Die Me a River

by Denise Swanson

  Wally barked out a laugh. “May’s not that bad.”

  “If you say so,” Skye murmured, unwilling to burst his optimistic bubble.

  “Loretta and Vince’s baby shower wasn’t too over-the-top,” Wally said. “Won’t she do something similar for us?”

  “In that we’ll eat, play a couple of silly games, and then our guests will watch us open gift after gift,” Skye said, “yes.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” Wally said, turning onto their road.

  “And it wouldn’t be if my mother wasn’t determined to outshine her sister and put on the most elaborate shower anyone around here has ever attended.” Skye flipped down the visor and used the vanity mirror to repair her makeup and reapply her lipstick.

  “What a surprise.” Wally’s lips quirked. “Imagine May trying to one-up her sister.”

  “Aunt Minnie is crying foul since Mom has access to your father’s deep pockets.” Skye turned to check on the twins, whose eyelids were drooping.

  “It looks like a lot of people beat us here.” Wally pulled into the already packed driveway. “Do you need to go into the RV before we head over to the tent?”

  “I used the restroom, and we changed and fed the twins before we left the church, so all of us should be good to go for a while.”

  “Then let’s get this rodeo started.” Wally got out of the SUV, walked around to open Skye’s door, and then they each picked up a baby.

  As they navigated the faux wooden walkway, a slight breeze cooling her skin, Skye listened to the excited chatter and cheerful laughter coming from inside the tent. It was nice to hear everyone having a good time, and no matter how extravagant her mother had been, she was determined to enjoy the party.

  An off-duty county deputy was stationed at the tent’s entrance, as well as around the side, and Skye noticed a third man at the exit. The guy at the front had a list of invitees and checked them off as they arrived. Not airtight security, but more than most baby showers required.

  When Skye and Wally stepped inside, the first thing she saw was a giant banner that read Welcome to the Family, Baby CJ and Eva. The names had been added at the last minute in Magic Marker.

  Although unhappy that Skye had refused to tell her the babies’ names earlier, after the ceremony, May had hugged Skye and Wally, thrilled at their choices. And Carson had been over the moon that his and his late wife’s names had been chosen.

  Bracing herself, Skye took her first look at the fully decorated interior of the tent. Had her mother gone with the cloyingly sweet Precious Moments theme? Or the overused Little Prince and Princess idea? At least she knew it wouldn’t be the Baby Love concept because May had used that for April, her first granddaughter.

  Since Skye’s previous visit, the tent had been divided down the middle. Suspended from the ceiling on one side was a canopy of pale-pink tulle pompoms, while the other was hung equally thick with pale-blue ones.

  Depending on which side they were on, each guest table was done entirely in blue or entirely in pink from the plates, napkins, cups, and silverware to the life-size cakes shaped as either a frilly dress or cowboy boots with a cowboy hat leaning against them. The latter had to have been Carson’s influence.

  Skye rose on her tiptoes and whispered in Wally’s ear, “Mom’s friend Maggie must have been working for weeks to produce all those cakes.”

  “Maybe your mother ordered them from a bakery,” Wally murmured behind his hand. “You said that May broke down and had the food catered.”

  “No way.” Skye shook her head. “Maggie would never speak to Mom again if she did that.”

  Up until now, no one had noticed their entrance, but suddenly, there was a stampede toward them. May and Carson beat the crowd and each claimed a baby.

  Skye had the twins’ christening outfits made from the train of her wedding dress, and as Carson cradled his granddaughter, Skye smoothed out the white satin gown and traced the yoke with her finger, finding the W and S she’d had embroidered there. Turning to her son, she brushed the wrinkles from his white satin suit and outlined the same initials stitched into the vest. Kissing each baby, she allowed their grandparents to take them to be shown off.

  Wally thumbed away the happy tear that had escaped down Skye’s cheek, then squeezed her shoulder and asked, “Do you see your father?”

  “He’s probably outside with my uncles.” Skye giggled. “This whole coed-shower business is way too metrosexual for my older male relatives.”

  “Their loss.” Wally kissed her. “They miss admiring their beautiful wives.”

  Skye beamed at her sweet husband and tugged his hand. “I want to put the diaper bags and my purse by our chairs, then let’s look around.”

  They made their way to the head table, unloaded, and paused to admire the centerpiece. Several low vases held enough flowers to be an entry in the Rose Bowl parade. Alternating in pink and blue, the containers marched down the center of the table in an unending floral display.

  There was a bemused expression on Wally’s face when he chuckled and said, “Your mother really goes all out, doesn’t she?”

  “And then some.” Skye adjusted a napkin that she’d knocked askew. “On the other hand, we could have gigantic golden chairs and life-size angels hanging from the ceiling, so this isn’t too bad.”

  “I can think of some fun to have with a throne.” Wally waggled his eyebrows. “I bet you’d enjoy a little ride on your Prince Charming’s lap.”

  “Actually”—Skye tilted her head—“I think I prefer a king. Maturity is so much sexier than youth, and a king isn’t still trying to prove himself like a prince.”

  “Considering our age difference, I’m sure as shootin’ glad you feel that way.”

  “Your gray hairs are just wisdom highlights.” Skye brushed the silver strands at his temples. “And the more you get, the wiser you’ll become.”

  “So you don’t plan on dyeing your hair when you start to go gray?” Wally drawled, then as Skye smacked his bicep, he glanced toward a commotion at the entrance and begged, “Tell me you didn’t invite the Dooziers.”

  Before Skye could respond, Earl spotted her and yelled, “Miz Skye! Miz Skye!”

  Skye smiled and headed toward Earl. Few people were ever as happy to see her as the strange, little man wearing bib overalls, a used-to-be-white T-shirt, and a camo bow tie. At least for once, his wife, Glenda, didn’t have her boobs hanging out. Instead, she wore a fake-fur one-shouldered dress that Skye could have sworn she’d stolen from Wilma Flintstone if the cartoon character had been real. The hunter-orange fishnet stockings and tiger-striped high heels were a bit much, but the beehive black wig with the big leopard-pattern velvet bow was the pièce de résistance.

  When Skye and Wally reached the Doozier family, she thought they looked as if they were ready to dance the minuet. Glenda, MeMa, and Bambi were lined up with Earl, Junior, and Cletus facing them.

  MeMa, the family’s octogenarian—or maybe nonagenarian—matriarch was wearing a black velvet muumuu with Elvis Presley’s face painted across her sagging chest and what looked like house slippers made out of beer cartons. Bambi, Earl’s fourteen-year-old daughter, had on what Skye thought might be her gym suit and a tutu. The royal-blue bloomers snapped up the front and fit her like a flour sack, but the multicolor tulle skirt was what really made the ensemble.

  It seemed as if the Dooziers had tried to put on the dog but ended up looking like something the cat dragged in. That is, except for Junior and Cletus, who wore their normal jeans and heavy metal T-shirts. Not exactly formal attire, but also not as bizarre as the others.

  After greeting the family, Skye pointed them toward their table. She wasn’t sure who May had put them with, but she hoped that whomever was assigned to the two empty seats at the eight-top had a sense of humor.

  As Skye glanced around, trying to locate her childre
n, she saw that the guests had gathered into various clusters. Over in the section of her work friends were several teachers, the secretaries from all three Scumble River schools, and the speech therapist. Skye noted that while the principals of the elementary and junior high were present, there was no sign of Homer, for which she was profoundly grateful.

  Still on the lookout for her babies, Skye perused the police department consortium. Zelda Martinez was standing with several of the dispatchers and had somehow nabbed CJ from May. The women were cooing over the infant, who appeared to be enjoying the attention.

  Having yet to spot Eva, Skye continued her scan and came to the couples group, where her brother, Vince, and his wife, Loretta, held court with their daughter, April. The three of them made a striking family portrait. Loretta looked like royalty from some exotic African country, a queen wearing a coral silk maternity dress and Louboutin ecru lace peep-toe pumps.

  Vince was few inches taller than his wife’s six-foot height, and stunning enough to be featured on the cover of a romance novel. His chiseled features, along with the green Leofanti eyes, made most women melt.

  Not surprisingly, the couple had produced a beautiful baby. April had a flawless golden complexion, her mother’s dark ringlets, and her father’s emerald eyes surrounded by lush, black lashes.

  Before giving birth to the twins, Skye had been worried that her child would have a difficult time competing with his or her dazzling cousin. But her own babies were nothing less than gorgeous, and anyone who said otherwise could discuss the matter with Skye’s fist.

  Vince, Loretta, and April were surrounded by Linc Quillen, the local veterinarian, and his date, Abby Fleming, the school nurse, as well as Trixie and her husband, Owen. Also in that group were Simon and Emmy.

  Skye was just close enough to hear Simon discussing his dog, Toby, with Linc. It appeared the Westie had been scratching incessantly and Simon feared it might be something serious, but the vet assured him that it was probably canine seborrhea, suggesting a special shampoo to cleanse and soothe the pooch’s skin.

  Turning away from the couples’ group, Skye finally saw her daughter. Charlie had nabbed the baby from Carson and was showing her off to the guys from his social club, the Grand Union of the Mighty Bulls, a.k.a. the GUMBs. Skye briefly wondered if Simon still belonged, and if so, had he convinced Emmy to join the women’s auxiliary as he had Skye?

  “You’re frowning.” Wally nuzzled Skye’s neck and asked, “What’s up?”

  “Just checking on the twins.” Skye entwined her fingers with Wally’s. “Let’s go mingle before Mom starts the games.”

  “We don’t have to play, right?” Wally paled, apparently recalling the Doodie or Die competition from Loretta and Vince’s shower.

  Each guest had received a tiny diaper made out of a triangular piece of white felt with a miniature gold safety pin closing it up. The guests whose diapers contained a “bonus” inside won. Skye had barely contained her laughter when Wally had nearly vomited after one of the winners ate the candy before Wally figured out the tiny poop was actually an unwrapped Tootsie Roll.

  After assuring her big, strong husband that they indeed were exempt from participating in the games, Skye and Wally headed over to where most of the Leofantis were assembled. They chatted with her cousins and her aunts, and Wally asked where the men were. Minnie informed him that her husband, Emmett; her brother, Dante; and his son, Hugo were outside with Jed.

  As they moved on to the Denisons, Wally whispered, “Is your dad going to be in trouble with May for having his own party?”

  “Nah.” Skye hugged Wally’s arm to her chest, loving that he was concerned for her father. “Dad has nearly forty years of good saved up his sleeve and will have thought of the perfect excuse by the time Mom gets to him.”

  They were still a few steps away when Cora Denison spotted them and called out, “Come give Grandma a hug.” Skye’s grandmother was seated at a table with her daughter-in-law, Kitty, and granddaughter-in-law, Ilene Denison. When she had Skye enfolded in her arms, Cora said, “As usual, you look pretty as a picture and the ceremony was lovely.”

  “Thank you.” Skye kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “I was a little nervous, but the twins were amazing. I can’t believe they hardly cried.”

  Wally hugged Cora too and then said, “I wasn’t surprised. Our babies are perfect.”

  “Wally, dear, while I don’t disagree, you might live to regret those words,” Cora teased with a wicked chuckle. “Wait until they start teething.”

  Skye and Wally were chatting with Cora, Kitty, and Ilene when Skye heard Cletus Doozier’s voice behind her. She turned slightly and saw that the teenager was talking to Iris, her cousin Ginger’s daughter.

  Cletus, his voice dipping to what Skye was sure he thought was as sexy level, said, “Did you just fart? ’Cause you blow me away.”

  Stifling a giggle, Skye did a quick round of mental math and realized that both kids were either freshmen or sophomores in high school. She thought Cletus’s attempt at flirtation was cute but had a bad feeling that Ginger would be less inclined to see it that way. And although Skye would love to see her cousin’s face, she hoped Ginger wouldn’t notice and cause a scene that would embarrass Cletus.

  Skye was wondering whether she should try to divert her cousin’s attention when she heard a ruckus. Not unexpectedly, the Dooziers were in the middle of the hubbub. It appeared Carson and Bunny had drawn the unlucky cards and were the two guests assigned to fill the seventh and eighth chairs. Either that, or Carson being the wonderful man that he was, had volunteered to sit there in order to stop May from whining about the redneck family’s presence.

  Wally and Skye quickly headed in the Dooziers’ direction and as they neared the group, she saw Bunny and Glenda had knocked over their chairs and were standing nose to nose.

  Bunny jabbed Glenda in the shoulder and shouted, “Take off my dress!”

  Skye blinked. How in the world had Bunny ended up in the same dress as Glenda Doozier? While they both had atrociously bad taste, Bunny’s was generally a smidgeon better than Glenda’s.

  But evidently not in this instance. Bunny had adorned her faux fur Wilma Flintstone-inspired one-shouldered sheath with a fluffy white shrug, black elbow-length gloves, and, of all things, she had an empty cigarette holder between her fingers.

  Overcoming her shock, Skye raised her voice above the shouting and said, “Bunny, Glenda has just as much a right to wear that dress as you do.”

  Skye wasn’t sure if Bunny finally noticed that Glenda’s relatives could have passed for the cast of Deliverance or if she was impressed by Skye’s reasoning, but the redhead stopped poking Glenda and turned on Skye. “I ordered this dress special for today so I would look good for Car’s family and she’s ruining it.” Bunny extended a finger and wailed, “She makes the dress look cheap.”

  While Skye pondered that statement, Glenda’s face turned scarlet, but before she could explode, her husband, Earl, bleated, “Make her stop sayin’ that, Miz Skye. It ain’t nice to carp at folks. You should tell ’em what is good about theyselfs, not what is bad.”

  Skye paused. Why did that sound so familiar?

  Earl answered her unspoken question. “After all, ain’t you been tellin’ me and tellin’ me that’s what I needs to do with the kids?”

  Bunny glared at Skye. “Are you taking their side over mine?”

  All Doozier eyes swung toward her.

  Glenda pointed her orange acrylic fingernail at Skye. “Well, is you or ain’t you?”

  Skye gulped, “No.” When the Doozier family growled, she added quickly, “I mean that I’m not taking anyone’s side.” She needed to say something quickly to defuse the situation. “You both look lovely in a completely diverse way.” She muttered a swift prayer asking forgiveness for her lie.

  Both women preened at Skye’s compliment and Bunn
y grudgingly said, “Well, I guess we did accessorize it differently.”

  Glenda narrowed her rabbit-like brown eyes. “Make her say sorry for callin’ my outfit cheap. It cost me thirty-four dollars and forty-eight cents.”

  “I didn’t mean inexpensive.” Bunny raised her chin. “I meant tawdry.”

  Apparently, Skye’s mother had snuck up during the discussion, and now with a take-no-prisoners smile, she said with a snicker, “That’s like the tramp calling the trollop vulgar.”

  “Who you callin’ a tramp, you old cow?” Glenda’s head swiveled until she was staring at May.

  Bunny moved until she stood shoulder to shoulder with Glenda and said, “Yeah. Who are you calling a trollop?”

  Before Skye could intervene, Wally put an arm around her waist and said, “Your mom got herself into this mess. Let her get herself out. Watch.” Wally turned Skye in the direction of the fracas and whispered in her ear, “Remember, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  “Both of you,” May snarled. “If my daughter wasn’t so softhearted, neither of you would have ever been invited.”

  “Say that again.” Glenda crowded May on one side.

  “Yeah.” Bunny joined her new friend. “Say it again.”

  “I—” May’s eyes flicked from Glenda to Bunny and back again.

  Evidently, faced with the joined forces of Bunny and Glenda, May realized that she was no longer in a position of strength and mumbled something as she beat a hasty retreat.

  Skye opened her mouth to apologize to Glenda and Bunny for her mother’s behavior, but Wally put a finger on her lips. “Listen.”

  “I like your fishnets,” Bunny said to Glenda. “Where’d you get them?”

  “Walmart.” Glenda linked her elbow with Bunny’s arm. “That little jacket of yours is real cute. Did you find it around here?”

  The two women righted their chairs and sat down while continuing to exchange fashion tips.

  Phew! Skye was relieved. Putting her mother and the Dooziers together was like sticking a fork in a microwave. Sparks were going to fly. The only question was whether they’d burn down the whole place or not.