The Wedding Circle (20 page)

But end it did. And suddenly, Maura Beth was facing her beloved, tuxedoed Jeremy, after William Mayhew had offered up his tender, fatherly kiss on the cheek, and softly whispered, “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” she told him, letting go of his arm with a lump in her throat and cutting the cord herself in an entirely different fashion.

Father Hickock's traditional opening words tumbled by quickly—Maura Beth hardly heard them at all. She was still rehearsing in her head the vows she had written, but soon enough her big moment arrived, and she was more than ready as Jeremy lifted her veil to reveal her peaches-and-cream glow.

“Jeremy, the journal I have kept in my heart throughout my life always seemed earnest enough to me. In it, I described to myself what sort of person my lifelong companion would be. First and foremost, he would be kind. He would not know what it was like to be mean-spirited toward others. He would also be visionary—expecting the best of himself and those he dealt with—never growing cynical when disappointments appeared, as they must. But most of all, he would see himself reflected in my eyes—the eyes of abiding love and commitment—just as I would see myself in his. We would need no other mirrors for the rest of our lives. So having found you, I will no longer search for completion. It is done. We are one.”

There was a whispered excitement throughout the room when Maura Beth finished her vows. She turned briefly to get a glimpse of her mother's reaction and focused on the affectionate smile that Cara Lynn was beaming her way. The words “We are one” might also have applied to the Mayhew family at long last.

Then Father Hickock nodded graciously, inviting Jeremy to begin, and the room fell silent once again.

“So, here we go, you and I, sailing off into the sunset, launching our lifetime of expectations together. I have no doubt that we will fulfill those expectations because I know we were meant to do so. Our paths have crossed, and, to be truthful, there have been times when it has felt like we have not merely crossed, but collided. But in dusting ourselves off, we've found that our hearts and souls have been revealed to each other, and we've both liked what we've seen. No marriage is without hard work, but we are nothing if not hard workers at life. The sunset behind us is our witness, along with all of these good people in front of us. There could be no greater joy than for the two of us to join forces and let the world know we're here for a purpose. And so, my sweet Maurie, let the journey begin.”

Again the room responded, but this time there was a decidedly more female reaction in the form of a chorus of “Aww's!” Maura Beth continued to drink it all in, at one point closing her eyes briefly to capture and remember the moment forever. She doubted that Douglas's camcorder would come close to doing it justice from any angle. Only with her eyes could she sear it on her brain.

Father Hickock called for the rings, which Paul McShay quickly provided. Then came the exchange, followed by the more traditional vows and “I do's!” And, at last, Father Hickock's seal of approval: “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”

Jeremy leaned in gently, lightly brushing Maura Beth's lips at first; but he returned to linger and apply a bit more pressure. The timing of it all was just perfect and properly romantic.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Father Hickock declared after they had separated, “may I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy McShay.”

The applause rang out enthusiastically, as Douglas again positioned the phonograph needle. Then the recessional began. As if on cue, the sun sank below the horizon, surely unwilling to play the poor sport and steal the spotlight from the newlyweds.

Strangely, Maura Beth found herself thinking about page 25 of her college journal in spite of the dizzying input of the last fifteen minutes or so. Perhaps it was time to put it aside for good, retiring it to the attic of their new home on Painter Street after they moved in. Time to put aside girlish things now that she was a married woman. She had a wonderful husband on her arm and a state-of-the-art library to run going up next door. She must learn how to balance both aspects of her life, but it was what she had been wanting for so long. As for the redheaded bambino she had hoped for since before puberty, well, he or she just might have to wait a little longer. But it was nothing to worry about—Jeremy had put it succinctly in his vows: They were sailing into the sunset together, and what a memorable journey it was going to be!

17

Parting Glances

M
aura Beth and Jeremy had just finished feeding each other messy mouthfuls of Mr. Parker Place's “grasshopper pie” wedding cake in the lodge dining room—not once or even twice, but several times over while Douglas insisted on recording them from every conceivable angle.

“After all, this is for your children and grandchildren,” he told them, jockeying for position among the guests surrounding them.

“Enough, Douglas!” Connie finally said. “They'll have crème de menthe hangovers!”

But William Mayhew and Paul McShay were also nearby, snapping pictures for posterity with their smartphones, and it did not take very long for Maura Beth to feel the buzz.

“Let's just pose with the cake from now on,” she told Jeremy. “I don't think I should swallow another bite.”

Jeremy nodded. “Gotcha! I can certainly vouch for the fact that's some powerful stuff right there.”

Indeed, it was the talk of the buffet as people lined up for a piece, and Maura Beth caught snatches of Ardenia Bedloe's praise as they sampled it. “My baby boy made that cake. Yes, he did. My Joe Sam down at The Twinkle. Y'all should drop on by anytime, y'hear!”

At some point Maura Beth and Jeremy began circulating on their own, and Councilman Sparks was at the top of her list of unfinished business—even a glancing blow to land. She caught up with him as he was making short work of his piece of wedding cake.

“Isn't that scrumptious, Councilman?” she said after greeting him—and his Evie as well.

“Pretty wild and wicked, Miz Mayhew,” he told her, running his tongue over his lips. “Although I have to admit I figured you more for the traditional white almond cake type.”

“I'm only traditional in spots, Councilman.”

“Well, it was a lovely ceremony with the sunset and all,” Evie added. “You were framed just like a portrait out there.”

“Yes, we were, weren't we? I could have stood like that forever and had someone do us in oils.”

Maura Beth craned her neck and spotted Cudd'n M'Dear tied up with Lewinda and Mabel Anne at the other end of the buffet table. “Meanwhile, I have someone who's just been dying to meet you, Councilman. Why, she told me she just couldn't leave Cherico without talking to you!”

“Really?”

Maura Beth caught her cousin's eye and motioned to her. “Oh, yes. And here she comes now.” Then Maura Beth made the introductions, and Councilman Sparks looked thoroughly confused.

“I didn't quite catch all those names,” he told Cudd'n M'Dear, who began laughing uncontrollably.

“I'm sure,” she said, catching her breath. “No one ever remembers all that. But you will, won't you, Councilman? At any rate, that was Theodoria Agnes Montaigne Mayhew, but you may call me Cudd'n M'Dear. Everyone who's anyone does, you know.”

Councilman Sparks continued in his confusion. “I'm to call you . . . Cudd'n My Dear?”

“No, not My. It's Muh, as in
M
with an apostrophe.” She boldly reached out with her thumb and forefinger, squeezing his lips between them. “Now, say, ‘Muh, Muh, Muh.' That's it . . . make a mouth like a little goldfishy swimming around in its bowl.”

He tried to repeat the word, but her severe pinching and squeezing were making mincemeat of his efforts.

Finally, Evie stepped in protectively. “I think you should stop manipulating my husband's lips like that.”

Cudd'n M'Dear continued making a putty face of his features. “Oh, he looks so cute this way. I just can't resist.” She pouted her own lips in an exaggerated fashion. “Muh, Muh, Muh. Just like a great big batch of Play-Doh.”

Evie's eyes narrowed drastically. “Well, perhaps you should seriously think about trying.”

“Why, of course. I will admit I do get carried away sometimes. It's just that my name has always been a mouthful, and I want to give everyone the opportunity to get it absolutely right.”

Maura Beth was barely able to suppress outright laughter as Councilman Sparks's face returned somewhat to normal. “Oh, Cudd'n M'Dear has cut a wide swathe between here and New Orleans, haven't you?”

“Indeed, I have. I've been on a mission of sorts, you see. Would you like to hear all about it, Councilman?”

He made a weak attempt at smiling after flexing his jaw a few times. “Yes . . . of course.”

“Well, on the way up for the wedding, I had Father Hickock get off the interstate and stop at several of these small-town libraries. Oh, I strictly played it by ear. And do you know what I did, Councilman?”

He shook his head warily.

“I went right on in, announced myself to those librarians, and made donations to them all. Wrote checks to them right then and there. You see, I'm rather a wealthy woman, but I'm very particular about how I spend my money. Because I fully realize that I actually didn't make a cent of it myself—I inherited just oodles of it. Luck of the draw, I suppose. But then it always makes you feel a bit guilty when you go around living high on the hog on someone else's money, pretending that it's yours and acting like you're a big deal, don't you think? Or do you not happen to know anyone like that?”

Maura Beth could see that Councilman Sparks suddenly had his guard up. She knew that calculating expression of his only too well. Nonetheless, she fully intended for the fun to continue, or—as they were fond of saying in Cherico—the dogs would keep howling at the raccoon they had just treed.

“Ummm-hmmm,” he said, cutting his eyes at his wife.

“And so,” Cudd'n M'Dear continued, “what better use of my money could I make than to support libraries. They are, in fact, the repositories of our culture. They tell us where we've been, where we are now, and where we're headed, don't you agree, Councilman? Or are you a ‘fill the potholes only' kind of public official? We have a lot of that down in Louisiana, you know. It's the ghost of Huey Long on the prowl, I always say.”

He hesitated briefly, obviously steeling himself. “I can confidently state that I serve the public in various ways. That's always been my objective, and I believe I've lived up to it.”

“Oh, I'd say he definitely has. After all, our new library will be named for Durden,” Maura Beth said. “And a few others who've also inherited lots of money. Amazing what a little guilt will do, right, Councilman?”

He again exchanged glances with his wife and cleared his throat. “I think generosity would be a better word to use at this point, and I'm sure those libraries greatly appreciated your contributions. But for now, I think I've commented sufficiently on the situation at hand.”

“And I was thinking,” Cudd'n M'Dear added, almost as if she hadn't heard the councilman's response. “Perhaps I should consider making a substantial donation to the public coffers of Cherico.”

Councilman Sparks snapped to attention as he always did under such circumstances. “Oh?”

“Yes, but only under certain conditions, you understand. I'm a stickler when it comes to my money.”

“And what would those conditions be?”

Cudd'n M'Dear filled her chest with air and lifted her profile dramatically. “That there must be a quarterly accounting of the money's investment and return, and that it only be available as a slush fund for the new library. Under no circumstances should it be used for the general fund or for any other purpose. In addition, it is to be drawn upon annually for cost-of-living salary increases for library employees only. If there are any violations of these policies, I will come after the Cherico powers-that-be with a vengeance. I just love my lawyers to pieces, and you wouldn't believe how fond they are of me, what with the retainers I lavish upon them. So, are these terms acceptable to you, Councilman? I'm talking a million dollars here. A supervised, fully accounted for million.”

“I can certainly accept those terms, My Dear,” he stated as evenly as possible, though his ever-widening eyes gave the game away.

“Now, don't make me have to play with your lips again, Councilman. Remember, it's Muh, Muh, Muh,” she said, making a crab claw of her fingers and bringing them perilously close to his face. “Repeat after me—Muh, Muh, Muh.”

Councilman Sparks managed a passable imitation of the sound, but then shot daggers at Maura Beth.

“There. That wasn't so hard, was it?” Cudd'n M'Dear said with a playful lilt. “I do believe I'll stay over a little longer so you and I can talk a little business. These dotted lines can be so bothersome, can't they?”

Maura Beth continued to play the game. “Isn't that thrilling, Councilman Sparks? Why, I don't believe City Hall will ever have to worry about the library's finances again!”

“Yes,” he answered, his jaw set firmly. “No worries for the Cherico Library ever again.”

Then Cudd'n M'Dear sallied forth with another of her grand non sequiturs. “And speaking of Huey Long, I feel it is my duty to point out the tendency of men in a position of power to abuse their office. Particularly when it comes to the subject of women working under them.” She winked smartly at Evie as if they were best girlfriends. “The wife is always the last to know.”

Evie bristled. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, nothing, sweetie. I've been bombarded with all these rumors ever since I arrived this weekend. But I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. There's probably nothing to them. You know how people will talk when they've gotten a few under their belts.”

Maura Beth sensed that both Councilman Sparks and Evie had reached their limit, and she decided to call off the dogs at last. “Let's have no more idle gossiping on my wedding day, Cudd'n M'Dear.”

“Yes,” Evie snapped, “let's don't!”

Momentarily, Councilman Sparks recovered his composure, and his customary vote-getting smile returned. “Well, this has been most pleasant meeting you,
Muh
Dear,” he said, “and you must call me Monday so we can talk about your generous contribution. But right now, the wife and I must make the rounds and chat with all the constituents, you know.”

“I completely understand,” said Cudd'n M'Dear. “A politician is always dabbling in something or other.”

Councilman Sparks managed a quick nod in her general direction. “I'll look forward to your call. Talk to you then.”

Once he and Evie had blended into the crowd and were out of earshot, Maura Beth flung her arms around Cudd'n M'Dear's neck. “You definitely missed your calling. You should have been either an actress or an international spy. I thought I was going to explode trying not to laugh when you did that rubbery thing with his face. That was a complete surprise.”

“Oh, just a spur-of-the-moment inspiration. But you kept describing him as always having a smug expression, so I decided to do something about it. I must admit I enjoyed it tremendously. It was like kneading modeling clay or even finger painting—the sort of thing children like to do in nursery school.”

Maura Beth pulled back and gazed at her cousin admiringly. “Seriously, though, I can't thank you enough for what you're going to do for the library. I could easily picture myself fighting Councilman Sparks every year for employee raises. He would find some excuse not to give them. But that will no longer be an issue—you've taken it out of his grubby hands completely.”

Cudd'n M'Dear looked nothing short of triumphant. “You've toughed it out up here. You deserve for good things to happen to you. And a little birdie told me that you and Cara Lynn are on the same page at last on your career and life here in Cherico. I'm so glad I came and could do something to help in any way, Maura Beth. Meanwhile, I believe I'll go for another piece of that boozy wedding cake of yours. Could I bring you another one, too?”

Maura Beth clutched a hand to her décolletage dramatically. “Oh, dear God on a party cracker, no. If you do, I'll have to be carried up the stairs to change my clothes!”

Just as Cudd'n M'Dear wandered away laughing, however, Nora Duddney came up with a somewhat stout, shy-looking older man in tow. “Maura Beth, I'd like for you to meet my very own Wally Denver,” she said. “Now, forgive him if he doesn't bubble over like I do these days. I think your very original wedding has overwhelmed him a little.”

Maura Beth extended her hand, and her best public servant, librarian skills kicked in. “I'm so glad you could come, Mr. Denver. Or may I simply forget the formalities and call you Wally?”

“Please,” he answered, averting his eyes. “I'd, uh, I think I'd like that.”

Maura Beth could easily see why Nora had fallen for him. He had the persona of a sweet, huggable teddy bear, an overgrown children's bedtime toy, and she had to fight every impulse to keep from hugging him herself.

“Then Wally it is. And you must call me Maura Beth. Just remember that I'm a McShay now. You'll have to remember that, too, Nora.”

“Yes—Miz Maura Beth McShay. It just occurred to me that you won't even have to change the monograms on your towels.”

They both chuckled, and Maura Beth said, “And don't you dare believe those rumors that that's the real reason I decided to marry Jeremy. So, Wally, what brought you to our little town of Greater Cherico?”

“Well, um, I just retired, but some friends of mine—the Milners out at the lake, you may know them—anyway, I've visited them a time or two during the summer, and I thought to myself—Wally, whenever you stop running yourself ragged being a stockbroker, this might be a nice, quiet place to spend the rest of your life. And so here I am.”