“No, Herbert.” She glanced him a gentle, too-bad smile. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” Herb said sadly, and tapped Aldo on the shoulder to turn him around. “Good luck to you and Bebe. I hope you’ll be very happy.”
“Thanks, Herb,” Aldo said, and shook his hand.
“Bye-bye, kiddo.” Herb gave Cydney a bleak smile and a wave.
“Bye, Herb.” She smiled back at him and wagged her fingers.
He crossed the hall to his bedroom and shut the door.
“You still want me to call Elvin?” Aldo asked Gus.
“Depends.” Gus folded his arms and scowled at Fletch.
“I broke the rules,” he said, his voice muffled by his hand. His left eye was swelling, Cydney noticed, the bruise Gus’ fist had left on his cheek purpling again. “Somebody get me an ice bag and I’ll go.”
“Not so fast.” Her mother pushed Fletch down as he tried to stand. “You’re still bleeding.”
“Oh, for cryin’ out loud.” He brushed her off, pushed to his feet and wobbled. Cydney bit her lip at the blood smeared on his chin and the front of his yellow silk pajamas. “See, George? I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.” Her mother rose and faced Gus, drawing her pink silk wrapper around her. “Warden Munroe. May this old bounder have a reprieve until morning?”
“I don’t need a reprieve,” Fletch insisted. “I need a ride.”
Herb’s bedroom door sprang open. “I could use a copilot, Parrish, and the least I can do is give you a lift.”
“Damn skippy it’s the least you can do. I’ll get my stuff.”
“Grampa, wait!” Bebe yanked her bedroom door open.
So abruptly she nearly pulled Gwen, who still had her hand on the knob, off her feet. She tripped and might’ve fallen, but Aldo caught the sleeve of her white bathrobe and kept her upright.
“I mean—” Bebe sucked a shuddery breath and turned toward Gus. “Can Grampa Fletch please stay? Just till he gives me away?”
Gus slid Cydney a sideways, whattaya-think glance. She arched a you’re-the-warden, whatever-you-say eyebrow at him.
“Thumbs up, Fletch stays,” Gus said. “Thumbs down, he goes.”
Bebe and Gwen’s thumbs went up. Then Aldo’s, then Georgette’s. Cydney knew when she was beat, sighed and raised her thumb.
“Thank you, family,” Fletch said humbly, his voice still muffled by the hand cupped over his nose. “And you, Gus.”
“Don’t make me regret it.” Gus stepped toward him, took his arm and turned Fletch away from Georgette. “Let’s have a look at you.”
“I’d rather leave now, but I don’t see well at night,” Herb said. “On the highway, yes, on roads this dark, no. Could I stay till morning?”
“I can drive you as far as the highway,” Bebe volunteered quickly. “Aldo can follow in Uncle Gus’ truck and drive us back here.” She looked at Gwen first, then Gus. “I mean, if that’s okay.”
Where Bebe’s face wasn’t pale it was red and blotched from crying. Her eyes were bright and wet with tears. And something else that made Cydney tip her head suspiciously, until Bebe wiped her eyes and she decided, no, it was just the light, just the sheen of tears on her lashes.
Gwen glanced at her. Cydney nodded. “Okay with me,” she said.
“Me, too.” Gwen smiled and curved Bebe’s cheek in her palm. “I think the bride and groom could use some fresh air.”
“Boy, could we.” Bebe sighed and cupped her mother’s hand.
“Can you find your way home, pal?” Gus asked Aldo.
“Heck, yeah.” He grinned. “You put the signs up this morning.”
“I’ll get my things,” Herb said, and darted into his bedroom.
“I’ll get dressed,” Bebe said, and slipped into her room.
“Me, too,” Aldo said, and disappeared into his room.
“Your nose is a real mess, slugger.” Gus tipped Fletch’s chin up on his crooked index finger and frowned. “Put your pants on. You and I are paying a visit to the emergency room in Branson.”
“Stop fussing, Gus. You’re worse than George.” Fletch shrugged out of his grasp and wove on his feet. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t be difficult, Fletch.” Georgette took his arm. “You can’t walk Bebe down the aisle if you can’t stand up. I’ll help you get dressed.”
“Okay.” Her father grinned happily.
Cydney winced as her mother swung him around and steered him into his room. His nose was a bloody, swollen mess.
“I’ll get some towels and an ice bag,” Gwen said, hurrying away.
“There’s one in the freezer,” Gus called after her, then grinned at Cydney. “The one you gave me for my nose when I left Kansas City.”
Cydney cringed, remembering. “And you still want to marry me?”
“Hell yes.” Gus laughed and put his arms around her, holding her against him with his fingers laced together in the small of her back. “As Aunt Phoebe used to say, this is more fun than a barrel of monkeys.”
“Seems like fun now, but it can get real old, real quick, bub.”
“So what? We’re gonna get old, too, babe. Together.”
“Now that sounds like fun.” Cydney sighed and kissed his chin.
A door opened behind them. Gus let her go and Cydney turned around. Bebe stepped into the hall in khaki shorts and a sweatshirt.
“I love you, Uncle Cyd.” She swept Cydney into a hug so fierce she thought she’d cracked a rib. “Don’t worry about us. Aldo’s a good driver.”
“I’m not going to worry anymore, Bebe.” She backed out of her embrace and held her hands. “You’re an almost married woman.”
And so are you, her little voice said. Just thinking about it gave Cydney a giddy little quiver.
Aldo popped out of his room in jeans and a sweater, swept his palomino bangs out of his eyes and held his hand out to Bebe. Herb appeared in his glasses, dressed, with his suitcase, and shook Gus’ hand.
“Thanks for the hospitality, Gus. No hard feelings.”
“None here, Herb. Have a safe trip.”
“I will, thanks. Ready, kids?”
“Ready.” Bebe and Aldo followed him down the gallery stairs.
Gus laid his hands on Cydney’s shoulders, turned her toward him and leered. “Wanna help me get dressed, little girl?”
“Undressed, yes.” She leered back at him. “Maybe later.”
He laughed and led her downstairs. Gwen met them in the living room with the ice bag and the towel, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“Gwen,” Cydney said, startled. “You’re crying.”
“Of course I am,” she sniffed. “Bebe hugged me and kissed me on her way out and told me she loved me.”
“See?” Cydney knuckled her sister in the arm. “Told you so.”
Gus went upstairs to get dressed. He came back a minute or two ahead of Georgette and Fletch. They were both dressed, Fletch leaning heavily on Georgette with his arm around her shoulders.
“If you don’t mind, Angus,” she said. “I’ll tag along.”
“Fine with me. I’ll bring the car. I wouldn’t wait up,” he said to Cydney. “This could take a while.”
Cydney and Gwen waved goodbye from the porch, then shivered inside, barefoot. Gwen shut the door and held out her hand.
“Bet me a pizza in the face Mother marries Dad on Christmas Eve.”
“You’re on.” Cydney grinned and they shook on it. “I should warn you. Dad almost spilled the beans about Domino and Misha to Mother.”
“Why am I not surprised? Where the hell are they, d’you suppose?”
“In the hot tub, last time Mother snooped.”
“Let’s kick ‘em out. I have a bottle of brandy in my suitcase. We’ll have a couple belts and a soak and sleep like babies.”
Which Gwen did, for almost an hour in the hot tub. Cydney sat in bubbles up to her neck, watching Gwen snore with her mouth open and her head tipped back against the tub. Oh, t
o have her camera.
“My camera!” Cydney howled, smacking a hand to her forehead.
“What?” Gwen sloshed awake, spilling a tidal wave out of the tub.
“My camera is in my Jeep. How can I take the wedding pictures?”
“With mine. Come on.” Gwen groped bleary-eyed for a towel. “Let’s go get it before my bones turn to total mush.”
They dripped inside and wove up the gallery stairs, half-lit from the megaproof brandy. Except for the grandfather clock ticking outside the R&R room, the house was still. At Bebe’s bedroom door, Gwen paused.
“Did you hear Bebe and Aldo come in?” she whispered.
“I couldn’t hear a thing over the bubbles and your snoring.”
“Should we check on her? Make sure she’s okay?”
“Bebe is sound asleep,” Cydney said firmly, sticking to her resolve not to worry. “We are not snooping, Georgette Junior.”
“Old poop.” Gwen gave her the raspberry and hiccuped.
It was almost 3 A.M. when Cydney dumped Gwen’s forty-pound bag of photo equipment on the blanket box in her room, rolled up the sleeping bag, tossed her pillows on her bed and fell onto them face first, asleep.
She woke up with her head buzzing from the brandy. Her travel alarm said 8:07. Why was she awake this early? Cydney dragged into the bathroom, brushed her teeth and took up a hair pick, braced herself and blinked in the mirror. For once, her hair didn’t look like a fright wig.
It’s an omen, she decided as she pulled on jeans and buttoned her oversized white shirt. A joyous portent for Bebe’s wedding day.
And the sun was shining. She sat down in the wing chair by the window to tie her Keds, lifted the lace curtain and smiled at the blue sky. The puffy clouds and the happy-face sun thawing the frost on the grass.
That’s when she heard Gwen scream.
Cydney leaped to her feet and ran. Out of her room and down the hall, nearly colliding with Gwen as she came tearing out of Bebe’s bedroom. Cydney caught her by the shoulders and spun her around.
“Cyd! Oh God.” Gwen clutched her arms in fingers like talons. “Bebe isn’t in her bed. They must’ve had an accident. Call 911!”
“Did you look in Aldo’s room?”
“Aldo’s room!” Gwen wrenched free and raced across the hall.
Cydney wheeled after her, her stomach dropping like a stone when Gwen pushed the door open and she saw Aldo’s rumpled but empty bed.
“Don’t scream.” Cydney clamped a hand over her sister’s mouth. “Have you been downstairs?”
Gwen shook her head, sucking air between Cydney’s fingers.
“They could be in the kitchen eating breakfast.”
Gwen clawed Cydney’s hand off her mouth. “Or stuck in a ditch somewhere, hurt and helpless.”
“Bebe doesn’t go to the bathroom without her cell phone, Gwen. Don’t jump to conclusions. Where’s Mother?”
“Asleep. I heard her around four give Dad a pain pill and tell him she was going to bed with her mask and her earplugs.”
Thank God, Cydney thought. “Go look downstairs,” she told Gwen, pushing her toward the gallery. “I’ll wake Gus.”
But first she went back to Bebe’s room. She had no idea why, until she saw a white envelope tucked into the bottom of the dresser mirror.
“Oh no,” she moaned, her heart sinking.
“Oh no, what?” Gus yawned behind her, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Did somebody scream or was I dreaming?”
“It was Gwen.” Cydney looked at him, leaning puffy-eyed in the doorway in his sweats and T-shirt. “We can’t find Bebe and Aldo.”
“What’s that stuck in the mirror?”
“I don’t know. I’m afraid to look.”
Gus shuffled past her and plucked the envelope out of the mirror. He raised it to his nose, peered at it and handed it to Cydney.
“It says, ‘To Mother and Uncle Cyd.’ “
“Oh no,” she moaned again.
“We’d better find your sister.”
Gwen was in the R&R room, hysterically flinging pillows off the couches just in case Bebe and Aldo were hiding under the cushions.
“I can’t find them,” she said tearfully. “Call 911.”
“This was stuck in Bebe’s mirror.” Cydney held up the envelope. “It’s addressed to you and me.”
Gwen grabbed it and tore it open, took out a folded sheet of paper and froze. “I can’t.” She passed the note to Cydney. “You read it.”
“I think you should sit down.” Gus lowered Gwen onto the brown corduroy sofa and sat down on the oak table in front of her.
Cydney sat down beside him, her knees quivering. She thought she knew what was coming, unfolded the note and read aloud:
“Dear Mother and Uncle Cyd—If you’re reading this, Aldo and I have eloped. I hope I can talk him into it once we get Herb off. I just can’t take any more yelling and screaming and punching each other.
“I know none of you meant to fight like cats and dogs. I don’t blame you, Uncle Cyd, for throwing pizza in Mother’s face. You were defending me and Louella and Mamie. And I don’t blame you, Mother, for wanting me to look beautiful and sophisticated in Vogue, but that’s your world, not mine. I wish you’d been able to see that.
“Tell Grampa thank you for bawling me out for pretending to be stupid. Tell him I won’t do it anymore. I just hope Aldo will still love me.
“Tell Gramma George it’s okay to return the wedding dress she bought me. And tell her I’ll call her when we get back from Las Vegas.
“I think I can talk Aldo into this, if I tell him we can get married in one of the wedding chapels and then rent a car and go to Yellowstone. He’ll get to climb rocks, so he’ll like that.
“He won’t like hurting Uncle Gus. Any more than I like hurting you, Mother, and you, Uncle Cyd, and Gramma and Grampa. Or disappointing Louella and Mamie and Sarah and Cloris and her sisters.
“Thank you all for working so hard to make everything so beautiful for the wedding. You deserve a party, so cut the cake and eat it and toast yourselves—and me and Aldo, if you aren’t too mad at us—with that really expensive bottle of champagne Grampa brought from France.
“We love you all very much. Honest. Love, Bebe and Aldo.”
“Shit!” Gwen flung one of Aunt Phoebe’s cushions across the R&R room and sucked a calming breath. “They’re okay. They’re alive. That’s the main thing. I can kill them when they get back from Las Vegas.”
Cydney felt sick, glanced at Gus. He gave her a thin smile.
“I could kick myself for the pizza,” she said to him miserably.
“You were provoked,” he said, and glanced at Gwen. “No offense.”
“None taken. I should be kicked for the wedding dress.”
“I’ll kick you,” Cydney offered. “If you’ll kick me.”
“How about,” Fletch said, “we take turns kicking each other?”
Cydney looked up at her parents standing in the doorway in their nightclothes, her father’s arm around her mother. His left eye was black, his nose covered by a giant, flesh-colored Band-Aid. Georgette wore her hairnet, and her sleep mask on her forehead.
“I guess you heard me read Bebe’s note,” Cydney said dismally.
“Every word.” Georgette crossed the room, sat down on the couch next to Gwen and smiled weakly at Gus. “I’m so sorry, Angus. I’m afraid this is all the Parrish family’s doing.”
“Not quite, Georgette. I wrote the Grand Plan to Wreck the Wedding, remember, and I behaved like a total jerk in Kansas City. I think there’s plenty of blame to go around.”
“The only person who’s lily-white in this is Aldo. Not the brightest crayon in the box, Gus, but he’s a good kid.” Fletch came around the back of the couch and sat down on Gwen’s other side. “I hope this is the last trick my granddaughter pulls on him to get her way.”
“Back off, Dad,” Gwen snapped. “After last night’s fist-fight I would’ve run out of here s
creaming, too.”
“I feel fine, Gwen, thanks for asking,” Fletch said, miffed. “My nose is cracked in three places and it hurts like a sonofabitch.”
“Stop it, you two. Let’s don’t start again,” Georgette said tiredly. “It’s just eight-thirty. If we split the guest list and start calling, we should be able to reach everyone who’s driving down from Kansas City.”
“I’ll help,” Fletch volunteered. “Then I think we should do what Bebe said and throw one hell of a party for the Crooked Possum folks.”
“I think we should stick to the original plan and have a wedding.” Gus took Cydney’s hand and smiled. “What do you think?”
“You mean our wedding?” She blinked at him, surprised. “You mean today? Here? This afternoon?”
“You said you wanted to be married at Tall Pines, but you didn’t want to copy Bebe. That’s not a problem now—Bebe bailed.”
“Oh Gus, I’d love it.” Cydney sighed. “But we don’t have a license.”
“So we’ll get one on Monday and have a do-over.”
“Ado-over?” she laughed. “You mean two weddings?”
“Yeah. Two weddings.” Gus grinned. “And two anniversaries. That way I’ll have a shot at remembering at least one of them.”
“Will Sheriff Cantwell marry us twice?”
“If I try to wiggle out of the second one, he’ll lock me up and force-feed me Mamie’s prickly pear jelly. What do you say?”
“Yes.” Cydney kissed him and turned to face her family.
Her father grinned, then winced. Because it hurt, Cydney guessed. Her mother and Gwen simply stared, wide-eyed and openmouthed.
“Cydney,” Georgette said dazedly. “When did this happen?”
“While you and Herb were in Arkansas, Mother.”
“Don’t blame Cydney, Georgette.” Gus swung his arm around her and jostled her against him. “Blame it on strip Ping-Pong.”
Fletch threw his head back and roared. Gwen gave a startled but delighted laugh. Her mother flushed, then smiled, took Cydney’s face in her hands and smacked a kiss on her mouth.
“Will you play ‘The Wedding March’ for me, Mother?”
Georgette’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course, darling.”
“Dad? Will you give me away?”
“You bet, honey.”
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