Plain City Bridesmaids

by Dianne Christner

  Fletch pressed his eyes closed in pain. When he opened them again, he said, “I don’t like to think about that, Marshall. I believe you’ll recover or at least go into remission. And I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but while we’re on the subject, I need to let you know that I don’t plan to do any more filming.”

  “Well I don’t know what that is if it’s not disrespect. I’m real disappointed in ya, boy.”

  “I sympathize with your cause. But I’m already in a bind with the farmers, with Vic, and possibly my grades. Client confidentiality is a big thing in a small town like Plain City.”

  “Ya can twist this around however ya want, but I was counting on ya. Ya let me down. It feels even worse because I’m laid up here.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Real sorry about your illness.”

  “Sounds like it. Sounds more like that little girl has ya wrapped around her fingers.”

  Fletch felt hurt and confused. Hadn’t Marshall urged him to pursue Lil?

  “Let me remind ya that your dad depends on my support. I’ll tell ya what I’m going to do. I’m going to let ya redeem yourself. I promised one of our big suppliers that we’d do some local veal boycotting. You head that up, and I’ll forget about the video. Surely, that’s not problematic? Not too much to ask.”

  Fletch tipped his chair back and stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

  “Marcus will set you up.”

  After the call, Fletch stared numbly at the phone. It felt like he was losing Marshall in more ways than one. The man he had just talked to sounded like a complete stranger.

  As soon as Lil stepped into Volo Italiano, Giovanni motioned her over. He was talking to the owner of the restaurant, an older Italian woman. Although Giovanni ran the place, Camila Battelli was the real heart of the establishment, often chatting with the restaurant’s customers. Mrs. Battelli stepped forward in her tight pencil skirt and clingy sweater—both too young for a woman of her age and curves. “Hello, Lillian.” Her accent was thick.

  “Mrs. Battelli.”

  “Call me Camila.”

  Lil glanced at Giovanni and saw the proud look in his eyes, like her father had looked when his children were old enough to sit on a tractor. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s sit at one of the booths. My feet hurt today,” the widow said.

  Lil settled into the booth, thinking that the woman should give up wearing heels. When she glanced back at Camila, the older woman was curiously studying her. “So what do you think of my restaurant?”

  “Why, I love working here.”

  “And we love having you here. Every day, Giovanni fills up my head with good things to say about your work.”

  Lil felt slightly embarrassed and very much aware that something good was happening, perhaps even a raise or a promotion. “I want to succeed.”

  “And you shall, little one. Giovanni has recommended you as his replacement.”

  “I wanted to tell you myself.” Giovanni shrugged. “Eh … but Miss Camila, she has her own ideas.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lil fumbled, her heart beating so loudly she felt they must surely hear it. “Why are you leaving?”

  “Because as you know, my wife she is pregnant. Eh … We can’t stand to lose us another baby.”

  “But I don’t understand.”

  “I am taking my sweetheart back to Italy to be happy with her family. She always wanted me to go into the family business.” He shrugged. “Eh … I wanted to work here in America. But going home, this brings her much joy. I think it is what she needs to make a healthy baby. And even if it is not, well then, she will need her family, no?”

  “But this is a great sacrifice for you,” Lil argued, not wanting to lose her boss, even though it was an advancement for her own career. She couldn’t understand how going to Italy could help the woman carry the baby to term, but then she knew this wasn’t the time to argue the fact.

  “Eh … It is what I want.”

  Lil swallowed and looked back at Camila. “But I am not the next in line. Surely you’re not serious about me taking Giovanni’s place?”

  “The others, they do not work for the sheer joy of cooking. They work to feed their families and to pay their house bills.”

  “But I told you that I needed this job to buy a new car. That is why people work.”

  Giovanni argued. “You have the dream of a new car. Yes. But you also have the dream of becoming head chef. Eh? Don’t deny it. You have the special flair. The potluck genes.”

  “Well …”

  “The others, they do not realize they are working at the best restaurant”—Camila snapped her fingers to emphasize—“in Columbus. Do you want this job, or are you afraid, little one?”

  Lil drew back her shoulders. “I am not afraid. Giovanni is right. I do covet his job. But I respect him, and I would never have wanted to take it from him.”

  “Oh, you are too kind,” Giovanni exclaimed. “But I see right through you. And I see that you are just like me, no? And I”—he thumped his chest—“have made this place a success, no?” He looked at Camila, and she shrugged. “And you will, too. I give you my blessing.”

  Lil shot out of her seat and hugged Giovanni around the neck. “Thank you. I will not let you down.” He patted her back, then gently drew her away. Lil turned to Camila. “You, either.”

  “Don’t cry.” Camila shook her head. “We have plans.” She motioned at Giovanni. “Open up the restaurant while Lillian and I chat.”

  With sadness, Lil watched Giovanni leave them. She knew no matter how much he denied it that it had cost him a great deal to leave his position.

  “This is for good business. You need a signature dish.” Camila gestured with her ring-clad hands. “We will advertise it in all the right places. It will draw in the new customers and remind the old ones. They come to see what all the hoopla is about.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’ve been thinking all this weekend. I think the perfect dish will be veal. It is something different, and we are known for special entrées. Do you have a specialty with the veal?”

  At the doddy house, Lil bent over the meat grinder, pressing through a chunk of meat and tossing in premeasured amounts of onion and garlic. “Then Marshall asked Fletch to head up a veal boycott.”

  “Veal?” Megan’s eyes widened from the other side of the counter. “Did you invite Fletch to dinner? I hope this isn’t how you’re going to tell him that veal is going to be your signature dish?”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Lil replied. “There, that’s finished. Next, I …” She dumped the contents into a frying pan with sizzling butter and began to stir. “The recipe is up to me, and for Fletch’s sake, I thought a veal-and-spinach ravioli was better than a dish where the plate was smothered in veal.”

  “But Lil, it’s still veal. No matter how much you conceal it. It will still be listed on the menu. Fletch doesn’t have a personal problem with veal, right?”

  Lil turned away from the stove and faced Megan. “No, and I don’t think he has any intention of heading up a boycott. But he didn’t exactly come out and say that, and I didn’t have the heart to ask him. This whole thing with Marshall is a touchy topic.”

  Megan’s slanted brow gave away her displeasure.

  “I didn’t have any choice. Camila had already decided that the new menu item was going to be veal.”

  “I think you need to tell Fletch.”

  Lil blushed, feeling guilty that she hadn’t already told him.

  “Does he know about your promotion?”

  Lil turned back to the skillet and dumped the ground meat mixture into a container that she put into the refrigerator to cool. “No, not yet.” She meant to tell him. The last time they were together, he had already been upset over his conversation with Marshall. The timing hadn’t been right. Especially since it was a veal dish. But she planned to tell him. She didn’t want to keep secrets that strained their relationship. “Camila is nothing like Giovanni. She’s pompous and stubborn, and
frankly, she scares me a little bit.”

  “And do you want to work for somebody so scary?”

  Turning away from the refrigerator, Lil shot back, “And do you want to work for somebody so charming and handsome?”

  Megan colored. “Yes, I’m afraid I do. I like my job.”

  Lil softened her expression. “Then we’re both doomed.”

  “But I know where I’m going to draw the line,” Megan clarified.

  “Oh?” Lil replied, pulling a bottle of dry white wine out from a bottom cupboard. “Where?”

  But Megan’s gaze was riveted on the wine bottle. “Where did you get that?” she gasped.

  “From work. I have another bottle under there, too.”

  Megan shook her head, and her hair fell to the front of her shoulders, shimmering in the afternoon sunlight coming through the doddy house window. “I hope nobody from church sees it. That would not be good.”

  Lil smiled. “It’s good for cooking, not drinking. I have to use it for this dish when I make it at work, but once I get the recipe perfected, I’ll experiment with some substitutes for us.”

  “You must never let Katy find out you brought that into the doddy house. She’ll probably disown us.”

  Lil grabbed the veal mixture out of the fridge and returned it to the skillet, adding the wine and beef broth. “You’re right. It probably wasn’t the best choice. Have you talked to her lately? I miss them.”

  “No, they just seem to be in their own little world. Happy just to be together.”

  Lil and Megan exchanged an envious glance. Then Lil repeated, “Where exactly are you going to draw that line you mentioned?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t end up like the last girl.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Megan blushed. “Remember she was pregnant? I think they might have had an affair. I believe that’s why his wife left him.”

  “What?” In shock, Lil placed her palms on the counter to think. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to them. Her first impulse was to demand that Megan quit her job. To protect her. But she knew that wouldn’t work. She needed to remain calm. “Megan, you must be careful. Please don’t go on any of those mission trips with him.”

  Megan’s expression fell. “I hadn’t thought about that. You know I wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity.”

  Lil couldn’t believe Megan could be so naive. “It might start out businesslike, but once he got you in another country, he might take advantage of the situation. Especially if you spent a lot of time together. Do you spend a lot of time together?”

  Megan arched a blond brow. “What are you going to do if Fletch finds out about the veal before you have a chance to tell him? That’s more likely to happen than your make-believe scenario about my boss. Who, by the way, has not done anything out of the way toward me.”

  “I’m going to tell him the truth the next time I see him. He’s taking me to the Shekinah Festival on Saturday. Oh, no!” she cried, quickly pulling the skillet off the burner. “Ugh! Now I’ve got to start all over.”

  Megan sighed. “Will that be wasted?”

  Lil turned away from her roommate, facing the stove and fighting back the tears that burned her eyes. “No. We can eat it. But I have to get it right before I introduce it at the restaurant.”

  “I’m sorry.” Megan moved toward the sink. “Let me clean up for you, at least.”

  Lil nodded and went to the fridge for another chunk of veal. “I guess Fletch and I got started on the wrong foot from the beginning, but our relationship is moving forward. I just need my dad’s approval. You know?” Lil turned the grinder’s old-style crank. “Megan? Do you think any of my brothers would vandalize the shelter?”

  “No. And I don’t think you’d better ask them either.”

  “I don’t intend to.” And then Lil realized that Megan had just duped her, using her own tactics of changing the subject when she didn’t want to talk about her boss.

  CHAPTER 29

  Fletch took Lil’s hand and started through the parking-lot maze. “This is not your typical festival, is it?”

  “The Shekinah Festival is huge. It’s been going on for over thirty years. Some day I’m going to go up in one of those hot-air contraptions.” Lil’s eyes lit up with excitement as she turned her gaze toward the brilliant balloons, all in various stages of flight. “Look at the sky. It’s full of giant teardrops turned upside down and made happy.”

  “What a nice thought.” The observation was typical of Lil’s general outlook on life. Overhead, the balloons floated in a parade of color, brightening the sky, just as Lil lit up a room and set the tone. She was a born helper who didn’t hesitate to take risks if it could turn someone’s teardrops upside down and make them happy, too.

  “Megan went to the concert last night, held in the big tent over there.” She pointed. “It featured a hometown boy who made it big—is actually performing with the big names in the Christian music industry.”

  As they made their way toward the activity, she took him on a shortcut across the tree-clad lawns. A cluster of teenage girls in plain dress and coverings approached, coming from the other direction. One waved.

  “Hi, Anna.” Lil waved back. After the greeting, the girls lowered their gazes until they were past. “Anna’s mom heads up the quilt part of the auction.”

  “They seemed shy.”

  “Because of you. Probably your red shoes,” she teased. “Conservative girls don’t mix with the world much until they get a job. So seeing us together probably made them feel uneasy. They don’t know how to act around a guy like you.”

  Lil’s comment hurt. Guy like you? It brought a general concern to his mind. “Do the people at your church know we’re dating?”

  Lil nodded.

  “And is this already causing a problem for you?”

  “It’s a small community. After today, it will be confirmed. My family is under a microscope right now, anyway. My mom went to church for the first time in months. After the sermon, she stood up and asked for the congregation’s forgiveness for not attending church and for disvaluing God’s gift of life.”

  Fletch tried to hide his surprise because he could tell that it was a painful admission for Lil. “She’s doing better, then?”

  “Yes. She even joined the hostess committee again. And something special happened. Ever since she took the overdose, her ears had been ringing. It bothered her a lot and reminded her of her mistake. She told me that when she confessed on Sunday, her ears quit ringing. She believes it is an affirmation that God forgave her.”

  “That’s amazing.” He knew that God was at work in all their lives, but that they needed to settle their church issue soon, before it drove a wedge between Lil and her congregation. “I have an idea. Why don’t you come to church with me tomorrow? The next Sunday, I’ll go to your church. We can take turns, switching back and forth. It might help us decide where we’ll go when … you know, help us make some choices.”

  “And what if my dad and brothers run you off the church property?”

  “If we tell them that we’re giving both churches an equal chance, won’t they want to welcome us, convince us to come to their church?”

  “Well, they would if they weren’t still mad at you.”

  “And what kind of forgiveness is that? Maybe we need to help them along. And I have an idea how to do that.” He’d been tossing the idea around in his mind, but he didn’t want to tell Lil more about it now. He didn’t want her worrying that his plan would backfire.

  “What’s your idea?” Lil asked.

  Fletch grinned. “It’s a surprise.”

  What kind of surprise would help her family forgive him? Surely he wasn’t thinking of proposing, of forcing them to make the choice to accept him or reject him? “Please, tell me what you’re up to.”

  He touched the tip of her nose. “Nosy. My nose smells food. Come, on.”

  They came to a line of booths selling many tempting delights:
apple dumplings, popcorn, funnel cakes, and ice cream. But Lil’s senses were only partly engaged, for she couldn’t get past Fletch’s near slip of the tongue. When he had brought up the question of which church they would attend, he’d almost said after we get married. She was sure of it. It still amazed her that Fletch had fallen in love with her—plain Lillian Mae Landis. That he wanted to take her to his church.

  “About going to your church. Maybe not tomorrow. But I’ll think about your suggestion.”

  “All right.”

  She saw his expression sadden and quickly said, “You have to try the homemade ice cream. Roger Headings and his wife, Crystal, always have a booth at local events. And before we leave, you should buy some trail bologna and cheese to take back to your apartment.” He chose chocolate, and she ate strawberry.

  Since the festival was a school fund-raiser, it featured lots of events for the children, from a petting zoo to a pony ride. “The pedal event is hilarious,” Lil told Fletch. “I believe it’s getting ready to start.”

  They found a seat and watched some adults trying to get the little ones lined up and ready to go. It provided the interval she needed to tell him about her promotion and her new signature dish. She had made a vow with herself that she would tell him sometime during the festival. She wanted to get it over with and off her mind so that she could enjoy the rest of the day.

  “Fletch? Something happened at work.”

  He chuckled at a little boy who got out of his car and sat on the ground. Then he turned to give her his full attention. “What?”

  “I got a promotion. A big promotion.”

  “Why that’s great.”

  “To head chef.”

  “What?” Fletch jumped to his feet. He grabbed her up and hugged her. “That’s wonderful! I can’t believe it. You just started working there.”

  She smiled up at him. “I know. Giovanni is moving back to Italy, and he recommended me to the restaurant’s owner.”

  “Sit down!” Somebody from behind them yelled. “The race is starting.”