The Wedding Circle Read online

  “Now, on to politics,” she continued, glancing at her notes as the two of them sat up in bed the evening before both sets of parents would be arriving. “Daddy goes back and forth all the time. Sometimes he attacks the Democrats—others times, the Republicans. It all depends upon the issue. He says it’s because he likes to keep all his options open as a registered Independent. On the other hand, I’m not sure Mama has ever even voted, so I don’t know what you can do with that.”

  Jeremy glanced her way with a weak smile and shrugged. “I don’t either. But here’s one for you. Does she complain about the shape the country’s in?”

  “No, not that I can recall.”

  “Well, at least she’s consistent. The old adage is that if you don’t vote, you don’t have the right to complain.”

  “Yes, but maybe you could just avoid political discussions until they’ve both gotten to know you better.” Then she flipped a page of her notepad. “Now, I think religion will be a little bit easier to navigate. As you know, they’re both devout Episcopalians. That’s why they’re so upset with me about wanting to get married up here at the lodge instead of at St. Andrew’s. But you’re relatively cool with the Episcopal Church, aren’t you? Not carrying grudges of any kind, I assume.”

  “None whatsoever, especially since I’m a lapsed Methodist these days,” Jeremy said, unable to avoid snickering. “Although if Henry the Eighth and John Wesley squared off in a prize fight, I’d probably put my money on Wesley in a two-round knockout. I think Henry the Eighth would be a little out of shape. I seem to recall portraits of him with a giant turkey leg hanging out of his mouth.”

  Maura Beth’s laugh seemed a bit forced, but then she suddenly became quite animated. “Oh, and I just thought of another important little tidbit for you. Please don’t bring up Hurricane Katrina and the insurance companies. Daddy was on the wrong side of some of those lawsuits, and it wasn’t pretty, let me tell you. I was still at LSU at the time and thought I’d never hear the end of it. Every time he e-mailed me, there was another diatribe to wade through.”

  Jeremy decided it was time to pull the plug. “Listen, Maurie, this is beyond fascinating, but all these categories are starting to make me feel like I’m cramming for Jeopardy! or something. I think you’re worrying about this first impression business way too much. Being scripted is fine when you’re teaching kids English, but it may not be all that great an idea when you’re meeting your in-laws for the first time. If you’ve noticed, I haven’t exactly given you a homework assignment to complete about my parents.”

  Maura Beth put her notepad down on the purple sheets and caught his gaze. “That’s because there wasn’t any need to. I’ve already met them, and the three of us already know we get along. It’s like I’ve known Susan and Paul McShay all my life. I want to look as elegant as your mother does when I get to be her age, and who wouldn’t like a retired Vanderbilt professor of psychology in the family when it comes to advice? They’re both so together, I can’t stand it. But the bottom line is, I just want my parents to like you as much as yours like me. Is that too much to ask?”

  “In . . . a . . . perfect . . . world . . . no,” he told her, deliberately taking his time. “But we don’t live in one, unfortunately. Besides, you’re the one who’s been saying we’re going to get married no matter what. Let’s just trust that we’ll do and say the right things here.” He leaned over and gave her a soft, reassuring kiss.

  “I’m sure we will,” she said, pulling away slightly to catch her breath. “It’s just that my mother can be so difficult at times. I think Councilman Sparks may be easier to deal with when you come down to it. And then, even though I’ve always gotten along better with Daddy, there’s this semi-changeling thing that keeps bugging me. I know it’s ridiculous, but since I really don’t look like either one of my parents, I’ve always wondered if somebody might have just dropped me off at their doorstep, or there was some kind of mix-up at the hospital.”

  Jeremy inched a bit closer, putting a protective arm around her. “Hey, I remember thinking that myself way back when. I’m sort of a combination of my parents—uniquely me.”

  “Yes, you are unique. But do you think I’m crazy?’

  “No, I think lots of children play around with that scenario at some time or other in their lives.”

  Maura Beth looked amused. “Well, they say the gene for red hair is way recessive anyway.”

  “That’s the spirit. You’re a delightful throwback. So don’t give that mix-up thing another thought. But you bringing up Councilman Sparks reminds me—anything new from City Hall about the library?”

  “Nothing since the attempt to get me to erase the teen room and the tech services area from the blueprints. Not a peep out of His Royal Highness, I’m delighted to report. They’ll be pouring the slab soon. I figure my dream library is a done deal once the concrete is cured.”

  “Well, there you go,” Jeremy said, his voice oozing confidence. “You put Councilman Sparks in his place. Now I realize he didn’t give birth to you, so that mother-daughter thing isn’t in play. But I think you’ll rise to the occasion tomorrow when your mother finally shows up. And I promise you—I won’t put my foot in my mouth if I can possibly help it. I’m a keeper, remember?”

  That led to another kiss, and this time she was the one who initiated it.

  “How about I light another candle?” he said, moving down her neck with his lips. It had become a romantic convention of theirs—this flickering candle business on the nightstand whenever they decided to make love. “Enough of this coaching. Let’s just play and have some fun. The evening’s still young.”

  When Maura Beth saw her mother and father step out of their silver Escalade around three o’clock the following afternoon in front of the lodge, she inhaled the steamy August air and firmly grabbed Jeremy’s arm. She needed that physical connection with him now more than ever, particularly after she saw how her mother was dressed. Yes, the outfit was simple and form-fitting, complementing Cara Lynn Mayhew’s still-stunning figure and long legs. But it was also as black as pitch—as if she were going to or had just come from a funeral. It was a long-established fashion fact that this carefree socialite wore only bright, colorful designs in public. Was there a message in there somewhere? Surely not. Especially since Maura Beth had weighed her options carefully and decided to wear her mother’s wedding dress, hoping—perhaps against hope—that it might dissolve the ongoing tension between them once and for all.

  “Keep your wedding dress in storage with the furs, Mama—at least for now,” she had said over the phone two days before. “I don’t need you to bring it up here. I’m going to wear it proudly because you want me to.”

  For the first time in—oh, forever—Cara Lynn had sounded genuinely pleased about something where the two of them were concerned. “Well, what a nice surprise!”

  “It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, of course.” Then came the disclaimer. “Of course, I could have wished you would be wearing it down in New Orleans. We could still make it the social event of the season.”

  But Maura Beth had risen to the occasion, letting the zinger bounce off her thick skin. “I only hope I’ll look as lovely in it as you did.”

  And Cara Lynn had been unable to top that, genuinely thanking her daughter for the compliment. They hadn’t spoken since then, but Maura Beth liked her chances of making this first visit a successful one, even if her mother was wearing black.

  Meanwhile, her father had stepped out wearing a gray business suit and one of those trendy purple ties that Maura Beth found so jarring on men these days. Purple ties and pink shirts, even on some of the talking-head news and sports anchors—what was that all about? She was at least thankful that her Jeremy was a no-frills, white shirt kind of fellow. Well, he did have a couple of yellow polo shirts in the closet they now shared. But she was happy to say they looked very sporty on him.

  Fortunately, she came out of her spontaneous fashio
n review just in time to embrace her father, who was the first to approach her and hold out his arms. “Hi, sweetheart! My little girl is looking just wonderful!” William Mayhew exclaimed.

  Maura Beth could sense that the strength of his hug was genuine, while his tone of voice was warm and relaxed. As for his appearance, the years continued to be kind to him. He had remained trim and athletic-looking with a full head of dark hair, although it had begun to gray significantly. Never what anyone would consider classically handsome, his masculine resolve had always been attractive to women; and he had enjoyed his share of them before settling down with his trophy wife.

  “You’re looking great yourself, Daddy,” she told him. “I hope the drive up wasn’t too tiring. I know it’s a long way to come.”

  But Cara Lynn preempted her husband instead of greeting her daughter. “The interstate wasn’t so bad, but this last part on the back roads seemed like we were lost in a foreign country. I don’t know how many times I kept checking the map to make sure we hadn’t taken a wrong turn.”

  “Good to see you, too, Mama,” Maura Beth said, initiating their embrace and ignoring the last remark.

  “Your father’s right,” Cara Lynn added, standing back for an assessment with the suggestion of a smile. The problem was, there was a certain skepticism in that suggestion, as if she didn’t quite approve of whomever or whatever was in front of her. In fact, it had become a trait of hers that more than a few people found off-putting. “You do look quite pretty with your hair pulled back off your face like that. I’ve always thought you should show off your forehead instead of wearing bangs. It’s just not age appropriate.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Mama. But you can thank my stylist out at Cherico Tresses. Terra works wonders with me all the time. She’s a gem.” Then she nudged Jeremy forward a bit. “Well, here he is, folks,” she continued. “The pride of the McShays. The Brentwood, Tennessee, McShays, that is. You’ll be meeting all the McShays in a few seconds.”

  William offered his hand and that masculine smile of his at the same time. “Hello, son. I’m sure you’ve been thinking this day would never get here.”

  “I guess Maurie and I have been counting it down, sir,” Jeremy answered. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you both at last.”

  Cara Lynn maintained a polite distance, settling instead for a perfunctory nod and a grin. “The same here, Jeremy. But who’s Maurie?”

  “Oh,” Maura Beth said, caught off guard. “That’s his nickname for me, Mama. I thought I’d mentioned it to you before.”

  Cara Lynn maintained the rigid posture of a mannequin. “I don’t believe I recall it, no.”

  “Well, let’s don’t dawdle out here in this heat,” Maura Beth continued, eager to switch subjects. “Jeremy’s parents and your hosts are all waiting inside to meet you with a little something to drink. They thought it might be slightly overwhelming to descend upon you all at once.”

  “The way people do on a train platform or at an airline terminal,” Jeremy added, clearly expecting some reinforcing laughter from the matter-of-fact inflection he was using. His face fell quickly, however, when he was greeted only with silence. Even Maura’s Beth’s hopeful smile and arched eyebrows failed to rescue the moment.

  “What about our luggage?” Cara Lynn asked with an abruptness that seemed unnecessary. “We have quite a lot on the back seat and in the trunk. I really didn’t know how much I should bring.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, Mama. These strong men will bring all of it in for you after you’ve had a chance to catch your breath with a nice refreshing cocktail. Wouldn’t that hit the spot?”

  Cara Lynn exhaled with a hint of resignation. “As a matter of fact it would. Lead the way.”

  But they had taken only a few steps when the front door flew open, and Connie greeted them with outstretched arms and a smile typical of all Southern women who make playing hostess their specialty in life. “Welcome to Cherico and to our home! We’re so happy to see you. I’m Connie McShay, Jeremy’s aunt.”

  The rush of relatives continued as Douglas joined the group for another round of introductions. Once they were all inside, Paul and Susan McShay stepped up for more handshakes and hugs; and after the guests had been shown to their room to freshen up, everyone settled on sofas and chairs in front of the empty fireplace, sipping wine or something stronger. Then came the inevitable, awkward small talk.

  “Your home is so spacious. I like it very much,” William said with a sweep of his hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such high ceilings. How high are they, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Douglas puffed himself up. “Twenty-four feet. I wanted twenty-six, but my architect said we’d need reinforcing beams across the span if we went any higher. I guess I was aiming for the sky.”

  “Yes, this was strictly Douglas’s project,” Connie added, hoisting her glass of Chardonnay toward the roof. “He’s the fisherman in the family, and this is his idea of heaven. As for me, I just like to look out the windows at the water—especially at the sunsets. You wouldn’t believe the colors!”

  “Sounds lovely,” Cara Lynn said, but with no real enthusiasm.

  Maura Beth could have wished for a little more warmth from her mother—what else was new?—but for the time being, things were going as well as could be expected. Nonetheless, she decided to try and liven things up. “Did I tell you that Susan runs a little crafts boutique at the Cool Springs Galleria up in Brentwood, Mama? She even designs some of the jewelry she sells, I believe.”

  Susan put down her Dubonnet and ran with the opening. “I do now. At first, I thought I would just cater to the artsy-craftsy crowd and be a supply store for them. That’s why I called my little endeavor Beads and Crafty Needs. But as I got to know some of my customers better, I decided to try some of it myself. With my Jeremy and Elise all grown-up now, what’s an empty nester to do? But anyhow, I like to think I’ve gotten quite good at it—I braid my own silk cords for the necklaces I make using a technique called kumihimo. Quite a mouthful, isn’t it?” She paused for a girlish giggle. “And then I use jasper, amethyst, and jade to make some lovely pendants, if I do say so myself. They’re among my best movers.”

  Maura Beth was pleased to see a genuine spark of interest spread across her mother’s face, banishing the glazed, weary expression she had carried into the lodge with her.

  “Oh, I just adore pendants. So few people know how to accessorize these days,” Cara Lynn offered with genuine animation.

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Susan answered, leaning forward in her chair with a wink. “I have to cringe when some of these women walk into my shop with all this . . . bling, I believe they call it nowadays. And let’s don’t even talk about these piercings. Oh, the places they’ll put them without a second thought. I keep wanting to ask, ‘Does that hurt?’ ”

  Both women chuckled richly; then Susan continued. “But don’t think for a second I’m letting the men off the hook, either. Some of them come in looking just like pirates. It’s all I can do when they buy beads to refrain from asking if they’re going to make another pair of dangling earrings or stick them in their navels and then go terrorize a cruise ship.”

  Everyone was laughing now, and Maura Beth felt her residual nervous tension melting away as she locked eyes with Jeremy. This effortless banter right off the bat was exactly what she had been hoping for. At the very least, the meeting of the in-laws was off to a promising start.

  Susan continued the feeling of camaraderie that had enveloped the room. “Cara Lynn, I always travel with a few of my jewelry catalogues. They’re upstairs in my suitcase, as a matter of fact. I’d be delighted to show you some of my work later on when we get a moment.”

  Cara Lynn clasped her hands together excitedly. “Yes, I’d love that. Let’s be sure and find the time.”

  “Well, we’re having dinner early at The Twinkle. That’s Cherico’s restaurant of choice, you know,” Connie put in. “I’m sure there’ll be
plenty of time when we get back. Believe me, Cara Lynn, you’re going to love Susan’s work. I have one of her jade pendants in my jewelry box. Matter of fact, I think I’ll wear it to The Twinkle this evening.”

  Maura Beth sat back, admiring the ongoing ebb and flow. Mostly flow. Had she died and gone to heaven? Here were these two larger-than-life, diva personalities getting along famously. Perhaps her decision to wear her mother’s dress had turned the tide in her favor. Or even in Cherico’s favor. Was it barely possible that she had worried about the wedding for nothing?

  A couple of hours later, the dinner at The Twinkle was humming along. Periwinkle had taken Maura Beth aside and reassured her from the get-go. “We’ve shut the place down for two hours just for you, girlfriend. I’ve got my full staff work-in’ for ya tonight—myself, Parker, Lalie, Barry, and my part-time cook and waitress to boot. No excuse for slow service this go-round. We’ve got it all covered.”

  And that had definitely been the case—at least through the salad and entrée courses. The compliments had flown throughout the meal, and Maura Beth had detected no sign of her mother turning up her nose at the cuisine. In fact, she had even congratulated the chef the moment she tasted the homemade salsa generously heaped atop her grilled chicken. This was the Cara Lynn Mayhew—indeed, the mama—who she had been waiting for since adulthood.

  So now there was only Mr. Place’s key lime icebox pie left to serve to the eclectic mix of diners. There were several polite refusals in the form of, “I’m just too full,” or something similar when the dessert plates were whisked out, however; but it pleased Maura Beth no end that her mother was not among those who wanted to push back from the table.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve made up my mind to splurge a little this weekend,” Cara Lynn declared, admiring her slice of pie almost as if it were expensive jewelry.