Plantation Christmas Weddings

by Barnes, Sylvia

  Constance, Justin, and Beau were waiting outside for her. She hugged her daughter and future son-in-law. She nodded at Beau.

  “Well, where did you guys eat breakfast?” Beau’s loud words occupied the outdoor space.

  Constance rolled her eyes. “McDonald’s.”

  Beau and Marilyn looked at each other, the word “Why?” forming at the same time.

  “It was where Justin wanted to eat. And until we tie the knot, I’ll let him have his way.”

  Justin responded, “Sure, baby girl. Wait and see who rules the roost in our family.” But he ruffled her hair and smiled.

  Beau hooted with laughter.

  Marilyn smiled but thought to herself, “Baby girl,” “little lady.” Where do they get names like these for women? She shook her head. “Well, should we go in?”

  They entered, walking around a ladder on which someone was balancing on the top, hanging evergreen garland around the door. Isabella, the coordinator, was waiting with Constance’s wedding planner, Wreath Anderson, in the hall. They shook hands with each of them and led them to the front parlor, which led into another, similar room, both lavishly furnished with fine antiques and windows draped with fine silk. Ladies after her own heart, Wreath and Isabella got right down to business. Marilyn appreciated this and told them so as she opened her briefcase and retrieved a pad and pencil.

  The first order of business was, of course, the wedding itself, and Marilyn addressed Isabella. “I reviewed the wedding package online. I have a copy with me.” She pulled it from her case and handed it to Isabella. “Is the information on this sheet still correct?”

  Isabella looked over the contents. “Yes. How many guests will you have?”

  Marilyn looked at Constance. “Didn’t we conclude about fifty?”

  “Yes ma’am. Justin’s relatives, a few of my friends in Denver, and our friends here. Oh, and a few college friends from out of state. What about you, Mama? Anyone from your office or maybe your friend Lily?”

  “No.” Marilyn looked back at Isabella. “Fifty, give or take a few.”

  “Good. We can accommodate that many in the Main House. Usually the guests stand around the wedding party. We can place a few chairs for those who need to sit. You see, the hall can handle any overflow. That’s why I wanted us to meet here, so you would have a good idea of what it will be like. Of course, on a warm December day, we can set up chairs on the front lawn, and the wedding party would stand on the porch and the stairs. That can be determined closer to the day.”

  Wreath spoke before Marilyn could reply. “What about attendants? Same as when we spoke?”

  Constance responded, “I’ll only have a maid of honor— Bethany, my best friend. Justin’s dad will be the best man. Do we need ushers?”

  “No.” Wreath thumped her pen on her paper. “Everyone can find their own place in this small ceremony. Unless you would like to have them?”

  “No, not really.” Constance looked at her mom for confirmation.

  Marilyn nodded in agreement. She had been observing Wreath, thinking how attractive she was. Constance had told her she had been abandoned at the altar on her wedding day. She couldn’t understand why someone would leave this gorgeous young lady. “What about decorations? What do we need to do?”

  Isabella regained control. “That’s the good thing about a Christmas wedding. I’m sure Wreath talked to your daughter about this. Our facilities are beautifully decorated, as you can see by the progress already made. The Main House will have trees, poinsettias, all mantels decorated. Nothing lacking there. The windows and porch outside will be laden with wreaths and garlands. You can provide your bouquets, of course. You may want something of your own taste on the main table in the reception area. Otherwise, your guests will be charmed by the decor of the house itself, especially when it’s fully decorated for Christmas.”

  “It is beautiful.” Marilyn was warming to Isabella. “What about the reception? Will we use the Castle Restaurant?”

  “Since you’re letting Dunleith cater and I’ve had the opportunity to see you again and ensure our plans are in place, I’ll go.” Wreath stood. The reflection of the light played on her dark hair. “That is, if you don’t mind. I have a lunch appointment.”

  Constance stood and hugged her wedding planner. “Thank you for all your help. We’ll stay in touch.”

  “Isabella has a list of the photographers and florists we discussed. She’ll give it to you. When you decide who to use, let me know, and I’ll coordinate with them.”

  “Thanks, Wreath. Have a good lunch.”

  Constance sat back down. “Sorry. Back to using the Castle Restaurant?”

  Isabella’s expression begged forgiveness. “No, I’m sorry. We only use it for eighty or more guests. We can offer a buffet in the Main House.”

  Constance nodded her okay. “I was thinking finger foods.”

  Isabella stood and handed out menus. “You can select what you would like to serve.”

  Beau, who had dozed and had to be nudged, looked over the menu with his son. “I don’t see chicken wings.”

  “Done—we’ll add that.” Isabella smiled at Beau.

  “Let’s not add chicken wings to such an upscale menu.” Marilyn glanced at Beau.

  “Where I come from, chicken wings are upscale.” Beau drummed the table with his fingers.

  Isabella diplomatically replied, “There isn’t a problem, really. Many people select wings.”

  Marilyn looked at Beau and suddenly discarded any pleasant thoughts she had earlier.

  “Fine. If I may suggest the duck eggrolls with crawfish gumbo sauce?”

  “Sure, Mom, sounds good.” Constance’s voice sounded like she was trying to keep peace.

  Beau put his finger up in the air. “I like the sound of these fried green tomatoes with that stuff on top.”

  Isabella looked at the menu. “Yes, with the jumbo crabmeat.”

  “Well, it would suit me fine if we could leave it off and just fry ’em.”

  Marilyn’s briefcase fell to the floor when she stood. She addressed her daughter after picking it up. “Constance, if you don’t mind, I’ll let you and Justin make these decisions. I have a number of client calls to make. Just don’t forget to ask about a local photographer and florist.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek after seeing the surprise on her face. “I’ll check with you later.” She turned to Isabella. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch. You’ve been very helpful.” Marilyn could feel the heat rush from her neck to her face.

  As she walked out the door, she heard Beau ask, “Did I say something wrong?”

  To herself, Marilyn muttered, “Everything.”

  Marilyn made her calls. One woman insisted she return to Denver right away. After all, she said, she was paying an enormous sum of money. Marilyn dispassionately tried to console her client. She was then accused of disparaging the client’s predicament. Marilyn assured her when she returned to Denver, she’d be the first on her schedule. Finally, the woman’s temper was abated and Marilyn hung up with a sigh. She fell back on her bed and thought about her own predicament. She had to think of a way to keep from being so irritated by Beau. For Constance’s sake. She rolled over, retrieved her phone, and called Constance, assuming by now the meeting would be over.

  When her call was answered, Marilyn asked if she was happy with the arrangements. Satisfied her daughter was okay with everything, she took a deep breath.

  “Constance, I wonder if there would be any way you could check and see if there are accommodations available in the Main House.”

  “For who?”

  “Whom. For me, sweetheart. I just don’t think it is appropriate for me to stay in the Dairy Barn with a…gentleman.” She had to force that word out.

  “But, Mom, I wanted you guys to get to know each other. And it is part of the inn.”

  “Well, I think we have. Now I’d like to stay at the Main House.”

  Constance’s voice sounded weak when she answered
her request. “Okay, Mom, I’ll see. I’ll call you right back.”

  Marilyn started gathering her toiletries together to pack when the phone rang.

  “Mom? No, there are no rooms.”

  “Well, there is an extra one here.”

  “But none here.” Agitation reflected in her speech.

  “Well, dear, would you like to change rooms with me?”

  “Good grief, Mother. It can’t be so bad. What’s the problem? I don’t want to be that far away from Justin.”

  Marilyn considered this. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked you. I’ll be fine. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

  “Justin and I are going to go talk to a few people Isabella recommended for flowers and pictures.” Constance paused. “Do you and Beau want to come?”

  “Oh no, darling. Go ahead. Listen, it seems to me we’ve about accomplished everything we needed to. That is, if you succeed this afternoon. I have a client screaming for help and wonder if you think I could leave a little earlier than planned.”

  “What is wrong with you? Justin and I have made arrangements for all of us to do some things together. One is a surprise. Can’t you stay at least a couple more days?”

  Marilyn felt ashamed. This was one of the most important times in Constance’s life, and here she was minimizing it so she could get away from Beau. “Yes, sweetie. I want to share some time with all of you. I just didn’t know. Forgive me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I love you, Mom.”

  “Me, too, dear. Talk to you later.”

  Marilyn fell back on the bed again. She didn’t want to get up anytime soon.

  After the planning meeting, Beau drove his truck to the nearest convenience store for a newspaper and a large Coke. He thought about the women in his life—Beau chuckled— or the lack of them. Women seemed to automatically like him. He’d been told he was charming, larger than life, even good-looking. Some of that was overstated. Probably. He’d been on quite a few dates after Mary Ann died. A prominent rancher, he had the opportunity to meet a lot of folks, had a lot of friends. Someone was always trying to fix him up, trying to saddle him with a friend, a sister, or a cousin. Even once to an ex-wife. He didn’t always take the bait. Especially with that one. Beau smiled. But the relationships never lasted. He never got serious, and sometimes the women became disinterested. He never gave it a lot of thought because he really didn’t want to settle down with another woman. Mary Ann may have died, but she broke his heart while doing it. That was a hard thing to get over. Only the Lord could have seen him through.

  He went in the store and bought the paper, a big Coke, a bag of Doritos, and a can of boiled peanuts. He didn’t know what Marilyn was doing, but he knew it wasn’t lunch. So he’d just go back to his room and chow down. Maybe she’d like some herself. He wondered as he drove back what had gotten under her skin. It couldn’t have been his request for chicken wings. She’d be on a high horse if that was the case. Which he’d decided if she was, she could just take her better-than-you-are ways back to Denver. Somehow, he knew he irritated her, and he would have to fix it. For Justin’s sake.

  Marilyn heard the front door open and got off the bed to lock her door. She intended to stay in her room all afternoon. She was sure she would have to face Beau for dinner. It would be rude not to. She wondered if Constance had plans for all of them tonight. She had not said exactly which evening. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock. She moaned as she got up to answer the door.

  So much for solitude.

  “Hi, girl. Look what I’ve got.” The door had not opened all the way when Beau held a bag of chips through the crack.

  “Hey, Beau. Uh-hmm. Looks like you’re snacking for lunch.”

  “Yeah. Got some boiled peanuts, too. And a big Coke. Want to come to the living room and watch television? I’ll share.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I was resting. Had a number of calls to return, and I’m a little tired.” She saw his hurt expression, and it actually made her feel bad. Sort of. Probably because she felt a little guilty for leaving the meeting so abruptly.

  “Not even just a swallow of Coke? I can pour some in a glass over ice.”

  She had to do it. For Constance. And maybe a little to make up to Beau for being rude.

  “Well, something cold would be great.”

  “Come on out here, girl. I’ll be fixing it for you.”

  “Fixing it? Is it broken?” She just couldn’t help herself. She knew what he meant, but fixing it?

  “You’re cute. No, it’s not broken. It means I’m making it for you. Ya’ll don’t say that in Denver?”

  “Not really. I’ll be just a second.”

  Marilyn shut the door while she smoothed her clothes and her hair. She applied a little lipstick and left to spend some time with “Bubba Beau.” She needed to make sure she didn’t say that aloud. Anyway, there were probably a lot of nice guys named Bubba.

  She walked downstairs and found Beau sitting on the couch. She skirted around the coffee table to sit in the chair beside it. Before she could settle in, he was holding the Dorito bag in front of her.

  “Have some. Your Coke’s on the table.”

  To please him she took a chip. “Thanks, Beau. I am a little hungry.”

  “Ought to be. You hardly touched your eggs this morning. Only half your toast. Not to mention the grits. You must not have liked them.”

  He was scrutinizing her breakfast? “I don’t usually eat a big breakfast. Maybe half of a whole-wheat bagel. Sometimes a granola bar on the way to work.”

  “And you don’t do lunch. No wonder you’re so skinny.”

  “I’m not skinny.”

  He looked her over. “Well, not everywhere.”

  She chose not to open that door. Instead, she thanked him for the Coke.

  “So,” he asked, “where are we going for dinner?”

  “I’m happy with the Castle Restaurant.” It would be quicker. “So, you don’t think the kids have plans for us tonight?”

  “Oh no, tomorrow night. I’m sure we’ll eat there before we leave, but tonight I’d like to do something different. I’ve heard about Biscuits & Blues downtown. How would you like a good ole shrimp po’boy?”

  She would just go along. For a couple of days, she could get through almost anything. “Sounds good. How far is it from here?”

  “Just a way down the road. I think we should take my truck.”

  “Your truck? That’s okay. We’ll go in my car.”

  “Don’t think so. We’ll go in the truck.”

  “Whatever.” She hoped it didn’t smell like cow manure. “I think I’ll go rest awhile. What time do you want to leave?”

  “Let’s leave about six. We can walk around downtown, too. Take your coat. We’ve had a little front come through. And, hon, wear some jeans.”

  “I didn’t bring jeans. Let me handle what I’m going to wear. Hon.”

  “Sure, babe, sorry. Just wanted you to be comfortable. I thought a woman from Colorado would at least have jeans and gypsy boots.”

  “I live in the city and practice law.” She got up and started walking toward the stairs. “Thanks for the Coke.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  Chapter 3

  Marilyn curled her hair and wore it down. For warmth, she told herself. She washed her face and applied fresh makeup. Just to feel better. She dressed in winter-white wool pants and a red sweater. It was not cold here in November as in Denver, but chilly enough tonight. She grabbed her brown leather jacket and went downstairs to meet Beau. He was waiting at the front door.

  “Looking good, kid.”

  She smiled. “Sounds kind of like a Bogart movie. Thanks.”

  He nodded and placed his hand on her back as they walked to the truck. He opened her door and helped her into the cab. When he shut the door, she sniffed, mildly disappointed she smelled only a vague, mannish fragrance, which didn’t substantiate her preconceived notions. Always an attorney.
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br />   They were quiet as he maneuvered the large truck through town. He found a parking place a couple of blocks from the restaurant, and they walked slowly, taking in the crisp air and the historical downtown area.

  Beau grabbed her attention by pointing to something down the street. “Look, the town has already hung Christmas decorations on the poles. I bet they turn them on Friday. Celebrations are big the day after Thanksgiving.”

  Marilyn sighed. “Probably so. I’ve been seeing Christmas displays in stores for a month. I do wish we wouldn’t commercialize it so.”

  “I know.” Beau had slowed the pace, and he stopped and looked at her. They had reached the restaurant, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to go in. “I wish you could have Christmas with us. At my mom’s. It would take you back in time.”

  “Sounds nice. Uh, shouldn’t we go in?”

  He placed his hand on her back again as he led her past the crowd waiting outside. His touch was beginning to feel welcome…. Scary.

  She was surprised they didn’t have to wait for a table. But when the hostess addressed Beau as Mr. Burnham, she realized he had made reservations. How clever. She watched him talking to the pretty blond. He looked dapper in his jeans, white shirt, and brown corduroy jacket. It seems the blond thought so, too. She leaned toward him, laughing at his remarks, her eyes sparkling, her red mouth smiling preposterously. He followed her to the table, Marilyn tagging along behind. She actually felt a bit miffed.

  An older woman, thankfully without blond hair, handed them menus. As she studied hers, Beau took it from her.

  “We are going to have the shrimp po’boy. I bet you don’t get fresh seafood in Denver. Not like this anyway.”

  “I told you I’m not used to someone making my decisions for me.”

  “Seems to me like you would enjoy it for a change.”

  Marilyn contemplated that for a second. She formed a small smile. “Maybe you’re right. I give.”