The Wedding Circle Page 2

Locke slowly shook his head of thick gray hair, looking suddenly forlorn. “What Voncille is referring to are my two very opinionated, grown children. At first we thought we had their blessing for our wedding, but everything seems to have fallen apart these last couple of weeks. First, my daughter, Carla, has had second thoughts. My son, Locke, Jr., in particular, is getting all bent out of shape about my getting married so soon after his mother’s death. I told him, ‘Son, it’s been over two years, and whether you believe it or not, this is something your mother would want for me. I told him I wasn’t going to argue any further and that Voncille and I intended to get married with or without his approval. He’s making noises like he and his wife won’t even be attending the wedding. Can you imagine that—after all I’ve done for him— sending him to law school and giving them the down payment for their big house over there in the Delta?”

  “It’s very upsetting to us,” Miss Voncille added, her usual vinegary demeanor somewhat watered down now. “We had both of the children and their spouses over for a home-cooked dinner, and I thought everything went well. But apparently, it was a surface appearance thing. Once they saw I was a real, flesh-and-blood person and not just a name mentioned over the phone, something must have clicked in their brains. Suddenly, Locke started getting calls and e-mails about who was going to inherit the house and this and that piece of furniture or which bank account and—well, I’m sure you get the picture.”

  “I guess I’ve found out who my children really are now,” Locke continued, his voice full of disappointment and only a bit more forceful than a whisper. “I don’t know who they take after with that attitude. Maybe greed skips a generation and then rears its ugly head again when it’s good and ready. Their mother wasn’t like that. I mean, Pamela wasn’t overly concerned with material things, and I’m grateful for what I have and for what she left me, but I’ve always realized that I couldn’t take any of it with me there at the end. Heh. I remember once Pamela said that she was reasonably certain Heaven was not going to be one big, climate-controlled, storage warehouse filled with family heirlooms.”

  There was a wave of appreciative laughter, but Mamie Crumpton quickly changed the mood of the room, dramatically heaving her bosom as she lifted up her cup of cherry cola punch. “Be that as it may, there are still a few dark clouds hanging over these weddings.”

  Maura Beth looked especially pensive for a few moments. “Sometimes I think we’re all in rehearsal for a Tennessee Williams play with these dramatic developments. But I truly hope not. Most of his works didn’t end well for the main characters, and I’d much rather be thought of as a Scarlett O’Hara than a Blanche DuBois. I don’t know what’s so appealing about that faded Southern belle concept anyway.”

  “Now I know things’ll work out for ya, honey,” Periwinkle said, nudging her friend playfully. “Don’t get down in the dumps about this. Deep-six the Tennessee Williams scenarios. Why, we’ll put on a show for your parents that they’ll never forget when they come for their visit. We’ll stage a feast at The Twinkle!”

  Maura Beth brightened, as she frequently did when she was around her best girlfriend. “Oh, that would be wonderful. I really want them to get to know and love all of you the way I do!”

  “Don’t you worry that pretty red head of yours,” Connie put in. “Matter of fact, it might be a good idea for your parents to stay with us out at the lodge. We have two wonderful guest rooms on the second story overlooking the lake, and our sunsets out on the deck are to die for. We’ll show them there’s more to our Cherico than meets the eye!”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell my parents all these years,” Maura Beth explained. “Unfortunately, they think New Orleans is the center of the universe, and they treat me like I’m living on an alien planet.”

  “Does your father like to fish?” Douglas asked. “If he does, I could take him out on The Verdict to see what we can reel in.”

  Maura Beth smiled, even as she was shaking her head. “Not to my knowledge. He’s out there on the stands during duck-hunting season, though. That’s always been his greatest conflict in life at that time of the year: whether to shoot ducks or cheer for the LSU Tigers on Saturday nights. Sometimes he even manages to do both. But fishing? I don’t think so.” Then Maura Beth screwed up her mouth as if reconsidering. “But Daddy is an attorney. Perhaps the two of you could compare notes on your careers. Maybe there’ll be some bonding in that.”

  Now it was Douglas’s turn to flash a skeptical smile. “Louisiana is so different from all the others states with that Napoleonic Code, though. What kind of law does your father practice?”

  Maura Beth’s brief little laugh sounded more like a hiccup. “Oh, he helps couples part company and split up their inventory, to put it politely. It’s a big business these days!”

  “Yep,” Douglas added, clucking his tongue. “Good ole divorce—I like to think of it as Alka-Seltzer for a marriage gone sour!”

  “Very clever,” Maura Beth said, but quickly adopted a more serious tone. “If you and Connie wouldn’t mind, though, I’d like to explore this business of my parents staying with you out at the lodge a little further. Perhaps you could stay a bit after the meeting is adjourned.”

  When everyone had finished their desserts of baked custard and chocolate cherry cola sheet cake a few minutes later, Maura Beth reminded the group one last time of the upcoming watershed event on the shores of Lake Cherico. “Now, don’t forget to circle August first on your calendars, folks. If you’re out of town on vacation, going to a wedding, or something like that, I’ll understand, of course. But you know how much I’d appreciate it if as many of you as possible can be there for the new library’s groundbreaking ceremony. When Councilman Sparks turns over that first shovelful of Northeast Mississippi red clay, we’ll finally be on our way to getting a facility here in Cherico that we can be proud of, even if it’ll always be one big mouthful to say.”

  Never being at a loss for words, Mamie Crumpton was quick to echo her sentiments. “I must admit The Charles Durden Sparks, Crumpton, and Duddney Public Library does go on forever and ever like a voter registration list. But Marydell and I were very pleased to make a particularly generous donation to the cause, weren’t we, sister dear?”

  As usual, dainty Marydell managed her quiet little “yes,” along with a self-effacing nod.

  But the third library namesake, Nora Duddney, had quite a bit more to say. “Of course, I was equally pleased to honor the Duddney family with my contribution, and I promise to round up as many of my friends as I can. And I may even bring an extra shovel in case our dear councilman claims he just happened to forget his. I didn’t work as the man’s secretary for way too many years without coming to the conclusion that his middle name should have been ‘Devious,’ not ‘Durden.’ ”

  After the polite laughter had died down, it was pudgy, affable James Hannigan, manager of The Cherico Market, who spoke up next. “Hey, I may even shut down the store for an hour so we can all come out and back you up.” He gave Maura Beth his most mischievous grin. “And, yes, Miz Mayhew, you can not only put up the announcement on the bulletin board, but I’ll talk you up with the shoppers over the PA system like I did for your library petitions.”

  “You worked absolute wonders at your grocery store, Mr. Hannigan. I think you got more signatures on your petition than anybody except our Periwinkle here. She even outdid the library.”

  “Hey, the truth is, everybody and his brother has to eat every day,” Periwinkle added, lightly chucking her friend on the arm. “And I’m thankful that lots of ’em come to my little Twinkle all the time to do it.”

  “Amen to that!” Maura Beth said, the satisfaction clearly evident in her voice as she glanced around the room. “So everything is all set. Our August agenda will be that we’re going to discuss and review The Robber Bridegroom right here and watch Cherico history being made out at the lake. I think The Cherry Cola Book Club is going to be accomplishing quite a bit next month.”


  “You know your parents better than we do,” Connie said as she, Douglas, and Maura Beth sat in the semicircle of chairs, discussing the idea of hosting the Mayhews at their lodge. “But if tasteful accommodations are what they’re expecting, our home should more than fit the bill.”

  Maura Beth winced ever so slightly. She knew her parents only too well, and she did not want to subject her good friends, the McShays, to anything less than their best social behavior. Surely they would not do anything to embarrass her. They were beyond such boorishness. After all, she’d seen her mother put on her best “Say cheese!” smile as she sashayed her way through many a dull cocktail or dinner party all over New Orleans.

  “I’m afraid my parents have this false impression of Cherico—particularly my mother,” Maura Beth explained. “It’s that ‘sophisticated provincial’ thing that certain cities swear by. For instance, I’ve heard some New Yorkers dismiss the rest of America as flyover country, and I know for a fact that many a New Orleanian believe anything north of Lake Pontchartrain is culturally suspect. Or to be totally blunt—Hee Haw territory.”

  Connie laughed good-naturedly. “Oh, I understand that kind of thinking. But I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She bent near, her face lighting up, yet also looking determined. “All that ‘putting on airs’ stuff disappeared when people found themselves in my ICU up in Nashville. To a man and woman, they all just wanted to live to see another day, and it was my job to nurse them back to health and see that they got there if at all possible. I like to think that they took something away from being on the edge like that—maybe even became a little more tolerant of people who weren’t born into the situation they were. It’s cruel but true—the threat of flatlining is the greatest leveler there is.”

  In spite of Connie’s last statement, Maura Beth was grinning. “So, are you suggesting we admit my parents to Cherico Memorial and hook them up right after they get here?”

  “My goodness, but I do love your sense of humor, sweetie,” Connie said, maintaining her gracious smile. “But I trust the good food and conversation out at the lodge will soften them up sufficiently. As you well know, Douglas and I are pretty good party-givers, but you have the final say on all of this.”

  Maura Beth reached over and took Connie’s hand, making eye contact with Douglas at the same time. “I just wanted both of you to understand that I fully intend to get married up here no matter what. If my parents still don’t get on board despite everything we do and say on their visit, so be it. This independent streak of mine is part of the reason I’ve stuck it out here in Cherico the way I have. The New Orleans social scene is what my parents wanted for themselves, and I had a generous helping of it growing up, believe me. But it’s not what I want. I want something I can call my own, and now I know my legacy here will be The Charles Durden Sparks, Crumpton, and Duddney Public Library.”

  Douglas suddenly looked inspired. “They need to have your name on the building somewhere.”

  “Oh, they will. And yours, too. There’ll be a big bronze plaque in the lobby with my name on it as director, along with Douglas and Connie McShay as benefactors. I’ll see to that.”

  “Then are we actually full-speed ahead with our hosting your parents?” Connie asked.

  Maura Beth contemplated silently for a few moments. “I think we’ve covered all the bases. My mother may be opinionated, but I’ve never known her to be rude in social situations. Frankly, I never thought she’d agree to come up here, but she did. Maybe there’s a crack in that blue-blooded armor of hers. After all, I am her only child, even if I haven’t exactly towed the line.”

  Connie patted her hand gently. “Something tells me it will all turn out just fine, and the spirit of Greater Cherico will prevail.”

  Connie’s prediction stuck with Maura Beth even after the McShays had left her to turn out the lights and lock up. There were no more than 5,000 people in this little town that she had come to love so much. And once her beloved Jeremy had settled in with her, he’d only be a month or so away from his job teaching English at Cherico High. This was the life she had chosen for herself, and it was going to be her great adventure. In the end she was certain it was going to take her breath away. That was all there was to it.

  2

  From the Ground Up

  The first of August was nothing if not the real beginning of Mississippi’s dog days. Sporting triple digits and merciless humidity, it caused the population of Cherico to break out into rivers of sweat only minutes after stepping out of their air-conditioned homes and cars. Their morning showers and baths were therefore completely undone, disappearing as if never having taken place. In addition, there were no clouds of any kind overhead in the white-hot sky—and essentially no hope of rainfall, however brief. And yet, the new library groundbreaking would be taking place under such hellish conditions.

  “You just wait,” Maura Beth said to her sweet-natured, young front-desk clerk, Renette Posey. “I’ll bet you one tasty lunch at The Twinkle we get a phone call from Councilman Sparks about the unbearable heat and putting things off until it cools down a bit. Hey, I only wish I didn’t know him as well as I do.”

  The two of them were sitting across from each other in Maura Beth’s cluttered library office, and they had already agreed that Renette would hold down the fort while Maura Beth attended the groundbreaking later that morning out at the lake.

  “You really think he’ll try to postpone things?” Renette asked, blinking in disbelief. It was just part of her trusting nature—never thinking the worst of anyone until proved otherwise.

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Maura Beth answered, leaning into her employee and narrowing her eyes. “Not that it would do him any good. We’ve got a contract to build that new beauty—signed, sealed, and delivered. Try as he might, he’s not going to be able to wiggle out of that.”

  Renette’s sigh was of the dreamy variety. “This is such an exciting time for you, Miz Mayhew. Imagine—just a year from now, we’ll be in that wonderful new building with computers, a teen room, a full-time children’s librarian, plenty of parking, and all the rest a real library ought to have!”

  “Should have had years ago, of course. But every time I went to City Hall about all our deficiencies, I was ignored with a patronizing smile.”

  They both sank back in their chairs, happily engrossed in their visions of what was to come after so many years of struggle, so much so that they started noticeably when the phone rang.

  “The Cherico Library,” Maura Beth answered with crisp authority, once she had gathered herself. Then she briefly covered the receiver, and whispered loudly, “I would have won that lunch bet if you’d taken it!”

  “Councilman Sparks?” Renette whispered back, her eyes widening playfully.

  Maura Beth nodded quickly and then resumed her conversation. “Yes, it is a hot one today, Councilman. . . . Yes, you could fry an egg on the hood of your SUV.” She and Renette exchanged conspiratorial smirks as Maura Beth listened patiently. “Oh, no, not at all, Councilman,” she continued in response. “I can stand it if you can. You’d probably never guess it, but we Southern belles hide rotary fans beneath our hoop-skirts, you know. Besides, too many people all over Cherico have altered their daily routines in order to attend, and there’s no hint of rain in the forecast. So I vote for bucking up and going out there to shovel it. As I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, you’re very good at that.”

  Renette suppressed a giggle, while Maura Beth wagged her brows. Then there was an extended period of silence while Councilman Sparks apparently went into some sort of monologue. Finally, Maura Beth said, “Yes, I’ll see you in a few hours, Councilman. Looking forward to it as usual. Good-bye now.” Then she hung up and adopted her most confidential tone. “Well, he says he wants to see me in his office after the ceremony is over. It seems he has some important questions about the new library he wants to discuss and resolve, whatever that means.”

  “Do you think you offended him with t
hat shoveling remark?”

  “I doubt it. He’s pretty jaded.”

  “So what do you think he’s up to now?”

  “Anything and everything would be my guess. I like to think of him as one of those nesting dolls—you know, a different, smaller version of himself constantly being exposed. And I do mean smaller, and I do mean exposed.”

  Renette was temporarily amused, but then looked worried. “You don’t think there’s any way he can weasel out of building this new library, do you? I don’t think even he could pull that off.”

  Maura Beth shook her head emphatically at the mere suggestion. “Oh, I can handle whatever this latest agenda of his turns out to be. I’ve had almost seven years’ experience dealing with him, and I’m getting better and better at it all the time. If I hadn’t learned from my considerable novice mistakes, we’d be in this god-awful building forever. I’m afraid I was a bit naïve about the way things worked around here for too long. With the way I was brought up, I thought it was bad form to challenge authority. Just part of my on-the-job training, I guess.”

  “I don’t think anyone could blame you for that, Miz Mayhew. Councilman Sparks is a pretty intimidating man. I know I always get nervous when he pops into the library now and then. Why do I always think he’s spying on us? Anyway, what are you going to look forward to the most when we finally move in out there?” Renette asked, rubbing her hands together and sounding a bit like a kid in a candy store.

  Maura Beth took a moment and then pointed her finger at random spots on the wall. “Well, aside from watching this library rise from the ground up, I’d say that having an office with at least one big window would be first on my list. Maybe more than one. I’ve read that a little light and a view of the outside world can work wonders for the psyche. That and some color. I’m so sick of this off-white. Egg shells are for chickens.”

  Renette lit up, full of her girlish enthusiasm. “Ooh, what color would you paint your walls?”