The Wedding Circle Page 18

  Maura Beth was hard-pressed to keep her wits about her. This was the last thing she had expected to hear. Still, she managed a cogent, grateful reply. “Why, thank you. I’m flattered, Cudd’n M’Dear. I really am!”

  Then the dishing began in earnest, and Maura Beth felt as if she were suddenly listening to an entirely different person. “Listen, sweetie, I’m nothing if not a realist. Most people think I’m off my rocker, but I know how the world works for a woman who looks the way I do. The truth is, no man ever took me seriously; and, yes, that hurt me deeply. They never even tried to discover the woman inside. But I got over it a long time ago. So, then the question became: What was I going to do with my life? I decided that if I couldn’t be attractive, I could at least be interesting—even a puzzle for people to solve. Okay, so maybe I didn’t make that sort of decision consciously, but it amounts to the same thing if you have a lot of time on your hands and follow your instincts. Don’t you think I’ve succeeded?”

  “I do. I really do,” Maura Beth told her, genuinely delighted with the talk they were having. “If you don’t mind me saying so, I never could even come close to figuring out what you were all about. But I was always fascinated and usually amused whenever I heard about your adventures from Mama. So why are you telling me all of this now? It’s such a wonderful revelation.”

  Cudd’n M’Dear shrugged her shoulders. “What better wedding gift could I give you than my admiration? Along with my framed picture, of course. You’ll also find I did put a little something extra in the card I’m giving you tomorrow. But the point is, you’ve stood up for yourself, and what’s not to like about that? Plus, here you are getting married to that adorable young man with the pale, frightened face. It was all I could do to keep from giving him a big family hug to let him know everything was going to be all right. Was he afraid I was going to bite him with these teeth of mine?”

  Maura Beth could not restrain her forceful burst of laughter and was happy to see Cudd’n M’Dear joining in. “He may very well have been. Meeting relatives under these circumstances can be stressful enough without certain people telling their exaggerated tales. I think I’m probably the guilty party here.”

  “I’m basically harmless, you know.”

  “I see that now.”

  “I just enjoy the drama of it all.”

  “You and Mama both. I think it runs in the family.”

  Maura Beth mulled things over further, keeping an eye on Jeremy all the while. She needed to do some plotting before he returned from the bar with the refills. “There’s something I’d like you to do for me, if you wouldn’t mind, Cudd’n M’Dear.”

  “Anything, sweetie. You just name it.”

  “Well, tomorrow, I’m going to introduce you to the man who runs Cherico—Councilman Durden Sparks. I’m assuming he’ll show up like he said he would. Anyway, that devious so-and-so has done everything he could possibly do to drive me away and make life miserable for me—not to mention actually hitting on me—and I’m not sure I’m through exacting my revenge.”

  Cudd’n M’Dear seemed to be shivering with delight as she rubbed her hands together in imitation of a fly. “Ooh, I absolutely adore getting even. It’s practically become my mantra.”

  “Just what I wanted to hear.” Maura Beth drew herself up, still full of the endorphins her recent belly laugh had produced. “It’s really quite simple. I just want you to be the Cudd’n M’Dear we all never understood. Do your befuddling thing as only you can do. I promised Councilman Sparks he’d get to meet all my relatives at their very best, if you catch my drift.”

  Cudd’n M’Dear looked as if she were about to swoon. “Oh, I can hardly wait. You really haven’t seen me when I’m on a mission. But first, I want you to give me all the dirty little details about what he’s done to you. I must prepare myself properly for this role.” Then out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Jeremy approaching with her wine. “We’ll get together later and huddle. But you just leave it up to me,” she said quickly with a wink. “That councilman of yours won’t know what hit him.”

  An hour or so later the rehearsal was finally under way, and everyone was lined up to march in a stately manner down the makeshift aisle between all the rented folding chairs. After much discussion, Jeremy had persuaded Maura Beth to choose Symphony No. 9 by Beethoven as a classical change of pace for the processional. He was particularly a fan of the opening “Allegro ma non troppo-un poco maestoso” and even intended to use it for the recessional.

  “I’d like for us to use the stretch starting about two minutes in,” he had explained further, quite adamant on the subject. “After all, I think Mendelssohn’s been done to death.”

  He had also insisted that they use his old LP of the Complete Works of Beethoven that he had discovered and bought for a song at an old flea market up in Nashville, and accompanying it was the turntable that reflected his attachment to outdated but revered technology.

  “At least you’re consistent about wanting to be born in another century,” Maura Beth had told him, once the matter had been settled.

  Thus, Renette, Nora Duddney, and Miss Voncille began their studied journey toward Father Hickock, who awaited them through the open doors out on the deck, his black and white vestments billowing in the breeze off the lake. Behind him, the blood-orange sun was squatting on the horizon but sinking fast; while beside him stood Jeremy, tall and sturdy—with Paul McShay looking on proudly as his son’s best man. But the two eager bridesmaids were no more than halfway up the aisle when the LP began to show its age—namely, a pesky scratch that would not be denied. Caught in a loop, the allegro repeated the same brief strain over and over; both Renette and Nora stopped in their tracks, looking alternately amused and bewildered, while giggles broke out among the onlookers.

  Jeremy couldn’t resist, pointing emphatically. “I think my Beethoven’s stuck in a rut.”

  Father Hickock quickly came to the rescue with that jolly smile of his and solemnly lifted his right arm, as if about to impart a blessing upon his congregation. “We know that God is patient with us in all our endeavors, but he has his limits when it comes to worn-out technology. Therefore, would someone kindly pick up that stubborn stylus, please?”

  Douglas McShay sprang from his seat and rushed over, did the deed, and then crossed his fingers as the music resumed a few notes ahead. “No more stops and starts, I hope.”

  “As my mother the seamstress was fond of saying all the time—‘the world could use a little more excellent needlework! ’ ” Father Hickock called out, again indulging his sense of humor.

  Fortunately, the LP was on its best behavior from that point forward. Becca, Periwinkle, and Connie soon followed as matrons of honor, peeling off to either side to join the bridesmaids on the deck. Finally came William Mayhew escorting his daughter as only loving fathers can do; then the recitation of the couple’s original vows followed—all in one smooth take.

  After Father Hickock had listened to what they had each composed, his eyes seemed to widen and twinkle at the same time. “Well, I do believe God enjoys the expressive use of English on these and many other occasions. That was some very creative writing. Not to mention quite moving.”

  Jeremy lifted his head proudly, as if the praise had been solely directed at him. “Thank you, Father. I like to think it’s my mission in life to preserve and enhance the language.”

  “It’s the English teacher in him, you know,” Maura Beth said out of the side of her mouth. “He just loves the classics. Well, anything classic—old cars, music, you name it.”

  “You make a charming couple,” Father Hickock told them. “And I’m so glad I was able to come up and preside over your ceremony, Maura Beth. To see how you’ve grown from the little girl who took her First Communion in my church into such a beautiful and accomplished woman warms my heart. Weddings and christenings are the greatest joys of my ministry. I look forward to performing your marriage ceremony tomorrow evening, and may that sunset be as lovely as
this one was.”

  Everyone began to dig into the tried-and-true Twinkle buffet with gusto after the rehearsal was over: chicken spaghetti, stuffed mushrooms, tomato aspic, arugula and mandarin orange salad, and lemon icebox pie for those with a sweet tooth. In the aftermath of it all, Maura Beth could tell that Jeremy was overwhelmed by the many names and faces that were being thrown at him from her side of the family.

  “Now, which one was Lewinda and which one was Mabel Anne?” he was asking her at one point while they balanced their plates on their knees near the fireplace. And, “But tell me again—who is Mrs. Salter? Is she another cousin or just the one who’s your mother’s best friend? Or am I thinking about Mimi Halloran? Or was it Harriman?” Maura Beth could have eaten Jeremy with a spoon, he was so earnest and eager to please her.

  On the other hand, she had no such dilemma. Jeremy’s parents and his grandparents on his father’s side were the only ones attending from his family, since his sister, Elise, stubbornly continued to boycott the ceremony. Johnnie-Dell Crews and three other teachers from the Cherico High faculty rounded out those who had accepted invitations on Jeremy’s behalf, being the newcomer that he was.

  Somewhere in the middle of the rehearsal festivities it dawned on Maura Beth that as hard as they had tried to keep the wedding on the small and simple side, it had still managed to become more elaborate than they anticipated. There were still more people milling around, eating, drinking, and laughing than they really wanted; and yesterday evening’s news from Jeremy that Miss Voncille and Locke Linwood had eloped was just about the simplest, sanest thing she’d heard in ages. But it was too late to turn back now.

  It was, in fact, Miss Voncille—now Mrs. Locke Linwood—who helped Maura Beth put things in perspective after the crowd had thinned out significantly and people were heading back to their homes and hotel rooms.

  “There’s something very important we need to discuss,” Miss Voncille began, as the two of them stepped out on the deck for a bit of the cool autumn air. “I guess you realize that I absolutely should not be one of your bridesmaids tomorrow, even though I went through the entire rehearsal without saying a word. Why, I didn’t even bring it up once with Father Hickock, but I probably should have. It’s just a fact we can’t ignore any longer.”

  For some reason—perhaps it was the refreshing breeze off the lake that heightened her senses—Maura Beth got it right away and gave a little gasp of recognition. “Oh . . . of course. You should be one of my matrons of honor now.”

  “Right you are. I’m officially no longer a bridesmaid, I’m thrilled to say. That monkey is off my back.”

  They both giggled as Maura Beth leaned back against the railing, and said, “It won’t change things much, though. You’ll just walk in behind Becca and Connie and Periwinkle instead of with Renette and Nora. Oh, these wedding technicalities are such a drag, aren’t they? I was just thinking how sensible you and Locke were to do it the way you did.”

  Miss Voncille looked skeptical, even slightly disapproving. “Yes, but don’t lose sight of the fact that we’re almost seventy. We couldn’t fool around like we had all the time in the world. You and Jeremy are twenty-somethings. You should savor all the festivities this first time around. You’ll both remember it for the rest of your lives. Forget the glitches and the hassles that have made you worry and maybe even want to pull your hair out. Just relax and enjoy it. As someone who had to wait most of her life for the big moment, I know what I’m talking about.”

  Maura Beth gave her an impulsive hug and exhaled. “Thanks for that, Miss Voncille. I know you’re right.” Then she remembered. “But what’s all this I hear about you selling your house? Becca mentioned it to me just before the rehearsal and said Stout Fella wants you to list with him, but you wanted to go the ‘for sale by owner’ route. It all came as news to me. Did you tell Jeremy about it when you called us last night?” Maura Beth could tell that Miss Voncille was becoming decidedly uncomfortable, quickly averting her eyes.

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I did,” Miss Voncille said, trying for nonchalance. “I believe he said you were in the shower at the time.”

  “I was. But why didn’t he tell me everything? He’s the most organized, detail-oriented person I’ve ever known. That’s just not the sort of thing he would keep to himself.”

  Suddenly, Miss Voncille glanced at her watch. “Ummm, well, I wish I could go into it more, but I believe it’s almost time.”

  “Time for what?”

  Just then, Jeremy and Locke came out onto the deck with big grins plastered on their faces, and Maura Beth began to wonder if they’d had too much to drink. It often came with the territory where wedding hoopla was concerned. “They’re ready for you inside,” Jeremy said, tilting his head toward the door.

  “Go on in,” Miss Voncille added, the excitement rising in her voice. “We’ve been frantically planning all this for you around the clock. It’s a little surprise. Actually, it’s a big surprise.”

  Jeremy took Maura Beth by the hand, and what was about to unfold came to her at the precise moment he touched her, flowing through her in some unknown, intuitive manner. That was how connected they had become, and she knew she would remember that particular heady rush for the rest of her life.

  15

  A Pair of Scissors

  There they all sat or stood as one—the members of the wedding party and the core of The Cherry Cola Book Club as well—waiting for Maura Beth in the great room and smiling to beat the band. Her parents soon became her main focus, however; her eyes particularly went to her mother, who looked happier than Maura Beth had seen her in a very long time. Had it actually been in her album of wedding pictures taken some thirty years ago? Way too long, of course, but was this current smile a genuine one or just more of her mother’s machinations? Momentarily, William Mayhew spoke up for the group.

  “Sweetheart, we have some wonderful news for you, thanks to the quick thinking of Jeremy and Miss Voncille. Your mother and I are going to give you the down payment to buy Miss Voncille’s house on Painter Street, and we’ll see to it that you get a good deal down at the bank. They’ll have the papers all ready for you when you get back from Key West. Our wedding present was going to be money to use as you wished, but we just thought it might work out better for you this way. We hope you like the decision we made. Jeremy seemed to think you’d be pleased.”

  Although Maura Beth had already guessed what he was going to say, she played along magnificently, sounding genuinely surprised without going overboard. “Oh, I just love that little house so much, Daddy. I’m not just pleased, I’m overwhelmed—thank you so much!” She lost no time in hugging and kissing both of her parents and then followed suit with Jeremy. “So this is what you’ve been up to! You and Miss Voncille and . . . I guess the rest of you knew about this, too?”

  Connie and Douglas raised their hands, and she said, “ ‘Heard it through the grapevine,’ to quote one of my favorite rock lyrics from my era. You know how we book clubbers are about staying in touch.”

  “It was all I could do to keep from pickin’ up the phone and spillin’ the beans, girl,” Periwinkle added. “You know how I like to spread the news around.”

  Then Becca spoke up. “We’re so excited for you. You’ll be surprised what owning your own home will do for your entire outlook. Gosh, I sound just like one of my husband’s brochures, don’t I?”

  Stout Fella offered up his big laugh. “Well, that’s my philosophy of life. You need to own a piece of the good earth to really feel connected to it, and I’m just the guy to sell it to you. Except you’ll have to wait ’til you’re in the market for another house, since I had nothing to do with this deal. Sure would have liked that commission, Miss Voncille.”

  “You have plenty of projects to occupy you right out here at the lake,” Becca reminded him.

  “It all happened so fast, it made my head spin,” Miss Voncille explained. “I probably would have listed with you if things hadn’t fall
en into place the way they did.” Then she focused on Maura Beth. “But just so you know, I’ll have everything moved out and into Locke’s house by the time you and Jeremy return from your honeymoon. Including the potted palms.”

  Maura Beth recalled her first impressions of Miss Voncille’s intriguing “jungle.” “I think I’d like to keep a couple if you don’t mind.”

  Miss Voncille dramatically clasped her hands together. “That would be wonderful. At least two more of my babies will have a good home!”

  “I like the way they looked in that big, bright kitchen of yours. Everything was all yellow and green and full of life,” Maura Beth added.

  “I think kitchens should be cheerful. It’s not debatable. We spend enough time in them. And whenever I’d let something boil over on the stove, I never worried. I knew all that steam would be very beneficial to my palms.” Then Miss Voncille turned to Becca. “Although I have to admit I don’t spend as much time in my kitchen as I used to when The Becca Broccoli Show was on the radio. I was there with my cup of morning coffee at my counter listening to every show. I miss the recipes and the cooking tips—and all the humor you put into everything.”

  Becca pointed to her growing baby bump and laughed. “I do appreciate that, Miss Voncille. In fact, WHYY tells me they’re still getting calls and letters all the time begging me to come back. But as you can see, I’ve got a different kind of bun in the oven now. But don’t forget about my cookbook that’ll be coming out in a few months. That way, you can have me with you year-round.”

  “Will it be coming out in time for Christmas?”

  “I’m going to try my best. It would have been out earlier, but I have to admit my pregnancy has been my main priority. That, and making sure my Stout Fella here sticks to his nutrition regimen.”