That's Amore (Weddings by Bella Book #4): A Novel

  If love was the answer—and I knew it was—then love would surely solve the problem with Mayor Deets. I couldn’t say how. I couldn’t say when. But I felt sure love would win in the end, if I kept the right attitude and never stopped believing that God could—and would—turn this situation around and work it for our good.

  I looked up as D.J. entered Parma John’s. He didn’t look any happier than he had when we’d parted ways back at the truck. I only hoped he wouldn’t say anything about his shotgun in front of the ladies. That would be awkward.

  Nope. He acted perfectly normal, reminding me of all I still had on my plate that day—including the filming of an episode for my aunt and uncle’s show.

  “Bella.” Hannah clucked her tongue. “I thought you were going to rest.”

  “I will. Tonight. After the show is filmed. Oh, and after our dinner with Brock and Erin.”

  Hannah stared at D.J. “You make sure she does, D.J. We’re worried about her.”

  “Worried?” He shook his head. “I thought I was the only one who was worried around here.”

  “Nope. We’re all worried.” Scarlet reached for another piece of pizza. “But just for the record, you might want to go ahead and start saving up for those three weddings now, dude. Three daughters? It’s going to be crazy.”

  Yep. “Crazy” seemed like just the right word to describe . . . well, everything.

  D.J. and I said our goodbyes and headed back to the Rossi home so that I could film an episode of The Italian Kitchen, the one where I would show other moms and dads how to feed their family on a budget. Ironic. After that I would have dinner with Brock and Erin, then settle into bed to think about how much money D.J. and I would need to save every month between now and when my daughters got married to pull off three amazing wedding ceremonies. Oh, and I’d better start saving for their college fund too while I was at it. Looked like we’d be eating at home . . . a lot.

  18

  Walking the Floor over You

  The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.

  Dolly Parton

  The twenty-four hours that we spent in Galveston were hectic, to say the least. The whole island was abuzz with the filming of the new sitcom. I’d never seen anything like it. Strangely, I found myself yearning for the peace and quiet of Splendora. When we arrived back at the double-wide, I relaxed in Earline’s faded 1980s corduroy recliner and put my jumbo-sized feet up. Felt good. Felt mighty good.

  Well, until Jenna, Bubba, and their boys showed up with Precious and Beau in tow. The two dogs greeted me with far too much enthusiasm, jumping up and down and licking me all over. Ew. And Guido wouldn’t stop singing. Ordinarily this wouldn’t bother me, but today it drove me bonkers. The happy-go-lucky parrot seemed thrilled to see us. Or maybe he was just thrilled to have access to the window so that he could look out at the other birds. From what I could gather, he’d made friends with a certain blue jay who’d been hanging around in the tree outside the front window.

  Jenna wanted to know all about my doctor visit. I was glad D.J. had stepped out of the room as I shared about our baby girls.

  “Ooh, Baby A and Baby B?” She giggled. “This is going to be so much fun, Bella.”

  “Try telling that to D.J. He’s in a panic.”

  “Why?”

  I explained and she nodded. “I get it. I really do. We’ve only got the two boys and I’m barely able to remember my own name. What’s got him worked up, specifically?”

  “Weddings.”

  “Your wedding?”

  “No. The babies’ weddings. But don’t get him started on all that, okay? If you do, you’ll get a half-crazed conversation about shotguns and wedding dresses and boys who’d better think twice before they talk to his daughters.”

  “I see.” Her eyes narrowed. “I think.”

  Her funny expression made me laugh, which helped relieve some of my anxiety about the whole thing. We ended up laughing and talking for quite some time while the kids played. Bubba insisted on grilling up some barbecue for us, and before we knew it we were well fed and peaceful.

  By 7:30 the kids were in the tub and I was wishing I could curl up under the covers. Jenna must’ve picked up on this. She wrapped up the leftover barbecue ribs, shoved them in my—er, Earline’s—fridge, said her goodbyes, and skedaddled down the road to their place. I tumbled into bed and daydreamed of baby girls and weddings times three. And barbecue. Yummy, mouthwatering barbecue.

  As I rested, as I pondered all that had taken place over the last few weeks, one very astounding thought kept crossing my mind. I was getting used to life in Splendora. I was getting used to a slower-paced existence. To church socials. To barbecue joints. To kids playing in the yard. To dogs chasing each other and peeing on pine trees. I was getting used to being surrounded by green trees and curvy roads leading deeper into the woods. I was mesmerized by the beauty of nature and the sound of rain as it played against the roof of the manufactured home. I’d even acclimated myself to Guido’s friendship with the blue jay. These things were becoming comfortable to me and were easing my homesickness.

  Almost.

  I dozed off, peaceful at last. When I awoke the next day I fed and dressed the kids, buckled them into their car seats, dropped Tres off at school, then headed to the wedding facility to check in on the progress. I found Cecil there, looking a bit discombobulated. He called out orders to the other workers, but something about his demeanor seemed off today.

  “You okay over there?” I put Rosie down but kept a watchful eye on her.

  “Yeah.” He stopped his work and headed my direction. “We had a little visit yesterday. Er, maybe I should say, ‘We had a little visitor yesterday.’”

  “Ah. The mayor?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled off his baseball cap and messed with his hair. “It was strange. He’s not going to let it go. Definitely a personal vendetta.”

  “I know, and I’m praying.”

  Behind me a squeal sounded, and I turned to see that Jolene and Twila had entered the room, wearing glittery “Twila for Mayor” T-shirts.

  “Oh, Bella!” Jolene rushed my way. “I have the craziest story to tell you.”

  “It’s about Mayor Deets,” Twila added. She reached down to scoop Rosie into her arms, then cooed at the youngster.

  “Interesting. We were just talking about him.”

  Cecil pointed at his workers in the next room. “Should I . . . I mean, do you want me to go?”

  “No, honey.” Jolene patted him on the back. “This is family business and you’re family now.”

  “I am?”

  “So, here’s what happened.” Jolene clasped her hands at her ample chest and dove right in. “It started when Bonnie Sue was up at the Piggly Wiggly, checking out. There she was, standing in line at register two, minding her own business, when the fella ahead of her grabbed her purse and took off running out of the store.”

  “What?” I couldn’t believe it. A crime? Here in Splendora? “Are you serious?”

  “You bet I am. I blame it on the Baptists.”

  “Wait . . . the Baptists?”

  “Yes. We used to have a community prayer meeting every third Thursday. All the churches got together to pray for our community. But the Baptists decided that didn’t work for them because they have choir rehearsal on Thursdays. Can you imagine putting choir rehearsal ahead of prayer?” She shivered. “I’m trying to envision those folks standing at the pearly gates, giving an account of that one.”

  “I’m sorry.” I put my hand up, more confused than ever. “What were you saying about the man at the register?”

  “Oh. He took that purse and headed out the door, running faster than my granny’s silk stockings.” She gazed at me. “I guess you probably don’t know what silk stockings are, Bella. They were before your time. We used to wear ’em with these little garter things. Never could keep mine up. They’d go rolling down my legs every time.”

  Cecil’s face
turned red and he looked like he wanted to bolt. Oh no you don’t, mister. If I have to stay here, you do too.

  “Anyway, the point is, that fella stole Bonnie Sue’s purse and ran really fast out the door.” She shook her head. “You know, I’ve been after Bonnie Sue for years to get rid of that purse. That pathetic old thing went out of style in the nineties. Ugly as sin. But would she listen to me?” A little giggle followed. “I guess God took care of it in his own way.”

  Twila cleared her throat, then put down my squirming daughter. “Let’s get this train back on track, Jolene. Before the sun goes down, if you please.”

  Jolene turned back to face Cecil and me. “Anyway, this terrible man took off running out of the Piggly Wiggly and into the parking lot. He was headed straight to his car.” Her nose wrinkled. “Though technically, I still haven’t figured out if you call an SUV a car or a truck. Do you happen to know, Cecil?”

  Twila groaned. “Jolene. Keep. Going.”

  “Right. Well, he headed for his car—or whatever—but I guess he got a little confused. He reached inside Bonnie Sue’s purse for her keys instead of grabbing his own, which is weird, but if you think about it, we’ve probably all done it at one time or another. I mean, I know I have.”

  “You’ve stolen someone else’s purse and tried to use their keys?” Cecil asked.

  “No, silly. I’ve grabbed one set of keys thinking it was another. I don’t know if it’s an old-age thing or if I’m just not paying attention. I have a tendency toward forgetfulness, though I try not to speak that over my life, you see. There’s power in the tongue, and we don’t want to speak things into existence. Amen?”

  Twila slapped herself in the head.

  Jolene pursed her lips and grew silent, her brow wrinkled. Well, more wrinkled than usual. “I sure wish I could remember what I was telling you.”

  “You were telling us about the man who stole Bonnie Sue’s purse,” I said.

  “Oh, right. Well, he reached for the wrong keys, and when he hit the button—I can never remember which one is which myself. They’re so small and hard to figure out. Anyway, when he hit the button, the alarm on her car went off.”

  “I guess that was a good thing, right?” I glanced down at Rosie, who played quietly with my purse. Oh well. Hopefully she wouldn’t hurt anything inside.

  “Yes.” Jolene nodded. “Now me, I hate those alarms. So noisy. Hard on the ears, and that’s the very last thing I need. I guess you know that I have a hearing loss in my right ear? Goes back to my childhood. I was swimming and got water in my ear.”

  Twila started tapping her foot on the floor.

  “Anyway, back to Bonnie Sue.” Jolene paced the room, her voice intensifying. “When the alarm went off, everyone in the place started running and hollering, thinking they were in some sort of danger—this, according to Etta May Canfield, who was in the produce section buying onions for her joint pain.”

  “Wait.” I put my hand up in the air like a kid in a classroom. “I’m sorry. Onions? For joint pain?”

  “Oh sure, Bella. It’s a scientific fact that onions help with rheumatism and other immune problems.”

  “And bacterial infections too,” Twila said. “You’ve got to cut an onion and leave it open in the room when you’re sick, and it turns as black as coal. Sucks all the infection out of your body.”

  Ew!

  “True.” Twila nodded. “I read it on the internet, so I know it’s true.”

  “You can also mix ’em up in one of those juicer things too. Not the black ones, though.” Jolene sucked in a breath. “Pretty sure you have to mix it with beets. Or maybe it was Brussels sprouts? Though personally I can’t stand Brussels sprouts any which way, so I would think that juicing them—and how does one get juice out of a Brussels sprout anyway?—would be just plain nasty.” She paused. “Where did I leave off?”

  “Onions?” Cecil tried.

  “In the produce aisle,” I added.

  “Ah yes. Anyway, there she was—Etta May, I mean—in the produce aisle, minding her own business, when Bonnie Sue, who was still in line at register two, started wailing and people started running, and you’ll never believe what happened next.”

  “Try me.” I shifted my weight to the other foot.

  “Oh, shoot.” Jolene groaned. “I left out a key part of the story. It just so happened that when all of this was going on, Mayor Deets was in line directly behind Bonnie Sue. He saw the whole thing. Every bit of it.”

  “He saw the stranger steal her purse?”

  “Yes, sir, he did. And the craziest thing . . . Tommy Deets took off running—all five feet two, er, five feet three of him—and caught the wicked fellow just as he started to steal Bonnie Sue’s car!”

  “No way.”

  “It’s true. Though to be quite honest, I’m not sure why anyone in their right mind would want to steal a ’97 Cutlass Ciera. You know? I never cared much for the interior of that old thing. Or the exterior either. Seriously, one of the most boring vehicles God ever created.”

  “Jolene, God doesn’t create cars.” Twila shook her head. “People do.”

  “Yes, but God creates people, so if you really stop to think it through, he creates cars too. Well, maybe all but the Cutlass Ciera. Pretty sure that one came from somewhere else.” She sucked in a breath. “Anyway, don’t tell Bonnie Sue I said all that about her car. She treats that ugly old thing like it’s her baby. Which is why, of course, she was so mortified that the man was stealing it. Well, almost stealing it. If it hadn’t been for Mayor Deets, who saved the day.” Jolene clapped her hands together in obvious glee.

  “Mayor Deets saved the day.” I repeated the words more to convince myself. Had our archenemy really come to Bonnie Sue’s rescue? If so, this changed everything. Well, maybe not everything, but it certainly changed my opinion that the man was beyond help.

  Jolene had apparently worked up a sweat telling the story. She reached into her purse and came out with a little spray bottle with a fan attached to it. She misted herself and then turned it on me. Rosie, not to be left out, reached up to get in on the fan action. Jolene turned it on her and she giggled.

  “We’re seeing the results of our prayers, plain and simple.” Jolene nodded and then pressed the fan back into her purse.

  Cecil looked perplexed by this. “You prayed that someone would rob Bonnie Sue?”

  “No, no. We didn’t pray for that, specifically.” Jolene giggled. “But I’ve been praying that Mayor Deets would find an opportunity to prove himself to Bonnie Sue in some way, and this certainly worked like a charm. She was bowled over by his act of kindness.”

  “Wait . . .” Cecil looked more confused than ever. “Prove himself?”

  “All the man’s ever proven is that he’s a pain in the neck,” Twila said. “Until now, I mean.”

  “Our zero had gone to hero in an instant.” Jolene clapped her hands together and did a little Holy Ghost jig across the room. Rosie took the cue and started dancing too. “And some people say there’s no such thing as miracles these days!”

  “Not so sure he’s a hero,” I argued. “He’s still dead set on stopping us from moving forward with the plans for the wedding facility, so he’s no hero in my book.”

  Jolene stopped dancing and gave me a pensive look. “But he is in Bonnie Sue’s, and that’s what matters. Remember? We’re trying to soften his heart by helping him fall in love with Bonnie Sue.”

  Cecil’s eyes widened. “W-we are?” He glanced my way.

  Rosie looked a bit perplexed by the change in conversation. She stopped dancing and sat back down on the floor to play with my purse once more. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed she’d pulled out my phone. Good. She could play a game on it.

  “Are you telling me we’re supposed to be playing matchmaker for Bonnie Sue and Mayor Deets?” Cecil asked.

  “Exactly.” Jolene whacked him on the back. “Now you’ve got the picture! He’ll fall in love with her, and in that moment—in t
he twinkling of an eye—all of his bitterness will be gone.” She poked a finger in Cecil’s chest. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to help us with all of this.”

  Cecil swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s power in prayer, young man. So we’re going to link hands and hearts and agree together in prayer that the Lord’s hand will be moved. We’re just sort of . . . nudging it a bit with our prayers.”

  “You want me to help move God’s hand?” Cecil looked alarmed by this idea. “Is that even possible?”

  “Well, it’s not like we’re trying to tell him what to do or anything.” Jolene’s nose wrinkled. “Not really. We’re just suggesting he hook up Bonnie Sue and Mayor Deets for the good of the community. Don’t you see?”

  “I-I think.” Cecil shrugged.

  “Now then, your second job—after agreeing with us in prayer—is to help win over the mayor. He’s got to fall for Bonnie Sue at the same time she’s falling for him.”

  “Oh? Is that how it works?” Cecil laughed.

  “Yes, so whenever you see him, just say kind things about Bonnie Sue. Bring up her name in passing.” Jolene started pacing again and appeared to be deep in thought. “Talk about her kind, generous heart.”

  “She does have a kind, generous heart,” I said. “So we wouldn’t have to exaggerate.”

  “Well, yes.” Cecil leaned against the doorjamb. “But when do I ever talk to the mayor? The only time I ever see the man is here, really. And when he’s here, trust me, we’re not talking about Bonnie Sue.”

  “You have a point. Well then, it’s time to bring in the big guns.” She turned to face us, her expression firm. “Time to make the banana pudding.”

  “Banana pudding?” Cecil shook his head. “Now I’m completely lost.”

  “Mayor Deets loves banana pudding,” Twila explained. “It puts him over the moon. And in the grand scheme of things, this is critical. To the survival of the wedding facility. And Bubba’s restaurant.”

  “Oh, heavens, yes. This is critical to everything,” Jolene said. “Now, we just have to figure out a way to get a big batch of banana pudding to city hall.”