A Lowcountry Wedding (31 page)

But first, they had reservations for lunch at Magnolias. Fresh flowers decorated the tables draped in thick white linen. As usual, the restaurant was filled with locals and visitors alike. The girls were seated swiftly, and a short time later Carson bit into her fried-green-tomato BLT. She closed her eyes and emitted a soft groan of pleasure.

“I’d forgotten how delicious this was,” she muttered while chewing. “Does anyone make a better fried green tomato?”

“Not exactly the diet of someone shopping for a wedding dress,” Harper said testily.

Carson picked up a chip and devoured it. “I don’t care about a dress half as much as I care how damn good this is.” She looked at Harper. “How’re your chicken livers?”

Harper looked at her plate, barely touched, and offered a quick but unenthusiastic smile. “Very good. I’m just not that hungry.”

“Oh, baby, do you have morning sickness?” asked Dora, eyes round with concern. Harper resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Dora had been clucking around her like a mother hen since she’d announced her pregnancy. Besides, she wasn’t feeling sick. More sad and confused by her argument with her mother earlier that morning. That and the prenup. The thought of asking
Taylor for one hung over her like a thundercloud about to burst.

“Yes,” she lied. “I should have ordered something bland.” At that thought, suddenly the smell of the liver made her stomach turn for real.

“You just hold on a minute, sugar.” Dora raised her hand and signaled the waitress. “I’m sorry, but could you remove her plate, please, and bring us some toast with avocado and sea salt?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” The waitress picked up the offending plate with alacrity and nodded demurely, whisking it away and hurrying back to the kitchen.

Harper smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

“You should’ve ordered a crème brûlée while you were at it,” Carson said. “If you didn’t finish it, I’d help you out.”

“How can you eat like that and keep your figure?” Dora asked.

Carson shrugged. “High metabolism, I guess. And lots of exercise. It’s always the exercise. Sorry. No secrets there. By the way, are you still running?”

Dora looked slightly embarrassed. “I was until recently. I’m just starting work with Devlin’s company and I’ve got a lot to learn. I’m running around like a chicken without a head. On top of that, I’ve got Nate’s schedule to juggle. You’d think I’d be losing weight, nervous energy and all, but I’m not. I’m gaining. But,” she added with more pride, “Nate’s joining clubs at school and he has new friends! Oh, he’s doing so well. It warms the cockles of my heart to set up playdates.”

“He’s doing so well at the new school,” Harper said, feeling
genuinely happy for the ten-year-old boy who’d been so lonely before Dora had moved to Sullivan’s Island.

Dora nodded her assent. “The private school is costing me an arm and a leg, but it’s worth every penny.”

“How’s Cal taking it?” asked Carson. “Still complaining about the tuition?”

Dora rolled her eyes. “Of course. That man can’t utter a sentence without attaching a whine to it. But it’s in writing. You gotta love a good lawyer.”

The waitress returned with the toast for Harper and a basket of warm rolls for the table. The scent of biscuits lured Harper, suddenly ravenous, to reach for one immediately. She looked up to see Dora staring at the rolls.

“Oh, go ahead,” Harper told her. “Today’s special.”

Dora thought a moment, then shook her head with resolution. “Nope. I have to try on a bridesmaid gown. And I’m standing up there next to you two beanpoles.”

Carson chuckled and took another large bite of her sandwich. “You look beautiful, Sister mine. And happy. That’s what matters. How’s it going with ol’ Dev, anyway?” Carson and Devlin had been friends for years. She had prodded a reluctant, withdrawn Dora to go out to meet him the previous summer.

“Our professional relationship is fine. There were a few noses out of joint at the office when I first arrived. Some of them thought I was getting preferential treatment. Sleeping-with-the-boss kind of thing. Devlin put a stop to that right quick. By the way, Mamaw offered to introduce me to her friends, and we all know how important that is. So, I’m feeling hopeful there. And Devlin and I work well together. We’re
like peas and carrots that way. Our personal lives, however . . .” Dora shook her head and twiddled her fork in her fingers. “All this marriage talk is making him testy.”

“Meaning he wants to get married?” Carson said, swirling her iced tea.

“Right.” Dora skewered an olive. “He doesn’t understand why we don’t join the fray.”

“Frankly, Sis, I don’t either.” Carson looked at Harper for agreement. She was busy chewing a roll and only nodded.

Dora abandoned her fork and instead reached for her white wine. “I just don’t want to get married right now. Should I feel guilty about that?”

“Hey, I have no problem with that,” Carson said, heading off an argument. “It’s Devlin who’s having the problem.”

“I can handle Devlin. Just lay off, okay?” Dora sipped her wine, frowning. “Sorry. I’m a little sensitive about that subject.”

“I understand,” Carson said.

“The thing that’s got me seriously worried is he’s made some noise about selling the cottage.”

“
Your
cottage?”

“Technically it’s not my cottage. I rent it from Devlin, at a ridiculously low amount.”

“Ooh, that horrible man,” Carson teased. “Cruel and unusual, making you pay only token rent.”

Dora grinned and acknowledged the tease with a nod of her head. “We both understood from the beginning that I was doing him a favor by renting the house. I was taking care of the place until the market improved and a good offer came up.”

“And he was doing you a favor,” Harper pointed out.

“For sure.”

“And you believed him that it was a real estate agreement?” Carson asked skeptically.

“Hell, no. I know I’m a kept woman, but it’s a good excuse, isn’t it?”

Carson burst out laughing.

“He loves me and I love him. I know we’ll get married someday, and this cottage bit is just business. That’s the deal. We flip houses to make money. I get part of the profit. But, shit,” Dora said under her breath, “I love that little cottage. So does Nate.”

“Can you afford to rent it for more money?” Harper asked.

“No.” Dora shook her head. “No way. I’m scared I won’t be able to afford rent for a crappy place off island as is. I won’t be able to stay on Sullivan’s, for sure. And no!” Dora said sharply, pointing at Carson, who was about to interrupt. “I’m not moving in with Devlin. He’s already asked and I told him no. I can’t live with him before I’m married. I couldn’t bear the gossip.”

Dora’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d just said. She swung her head around to face Harper. Her sister was sitting straight backed with an unreadable expression on her face, but her already-fair skin had visibly paled another shade. “Oh, Harper, I didn’t mean anything by that. I don’t care if it’s just me living with him. It’s Nate I have to think about. School and all. Kids can be so nasty.”

Harper shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I understand. Though frankly, I couldn’t care less about gossip.”

“Good for you.” Carson raised her glass of iced tea.

“Really?” Dora challenged with a cool gaze. “You’re not living with Blake.”

“Oh, I’d live with Blake, no problem. I just like it better at Sea Breeze.” Carson chuckled, then took a healthy swallow.
“And if you tell him that, I’ll deny it.” After they finished laughing, she added, “Hey, Dora, I’m in the same boat as you are. Blake and I are undecided about where to live. We could stay in Blake’s apartment after we get married. We both love Sullivan’s and being close to y’all. But he’s hankering to move to John’s Island, closer to work. He wants to buy a house.” Carson shuddered. “And nothing says forever like buying a house together.” She grimaced. “It all sounds so permanent.”

“Sister mine,” Dora told her, leaning in, “that’s what marriage is. Permanent.” She lifted one shoulder in response to Carson’s questioning glance. “Well, it’s supposed to be,” Dora backtracked, acknowledging her own divorce. “Hey,” she suddenly said with excitement. “If Blake lets his place go, let me know. It’s one of the few affordable places on the island. I might be interested.”

“Sure, but hold your horses, Sister. I like it there, too.

“Deal.”

“Okay, subject change. Can I just ask what our opinion of Reverend Green is?” Carson asked, eyes twinkling.

“Besides the fact that he’s
GQ
material?” Dora asked. Carson hooted in response. “I mean, heavens above, how is a man like that a minister? And not married?”

“He can get married,” Carson told her.

“Then why hasn’t someone snatched him up?” Dora speared another piece of lettuce. “Anyway, I like him. He seems like real folk. Plus he’s a friend of Mamaw’s. There’s something about him that makes him so easy to talk to. Do you feel that?”

“Very much so,” Carson acknowledged.

Dora swung her head to check out Harper. “How about you?”

“Oh, sure, I like him, too.” Her voice was flat.

“You okay?” Dora asked her, her voice laden with concern. “You’re awful quiet over there, Little Mouse.”

Harper smiled, hearing the old nickname her sisters used to call her. “Yes.” She paused, then shook her head. “No.”

“What’s going on?” Carson asked.

Harper picked up her knife and idly started tracing lines on the tablecloth. “How do you two come down on the subject of prenups?”

Carson and Dora both sat back and exchanged a quick, commiserating glance. “I don’t like them,” Carson said firmly, right off the bat. “If you’re making the decision to get married, for better or for worse, richer or poorer, tossing in a prenup is kind of like you saying, ‘But just in case, I’m throwing in a safety net. For me.’ ”

“That’s easy for you and me to say,” Dora said. “Neither of us has any great fortune to protect. We’re just looking to make a life together with the person we love. But Harper does. A prenuptial agreement is important for people like her who have to protect multimillion-dollar financial interests. And not just money, but her family estate. Things that have been in her family for generations. And ours! Let me remind you, Harper owns Sea Breeze now. God forbid, what if she dies young? The house would go to Taylor. It would fall out of the family.”

“Taylor’s a good guy,” Harper said defensively. “He would never do anything untoward. Especially with a baby. He’d have a family to think about no matter what.”

“All true. But he’s also young,” Dora reasoned. “And hot. He’d get married again. And he and his pretty new wife would have children. On his death, or divorce, Sea Breeze would be out of the family.”

“Damn,” said Carson, appearing worried for the first time. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Most brides don’t,” said Dora. “Let me tell you, I wish I’d signed one with Cal. We didn’t have a pot to pee in, but we both promised the other that, if we ever got divorced, we’d split the money up even-steven, but he would keep his family antiques and I would keep mine. It made sense we’d want those pieces that were part of our histories. Sentimental, you know? But lo and behold, once Cal figured out how much some of my pieces were worth compared to his during our divorce, he got the lawyers to claim all as community property. That’s how I lost some of my furniture, my silver, and my art. I only wish I had the money to buy them back. Just saying, you don’t know how nasty divorces can get.” Dora picked up her wineglass. “Like they say, ‘Marriage is grand. Divorce is fifty grand.’ ” With that she swallowed down the rest of her wine.

Harper appeared troubled. “I hear what you’re saying and see the sense in it. But I feel like asking for a prenup is saying to Taylor that I don’t trust him.”

“I think you can make your prenup about anything you want it to be. My Lord”—Dora giggled—“you’d be surprised what some prenups include. I heard of things such as how often you have sex, too much weight gain, housekeeping chores, who gets the pets.”

“That’s horrible.” Harper’s face reflected her feeling. “Why are they even getting married? Seems like they’re entering nothing more than a contractual agreement.”

“That’s what marriage is,” Carson reminded her. “A contractual agreement. Legally binding. If you don’t want a prenup, you could always opt for cohabitation.”

“No.” Harper shook her head. “That seems so lacking in commitment. I want to marry Taylor and be his wife. I love him and my child, and I want us to be a family.” Tears started filling her eyes.

“Spoken like a bride,” Dora said with a hint of warning.

“Aw, honey, don’t let this upset you.” Carson reached across the table to put her hand over Harper’s.

“She’s right, honey. And for what it’s worth, my backwoods beliefs about prenups is that it’s no big deal. It’s like prearranging anything, even your funeral. Which, girls, you should both do. ’Cause remember, the reality is that up to fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. And of those that don’t, one hundred percent end in death.”

“And on that happy note”—Carson put her napkin on the table—“we have to scoot. As you’re so fond of telling me, there is so much to do. We picked up the rings, nailed the venues and the bands. But now you have to put ‘get a lawyer’ on your to-do list.” She snorted when she saw the dismay on Harper’s face.

“Oh my God, look at the time,” Dora said, checking her watch. “We’re supposed to meet the grandmothers at the bridal salon at two. It’s nearly two now.”

Harper pulled out her wallet. “Tell you what, I’ll pay the bill to save time.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Carson said, reaching for her wallet.

“Done!” Harper flagged down the waitress and handed her a credit card.

“I’ll pay you back,” said Dora, rising to her feet. “You know what they say. When women have problems or get depressed, they eat or go shopping. We did both.”

Carson piled some cash on the table for a tip. “Men invade a country.”

Dora smiled. “Well I, for one, would rather do the former. Less mess and way more fun.”