“Isn’t that the truth, you are way too good for a punk like him. Char, one day you’re going to be famous with your stories. That jerk will be so sorry that he missed out on you. That will be the best revenge! And when you’re super-famous, you better not forget this bestie!”
“Ce, nothing will ever keep us from being best friends, not even my future celebrity status,” I said laughingly. “I love you Cecilia Kathryn Crawford. You are forever my best friend!”
Yawning by this time, CeCe reached for my hand, “I love you too Charlotte Renee Buchanan.”
The events of the night had taken most of my energy. CeCe too appeared drained from bonding time with her mother. Almost too sleepy to talk anymore, we both just laid there on the cool moonlit sandy beach, listening to the waves gently roll in.
Chapter 4: Prince Charming
Feeling a soft breeze on my face, I rolled over to find the brilliant morning sun peering through my window. CeCe was still sleeping. From my bedroom, I could hear some clanging and clattering going on in the kitchen downstairs. My mother was up as usual bright and early probably making breakfast for everyone—or at least those in my family who were not already outside working on the farm.
My mom was always up early, even on days when she didn’t have to get up for school. My mom, the youngest of five kids also, has forever been my biggest fan. Being the only daughter helps but I think even if I weren’t the only girl I’d still be close to my mom. She almost always wears a smile and I can count on her to be positive—especially when something is bothering me. I never quite understood how she was able to raise us, nonetheless be a kindergarten teacher, without ever yelling. Even if she didn’t like someone, you’d never know because she’s the type of person who treats everyone with compassion and respect. That was one of the many attributes that drew my dad to her. And although he never seems to rest I still catch my dad grabbing my mom from behind and giving her quick little pecks on her cheeks and neck—usually when she’s got her hands elbow deep in soapy dish water. My mom and dad grew up knowing each other because Grandma Rose and Grandma Evi were best friends but my mom hadn’t really ever noticed my dad until they went on a youth retreat that their youth groups attended. My dad said that he was there to grow closer to God and have fun with his friends when he spotted the most beautiful girl with long brown hair singing and full of life. He could only see part of her face from where he was sitting but every once in a while, she would laugh and as she did her face turned sideways towards her friends. My dad said that he’d secretly had a crush on her for years. However, after seeing her in a new light, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. I’ve seen pictures of my mother when she was younger. She had long flowing brown hair and light colored freckles dotted all over her nose and cheeks. With dimples a mile deep, her smile is highly infectious. A lot of people say I look like her. It was one of these times that she was laughing and looking at her friends when she turned just enough to spot this tan-faced guy starring at her. She said that her cheeks blushed almost immediately from the intensity on his face. He said that she was so striking that he didn’t realize that his mouth had been gaping open the whole time until one of his friends gave him a quick jab in the side. My mom says she couldn’t help but start laughing and so did my dad after he got over his moment of embarrassment. Her beauty was much deeper than her looks and her kindness made her the most stunning woman he’d ever known. It probably helped too that their mothers were secretly always plotting their wedding. That weekend helped my mother see my father in a different way. She had gathered frogs and went on cemetery walks with him when they were younger. This time she saw the heart behind the boy who now appeared to have turned into a rugged but handsome man with a heart of gold. And the rest is history.
“Charlotte, CeCe, breakfast is ready. Come on down, it’s on the table.” My mom called from downstairs.
Turning over, CeCe yawned, and said, “Is it time to leave yet?”
“CeCe, that’s tomorrow.”
“I know I was just hoping to wake up to tomorrow today.” She said while looking up at the sun shimmering on the ceiling.
“I can’t believe we leave for school tomorrow. Summer has flown by. I’m so excited. Are you packed CeCe?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve had everything by the door for almost a week now. It’s been driving my mom nuts having her entryway cluttered with my stuff. I would have put my things out sooner had I known it would’ve drawn this much attention from her.” She said with a faint smile on her face.
“What about you Char?”
“I’ve got a few more things to finish packing but I’m almost done.”
“You know what? We should go to Trixie’s for lunch. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a great idea Ce. But I think we should start with breakfast first.”
“I hope your mom made her chocolate chip pancakes. She always makes the best food. I’m going to miss her cooking Char.”
“Ce, she always makes chocolate chip pancakes when you come over. I’m sure she did.”
Albeit a perfectionist in many areas, Bev’s cooking was not one of them. CeCe was always coming over to our house for dinner or any meal she could get that didn’t come from a box, a bag, or a restaurant. She was always raving about my mom’s cooking, especially her chicken-noodle soup. Since my mom knew her mother didn’t cook she insisted on making CeCe a pot of her famous chicken-noodle soup every time she got sick. CeCe was like a wild cat roaming for food. The more milk you put out for her the more she’d come back for seconds. My parents have an open door policy. Whenever someone is hungry they are always welcome at their table. At holidays, we’d easily have at least 30 people packed into their home. My mom’s favorite saying is ‘what’s one more’. As it was between my brothers, both my grandma’s and myself, she cooked for 9 daily, 10 including CeCe.
Walking down the stairs, I smelled the sweet aroma of warm chocolate and vanilla.
“Good morning girls. Did you sleep well?” My mom asked cheerfully.
“Good morning Mrs. Buchanan. I slept great. I would have woken up earlier if I knew you were making my favorite pancakes.” CeCe said in a buttery voice.
“I’m going to miss making you girls chocolate chip pancakes.” My mom said.
“Don’t worry mom you can always make me chocolate chip pancakes.” Richie said, from the living room.
“First, you have to sweet talk me like CeCe does Richie. She knows where the pudding is.” My mom said smiling at CeCe.
“Ha-ha Richie!” CeCe laughed.
“So what do you two have planned for your last day before college?” My mom asked while washing dishes.
“I think we’re going to Trixie’s for lunch later. The beach might be nice. I’m going to miss the beach too,” I said, chomping on my yummy chocolate chip pancakes.
“The beach sounds good.” CeCe said.
“Count me in for both cuz I know you’re gonna miss your ‘Wichie’,” Richie said in a baby voice.
“That’s fine Richie. You can buy our lunch since you’re going to miss your favorite cheerleaders.” I replied.
Besides CeCe, Richie was not only my brother but also my best friend. CeCe, Richie, and I spent many a night hanging out at the beach, playing bocce ball, watching chic flicks, and sharing our dreams—secret dreams, like being a Hollywood actor instead of a marketing pro or being anything other than a lawyer. Both Richie and CeCe defied the norms except when it came to writing their future. Richie, always outgoing and popular with the girls and guys, studied marketing because he felt it was something that our parents could be proud of him for even though his heart was never really convinced. And CeCe, studying political science because no matter how little or how hard she tried never seemed to be able to please her parents, or more importantly her mother, hoped this would finally be something she could have in common with them. Richie stood out from my other brothers. Choosing marketing, he thought, would help to balance out previous accomplishm
ents of his like—Captain of the Cheerleading Squad at our school. Oh yeah, only Richie could get away with being a cheerleader and not get taunted for it by others at school. He could make anything look cool. He was usually the one to take risks and the one that my siblings could depend on to be the scapegoat if they got in trouble. Overly animated, Richie can make even the most pursed-lipped old lady laugh which came in handy with my father—the authoritarian in our household. My father, as most people, didn’t take Richie seriously and because of this my brother took to marketing to win over his respect though his heart belonged to Hollywood all along. Something most people didn’t know. Sometimes, when it was just CeCe, he, and I, we’d tease and call him Brad after one of his favorite actors, Brad Pitt. The first few times he laughed and then would make a rebuttal. After awhile he started answering to Brad, which always made Ce and I cheese. Though he’d only be a phone call away, I knew I would miss him more than I could have imagined when we left for school.
“We better finish up quickly,” I said. “I still have to finish packing.”
“And don’t forget about dinner tonight at six. Aunt Juanita will be here as well as Grandma Rose’s new friend. They all want to see you before you leave tomorrow, Char.” My mom said as she dried her hands off on the well-worn dishtowel beside the sink.
“Grandma Rose has a new friend?” CeCe asked with a slight twist of her neck and raised eyebrows.
“I want to meet him too,” Richie smiled.
“Just don’t ask him too many questions at dinner Ce or Rose will yank your ear off,” I said seriously.
“True story.” Richie said pointing to his ear.
“She did not pull your ear off Richie.” My mother raised her voice from the laundry room.
“Mom, I had to have a stitch put in the back of my ear.” Richie said with his finger showing off the spot.
“That’s only because you jerked away when she was holding onto your ear after you mouthed off to her.” I said, defending my sweet but brazen grandmother.
My grandma Rose, my dad’s mom, is one of the toughest women you’ll ever meet. She’s also very cunning. Not only did she raise six kids on her own and run the peach orchard, which my dad took over just before marrying my mother, she was also the chair person for this committee, president for that club, and school board member at St. Marys. Everyone knows my grandma in this small town. My grandpa, who I never met, died very young while working one hot summer day in the orchard. My grandmother found him when she went out to take him his lunch. When the ambulance arrived they could not find a pulse. Later, she found out that he’d had a heart attack. She said that at first she was so devastated that it paralyzed her from taking care of her kids, the farm, or any of the other responsibilities on her plate. My grandmother has always credited God and the love and support of a few good friends, namely Evi, for getting her through those hard times. Although, I suspect the nice tall glass of spirited lemonade she carries around helped a bit too. My grandma still places a high value of keeping up with her friends. For a seventy-year old granny, she maintains a bustling schedule full of bridge, bingo, shopping and plenty of mini vacations with her girlfriends. I can always tell when she did well at bingo because she doesn’t get home until late—no doubt celebrating her victories over dinner with friends. After my father took over the farm, she had a quaint cottage built for her by the weeping willows overlooking the small lake behind the orchard. She said some of her most memorable experiences were spent by that lake and she wanted to wake up to happy memories every day. You could catch her starring out at the lake at times, smiling, quietly to herself, like she had some great kept secret. Rose, although she is empathetic, is not the person you’d go to if you were feeling sorry for yourself. Despite her losses in life, she’s chosen to focus on the wins only. She’s a fighter in true southern femme style. If nothing else, she has taught me to hold on to the good things in life- especially to the friends who stick with you through thick and thin and… mud.
“Okay Richie, enough reminiscing. We need to get going if we’re going to get in Trixie’s and the beach before dinner.” I called back to him from the stairway.
“I’m ready whenever you girls are.” He insisted.
I quickly marched up the stairs with CeCe. I still had some packing to do but I could easily pull an all-nighter if I needed to. Right now I wanted to get to the beach and get some more rays as I knew it wouldn’t be until next summer before I got back there. And Trixie’s was definitely a priority because I wanted to say goodbye to Trudy and get my favorite chocolate milkshake and cheese fries, a staple in this teenage girl’s diet.
Trixie’s, a small diner with big heart was like a second home to CeCe, Richie, and I. For every celebratory event, heartache, or rainy day, we plopped ourselves down in the 1950’s style booth in the corner right between the jukebox and the Elvis Presley cutout. Trudy, a single mom and server at the diner, for years, could have been a surrogate mother for CeCe and me. She always knew what to say to us to turn our day around. She also knew how to handle the men that would come in and try to get fresh with her. That was entertaining to watch. At 5’2, Trudy’s not the typical blonde bombshell that most people, at first glance presume. Smart and funny, she keeps the regulars coming back not just for the food but for the feeling they get of being known by name. A native of St. Marys, Trudy has never stepped foot outside this small town. I don’t know how but she always seems happy even as a single mom, working at a diner for a living. Years ago she fell in love with a handsome stranger who abandoned her while pregnant. Still after that she kept a smile on her face more often than not. She says that she could have chosen to be angry for the rest of her life but that Charlie, her daughter, is the best gift that anyone has ever given her. I just never understood how someone so young and full of life could be happy in the constraints of a small, old-fashion town but Trudy was.
Driving up to Trixie Rox, I spotted a few familiar cars in the packed parking lot. A lot of other beach goers must have had the same idea, an ice-cold milkshake and some cheesy fries to fight off the heat and hunger that a long day at the beach demands.
“Hey that looks like Veronica’s car,” Richie said, smiling.
“Hey, that looks like Veronica’s car,” CeCe echoed mockingly.
“I don’t even know why someone as awesome as yourself Richie would ever like someone so shallow and fake as Veronica,” said CeCe in a sarcastic voice.
Veronica was the only girl that drove CeCe nuts and Richie knew it. Richie, who was liked by all, (especially the girls) always, thought that Veronica was cute…and Veronica made it a point to flirt with him. Veronica was 5’9 and 120 pounds of perfect. Long, straight, blonde hair and legs a mile high, she was the captain of the tennis team, co-cheerleading captain (CeCe was the other co-captain of the cheerleading squad our senior year), Miss Homecoming queen, President’s award recipient and CeCe’s arch rival. Secretly, CeCe was always trying to out-do Veronica and vice-versa Veronica did her best to make perfection look easy. I think the competition started in fifth grade when CeCe was showing Eric Sothersby off when Veronica Sweetly interrupted her parade by walking by and smiling harmoniously at Eric. Feeling threatened by the cute little blonde, with perfectly parted pigtails, whose mother was also a powerhouse in the community, CeCe shot her a laser-eyed look to shoo her away from her new prize possession. Sweet, but not dense to her plan, Veronica shot her back an equally menacing look when Eric turned his back, before she smiled at CeCe and walked away, triumphantly. Since then CeCe and Veronica have been competing against each other in everything from boyfriends to cheerleading captain to fashion icon to president of the student government body and then some. And when Veronica won Miss Homecoming queen, CeCe was secretly devastated—even though she smiled during the crowning on the football field to cover the pain of defeat. CeCe didn’t quite feel as bold a competitor again until she won Miss St. Marys a few months later. And then she was back and as audacious as ever.
Pulling open the door to the diner, I quickly scanned the room and felt like it was a mini-high school reunion. Amongst all the recognizable faces including Veronica’s, there were many more unfamiliar, youthful ones. Next, I spotted Trudy who was busy running the show, pinning up orders for the kitchen crew, and getting ready to stack her tray with scrumptious diner food. Looking toward our usual spot I spied four guys that looked to be college-aged sitting in our booth. As soon as CeCe discovered Veronica looking towards our table, CeCe realized her new assignment—make sure Veronica saw CeCe befriending the guys she couldn’t take her eyes off and make her green with envy.
“Hey girls, I’m sure they won’t mind sharing the booth,” Trudy yelled over the crowd, once she spotted us.
“Thanks Tru, it’s busy in here today.” I said, yelling back over the noise.
“Yea, it’s the last rush before everyone leaves for school tomorrow.” She said, as she came closer towards us.
Walking to our table, CeCe had already caught the gaze of at least two of the guys sitting in the booth.
“We’re not really going to sit with all those guys are we ladies?” Richie implored, frowning all the way.
“Richie, are you intimidated by those hot beefy guys?” CeCe said wincing back at Richie.
“Are you kidding Ce? Nah, I’m not intimidated, I’m just going to go catch up with Veronica.” Richie smirked as he quickly turned towards her table.
“Hey boys, you’re sitting at our table but I guess I’ll let it slide if you scoot over,” CeCe said grinning.
One of the guys parked at our table who was staring at CeCe, turned quickly towards the back of the booth, pretending to be looking at something before flipping back around and declaring to CeCe, “your name must be gorgeous”.
Southern Belles, a Novel About Love, Purpose & Second Chances (9781310340970) Page 4