He and Fletch ate 16-ounce T-bones for lunch, Aldo a 32-ouncer, in a swank red leather and dark paneled steak house. Gus had coffee after, Aldo a giant-size hot fudge sundae and Fletch a whiskey sour and a cigarette that made Gus yearn for a cigar.
“Bebe’s a lucky girl.” Fletch leaned his elbow on the table and pointed his cigarette at Aldo. “You’re a fine young man.”
“No, Mr. Parrish. I’m a lucky guy.” Aldo caught a chocolate drip at the corner of his mouth with his spoon and grinned. “Beebs tells me that all the time. And she tells me not to forget it.”
With her big brown bedroom eyes and her lush body. When he was Aldo’s age, Gus would’ve believed anything that came out of a mouth like Bebe’s.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that now and then Bebe is a bit, hmmm …” Fletch rubbed his chin. “Shall we say, high-strung?”
“You mean like she cries a lot and stuff?”
“That’s what I mean.” Fletch laid a hand on his shoulder. “Could I give you some advice, Aldo? A few tips on how to handle Bebe?”
“Sure.” Aldo laid his spoon in his empty dish with a clink. “I get a headache sometimes, she cries so much.”
“How ‘bout some coffee, guys?” Gus wiped his mouth and stood up. “I’ll send the waitress over on my way out.”
“Where are you going, Uncle Gus?”
“Uh—to buy cigars, Aldo. Can’t have a decent wedding without cigars. I’ll be back in—?”
“An hour.” Fletch glanced at him and laid his hand on Aldo’s shoulder again. “Never think a woman’s tears are just tears, Aldo. She may be sad and cry, or angry and cry, but she is never just sad or just angry. There’s always a deeper emotion, something else going on beneath the surface of her tears. The trick is figuring out what. If she tells you she’s just sad, or just angry, don’t believe her.”
Gus stood beside the table listening and thinking of Cydney. The tears in her eyes when he’d found her in the brown chair on Sunday, the ones she’d blinked back when he’d helped her with chapter five, the quivery, watery smile on her face this morning.
“Gus.” Fletch shot him a get-outta-here look. “Forget something?”
“Uh—no. Back in an hour.”
Gus went, wondering what all those damn tears meant. What was Cydney trying to tell him that he was too dumb to figure out?
chapter
twenty-six
Bride nerves, Cydney’s left big toe. Bebe no more had a headache than she did. She was upstairs plotting while Cydney and her mother and Herb and the ladies of Crooked Possum slaved downstairs to get the great room ready for her wedding. It was 12:45. How much longer was Georgette going to let Bebe get away with this?
Why are you waiting for your mother to do something? her little voice asked. Why don’t you take charge, for a change?
“‘Cause I’m not supposed to know about this,” Cydney muttered.
“You aren’t supposed to know about what?” her mother asked.
From the foot of the stepladder Cydney stood on, startling her so badly she had to grab the mantel to keep from falling. She glanced at Georgette over her shoulder and frowned.
“I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me, Mother.”
“I didn’t sneak up on you. You didn’t hear me because you were talking to yourself. You do that a lot, you know. It’s very disconcerting to other people, Cydney.”
“All writers talk to themselves, Mother.”
“I talk to my secretary. It’s called dictation. What aren’t you supposed to know about?”
Cydney looked at the far end of the great room, where Herb and the ladies were putting a spit and polish shine on the bar. She doubted they could hear her, but she kept her voice low anyway.
“I’m not supposed to know Bebe isn’t a dumbbell. Or that she’s a selfish, spoiled, lying, scheming—”
“Come down here.” Georgette crooked a finger. When Cydney reached the floor, Georgette caught her arm and towed her up on the dais, put a bottle of Windex and paper towels in her hand.
“Don’t use the whole roll.” Georgette ripped off a fistful of sheets. “I’ll need at least half of it to shove down your father’s throat.”
“Dad was not indiscreet. I overheard a conversation he had with Bebe in the kitchen this morning.” “You mean you eavesdropped.” “Yes, Mother. Just like you do all the time.” “And here I thought all my training had failed. Squirt me.” Where? her little voice asked, but Cydney ignored it. She spritzed the glass wall with Windex and they both wiped ammonia streaks.
“So why were you up the ladder muttering about this?” “I’m angry. Bebe used us, took advantage of us. I think she has Aldo totally hoodwinked. That’s not right, Mother. It’s not fair to Aldo.”
“Of course it isn’t. That’s why your father tagged along to buy a tuxedo. If anyone can find a gentle way to break it to Aldo that Bebe is a shameless manipulator, it’s Fletch.” Georgette paused in mid-wipe and smiled at her. “Since it takes one to know one.”
“I’d also like you to explain to me why we’re down here working our butts off while Bebe is upstairs lolling on hers.” “I don’t think she’s lolling. If she’s doing anything up there, she’s making voodoo dolls.”
Cydney held her hand out to her mother. “Bet me.” “All right.” Georgette shook her hand. “Bet you what?” “Bet me Herb’s the next one to punch Dad in the nose.” Georgette’s nostrils flared. “You said your father wasn’t indiscreet.”
“He didn’t have to be indiscreet. I was in the kitchen this morning and so was Herb when Dad flirted with you and you flirted right back. Dad is a married man, Mother. And you are engaged to Herb.”
“Stop right there before we end up on Jerry Springer.” Georgette threw one hand up like a traffic cop. “Go get Bebe.”
“Missed a spot.” Cydney pointed at a streak on the glass, handed her mother the paper towels and sashayed out of the great room.
Being mature and in control was heady stuff. Now if she could stay in the zone until she talked to Gus. She had a sexually mature adult speech all prepared. If she could just deliver it without falling apart.
Cydney took the back stairs, planning to make a pit stop before she dragged Bebe down to the great room by her hair. Her Keds, mud-free at last from her walk on Sunday, didn’t so much as squeak as she crossed the alcove at the end of the hall and opened her bedroom door.
Bebe spun away from the Duncan Phyfe desk, her eyes and her mouth wide-open. With guilt and surprise at being caught, Cydney thought and felt a sick clutch in her stomach. She’d left her laptop on the desk, plugged into the outlet and running on screen save.
“If you touched one file,” she threatened, “one chapter of my book, I’ll make you eat the hard drive.”
“I didn’t. Honest. I just brought you something.”
Bebe sidled away from the desk, lifting her hand awkwardly at a single red-gold zinnia tucked in a small white vase next to the laptop. A square pink envelope sat propped up against it.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Cydney. Really, really sorry. That’s all.”
Cydney stepped into the room away from the door. “Get out.”
A bright vermilion flush shot up Bebe’s throat. Her eyes filled with tears but she went, head down, and pulled the door quietly shut.
Cydney raced to the laptop and checked her files. All there. All safe. Thank God. She dashed to her suitcase, rummaged for a box of disks, flew back to the desk, sat down and copied all five of her precious chapters. Twice. When she finished, she sagged back in the chair, her hands and her insides trembling, her face hot, her fingers icy.
She stared at the zinnia and the pink envelope. She shouldn’t open it. She should just throw it away, but she picked it up and opened it, pulled out a white card and read:
I’m sorry. I love you. Please forgive me.—Bebe
Her father was fifty-nine with a life like a train wreck. She was thirty-two with a life she despised, one spider vein and two gaping hol
es in her heart. One named Gus, the other named Bebe.
Gus thought she was the nicest person he’d ever met— Wboop-de-doo, her little voice said—but he didn’t want to marry anyone. He’d told her so through the bathroom door and she’d driven onto the tracks with the guard down and the lights flashing anyway.
Maybe this was another one of Bebe’s spoiled, selfish tricks, but she was just a kid, an abandoned little angel, and Cydney loved her. She got up and opened her bedroom door. Bebe was there, pacing the alcove and twisting her fingers together. She spun toward Cydney on her air-booted foot, her heartbeat leaping in the base of her throat.
“I heard you and your grandfather in the kitchen this morning.”
“I know. Gramps told me before he left with Aldo and Mr. Munroe. He said you called me a bitch. That hurt so bad I couldn’t breathe.”
“Now you know how I felt when you said you didn’t want me at your wedding.”
“But I do. I want Mother, too. I just want—everything.” She made a gawky sweep with one arm, her eyes filling again, her nose red from crying. “I don’t think Mother will come once Grampa calls her. If she doesn’t he said it would be on me and he’s right. He’s right and there’s nothing I can do but hate myself. Everybody else does, so why not?”
“I don’t hate you, Bebe. I feel used and betrayed and I’m so angry I can’t see straight. But I love you and so does Aldo.”
“But Aldo thinks I’m stupid. It was one of the things that drew us together.” Bebe twisted her fingers again, a genuine rise of panic in her voice. “If he finds out I’m not, I’m afraid he won’t love me anymore.”
“That’s ridiculous. You figured out the codicil to his father’s will in about ten seconds—I realized that, looking back on it this morning—and Aldo didn’t stop loving you. I’m not sure he realized you figured it out. That could be a problem.” Cydney ruffled a hand through her hair. “I don’t understand why you thought you had to pretend to be stupid.”
“This is gonna get me in trouble.” Bebe plunked down on the top step of the back stairs. Cydney crossed the alcove and sat down next to her. “Look at Mother. Articulate and successful and divorced three times. Look how intelligent Gramma is and how long it took her to find Herb, who isn’t at all intimidated by her. And look at you, Aunt Cydney.” Bebe did, almost wincing. “So smart, so together and alone. I don’t want to be alone like you and my mother and Gramma. So I played dumb.”
“And look where it got you,” Cydney pointed out. As gently as she could, putting aside her own hurt at Bebe’s bleak but true take on her life.
Her niece’s mouth trembled and her eyes filled. She bent her elbows on her knees, covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Cydney put her arms around her, held her and let her cry until she pulled away and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
“I know I have to tell Aldo I’m not as dumb as a box of rocks. But I’m so scared,” she said, sniffing. “He may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, like Grampa says, but he’s good and kind and funny and sweet and I—I really love him, Aunt Cydney.”
“You do have to tell Aldo, but I don’t think you have to hit him with it right between the eyes. You could let him in on your little secret bit by bit. One week you could learn to balance the checkbook, the next how to program the VCR. Things like that. And share it with him, Bebe. Just don’t lord it over him and make him feel inadequate.”
“You think it’ll work?”
“Yes, I do, but you have to realize that you aren’t going to get everything you want every time you want it. Nobody does. If you’re lucky, you’ll get part of what you want, or maybe most of it, but rarely do you get everything. It’s hard, I know.” Oh boy did she know. Like two glorious days with the man you’ve been in love with from afar for ten years and then hasta la vista, baby. “But you have to learn to accept it.”
“Well, that blows,” Bebe grumbled, then shot Cydney a shaky, watery grin that made them both laugh. “I should go face Gramma.”
“I would, and get it over with.”
“Come with me?”
“Sure.” Cydney rose and let Bebe and her air boot go down the stairs first. “Isn’t it time for that thing to come off your foot?”
“Yeah, but I’m s’posed to let a medical professional take it off.”
“Let’s ask Sheriff Cantwell’s sister. She’s an EMT.”
Louella was happy to trot out to her Ford Bronco ambulance for her medical kit and remove the air boot. While she examined Bebe’s ankle, Cydney sat on the living room hearth next to her mother.
Louella made Bebe walk for her and pronounced her ankle healed. Bebe stood up, drew a deep breath and walked over to Georgette.
“I’m sorry, Gramma. I’m sorry I misled you and Aunt Cydney.”
“You never misled me, Bebe. I knew all along that no grandchild of mine could be as dumb as you pretended.” Georgette rose and pinched Bebe’s cheeks together. “Now go put on your other shoe and get to work.”
She kissed Bebe’s puckered mouth and swept away. Bebe watched her go, then cocked an eyebrow at Cydney.
“She’s lying through her teeth.”
“Absolutely. She lives to be right and rub all our noses in it.”
“Were you fooled, Uncle Cyd? I mean, really?”
“Mostly, yes,” Cydney admitted. “I did wonder a time or two when we played Scrabble. Though truthfully, I thought you were cheating.”
“Never again, Uncle Cyd. I promise.” Bebe kissed her and went upstairs for her other Reebok.
A delivery truck from a rental company in Springfield arrived with a toot of its horn and backed up to the front porch.
“Would’a been here a hour ago,” the driver explained, “but we couldn’t find the dang place.”
While Herb helped him and his assistant unload chairs, Cydney made a fresh pot of coffee. Both men drank a big mugful when they finished, thanked her and left. Cydney put together a coffee tray and carried it into the great room, where Bebe and Herb were unfolding chairs and placing them in neat rows. In the back of the room, the Crooked Possum ladies and Georgette were emptying bags and boxes of flowers and ribbons and baskets and greenery onto the bar.
“Where did all this stuff come from?” Cydney asked her mother as she handed her a mug of decaf with Sweet ‘N Low.
“I went shopping in Eureka Springs. Thank you, dear.” Georgette smiled over the rim of her cup. “You didn’t think I’d given you the only copy of the list I wrote from the decorations Bebe visualized, did you?”
“Yes, I did,” Cydney said sourly. “And I spent the whole day after the Halloween wedding debacle worried silly that you’d string me up by the orange icicle lights Bebe bought, for giving her the shopping list.”
“Then let this be a lesson to you, darling.” Georgette put her coffee down, patted her cheek and went back to work.
So did Cydney, on the ammonia streaks on the glass wall. This whole last week had been a lesson. Most of it glorious, some of it painful—with the biggest hurt of all, saying goodbye to Gus, still looking her in the face—but she wouldn’t trade a second of it. Now she had something wildly romantic to write about in her memoirs.
And changes to make in her life. Big scary ones, but she wasn’t a pauper. She had the God-Save-Me-and-Bebe Fund and she could rent the apartment over the garage for extra income. She’d decided to move her writing room into Bebe’s bedroom. She’d have to keep her studio up for a while, until she either sold or phased out Sunflower Photo. And don’t forget, her little voice said. You have to get a cat.
“Oh shut up,” Cydney muttered.
Louella came to help her, climbing up on a ladder to reach the streaks Cydney couldn’t, even with a ladder. Her shoulders ached by the time they finished, but the glass wall sparkled. Not a single dust mote floated in the soft, golden autumn sun filtering through the trees outside the house. Cydney glanced at her watch—3:45.
“The ceremony is scheduled for four,” she said to Louella. “
The light is just perfect, don’t you think?”
“I surely do.” She smiled and nodded at the great room “This is all shaping up real pretty.”
A country understatement if she’d ever heard one, Cydney decided, when she turned around on the dais and caught her breath.
The floor glowed and the paneling gleamed. The chairs sat in neat, straight rows, those on the bride’s side of the room upholstered in rich, forest-green, those on the groom’s side in a deep, pumpkin-orange. The runner down the middle picked up the same colors, forest-green in the center with vivid pumpkin edges. Silk autumn leaves clustered around the candles on the mantel, pumpkins sat on the hearth, with more candles and silk leaves and a straw cornucopia spilling gourds and flowers and teeny pumpkins.
Mamie and Sarah on one side of the room and Cloris and her sisters on the other pinned ribbons and little nosegays on the chairs. Fat candles on terra-cotta pillars looped with green and blue and peach and pale orange ribbons stood by the doors. And here came Herb with the pillars that would stand on the steps leading up to the dais.
“Oh Louella.” Cydney sighed. “It’s just beautiful.”
“Sure is. Wouldn’t mind getting hitched in here myself.”
The peach suit she’d bought in Branson would look perfect, Cydney thought. Which reminded her, it was still in her truck. And her truck was in the garage, Gus had told her, where Sheriff Cantwell parked it after he’d pulled the tree off the roof and driven it up the hill.
“Thanks for your help, Louella.” Cydney gave her a grateful smile, tripped down the steps and called to her mother, “Be right back.”
She met the insurance adjuster she’d called after breakfast in the driveway. He followed her toward the garage, apologizing for being late.
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