All the Single Ladies

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “I’ll fix a plate to share with Paul. Otherwise I’m going to eat everything in sight. It all looks so delicious.”

  “Yeah, to be honest, this is my favorite kind of food.”

  We walked to the other end of the massive but crowded porch, where the buffet was set up. A line had formed, so we had to wait a few minutes. I turned to see Harry coming onto the porch at the same moment Miss Trudie stood up from her chair, took one step, tripped, and fell flat on her face.

  “Oh! Oh no!”

  In what seemed like the exact same moment Harry zoomed through a mass of ­people straight to her side, scooped her up in his arms, and rushed her into the house. I could see through the windows as he turned left and right looking for a sofa. Suzanne and I were on the move, rushing to get to her. ­People were excited, saying, What happened? What happened? Someone fell! Move back! We finally got inside the door and to her.

  We watched as Harry handed her his white linen handkerchief. Miss Trudie’s lip was split and bleeding. Harry was standing over her saying, “Miss Trudie? I’m right here. Let me see now.” He took away the handkerchief and inspected the wound. “No stitches. You are perfectly fine. I just want to check a few things.”

  “Are you okay?” Suzanne said.

  Harry gently rotated Miss Trudie’s ankles and felt the bones in her feet.

  “I want my clodhoppers,” she said, and shot me a guilty look.

  I smiled. “I’ll get an ice pack.”

  As I headed to the kitchen I heard Harry say in the sweetest voice I’d ever known to come from him, “Miss Trudie? I’d just like to get a look at your knees. Do you mind if I raise your pant legs a bit?”

  What a sweetheart! This was a new and improved Dr. Harry Black. I really liked this one a whole lot better than the old one.

  Paul appeared with two glasses of iced tea and I explained to him what happened.

  “What a shame. Should we take her home?” he asked. “Is she all upset?”

  “I say we let her make the call,” I said.

  To my surprise Miss Trudie wanted to stay. I saw her whispering in Harry’s ear now and then and I watched him laugh. And in between icing her lip, she gobbled up every crumb of a slice of tomato pie, two deviled eggs, and a slice of blueberry pie with ice cream.

  Judy and Margaret were back and forth every few minutes making sure Miss Trudie was okay.

  “Who made the tomato pie and the blueberry pie?” she asked them.

  “I did,” they said in unison.

  “Well, I want you to know it was the most delicious tomato pie and blueberry pie I’ve ever had in all my ninety-­nine years!”

  Judy and Margaret just beamed.

  “I’ll get you some to take home,” Margaret said.

  By five in the afternoon we were all gathered at Miss Trudie’s house on the Isle of Palms. We were just rocking back and forth in our rockers, enjoying a cool drink, and chatting when Carrie and Mike arrived.

  “Hey!” Carrie called out to us from the driveway. “Guess what?”

  “What?” Suzanne called back.

  Carrie turned the back of her left hand to us as she hurried up the steps. Mike was right behind her with her luggage. Something shiny on her finger was catching the light.

  “We’re gonna have us a wedding!” she said.

  “How do you like that?” I said to Paul. Then I called to Carrie as she came onto the porch, “Congratulations!”

  Miss Trudie said, “Well, like my momma used to say, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. This takes the cake.”

  Chapter 16

  Wedding Belles

  Carrie and Mike were beside themselves with excitement. Mike dropped Carrie’s suitcase and tote bag to the floor of the porch and shook hands with Harry and Paul. Those two lovebirds were actually getting married. Suzanne and I hugged them. Even my dog, sensing happiness in the air, got on her hind legs and hopped a few times.

  “This is wonderful!” I said.

  “Let’s see that ring!” Suzanne said.

  Carrie extended her hand for us to see her engagement ring in all its intricate detail. It was absolutely lovely. I would’ve guessed it was a little over a carat but I’m not an expert when it comes to those things.

  “This is so exciting!” Miss Trudie said. “Come let me see it too!”

  Carrie hurried to Miss Trudie’s side and showed her the ring.

  “Well, isn’t this the prettiest diamond I’ve ever seen! Tell me, isn’t this a little sudden?”

  “I don’t think so.” Carrie gave her a pretend pout. “What happened to your lip?”

  “I had a little chat with the floor,” Miss Trudie said. “I’m fine.”

  “Oh. Well, thank the Lord for that! Look, Miss Trudie, it’s not like this is the first time for either of us. Besides, when we met each other we just knew! And so if you know, then why wait? Isn’t that right, Precious?”

  “Yes, Peaches! That’s right!”

  Nicknames. Precious and Peaches. Suzanne and I caught each other’s eye. I expected to see her eyes roll all the way back in her head like Regan in The Exorcist.

  “Oh! Mike! We forgot the champagne! It’s in the car. Should I run and get it?”

  “No, Peaches! Let me do that. Maybe you can get some glasses?”

  “This is a champagne moment if ever there was one,” I said.

  “I’ll help you,” Suzanne said.

  Mike went outside and down the steps quickly, and before Carrie and Suzanne could even step a foot into the kitchen, he was back on the porch with a fancy-­looking bottle of champagne with a French name I couldn’t pronounce to save my life.

  “When’s the wedding?” Paul said.

  “Next week,” Mike said. “We were thinking Saturday afternoon. We hope y’all will be there.”

  “Holy crap,” Harry said. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  We all had a good laugh at that. What do you know? Harry could be fast on his feet. Suzanne and Carrie came back with champagne flutes.

  “I had to rinse them!” Suzanne said. “We haven’t used them since the millennium!”

  “I’m sure they’ll work just fine,” Miss Trudie said.

  “I have to say, I am slightly stunned myself. I know it seems impulsive and I’ve never done anything impulsive in my entire life,” Mike said. “But we couldn’t be happier. Isn’t that right, Peaches?”

  “Yes, it is, Precious,” Carrie said, and gave him a polite smooch.

  “Okay, enough with the Precious and the Peaches. I need insulin,” Suzanne said.

  “Oh, poop! You spent too much time in Chicago, Suzanne,” Carrie said. “Those winters made you cold.”

  She was kidding, of course, but she hit a raw nerve. What happened to Suzanne in Chicago had surely made her leery of romance and all its nuances. And everyone on the porch knew it.

  “I don’t know about that, Carrie,” Harry said, saving the moment. “In fact, I strongly disagree. Can I help you with that bottle?”

  “Sure,” Mike said. “Thanks!”

  “Perhaps nicknames,” Miss Trudie said with a pause, “are better used privately.”

  Carrie blushed and Suzanne said, “Oh, please! It’s no big deal! I was just giving you a little heat.”

  The pecking order among the men was interesting. Harry was the most aggressive, Paul was quieter, and Mike deferred. Harry popped the cork and handed the bottle to Mike, who began to fill the glasses. Miss Trudie hooked her finger to Harry, indicating she wanted to have a private word with him.

  He went to her side and leaned down.

  I heard her whisper, “Just give her some time. I know my granddaughter.”

  Then Miss Trudie looked straight at me.

  “Lisa?”

  “Olives?” I said.

  “Th
ank you, sweetheart,” Miss Trudie said.

  I went to the kitchen thinking about Miss Trudie and what she probably had rolling around in her head. Carrie had landed a man, and judging by his car and the ring, perhaps of some means, and suddenly her future seemed secure. Miss Trudie was working on Harry to be patient with Suzanne and I knew that she had told Suzanne not to let Harry get away. For all sorts of reasons that I couldn’t find fault with, Miss Trudie was right about Harry. He was a catch.

  And I knew Suzanne well enough to know that she was taking her time because she had been burned so badly by the only man she had ever loved. Who could blame her for that? Besides, it wasn’t in her nature to be impetuous any more than it was in mine. And Paul and I seemed to have found a comfortable stride. Interestingly, none of us were staying at the men’s houses overnight. We all came home to Miss Trudie as though she was the queen bee of our hive, which in many ways she was. All of us, the men included, wanted her approval. She was a very special lady, so generous to us, and she commanded and received a lot of respect for her common sense and insight. So she drank a nightly jumbo martini with a fistful of olives. So what?

  I put some olives in a dish and took them out to her. Her glass of gin was empty.

  “Can I refresh that for you?” I said.

  “No, no. I’m going to have champagne,” she said. “It’s not every day that someone gets engaged.”

  “That’s true! I’d like to propose a toast!” Mike said. “Here is to my beautiful bride-­to-­be. Thank you for saying yes. You’ve made me the happiest man in the world!”

  “Oh, Mike! I love you, sweetheart!” she said.

  “Here, here!” we all called out. “Congratulations!”

  “Bride-­to-­be” and “sweetheart” were decidedly easier on the ear than “Peaches” and “Precious.”

  We raised our glasses and took a sip. It was delicious champagne. I made a guess that I could probably buy more than a few bottles of André for what that single bottle cost.

  “So, Mike?” Harry said. “What kind of work do you do?”

  It struck me then that I had no idea what this fellow did for a living. Carrie had never told us.

  I looked at Carrie and whispered, “What does he do?”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “He tried to explain it to me but pheromones got in the way.”

  Suzanne threw an eye roll my way and I giggled.

  “I own a small PR firm,” Mike said. “I have about twenty accounts that are steady business and then a number of others that come to us for rebuilding market share and image or for lobbying ser­vices.”

  “Do you ever come to Columbia?” Paul said. “I just started a pretty big project there.”

  “Oh, yeah. Carrie told me about it. I’m there all the time. Actually, I’m from Greenville,” Mike told him. “And I have a woman who just came on board who lobbies with the legislature on behalf of NORML.”

  “What’s normal?” I asked.

  “That’s the question of the day,” Carrie said, thinking Mike meant “normal” as in “the usual.” “Sweetheart? I thought you were from Spartanburg.”

  “Simpsonville, actually. It means National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws,” Mike said.

  Oh. God. Please. No.

  “Do they want to decriminalize recreational use or make it legal for medical use?” Suzanne asked.

  “Both,” he said.

  Harry piped up. “You know, I read somewhere that in 2012 there were over seven hundred and fifty thousand arrests in this country for possession. In 2013, there were fewer, around seven hundred thousand. Any way you slice it up, that’s a crazy number.”

  “I guess you have to ask if this is the best use of our legal system,” Mike said. “The court calendars are always jammed.”

  I said nothing. I wasn’t about to join in a debate on the topic with my boss standing right there. So I changed the subject.

  “Carrie? Tell me, what are your plans for the ceremony?”

  “Oh my! Well, we were thinking we’d get married right across the street on the beach. We just have to find someone to officiate. Like a notary.”

  “I’m a notary!” Paul said.

  “Wonderful!” Carrie looked at Mike to see if he had any objection.

  “That’s great! Would you do us the honor?” Mike asked, and squeezed Carrie’s hand.

  “The honor would be mine!” Paul shook hands with Mike.

  “You’re a notary? How come?” I said.

  “Because early on in my career, the firm I worked for needed one. I just kept renewing my license. It comes in handy all the time,” he said. “Like now.”

  “Oh! This is going to fall right into place,” Carrie said. “Now, we need two witnesses. Suzanne, will you and Harry do the job?”

  “Of course!” Suzanne said.

  “I’d be so honored,” Harry said.

  “And then,” Carrie continued, “I thought we’d go out for brunch at Langdon’s in Mount Pleasant.”

  “This all sounds very nice,” Miss Trudie said. “I’ll have to go up to the Harris Teeter and get a new beach chair. I’m going to be part of the congregation with Lisa and Pickle.”

  “Let’s get two chairs and I’ll decorate them!” Suzanne said. “I’ve got miles of wedding ribbon in my studio! And, of course, the flowers are on the house.”

  “Would you like me to arrange the brunch?” I said.

  “Would you?” Carrie said. “We’ve got so much to do! We need to get our marriage licenses and I’ve got to figure out what to wear.”

  “I’m happy to do it!” I said.

  “Oh!” Carrie said. “Suzanne?”

  “What?” Suzanne said.

  “Can I have next Saturday off?”

  “Um, okay,” she said, and laughed. “As it happens, next weekend is the first weekend in three months that I don’t have a big event on my calendar.”

  “We’ll take that as a good omen,” Carrie said.

  So the rest of the week we were caught up in Carrie’s wedding plans, decorating the beach chairs, and finding a selfie stick for our smartphones so we could take pictures of all of us at once. Did Suzanne and I believe that Carrie was deeply in love with Mike Kelly? We were less than certain, but I’d say that the affection they demonstrated seemed genuine and so did the love they proclaimed to feel. So? Why shouldn’t it work? How much of falling in love was a decision? Maybe the fourth time was the charm? I just hoped no one would call him “John” and jinx it.

  Saturday morning was clear and beautiful. The tide would be low at eleven, which was when Carrie and Mike decided to exchange their vows. Suzanne left early in the morning to put together a bouquet for Carrie and something for Mike. When she came home at ten with a long box it was obvious she’d made more than a boutonniere for Mike. And I had a bottle of champagne and a pitcher of orange juice on the table with glasses. Just for old time’s sake I had slipped out and brought home a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts and paper cocktail napkins decorated with silver bells.

  “I dropped off the flowers for the table at Langdon’s,” Suzanne said to me. “And guess what? Fox Music House was delivering a piano! Guess who’s going to play music during brunch? Oh, you devil! Donuts?”

  “Yeah. I was feeling sentimental. And mimosas?” I said, then added, “Darius Rucker?”

  Darius Rucker was a huge celebrity who lived locally and actually played guitar. He was also the principal vocalist for Hootie & the Blowfish before he switched genres from R & B to country.

  “Yeah sure, nice as he is, Darius Rucker’s got nothing else to do on a Saturday morning.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “No, it’s Paul! Paul rented a piano and a little dance floor and he’s going to play so that Mike and Carrie can have a dance together. Isn’t that the sweetest thi
ng? That’s his gift to them!”

  “Wow! That is so nice!”

  “Plus he’s officiating? I’d say so!”

  “I got them a crystal salad bowl. Not very original but very practical.”

  “I’m sure it’s beautiful.” Suzanne opened the flower box and carefully lifted out a lei made of orchids and pink roses and a crown that matched. Then she held up a small collar of flowers that was tied with a pink ribbon. “The lei is for our groom, the crown is for Carrie, and the collar is for Pickle!”

  “How stinking cute is that?” I said.

  On a rare splurge, I had taken Pickle to the groomer. She was going to look adorable.

  Carrie had been locked in the bathroom since eight o’clock doing her hair and makeup. When she came out and into the kitchen, she looked so beautiful she literally took our breath away. She was wearing a white linen sundress and flat white sandals. It was very simple and pretty, although the wearing of virginal white was questionable, but I wasn’t bringing it up. No, ma’am.

  “Wow!” Suzanne said, handing her the crown of flowers and ribbons. “Try this on your pretty head!”

  “Oh! Suzanne! It’s gorgeous!” Carrie placed it on her head and it made her look like an angel. “Thank you so much!”

  Then Suzanne handed her a small bouquet, tightly wrapped in the same ribbons that were in her hair.

  “Just beautiful,” Carrie said.

  Suzanne shrugged. I could see that her eyes were misty. Weddings, however elaborate or intimate, had a way of bringing all sorts of complicated feelings to the surface. The sorrow of lost loves, unrequited loves, and the entire gamut of love, regrets, and disappointments run through your mind, wreaking havoc with your composure.

  Miss Trudie came into the room all dressed for the ceremony. She was wearing the aqua linen outfit I’d bought her at Belk’s and a large straw hat.

  “I don’t want to get a sunburn,” she explained.

  “Miss Trudie? You look so glamorous!” I said.

  “You sure do,” Suzanne said.

  “Thank you. Now, Carrie? I want to give you a little bedroom advice,” she said.

  Miss Trudie giving bedroom advice to Carrie was enough to make the room go dead quiet.