Mother of the Bride (40 page)

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 holes 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.

“Said I'd be here by two, but I got lost,” he said. “Twice.”

Signs. Cydney smacked her hand on her forehead. I have got to make those signs. She unlocked the garage with the key Gus had given her before he'd left this morning and she'd mentioned she was going to call her insurance company. The adjuster rolled the door up and she backed the Jeep outside. With the roof crushed, she barely fit behind the wheel. She couldn't imagine how Sheriff Cantwell had squeezed in to drive the truck up here.

“You can have your Jeep repaired here,” the adjuster said, when he'd finished his estimate. “Or we can tow it back to Kansas City and you can rent a car to drive home. Your choice.”

Cydney thanked God she paid through the nose for tow coverage.

“Then let's tow it, please.” She signed the forms he gave her and shook his hand, walked him to his car and headed back to the garage.

It felt good to be outside. The sun was bright, the air cool and crisp. She could smell the pine trees and the little bits of snow left here and there. She could see the lake, a tiny blue flash through the trees. Tall Pines was such a lovely place, even if no one could find it. No wonder Gus couldn't bear to sell it.

Cydney wasn't sure she could bear to say good-bye to it, or to Gus. She climbed into the Jeep and just sat there with the driver's door open, her stomach a cold, icy ball, her heart hammering in her ears. She loved this place, all of Aunt Phoebe's little here and there touches. And she loved Gus so much tears welled in her eyes just thinking about him.

Oh no. She was falling apart. She could not go back in the house like this. She had to get a grip on herself and get back in
the zone.
Visualize,
her little voice said.
See yourself calm and in control. It worked for Bebe and the wedding decorations.

Couldn't hurt. Cydney turned sideways in the seat and tucked her feet under her Indian-style, laid her hands on her knees with her middle fingers touching her thumbs and drew a deep breath. Closed her eyes and pictured herself being cool and collected. Suave and sophisticated. Laughing and dancing at the wedding and—Oh hell! They'd forgotten music for the reception!

Hey! We're visualizing here!
her little voice yelled.
Save the panic attack till we're finished!

“Sorry,” Cydney murmured, and drew another deep breath. Where was she? Oh yeah. Being charming at the wedding. Laughing and dancing. Though how she was supposed to dance with no music—

“What the heck are you doing, babe?”

It was Gus. Cydney jerked her eyes open and saw him standing beside the Jeep, grinning at her with his arms folded and a navy blue baseball cap turned backwards on his head. His red truck sat by the front steps behind Louella's ambulance and Sarah Boyce's old wood-paneled station wagon. Her father wore a royal blue hat backwards on his head and Aldo a bright red one. She could see them over Gus' shoulder, trotting up the steps with four huge pizza boxes in their arms.

She let her breath go in a sigh. “I'm visualizing.”

“Me, too. Lavender lace.” Gus took a step toward her, his voice husky. “Think we can swing it tonight?”

“Good Lord willin' and the crik don't rise.” Gus laughed and she grinned. “Mamie said that at lunch. What's with the rally caps?”

“Your father's idea.” Gus turned his hat around, took another step toward her and cupped his hands over her knees. “Why don't you get a headache during supper, tell everybody you're going to bed and sneak up to my room while they're still at the table?”

Cydney cocked her head at him. “You're kidding, right?”

“No, I'm not kidding.” He unfolded her legs and hooked them around his rib cage. “I'm desperate.”

“Well, you know what they say.” Cydney laid her hands on his shoulders, fighting with her breaking heart to keep her voice light, and kissed his nose. “All good things must come to an end.”

“What end?” Gus scowled at her. “We're just getting started.”

“We agreed on forever or next Saturday, whichever comes first.”

“This is only Wednesday.”

“I was a wreck last night waiting for my mother to go to sleep. When I finally dared to creep downstairs, there she was with my father. Fletch is king of the night owls. He prowls from midnight till dawn. We don't have a prayer of making this work with the house full of people.”