“I bought stock in aloe vera,” Mama responded. “So I’m good.”
“Would you like some food?” Ophelia appeared from behind Lori-Lou.
“Food. Ugh.” Mama groaned, putting her hand on her stomach. “If I never eat again, it’ll be fine with me.” She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Your father said he wanted to get his money’s worth, so he pretty much ate all day every day.”
“Oh my.”
“Tell me about it. We started in the Windjammer Café in the mornings, gravitated to the grill on the top deck for lunch, and then had a glorious dinner each night in the main dining room. You’ve never seen so much food—appetizers, main courses, desserts—anything you like, and as much of it as you’d like.”
At this point, every woman in the room was clustered around us, all listening to Mama’s story. So much for thinking this would be a shower for Queenie.
“The whole thing sounds wonderful,” Lori-Lou said. “Except for the sunburn part. Still, I can’t imagine going on a cruise without any of the kids along.” She sighed. “For that matter, I can’t imagine going anywhere without the kids along.”
“Oh?” Mama looked around. “Are they with you today?”
Lori-Lou nodded. “Sort of. Josh is watching them at Dairy Queen. After that they’re going to the park. If it’s not too cold, I mean. It’s getting chilly out there.”
“Well, when you get the chance, take a cruise. But don’t eat all day like Herb did. It was terrifying to watch.” She faced me again. “I’m pretty sure your father put on ten pounds. I put on five myself. But we had a wonderful time. Mostly. One of these days I’ll tell you about the family we met in the dining hall. We had to share a table with them.” She shivered, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the sunburn or the conversation.
“Back to the party, folks.” Ophelia clapped her hands. “We’ve got a cake to cut.”
“And cookies to eat,” Prissy said.
“And presents to open!” Lori-Lou added.
“Oh, but first tell me how the lingerie shower went last night, Queenie,” Mama said.
At this, my grandmother had to sit down. Several of the other ladies started giggling. In fact, Prissy nearly lost it. Her face turned as red as the buttons on her blouse.
Terrific. And here I’d thought we might get away with not mentioning it.
“We’ll tell you everything,” Bessie May said. “What do you want to hear first?”
“For pity’s sake.” Queenie shook her head. “You missed a fiasco. These crazy old women just wanted to shame me.”
“Or raise your blood pressure,” Ophelia said.
“Trust me, Paul Bradford’s blood pressure is surely going to be elevated when he sees her in a couple of those getups we gave her.” Prissy slapped her knee. “It’s gonna be a humdinger of a honeymoon, we’ll just leave it at that!”
If one could judge from the expression on my grandmother’s face, she was clearly disgusted with this conversation. “What a ridiculous waste of money,” she muttered. “Seriously.”
“Now, I thought that white lace nightie was lovely, Queenie,” Bessie May said. “Nothing wrong with that one.”
“The fabric is thin. I can’t abide thin fabric. Give me a good flannel nightgown any day.”
“Flannel?” Lori-Lou groaned. “Tell me you’re not wearing flannel on your honeymoon, Queenie.”
“What I’m wearing—or not wearing—on my honeymoon is nobody’s business.” My grandmother’s face flushed. “Now, let’s change the subject, please and thank you. I think we have more important things to discuss than my nightgowns. Didn’t someone say there was a cake to be cut? I’d love a slice.”
“A small slice, Queenie,” Ophelia said. “You don’t want to pack on the pounds before you have to wear that hot pink nightie I bought you.”
This garnered a groan from Queenie. Or maybe the groan had more to do with the fact that she was attempting to stand. Her knee appeared to give out on her, but Lori-Lou and I caught her before she went down.
“There you go.” Queenie released a sigh. “If the nightie doesn’t win him over, my slick moves will.”
Everyone laughed.
Minutes later Ophelia cut the cake. She and Lori-Lou served up slices while I organized the women into two groups to play our first game.
“Choose one woman from each group to be the bride,” I instructed.
The first group chose Prissy Moyer. The second group chose, of all people, Joni. She argued that she wasn’t technically a guest at this party, but that argument did her no good.
“Okay, now take the rolls of toilet paper, and when I say go, begin to wrap your bride, making the toilet paper into her wedding gown.”
“Toilet paper brides?” Queenie shook her head. “What will they think of next?”
“Ready, set . . . go!” I stood back and watched as the groups dressed their respective brides. I couldn’t fathom how they did it, but Joni’s group had her looking very bride-like at the end of the challenge. Prissy, on the other hand, looked like a mummy.
Mama pulled out her phone and snapped pictures. “Oh, this’ll be perfect to post on Facebook. I can’t wait.”
“If you dare post a picture of me dressed in toilet paper, I’ll sue you, Marie Fisher!” Prissy hollered.
That didn’t stop Mama. She continued to take pictures. My favorite was the one with Joni covered in white and holding a toilet paper bouquet. Maybe Levi would take the hint.
Afterward we played another, calmer game. This one was a fill-in-the-blank story that turned out to be a lot of fun. Lori-Lou won the game—hardly fair, since she was a hostess, not a guest. But she gave her prize to the bride-to-be, which balanced things out.
Finally the moment arrived.
“Presents!” Ophelia squealed.
“Sure hope they’re not as embarrassing as the ones last night,” Queenie said.
“You’ll never believe what I went through to get that black negligee.” Bessie May shook her head. “I bought it online from some site I’d never been to before. And ever since, I’ve been plagued with spam. Horrible stuff.”
“Oh, Spam is horrible stuff,” Ophelia agreed. “I’ve never liked it, though my husband—God rest his soul—ate it once a week.”
“Not that kind of spam, Ophelia.” Bessie May rolled her eyes. “Anyway, ever since I ordered the negligee from that site, I get the weirdest pop-ups.”
“I had a pop-up for breakfast,” Prissy said. “One of those Toaster Strudel things. Still not sure why they call ’em pop-ups. They don’t pop up when you bake them.”
“My experience on the internet has changed since I placed the order,” Bessie May said. “And not in a good way. You would be stunned at the pictures I’ve seen. I truly didn’t know the human body could get into some of those positions.”
“Oh my.” Mama fanned herself. “Is it getting hot in here?”
“You’re sunburned, Marie,” Queenie said. “But it is getting warm.”
“I wish I could get those pictures to go away.” Bessie May shrugged. “I might have to throw my computer out the window and buy a new one. I can’t imagine looking at such things every time I want to check my email. Such terrible photos.”
The women continued to gab as I passed gifts to Queenie, expressions of glee sounding as she opened one gift after another, and none of them risqué at all. When she got to mine, Queenie gasped and turned my way. “Oh, Katie, it’s beautiful.” She held up a glittering tiara.
“I know you didn’t want a veil, but you’re the matriarch of the family. You’re our Queenie. So you need a crown.”
“Do you think?” A lovely smile lit her face as she examined it.
“It’s perfect!” I clasped my hands together, thrilled with her reaction.
“Great. Give her a crown and she’ll want a scepter too.” Bessie May groaned and then laughed.
“Everyone deserves to be a princess—er, a queen—for a day,” I argued. “Especially
on her wedding day. Wear it, Queenie. You’ll look fabulous.” I stood beside her as she fingered the jewels in the crown. I took it from her and eased it into her silver hair. The mesh of silver and crystals against that radiant hair was exquisite.
“I must admit, she does look like royalty,” Prissy said.
“I do?” Queenie pulled out her compact and looked at her reflection.
“A royal pain is more like it,” Bessie May said. “She’s been so stubborn throughout this whole process. Doesn’t want anyone to do anything for her. She’s so used to calling the shots that she won’t take any help from us.”
“It’s just pride, plain and simple,” Ophelia said. “But you know what the Bible says: ‘Pride goeth before a fall.’”
“Oh, I won’t fall, Ophelia,” Queenie said. “I’ll be walking down the aisle on my Herb’s arm. He’s been given strict instructions to hold on tight so I don’t fall.”
“With all the weight he’s put on, I hope he makes it.” Mama sighed and took another bite of her cake. And then another.
“And there you go.” Ophelia rolled her eyes. “I can see it all now.”
I could too, and what I saw brought a smile to my face. Queenie would have her big day, surrounded by people who adored her. Pop would make sure she made it down the aisle without tumbling. And I’d be there to witness the whole thing.
Queenie gave a little wave of thanks. “Ladies, I’m grateful. And thanks for not showering me with embarrassing gifts . . . like last night.”
“This is a church shower, after all,” Lori-Lou said.
“Humph.” My grandmother rolled her eyes. “All of the ladies in attendance last night were church friends and that didn’t stop any of them from their shenanigans. Just grateful things played out differently today.”
“No shenanigans here, Queenie,” I promised.
At least, I hoped not. One never knew what the rest of the day might hold.
Turned out the gifts were pretty tame. A new toaster—four-slice. A Crock-Pot, because no one can have too many of those. And an iron. Really? Who bought a bride an iron as a gift?
There were some lovely gifts too. A beautiful crystal picture frame for the wedding photo. A scrapbook to memorialize the big day. A pretty serving tray, and even some beautiful toasting glasses from Mama.
“I found ’em in Cozumel,” she said. “Got ’em for a song.”
“From a guy named Juan Carlos?” I asked.
“Um, no. From a shop that sells high-end glassware. Had a doozy of a time getting them back without breaking.”
Queenie proclaimed them to be perfect and said she couldn’t wait to use them at the reception. This led to a dissertation from Prissy about the punch recipe she planned to use, which somehow transitioned to a story about how old man Peterson had been picked up on a DWI. I couldn’t quite figure out how we’d gotten from one topic to the others, but I was stunned to hear about the arrest.
After Queenie opened her gifts, she thanked her guests and gave a little speech about how much they meant to her. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all. This room is filled with the dearest people in the world to me, and I’m honored you’ve lavished me with your love.”
Bessie May wiped away a few tears and said, “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve stirred up my allergies.” This got a laugh from the others.
I headed to the kitchen to help Lori-Lou with the dishes. I found her in a reflective frame of mind. “I think it’s so sweet the way they all support her.” Her words were followed by a little sigh. “I hope when we’re really old we’re still as close as they are.”
“Yes, me too. But promise you won’t buy me a negligee from a naughty website when I’m old. Pinky swear?”
“Pinky swear.” She stuck out her pinky and we laughed as we made the promise. Then we tackled the mounds of dirty dishes, tossing the paper ones and putting the rest into the soapy water in the sink.
“You won’t be getting married when you’re Queenie’s age,” Lori-Lou said after a few moments. “I have a feeling it won’t be long before we’re doing all of this for you.” She handed me a clean ladle, which I dried with a dish towel.
“Maybe. Not sure.” I thought about Brady, about his kisses, his sweet words. Just as quickly, I remembered his upcoming surgery. And the chaos at the bridal shop. And his mother’s yearlong stint in Paris. Maybe I wouldn’t be getting engaged anytime soon.
We continued to work together, our conversation sweet. Well, until Ophelia interrupted us.
“I’m going to serve up another round of cake,” she said. “Sure don’t want Queenie to take it home. She’ll pack on the pounds between now and the big day, and that will never do.”
Before I could say, “No thank you,” Mama stuck her head in the door and gestured for me to join her in the reception hall. I tossed the dish towel and followed her.
She engaged me in a conversation on the far side of the room, away from the others. “I’ve been thinking about what Bessie May said about her computer. All of that stuff about spam and such. We don’t often talk about those things in the Baptist church, but perhaps we should.”
“O-oh?” Where was she going with this?
“Yes. I believe I’ll ask Levi to teach a class on internet safety to the seniors.”
“Oh, good idea. But Mama, I sincerely hope you don’t tell him Bessie May’s lingerie story. It would wreck him.”
“It won’t wreck him. He won’t be shocked at all, I daresay. He’s such a great guy.” She gazed across the room, transfixed by something in the distance. “Sometimes a person doesn’t have to look far to find the perfect match.”
“What do you mean?” I followed her gaze to Joni, who walked from person to person, picking up empty plates and tossing them in the trash can.
“I assume someone’s filled you in on the scoop?” Mama whispered.
“Unless you’re talking about ice cream, the answer would be a big fat no. What scoop?”
“About Joni.”
“Joni? You mean that she’s working as a wedding coordinator now? Yes, I know all about that.”
“No.” Mama shook her head. “Joni. Levi. Dating.”
“Oh, right. I know there was some rumor about it, but it’s been confirmed?” I asked. “Last I heard, it was just speculation.”
“I’d like to believe it’s more. He worked as the youth pastor over the summer,” Mama explained. “But then, you knew that.”
“Um, yes. You tried to hook me up with him after Casey broke my heart.”
“True, true. I thought he might be a good option for you, Katie Sue. You can’t blame a mama for trying.”
Actually, I could, but I didn’t choose to do so at the moment. “So what happened?” I asked in an attempt to get Mama back on track.
“Well, Levi was working with the youth, as I said, and Joni was hired by the church to coordinate weddings.” Mama paused. “I don’t mind admitting we were all a bit . . . surprised. She just didn’t seem the wedding-ish type, if you know what I mean. But there they were, Levi and Joni, working at the church together day after day. Before long she was volunteering to help with the youth alongside him, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Just seems strange. She was so tough in high school. And Levi was a mess back then.”
“I suppose that’s what they have in common,” my mother said. “They’ve both been through significant changes in their lives. You just never know how things are going to turn out, do you?”
“No, I guess not.”
Mama grew silent for a moment. When she did speak, the emotion in her voice took me by surprise. “Katie Sue, you know I love you.”
“Well, yes, Mama. I know that.” But I also knew that when her conversations started with “You know I love you,” she was about to do something to make me question it.
“Jasper and Crystal are doing a fine job at the hardware store. She’s settled right in and the people just adore her.”
“Th
at’s good news, but what does it have to do with me?”
“Well now . . .” She turned to face me, eyes brimming with tears. “I know that your father and I have been away a lot. He’s got me gallivanting from one beach to another, and I don’t mind admitting the nomad life has been fascinating. Not quite what you read about in books—especially if you’re traveling with someone like your father, who tends to throw his dirty clothes everywhere in those tiny cruise ship cabins—but fascinating.”
“That’s great, Mama.”
“But it would make me feel better if I knew you were in Fairfield where you belong.”
“I’m sorry—what?”
She reached to grip my hand. “Fairfield is your home. Surely you’re not thinking of staying in Dallas forever. Right?”
“I hadn’t really thought about forever.”
“Of course you’re thinking about forever. After you and Brady get married, you’ll settle down somewhere.”
Ah. So that was where this was headed. She thought Brady would marry me and sweep me away to Dallas-land forever. “We’re not exactly marching toward the altar just yet. We’re not even engaged.”
“You will be. It’s as plain as the nose on my face. And I don’t want my grandchildren raised in the city.”
“You don’t have any grandchildren.”
“Yet. But when I do, I’d like to see them raised here, surrounded by people who love them.”
“Mama, you’re never home anymore. So when you say ‘surrounded’ . . .”
“I will be, once the grandchildren start coming. Surely by then your father will be past this phase he’s going through. He’ll want to be here, building swing sets and taking kids on picnics. That sort of thing.”
“It’s just a lot to think about. If I do marry Brady—someday—he’ll want to be in Dallas because that’s where the Mavericks are.” Not that he was playing for the Mavericks at the moment, but whatever.
“Just pray, honey.”
“I—I do.”
“And once those grandbabies start coming, you come home to Mama so I can show you how to raise ’em right, okay?”