The Summer's End (42 page)

Everyone at the table stopped speaking as Imogene walked out of the room in the manner of the queen they were just discussing.

Mamaw leaned over to Girard but said loud enough for all to hear, “That woman thinks the sun comes up just to hear her crow.”

Nate, who had sat beside his mother and behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout the meal, saw his chance for an escape. “Can I go, too?”

“Yes, you may,” Dora told him. “Thank you for being such a gentleman.”

Harper rose to her feet and skewered Devlin with a glare. “I'm glad s
omeone
at this table was a gentleman.”

“Oh, come on, Harper,” Devlin said good-naturedly. “She was grilling us all night. I only gave back a little of what she was dishing out.”

“Harper's right. She's a guest in this house, Devlin,” Dora scolded.

“What does that make me?”

Dora caught Devlin's eye and tried to stop her smile. “Family.”

Devlin sat back in his chair, eyes gleaming.

Harper looked to Mamaw. Her grandmother sat erect in her chair across the table, eyes bright, deliberately silent.

Harper leaned close to Taylor at her right to whisper in his ear, “I'll be right back. I want to check on her.”

“You sure you'll be all right? Want me to come with you?” She'd sensed a tension in him tonight, ever since his conversation with Granny James. During dinner she'd seen him glance at her grandmother a few times, as if he were scoping out the enemy.

“Heavens, no. I'll be right back.” Setting her napkin on the table, Harper hurried to the kitchen after her grandmother.

The caterers were almost finished packing up the food and washing the dishes. The two women and one man, all dressed in black pants and white shirts, moved about the kitchen with focused intent, eager to finish the gig and get out as soon as they could. Granny James was standing at the counter, pouring herself a liberal glass of red wine. Seeing Harper, she reached for a clean glass and lifted it in the air, asking whether Harper would like one.

Harper nodded.

Granny filled the second glass, handed it to Harper, then reached for her own and lifted it high in the air. “That, my dear, is the big question of life. Do you see the glass half empty or half full?”

“Granny, what went on in there?” Harper demanded, feeling her temper spike.

Granny James glanced at the catering staff busy in the room. “Come outside a moment, dear. I could use some fresh air.”

Harper glanced anxiously back toward the dining room, where
the hum of voices could be heard. Reluctantly she followed her grandmother to the back porch. She didn't want to be rude and leave the party but needed a few words with her grandmother. Outside, the night was not much cooler.

“Granny, are you angry or upset?”

“Neither, darling. I just wanted a break.”

“A break? From the performance you gave in there? I've never seen you act like that.”

“Like what?” Granny took a sip of her wine.

“Like a bad stereotype of an upper-class British snob.”

Granny laughed, almost spilling her wine. “Me, a stereotype? That's rich. What about that Devil fellow?”

“His name is Devlin.”

“That man is going to marry your sister? Why, he's a . . . a redback.”

Harper had to laugh. “You mean a
redneck.
”

“Either way.” Granny waved her glass in the air.

“Granny, he was just playing with you.” Harper sighed. “You made it so easy.”

Granny James sipped her wine, then said in a superior tone, “I was just playing with them.”

“Were you just playing with Old Man Bellows, as well?” Harper asked smartly.

A sly smile crossed Granny James's lips. “You mean Girard?” she purred, exaggerating for a moment Mamaw's southern inflection.

“You know very well I mean Girard. You weren't exactly subtle with your flirting, Granny. I thought Mamaw was going to bust a gut.”

Granny James laughed and smiled like the cat that ate the canary. “Yes, she was, wasn't she?”

“I suppose that was deliberate, too?”

“Of course. She can be so smug. It wasn't exactly work, though.” Granny swirled her wine. “That Girard is certainly a handsome man.”

Harper laughed at her grandmother's antics, even while trying to keep her features stern. She threw up her hands in frustration as she laughed. Suddenly her laughter shifted to tears.

Granny James set her wineglass down and placed her hands on Harper's arms. “What's the matter, darling?”

“You're what's the matter!” Harper dropped her hands, pouting like the little girl she didn't want to be seen as. Especially not tonight. Especially not in front of her grandmother. “I was so glad that you were here with me to share my engagement. But I'm afraid you've gone and ruined everything.”

“I am sorry that you're hurt,” Granny James said gently, letting her hand rub Harper's arm consolingly. “And perhaps I did go too far.” She paused and let her hands drop. “But I am not sorry that I gave your young man the grill, as you put it.” She paused to pat her hair smooth. “You should know,” she said, “he passed with flying colors.”

Harper's head shot up. “He did?”

Granny James smiled. “I was hard on him. Asked the tough questions. That is my duty as your grandmother, after all.”

“And?”

“He's a fine young man. Proud, confident. There's something about his presence that demands respect. Most of all, I believe he
loves you very much. If he is your choice, my dear, I believe he deserves you. You have my blessing.”

“Oh, Granny.” Harper impulsively hugged her.

“My,” Granny said, flustered by the hug, “you certainly have become quite affectionate.”

“I have.” Harper hiccuped, trying not to cry. “I'm a girl in love. And I love you, too.”

Granny put her hand on Harper's cheek. “And I love you. Now let's return to the table before we get too maudlin, shall we? I promise to be on my best behavior. See?” Granny drained the rest of her wineglass. “The lion has turned into the lamb.”

All chatter at the table stopped when Harper and Granny James strolled back into the dining room carrying a tray of champagne glasses, chocolates, Marcona almonds, and a bottle of champagne. Harper and Granny James were all smiles.

At the table, Mamaw and Girard exchanged a glance. She looked around the table to see the others with equally puzzled expressions at the obvious change of mood. Still, she felt a huge relief that a peace had obviously been made.

“More champagne?” Mamaw said. “Dear me, I don't think I can drink any more.”

“Just one more toast!” Granny James exclaimed, handing the bottle to Taylor. “Dear boy, do you think you could do the honors?” She arched her brow teasingly. “You certainly seem strong enough.” As Taylor easily popped off the cork, Granny James exclaimed, “Delightful sound! My favorite.”

Devlin winked at Dora.

Imogene began walking from person to person, gaily filling glasses with champagne.

“We've heard many toasts for the happy couple tonight,” she began when she had finished making her rounds. She cast a pointed look at Devlin. “Some more colorful than others.”

Devlin had the grace to laugh, and the ice was broken.

“But I've yet to make a toast.”

Mamaw leaned forward in her seat. She saw Carson and Dora exchange a quick glance of worry.

Imogene paused a moment to smile dotingly on Harper. “Harper is my only grandchild. I am not as fortunate as Marietta to have three such lovely granddaughters. So you'll forgive me, I hope, if I've been, shall we say, inquisitive?”

“The Grand Inquisition is more like it,” Mamaw murmured.

A soft, if surprised, laughter of acknowledgment followed at the table. Relieved at the note of humor in Imogene's voice, Mamaw joined in.

“The news of the engagement was a surprise, as you can imagine,” Imogene continued in a more serious tone. “Engaged! I hadn't even heard Harper mention the name Taylor McClellan. So I packed my bag and crossed the pond to see for myself if my only granddaughter's future was in safe hands.” Imogene turned to Taylor.

Taylor looked back at her, sitting erect in his chair, shoulders back, poised like a cat about to pounce, Mamaw thought. If he had a tail, it'd be whipping back and forth.

“We had a little chat, Taylor and I.” Imogene smiled warmly. “And indeed, her future is in good hands. Good, loving”—Granny smirked—“
strong
hands.”

Taylor's
shoulders visibly relaxed. He ventured a slight smile and turned to Harper, sitting beside him, for verification. Harper smiled knowingly and placed her hand over his.

“Taylor, speaking for Jeffrey and I, we welcome you to the family. A toast!” Imogene raised her glass higher. She was smiling now, whereas earlier she'd frowned. Radiant with joy. “To Harper and Taylor.”

“Harper and Taylor,” everyone at the table joined in, glasses raised.

The whole table dissolved into laughter as they touched their glasses together in celebration. Mamaw, amazed, puffed out the breath she'd been holding. She'd never forget the sound of the joyous peals of mirth blending with the clinking of crystal.

Girard moved closer, his wineglass held between him and Mamaw. She turned her head, her face inches from his. So much drama tonight, she thought, she'd practically ignored the poor man. Yet he'd handled it all with his usual grace and charm.

“Marietta,” he said in a low voice so only she could hear him. He raised his glass. “To us.”

Mamaw raised an eyebrow at him teasingly. “Don't you mean to you and Imogene?”

Girard let out a belly laugh. “No.” His eyes flashed. “I most certainly do not.”

Mamaw's heart skipped as she lifted her glass and, staring into his eyes, took a sip. Never, she thought, had champagne tasted so sweet.

D
on't leave yet!” Harper called out to everyone. “I have one more surprise.”

Devlin was half-risen from his chair, his napkin on the table. Others were following suit, but everyone sat back down at Harper's words, exchanging glances of anticipation.

Harper rose from her chair as the others returned to theirs. Then she took off down the hall at a fast clip.

Imogene returned to her chair to sit. She and Mamaw exchanged polite smiles.

Mamaw leaned closer to ask her, “Do you know what this is about?”

“Not a clue. I seem to be getting all the news secondhand.”

During the wait, no one ventured to start conversation.

Devlin coughed and reached for the water.

Carson drummed her fingers on the table.

Dora reached for another chocolate.

Taylor looked down the hall for Harper. When he spotted her, her arms loaded with bundled paper, he leaped to his feet and went to her. Taylor lifted the burden from her arms and followed her into the dining room.

“Where do you want them?”

“You can set them right here.” She tapped the table.

Piles of papers were bundled together with red ribbon. Taylor set them in two tall stacks, the focus of everyone's attention.

“Whatever is this?” Mamaw's eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Harper turned to Taylor, the only one who knew what was up. He asked, “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I'll ever be.” Harper turned to the family, who were watching her expectantly.

“Don't keep us waiting.” Dora leaned forward. “It's already late.”

Harper cleared her throat and clasped her hands tightly. “Someone very wise once told me”—she looked at Taylor—“that sharing one's writing is to give a gift. Because you're giving a piece of your soul. Everyone here has given me gifts, none more precious than your love. This”—she placed her hand on a stack of manuscripts—“is my gift to you.”