The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake (35 page)
Britney looked up at him with shimmering eyes. “It was?”
He nodded. “Forty diamonds, twenty sapphires.” He chuckled a bit. “I could never afford anything like this on my salary, and it may be the most extravagant thing you get from me, but...” He swallowed hard. “If you will... will marry me, Britney... I promise
to be the best husband you could ask for.”
She didn’t answer right away. A few tears slipped from her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. “We’ve hardly known each other—”
He shushed her. “I know. But how much time does a man need to know he’s in love before he decides to marry the girl of
his dreams?”
“You love me?” she choked out.
“With all my heart,” he said. “And you?”
“I love you too.” Then she smiled at him and extended her left ring finger. “And the answer is yes.”
Evangeline
It was Tuesday before the wedding. With just days to go I was a nervous wreck.
Vernon had pretty much steered clear of me, saying he’d have his dinners for the remainder of the week at Higher Grounds or Apple’s. Alone. I can’t say that I blame him much. I had become a bit of a bear. Growling about this. Snarling about that. Showing my claws every time I passed a calendar. It was a good thing Vernon loved me as much as he did, otherwise I’d be a lonely bride come the last Saturday of the month.
Of course, the characters of Summit View didn’t help much. Doreen Roberts and her daughter Velvet had to drive past my house at least once a day—with me living where I do, it’s unavoidable, but still—and I ran into Bob Barnett, my old sweetheart (if you can call him that) at the post office on Monday, where he informed me that while he had not received an invitation, he was assuming he could attend the wedding anyway. I told him that he most assuredly could not. Naturally, I said it politely. Something like, “I don’t think so, Bob.”
To which he replied, “Well, I don’t see why not. After all, we’ve been friends for nearly sixty years.”
“Thank you kindly, Mr. Barnett, for reminding me of my age.”
I immediately went home and called Vonnie. “What am I thinking? Marrying a man at nearly sixty! What in the world am I thinking?”
Vonnie giggled in that little-girl way she laughs and said, “So what, Evie? If you both died at eighty, that would be twenty years together. Do you know how many couples would be thrilled to make it to twenty years?”
She had a point. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
“Do you know what I think?” she asked without waiting for an answer. “I think you’ve got a bad case of cold feet. That’s what I think.”
I decided to change the subject. “So what’s new with David?” The whole David-Donna issue was too strange for me, but it was a fact of life in Summit View.
Vonnie was quiet for a moment before she answered. “He’s been... sullen.”
“Sullen?”
“Gloomy. Depressed.”
“Ah. Do you think he really loves her? I mean, really?”
Again, Vonnie was quiet. Then she answered, “I have to be honest, Evangeline, and say I’m not sure. Maybe he’s in love with her. Maybe he’s in love with the idea of her. Donna is a fine young woman. She’s spunky. She’s got her own career going. She’s brainy and gutsy and—”
“And possibly in love with someone else.”
“Do you have any idea who?”
I smiled. “Don’t you?”
“I have some thoughts on the subject. What about Vernon? Has he talked with her?”
I shook my head as though she could see me, then said, “He hasn’t said. Vernon doesn’t talk a lot about things like that.”
“I see.”
I decided to change the subject again. “Peggy will be here tomorrow,” I said. “She and Matthew.”
“Oh, how fun! How fun! I can’t wait to see her again. What a blessing for you, Evie. To have your sister here.”
I couldn’t agree more.
The following day my anxiety had given way to something akin to a nervous breakdown. As soon as Peggy and Matthew arrived and all hugs and kisses were exchanged and the luggage put away, I said quite frankly, “I really need a prescription or I’m going to fret myself to death.”
Matthew just smiled in what I’m sure he calls a part of his bedside manner, but I wasn’t kidding. “You want me to write you a prescription for some Prozac, Evangeline?” he asked, though I wasn’t sure if he was serious.
I plopped in one of the Victorian chairs in my living room. It was nearly noon, and I hadn’t even run a comb through my hair. “Do you think it will help?” I asked.
Matthew merely walked over and patted me on the hand. “I was only teasing you. What I think you need is to take a few deep breaths and try to enjoy the moment. You’ll only pass through these doors once, you know.” He stood erect, looked at his wife, and said, “I’m going to go lie down.” Then he bobbed his head, said, “Ladies,” and walked out of the living room.
Peggy watched him go, then grinned at me. “I see I got here just in time. You look absolutely awful.” She took a seat in a nearby chair, crossed her legs, and leaned toward me.
“You don’t,” I said. “You look wonderful.”
She ran her fingers through her silver hair, cut short enough to be a man’s, and said, “I’m sure I look a fright. What with traveling
since the light of day.”
“No. You look marvelous. You really do. I like your hair like that, by the way.”
“My friends say it’s chic.”
I stared at her for a few minutes and drank her in. Peggy and I don’t look a thing alike. Never have. She was always more stylish and... almost handsome. She should have been a model. Tall, thin, large blue eyes, and a natural rose to her complexion that girls of sixteen would give anything for. Of course, being married to a doctor didn’t hurt. She’d spend days lounging around the pool or hitting a fuzzy yellow ball at their country club’s tennis courts. She had a maid and a cook. She went once a week for manicures and pedicures and to get her hair trimmed. There wasn’t a month that went by that she wasn’t at a day spa somewhere.
I finally nodded at her. “It is.”
The next thing I knew she was leaping out of her chair, grabbing me by the hands, and yanking me out of my chair. With a quick glance at her watch she said, “Oh, gosh! Look at the time. Come on, sister dear. Have I got plans for us!”
Peggy’s plans had obviously been made long before she arrived. After she dragged me upstairs and practically dressed me herself, she pushed me outside to where her rental car—a BMW, naturally—was waiting. “Hop in,” she said, rounding the car toward the driver’s side. “This thing has got heated seats so we’ll have warm fannies in no time.” She laughed lightly as I slid into the car. She pulled out of my driveway and then zoomed through the streets, pointing out first one thing she’d forgotten about and then another. “My goodness. Is Higher Grounds still in business?” she asked.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked her.
“Oh, you’ll see.”
Fifteen minutes later, Peggy and I arrived in Breckenridge, where she’d previously scheduled appointments at a day spa. We spent the next several hours being pampered beyond my wildest imaginings.
The spa itself was really quite something. Hardwood floors polished to a shine, muted colored walls, lots of plants, therapeutic music, and scented candles filled the rooms. We were ushered from the entrance down a wide hallway and then to the back, where large tubs filled with hot water and sea minerals awaited us. After a half-hour soak, we were massaged with fragrant scrubs, followed by oils. Then we had facials and hot stone therapy until I do believe my brain became bubble gum. Following all that, we had pedicures, then manicures (both with paraffin treatments). As though that were not enough, Peggy had made an appointment for me with a man named Jacques, who ran his fingers through my hair, pulling at it from root to tip, and then studied my face and declared, “You really deserve something more modish, like your sister. Look at those cheeks! That bone structure! I’m going to give you the look
of Dame Judi Dench!”
Hours later—having been shampooed and my hair razor cut and highlighted—I hardly recognized the woman in the mirror. Peggy stood behind me, expressing over and over, “It’s you, it’s you, it’s so absolutely you!”
“This is the easiest style in the world,” Jacques said.
I sincerely hoped so.
A makeup expert came in and tried to sell me on all sorts of cosmetics, but I knew that Lisa Leann would have my hide if I dared buy any other products than the ones I’d already purchased from her.
When all was said and done, it was after eight o’clock in the evening and I was famished. Absolutely stunning to behold, but famished.
“Not to worry,” Peggy said. “Matthew is meeting us shortly at
Wasabi’s. We have reservations.”
I’m sure I looked stunned. “How is he getting here,” I asked, “seeing as we have your car?”
She grinned at me. “Vernon is bringing him.”
I had been missing Vernon very much. Still... “Oh, Peggy,” I said, running my fingers along the base of my very short hairline. “I don’t know if I want him to see me just yet.”
She draped her arm around my shoulder and led me toward the exit door. “You look marvelous, you smell divine, and you know you want to see him.”
I smiled at her. “I have so missed having you here. I don’t think I realized how much until today.”
She squeezed me. “I’ve missed you too.”
The following morning I was more than certain I wanted to call the whole thing off. Twice I picked up the phone to call Lisa Leann— to tell her to stop baking the cake and to put the floral arrangements on ice (or whatever they do). Twice, Peggy took the phone out of my hand and said, “You just calm down, Evangeline.”
Matthew sat in my father’s old chair in the living room and read a book he couldn’t seem to get his nose out of. Occasionally he
would look up at us and chuckle.
“You’re a fine specimen of brotherly help,” I said to him once,
but he replied only with a wink.
Thursday afternoon Vernon called and asked if he could take the four of us to dinner. “After all, Matthew paid for that rather extravagant meal last night.”
He was right about that. It was expensive. It was also delicious, and I ate entirely too much. “No,” I said. “For one thing, I think we should stay apart for the next few days. It will make the wedding day all the more special.”
“Not to mention the wedding night,” he teased.
I broke out in a sweat, handed the phone over to Peggy, who was standing nearby, and then collapsed onto the sofa.
“Vernon?” I heard Peggy say through a tunnel. “Vernon, no... no, no. She’s fine.” Then she giggled, and I decided that I would kill her just as soon as she got off the phone. “She’s just a bit nervous.”
“I’ll give you nervous,” I said weakly from beside her. Minutes later I was moaning, “Oh, Peggy. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I just can’t do this.”
Peggy sat down on the sofa beside me. “Yes, you can, Evie.” Then she propped her elbows up on her knees. “Evangeline, let me ask you a question.”
“What?”
“Is it marriage that makes you nervous or the wedding? Let me rephrase that. Is it marriage that makes you nervous or the wedding
night
?”
I turned three shades of pink. “Well, it’s not something I’ve ever experienced before.”
Peggy laughed lightly. “I suppose I should now give you the same speech our mother gave me not five minutes before I walked down the aisle.”
I cut my eyes over at her as the memory of our mother on Peggy’s wedding day washed over me. She’d been so pretty, dressed smartly in a bright yellow satin dress with white lace overlay. She’d worn white gloves and a hat made of yellow and white daisies that encircled her head like a crown, white high-heeled pumps, and a yellow and white large bead necklace and earring set. She’d been nearly as lovely as the bride. I took a deep breath and sighed. “What’d she say to
you?” I asked in a whisper.
Peggy leaned back and wrapped her arms around her middle as she gave me Mama’s “wedding night” speech. By the time she was done, we were both wiping tears of laughter from our eyes. “Mama sure was something,” Peggy ended. “She just had a way
with words.”
“She obviously loved our father very much.”
Peggy nodded. “I have the notion there were things going on you and I wouldn’t have ever imagined.” Again we laughed. Peggy wrapped my chin in the cup of her hand and squeezed. “Don’t worry about the wedding night, Evangeline. I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
I nodded.
“Are you going to be alright, then?”
I nodded again.
Peggy squeezed one more time. “Good. Now, you take a nap,” she said as she got up. “I’m going to make a cabbage and apple salad
to go with our dinner tonight.”
I watched as she walked over to the quilt stand, pulled a throw from one of its rungs, and then walked back to where I lay. Draping it over me, she added, “How’s that sound?”
“Divine,” I said, closing my eyes.
