn’t want his mother to feel backed to the wall.
“Now, Cameron. We’ll do the best we can but things are very busy here in Hazel Hurst and…”
“You haven't even asked us the date of the wedding.”
Her sigh could have inflated a hot air balloon. “Well it was Christmastime as I recall.”
“Yes. Christmastime.”
Cameron looked at Harper for help. Jumping up, she grabbed the calendar from the refrigerator and stabbed her finger at Christmas Eve.
But they weren’t finished, and the conversation was agonizing. During the next ten minutes, she listened to Cameron lay one guilt trip after another on his mother. Sure wasn't pretty. Esther offered one flimsy excuse after the other. Couldn’t she see how much this hurt Cameron?
Tears welled in Harper's eyes. When Cameron looked up and saw her running her fingers under both eyes he brought the conversation to a quick halt. “Well, Mama, you check with Lily and I will get back with you in a couple of days. How would that be?”
“Fine, I guess. Can't promise you anything.”
Big eye roll from Cameron. “I'll call you back in two days.”
By the end of her conversation, Cameron was hot and sweaty. His shirt was sticking to him, and you would have thought it was July. She didn't want him getting sick. “Why is she like this, Cameron?” Harper could not understand his mother. But if the marriage was to be successful, she knew enough from her own upbringing that the two families had to get along. They had to enjoy and appreciate each other.
“Don’t take this too seriously, Harper.” Cameron pulled his hair back tight with one hand. “She's doing just what she did with my father all those years. Stonewalling us. My mother is a passive-aggressive woman. If she doesn’t want to do something, she will find a way to get around it by doing nothing.”
Harper nibbled at the corner of her lips. “How can anyone be so stubborn?”
When she looked up, Cameron wore a knowing smile. “Just like somebody I know, Ms. Kirkpatrick.”
Grabbing the dishtowel, she snapped it at him, the way she’d whipped it at her brothers when they were doing dishes in their Oak Park kitchen. “Stop right there, Mr. Bennett.”
While she straightened up the kitchen, they talked about how they’d cover the bases of the changed wedding plans. “Are you sure we can pull this off?” Cameron finally asked. “I mean, we need a priest or minister. We need music and we need food.”
She squeezed her eyes tight as her fiancé ticked off all the projects that lay ahead of her. But she was not backing down. Never in a million years would Harper Kirkpatrick admit she’d bitten off more than she could chew. After putting the last soup bowl into the dishwasher, she began to work on the soup pot. Thankfully, there were some bits fried on the bottom, so she got to take the Brillo pad and really scrub it out. There was nothing like a dirty pan to work out a woman’s worry. At least that’s what her mom always said. “Of course we can do this. Why, Cameron, we have four weeks.”
“More like three and a half. And it's the holidays.”
“What of it? Connie can work on the caterer tomorrow. And I'll talk to Adam.”
Coming up behind her, Cameron gently took the Brillo pad from her hand. “Darlin’, you are going to wear a hole in that pan. How does Adam fit in all this? Does he play a musical instrument?”
“Don't be such a smarty. He’s got some kind of certificate that makes him an officiant at marriages. Said he wanted to be able to help his friends get married.” She stabbed one finger into his chest. “I’m his friend and we're having a wedding ceremony.”
She was passing Cameron to hang up the dishtowel when he pulled her down into his lap. “Didn't we say something about fooling around later?”
Her smile came slowly. “So I did and I’m a woman of my word.”
“How are you feeling?” He put a hand on her forehead. Sometimes his simple caring gestures just about turned her inside out.
“My forehead’s not the part of my body that’s heating up,” she whispered close to his ear.
His eyes turned smoky. “And I aim to please.” Burying his lips in the hollow of her neck, he worked his way up to that ticklish spot behind her ear. She felt like warm butter melting on a biscuit. Their worries eased away.
“Now if I can just get you off my lap,” he said. “I’d pick you up and carry you but...”
“Nope.” Jumping up, she handed him the crutches. How he hated them.
But by the time he lowered himself onto the sofa, the light had returned to his eyes. Hands on her hips, he tugged her down. “Remember that night I came back from the hospital?”
“Of course.” How could she forget? Scared her half to death.
“That was a really special night, babe. One I'll always remember.”
“Really? Whatever for?” She tried to play dumb.
But he wasn’t having it. “Remember how hot and sweaty I was?”
“Yep. Sure do.” Resting an elbow on his shoulder, she played with his hair.
“I’m burning up right now.”
“I can feel it.” She brushed his lips with hers. “Maybe you'd like a little cooling off, huh?” Her lips moved to the stubble on his jaw. She liked the texture. When her tongue flicked out, he sucked in a breath with a searing sound.
Loving how he squirmed, she whispered things in his ear she could never say out loud. Things that any red-blooded American boy would give his eyeteeth to hear. But the truth was, just whispering those words turned her on too. She helped him off with his dress shirt. “No way. You're wearing a wife beater T-shirt?”
A chuckle rumbled low in his throat. “Don't take it personally.”
“Trust me. I'm not.” Oh so lightly, she traced the arc of the armholes with her forefingers. He shuddered.
“What do you need, Cameron?” She was a girl who liked to please.
“The warm washcloth.” No hesitation on that one.
“Oh, really?” This was going to get fun.
Didn’t take long before she held the wet cloth, the bowl of warm water within easy reach. While she was gathering her supplies, he’d stretched out on the green sofa. “We might just wear this out,” she whispered, lowering herself next to him.
“We could replace it, but I’m getting kind of attached.” He ran a hand over the green armrest.
“To the sofa?”
His eyes narrowed. “No darlin’. To you...on the sofa.”
Chapter 12
While Bella ate breakfast Wednesday morning, Harper crammed the back of the SUV with big, plastic tubs full of decorations for Julep. She had a lot to accomplish today. Standing in the cool, dark garage, she glanced over at Cameron's Porsche and his Bentley. Warmth spilled through her body, as welcome as freshly made coffee. Last night would be on her mind for a long time. Feeling deliciously dazed, she closed the back hatch and scampered back through the garden to get Bella ready. Using Adam’s products, she spent time on Bella’s hair. No way was she screwing this up. At Bella’s urging, she went heavy on the whipped cream foam until the curls danced, full and saucy. Adam would be proud.
After dropping Bella off at school, Harper headed straight for Foxy Loxy, where Adam was waiting for her. The man always had a surprise, and this time he’d changed his hair color. “So the trip was that bad? You’re going older?”
“Right and hopefully wiser.” He threaded his fingers through his newly-whitened hair. “You’ve got to have something to do in Paxton, Illinois, besides watch Jeopardy with your mother.”
Stopping at the coffee bar, she grabbed a chai latte and took the seat across from him. This time they sat inside. “And how’s your mom?” The past few months Adam’s mother hadn’t been doing well.
“Fine when she remembers to take her medications.” A frown appeared between his brows. “Problem is, she never remembers.”
“What does your brother say about that?”
Grabbing some pink sugar packets, he ripped two open and dumped them into his coffee. “Well, Brutus—my own personal nickname for my brother—says it's time to put mom in a home.”
“No way.”
“Exactly. More like, over my dead body––or his.”
“Do you think she’d want to move to Savannah?”
“I’m not sure what she thinks.” He adjusted the scarf around his neck. As soon as the weather got cooler, Adam pulled out his considerable array of scarves. They were alike like that. They both adored color.
“But enough about me. How was your Thanksgiving?”
She chuckled. “Publix came through for us big-time. But the dinner wasn’t our focus. Our wedding was the topic of the weekend.”
“What's the latest news?”
Where to begin? “It's really cold up north right now.”
“No kidding? Let’s remember I just came from Illinois.” Tightening his scarf, he shivered.
“It seems that the Weatherby Mansion, where we were supposed to have the wedding, had a problem with frozen pipes.”
“Oh. My. God.” Adam’s eyes grew as wide and brown as the coffee he was stirring.
“Split pipes. Water everywhere.”
“Your poor mother. How is she handling all of this?”
“She assured me they would somehow find a new site for the reception, but Adam, I’m over it. Sure, Mom did want a traditional wedding, and I will wear her gown,”—Harper shivered involuntarily––“but the wedding might not be, you know, the old-fashioned kind.”
Adam snorted. “Didn't you tell me that Selena wore a wedding gown designed like a flamenco dancer’s?”
“Well, there is that.” Selena's gorgeous gown with the flounces seemed to be the only thing anyone remembered about that wedding last summer. “And there were other problems about having it in Chicago.”
An eyebrow went up. “You wouldn't be referring to the Blodgett contingent, would you?”
“Okay, have fun with Cameron's real last name. I think everyone has the right to shape their own future. That’s all Cameron did with that name change.” She admired him for deciding he’d rather be a Bennett than a Blodgett from Hazel Hurst. There was a reason behind that, and it had to do with his father, not that she’d ever discuss that with anyone. She drew her eyes down to her coffee cup. “So I’m thinking of having the wedding here.”
The gasp was epic. “No way.”
Glancing up, Harper could see his mind working.
“That means I wouldn’t have to worry about the airlines losing all the hair products I’m packing. Not that this ever happens.”
“Right, you can have all your products and equipment around you.” For the past month, Adam had done nothing but groan and worry.
While the cafe continued to fill up, her friend’s mind continued to wander. “No freezing my butt off in Chicago. No slipping on the ice and breaking something. What’s not to like about this plan?” Their guffaws made more than one customer turn.
“So, does this news mean that Cameron's family might actually show up? I can't wait to meet them.” His eyes brightened. “I get to meet the problem family.”
“Okay, have your fun but this is serious.” She ignored the queasy feeling in her stomach. “Wish I could say yes. But after a conversation last night with his mother, things are still uncertain. Do you believe it?”
“Hold on there.” Adam pushed back in his chair. “What else could she ask for? Prodigal son is getting married practically in her backyard. Two hours is too far to come?”
“Right, I don't know what the problem is.”
Her headache throbbed again. She’d been feeling pretty good since she started those antibiotics, but didn’t seem to be totally over the bug, or whatever it had been.
“Let me know if I can help. I mean, more than hair.” He rubbed his hands together. “Your dress will have to be sent up here then?”
“My mother is still waiting for the storage company to deliver it. Should be any day now.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll lose it.”
“Adam!” She hadn’t even tried it on, and already she hated it. “You have a point.”
Looking all innocent, Adam said, “This is the dress that resembles Princess Diana's. Isn’t that right?”
“Correct. The damn dress does look like a puffy meringue, but my mother adored it. McKenna told me I didn’t have to take one for the team but I did. What could I say when my mother offered her own wedding dress? She’d had it in storage for her daughters for years. This being the youngest girl is a bitch.” She sank further in her chair.
“Okay, maybe they won’t be able to find it. Maybe you’ll have a second chance.” Dear Adam, always wanting the best for her.
“Oh and Adam, one more thing.” Heck, she almost forgot this. “Remember when you told me you were going to become certified as a wedding minister?”
He sniffed. “Not a minister, Harper. A wedding officiant. And you want to know because…?”
“Because I need someone official or my family will never go for this wedding at home. I don't really know any ministers or priests down here. Besides that, Adam, you have been so instrumental in bringing us together. You're the one who told me not to wait for Billy.”
Adam looked so pleased. “I’d be delighted, sweetheart. The best news I've heard all day.”
“Thanks. Means a lot to me.” Glancing at her phone, she got up to leave. “Gotta run. I still have to decorate Julep’s house. I put it off because I had some bug and didn’t want Julep to get it.” Gathering up her keys and purse, she gave Adam a parting hug.
“Well, if we've got to worry about our mothers,” he said while his Burberry scratched her cheek, “at least we can worry
together, right?”
“Right but I'd rather not. I'd rather plan a wedding. We’ll have fun.” She backed away.
Looking delighted, Adam shook his head. “And that is why I adore you. You can always see the sunny side of shit.”
As she drove down toward Tybee Island, Harper chuckled about their conversation. Adam had been a bright spot as she struggled through college.
Driving along the flat expanse of marsh, she enjoyed the sunlight flickering through the open sunroof of the SUV. She loved this ride. Always felt like she was taking a day at the beach. Sometimes she even wished she lived out here. Then she could feel the ocean breeze all the time. Maybe they’d rent a condo here for a couple of weeks some summer. Bella would love it, although Julep said the town was getting a little commercial. Sometimes Harper didn’t mind commercial, especially for a vacation.
Passing all the shops, she smiled at the bold signs and displays holding colorful balls, surfboards and beach chairs. At Christmastime and New Year’s, families might come, but this wasn’t as warm as Florida. She came around the bend onto the main drag of Tybee; her mind circled back to the wedding and the long list in her notebook.
After she’d driven through the small commercial area, she turned right onto the upscale street where the Tuckers lived. Pulling into the driveway, she parked. Although the back porch offered plenty of space to relax, the two-story porch veranda ran along the front of the house that faced the ocean. The house was just perfection. Getting out of the SUV, she heard the snipping of shears and found Julep stooping over bushes, a basket of dead flowers over her arm and a floppy hat on her head.
“You should be in a gardening magazine!” Harper called out.
Turning, Julep giggled. “Yes, but which one would run an article entitled “Pregnant Woman and Dead Peonies’?”
Opening the back hatch, Harper dragged out a Christmas tub while Julep peeled off her gardening gloves. In a flash, she was next to her with her big stomach, reaching for another tub.