The Sweet By and By (12 page)

Aiden's, mine, her dad's, and yours. She'll show you how to use it when you're home long enough.”

“Gig's gone. I'm home now. Back at Midwest.” Beryl smoothed her hand over the worn quilt.

“Do you have something against marriages lasting longer than two years?”

Jade went to her desk, opened drawers, and picked out pencils, pens, and other office-type supplies. “By the way, Willow's been asking to see Mike.”

“I've called him already. Do you think it's wise for me to let her go with him?”

“About as wise as it is for her to live with you. He is her father. And he's married now. He came by with Vickie a few weeks ago. She seems nice enough, and Wills liked her.” Jade stood in the center of the room, a collection of pencils and pens in her hand. “I'd never wish it on any girl to grow up without her dad.”

“Don't judge me with that tone of yours, Jade. Harlan wasn't exactly calling up begging for you and Aiden to visit. Sorry if that sounds harsh, but it's the truth.”

With Mama, the truth was always someone else's fault. Jade unplugged her alarm clock and bedside lamp, adding them to the box of bedroom items. “Sorry about Gig, Mama.”

“Yeah, well, it was fun while it lasted.” For a quick second, their eyes met.

“Hey up there!” Mother called from the bottom of the stairs. “Joe Farrell and Marilee are here.”

Jade ran to the banister and bent over. “Be right down. Go Vols!”

“Hurry,” Marilee called. “Mom's making lasagna for our going-away celebration. And a bunch of people called to say they're coming over.”

Jade barreled back into the room, slamming down the lid of Paps' suitcase. Mother hurried in, breathless from the stairs, and without a word fell into rhythm with Jade.

“You've got your money in a safe place?” Granny asked.

Jade snatched her backpack off the floor, still with the store tags dangling from the straps. “In here, in my wallet. I've got my credit card in there too.”

“Just send me the bill.” Beryl watched as Mother lifted the suitcase lid, her hands deftly rearranging, folding, and organizing. “I'll cover up to two hundred a month, but Jade, make sure it's for school stuff, or clothes. Not pizza for your dorm floor.”

The girl kissed her granny's cheek. “Promise. And thank you.”

“All right. Shoes.” Mother glanced around. “Do you plan on going to school barefoot?”

“Shoes. I forgot.” Jade dropped to her knees in front of the closet and started shuffling out sneakers, loafers, boots, clogs, flip-flops, discussing with Mother what she'd need and when, deciding what items could wait until she came home for the holidays.

Beryl headed down the hall. She'd call Willow home from the Pattersons', then wait in the living room with the Farrells to say good-bye to Jade.

But at the bottom of the stairs, she sank to the bottom step. Her girl was going off to college, leaving home. Beryl brushed her cheeks with the back of her hand. Four months until Christmas. Already it felt like an eternity.

Ten

“That's the last one, Jade.” Harvey Roper jumped down from the flatbed he had double-parked in front of the Blue Umbrella, wiping his forehead with his red checked sleeve. “What in tarnation are you going to do with two dozen pumpkins?”

“Decorate the shop. Give it a fall look.”

“You wouldn't be waiting for the Great Pumpkin to appear now, would you?”

“Not since . . . hm, never.”

“Well all righty.” Harvey jerked open the passenger side door and took out a slip of paper. “Here's the invoice. I'll be along later for the money. No hurry.”

“Are you sure? I can cut you a check now.” Jade motioned for him to come inside, cradling the last pumpkin he'd handed her in the crook of her arm.

“Naw, best get these pumpkins off the sidewalk before someone trips and sues you.”

“Yeah, well, I know a good lawyer.”

The Indian summer day was perfumed with the sun-browned, dying fall leaves. And the subtle mountain chill made the day perfect for opening the shop door to do a little hauling. The Victorian-style street lamps were adorned with gold, red, and brown leaf wreaths.

“Need some help?” Mae called from across the street where she stood in front of Sugar Plumbs.

Jade squinted in the light. “Yeah, I do. Come on.”

“Ah, sugar, now why'd you have to go and say that?” She cupped her hand around her ear, turning toward the diner door. “What's that, Al, the kitchen's on fire? Jade, got to run.”

Jade laughed. Mae would give a person the shirt off her back, but not an ounce of muscle.

When she'd moved about half the pumpkins, Max appeared in the doorway, his suit coat hanging open and free, his tie knot cocked to one side.

“Hey,” he said, carefully stepping through the pumpkin patch.

“What are you doing here? You're wearing an Armani. Were you in court today?”

“Until two thirty.”

“Is it that late already?” She was meeting Daphne and Margot at five to try on their dresses.

“Three o'clock. The judge recessed, and I didn't have anything pressing this afternoon.” He slipped his arms around her and bent his head toward hers.

Jade loved the taste of his kiss. And the treat of seeing him in the middle of the day.

“Can you take a break?” He held her hand, glancing around the shop. “I mean, if these pumpkins don't need you.”

“Well, I don't know.” She gazed around, hands on her hips. “Pumpkins, what do you think? Should I go with him?”

“Jade, sorry I'm late.” Lillabeth burst into the shop from the back room, scooping back her hair with her Oakleys. “I'll make up the time.”

“Yeah, that one minute is really going to cost you.”

“But if you need me to work extra hours . . . Oh, pumpkins.” She smiled, rubbing her hands together. “What are we doing?”

“Decorating. Why don't you see if you can make twenty-four pumpkins— and no, I didn't really think this through—look appealing while I am whisked off by my handsome fiancé?” Jade tugged him toward the door. “We only have about an hour. I'm meeting Daph and Margot at five. Call my cell if you need me, Lilla.”

Max suggested walking to Laurel Park. Jade suggested shakes from Froggers. They ordered—strawberry for him, chocolate for her—and sat at a round stone table.

“Did you really come home just to see me?” Jade tore the paper from her straw and wadded it into a ball.

“Yes, and to talk to you about some stuff.”

“Ah, stuff.” Her eyes met his for a second, then she focused on mixing her shake with the straw. She didn't want to talk about her episode at Aretha Frankenstein's. The memory embarrassed her. How could she let panic win? Even for a moment?

“I talked to Mom.” Max shrugged off his suit jacket and folded it over his legs, then spread a napkin on the table and set his shake in the middle. “I wanted to know why she thought you should open a second shop. Why on River Street.”

“What'd she say?”

Max drew long on his straw. “The usual, she was just trying to help. Jade, she really does thrive on helping others. She's the ultimate team player. Coaches, cheers, reminds everyone of the rules.”

“Then why'd she send me out of the kitchen the night of the party?”

Max set his cup on the table and stared out over the green lawn of the park. “That's a different story. Mostly, she worries. Do you know a mom who doesn't worry?”

“Yeah, one.”
Beryl Walker Fitzgerald Ayers Parsons Hill.
“What's the story?”

“First, she was upset the Reverend Girden suggested we have a civil ceremony. I'd talked to Dad about it during lunch the other day, and he mentioned it to Mom.” Max sighed. “You'd think he'd know her better by now. Anyway, church is important to her, and her standing in the community. It upset her that her only child won't have God in the wedding. She said marriage is hard enough, and couples need all the spiritual guidance they can get. I know this is all about what Mom thinks and feels, but she does so much for people, Jade, Dad and I try to humor her.” He reached around for his ringing iPhone. “Max Benson.”

He stood, lowering his chin to his chest, his countenance fading. “When? Yeah, I'm on my way.” Clapping his phone shut, he walked his shake to the trash. “The judge turned down a motion for continuance. I've got to go back to the office, babe. I'm sorry.”

Jade tossed the rest of her milkshake into the Froggers trash can and fell in step with Max as he headed toward Broadway, slipping on his jacket. “So, you're telling me that June kicked me out of the kitchen because Reverend Girden suggested a civil ceremony? I'm not buying it, counselor. There's more to this story.”

“Yeah, well, June's not exactly a closed book. Look, Jade, she stood by me through a hard time in my life and she gets a bit protective, worried.”

“When you broke up with Rice?”

“In a way.” Max picked up the pace as they crossed the street. At his car, he paused to regard Jade. “This is not a two-minute conversation. Can we talk about it later?”

What was the resonance in his tone? The shade over his eyes? “Yes, of course.”

Jade stood in the lane, watching Max drive down the hill, until Arthur Kettle rolled his produce truck right up to her and blasted his big-honking horn. “Jade, girl, what are you, crazy?”

Jade met Daphne and Margot at the Read House Starbucks for lattes before heading to BoutiqueCouture. Rain clouds ballooned above the Cumberland Mountains, leaving the air wet and frosty.

“The bride cometh.” Waiting by the register, Margot smiled as Jade entered Starbucks, sweeping the air with her arm.

Daphne met Jade with a one-armed hug as she snapped her wallet shut. “Still going through with it, Jade? The whole marriage thing?”

“Bitter, oh so bitter.” Margot leaned over the counter to place her order. “Grande latte please, size zero.”

The barista made a face. “Zero?”

“Skinny, sweetheart. No fat.”

Daphne picked napkins from a dispenser and gathered yellow packets of Splenda. “You could dump Max the day before the wedding, and the three of us could go on the honeymoon trip and write a book about it, titled something like—”

“
Two Stupid Women and a Shrink
,” Margot offered.

“We'll go on
Oprah
—”

Jade ordered a latte, staying tuned to her friends' banter.

“I'm telling you, Daph,” Margot said, shoving her wallet into her overstuffed Coach bag. “Oprah won't launch your dream of being the female Dr. Phil.”

Jade led the way to a table while they waited for their names to be called. “I'm marrying Max, Daph. You'll have to find another way to get on
Oprah
. I love you, but I don't plan to honeymoon with you.”

Starbucks was quiet and calm, a peaceful reprieve for Jade from a busy afternoon of pumpkin hauling and hearing that her intended had an issue that still worried his mother.

But then again, it was June . . . who still pressed her hand over her heart when she recounted the story of Max falling off his first bicycle when he was six and breaking his arm. The issue had to be nothing. And, if it was something, did it matter? The ordeal belonged in the past.

Half listening to Margot go on about a skittish patient, Jade assured herself Max would cling to their bargain—the past made no difference to their future.

Because if he started snooping around the secret areas of her heart, he'd find things he never imagined.

“You okay?” Daphne asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Jade smiled, flicking her gaze over her friend's assessing stare. “Just ready for a latte and to try on my wedding dress.”

Daphne had teased her about buying a new wedding dress when she was the one aiming to be the queen of vintage. But Jade chafed at the idea of wearing another woman's wedding gown. She wanted to glide down the aisle in something uniquely hers.

The barista called Daphne's order, then Margot's, and finally Jade's. The friends stirred sweeteners into their lattes and eased into a chat about past friends' weddings—the good, the bad, and the very ugly.

“Man, remember when Tricia Palmer's ex-boyfriend busted into her wedding, drunk?” Margot smacked the table with her palm. “I was like, ‘Oh my gosh, where is my video camera?' A ten-thousand-dollar moment happening right before my eyes.”

Closing her eyes, Jade visualized Tricia's face, shaking her head. “I felt so bad for Tricia, and for her ex. What was his name? Elio or something?”

“Leave it to you to want to capitalize on someone else's pain.” Daphne
tsked, tsked
Margot.

“Me? Have you watched those home video shows? People are back-flipping off trampolines and landing on their heads, or crashing into barn doors going twenty miles an hour, belly flopping into pools, and everyone's laughing. Shoot, they add canned laughter. So don't talk to me about capitalizing on people's pain.” Margot waved her finger under Daphne's nose. “Besides, I didn't say it was funny to see Tricia's ex stumbling down the aisle right when the minister asked does anyone object. Ooo”—Margot twisted around to face Jade square on—“That's not going to happen to you, is it, Jade?”

“No, and why would you ask such a thing?” Jade squinted at her, making a face.

“If I remember your story right, your old flame Dustin—”

“You're crazy, Margot. Dustin was a gazillion years ago,” Jade insisted. And could they please change the subject?

“I'm hiding a camera in my bouquet. Just in case.” Margot blew over the surface of her coffee before taking a sip.

“If anyone is going to have an ex-boyfriend crash her wedding, it's you.” Jade tipped her head toward her bottle-blonde, red-lipped friend.