The Wedding Circle (9 page)

The next ten minutes passed more like sixty. Periwinkle and Lalie stayed near the kitchen phone, both hoping it would ring and yet dreading what news might come. They were unable even to make small talk during the wait, and only the occasional clatter of dishes being stacked nearby broke the silence.

When the call finally came through, Periwinkle exhaled deeply and picked up the receiver. The moment had arrived. Then she nodded and briefly held it away from her ear. “He's fine, Lalie. You can breathe now!” she called out. “He's on his way here right now. Should be just a few more minutes, and he'll walk through that door and you can hug him all you want.”

“Oh, thank the Lord!” Lalie exclaimed, the relief almost seeming to rise from her visibly at the exact moment her shoulders slumped and the air rushed out of her chest.

Periwinkle continued to listen to the officer at the other end, her face a study in surprise. “What?! I can't believe it!” she cried out at one point. “Why, that's just a low-down, miserable, dirty trick!”

Lalie grew alarmed again at Periwinkle's incredulous tone. “What is it? Is my Barry still okay?”

Periwinkle nodded vigorously, held up one hand, and whispered. “Still just fine. Tell you all about it in a minute. Just hang on.”

When the call was over and Periwinkle began to explain to everyone what had happened in some detail, reactions among the kitchen staff were mixed. Mr. Place cocked his head and suppressed a smile, while Lalie and the others just shook their heads. Not long after, Barry sauntered in through the delivery door, looking as if he truly did not have a care in the world and the crisis had never happened.

His mother soon wiped the lopsided grin off his face, grabbing him by the shoulders, staring him down, and stopping just short of giving him a good shaking. “You gotta get you some nicer friends, young man,” she told him. “Guess you know you had us all scared half to death. I'm too old to be put through the wringer like this. I'll have enough gray hairs soon enough!”

“But I didn't mean to,” he said. “At one point, I was really scared, too.” Then he broke away from his mother and turned to Periwinkle. “Right in the middle of it all, I said to myself I was gonna walk in here and tell you I was quittin,' Miz Periwinkle. But I guess I got me the last laugh, huh?”

“Reckless driving is no laughing matter, son,” she told him. “But we're all glad you're safe. I just have to agree with your mother, though. I don't think you should hang around with Scott and Lawrence anymore. I'd say they're bad news after what happened tonight.”

“Crispy,” Barry chimed in. “We call him Crispy 'cause of the bacon, remember? He hates it when we call him Lawrence. Once he even punched me on the arm when I up and forgot. It really hurt, too. He's a big guy, and he packs a wallop!”

“Some friend,” Periwinkle observed.

“Well, I think you should call him Lawrence as punishment for what he and Scott did to you tonight,” Lalie added, putting her hands on her hips. “I don't think it's the least bit funny them callin' in that fake order and tailgatin' you like that. If y'all had wrecked out there, no tellin' what coudda happened. We'd prob'ly all be over at Cherico Memorial right now in the waitin' room on the edge of our seats. Really, son, I shudder just to think.”

Barry could only shrug his shoulders at his mother's lecture. “Yeah, but they got a ticket for reckless drivin,' so I don't think they'll ever try somethin' like that again. That officer was pretty rough on 'em after we all got pulled over. So I got out of the van and walked back, and he was tellin' 'em they were lucky they weren't spendin' the night in jail. Then he asks Scott why they'd even do a dangerous thing like that, and Scott goes, ‘We were just messin' around is all.' Then Scott says he and Crispy were tired of me lordin' it over 'em with my job and money and goin' out with Mollie Musselwhite and all. He even pointed his finger at me, like that was gonna do him some good with the cop. Ha!”

“Like I said, son,” Lalie added, pointing her own finger at him, “you need to get you some nicer friends. I never did like those two. Wild as berries in a briar patch. That crazy Scott with that one danglin' earring he wears and then talkin' you into your tattoo and all. They aren't welcome in my house anymore, I can tell ya that. No more a' them comin' over and eatin' me outta house and home like they've been doin'. 'Specially that big fat tub, Lawrence!”

Barry corrected her again. “Crispy!”

“Now, you listen good. I don't wanna hear that silly name one more time, do you hear me, young man, or you're grounded?!”

Barry looked and sounded thoroughly disgruntled, waving at his mother as if he were swatting a fly. “C'mon. Those guys aren't that bad. We've mostly've had a' lotta good times together.”

“I don't care what all y'all did or didd'n do together. They aren't welcome, and that's my final word,” Lalie told him, shutting her eyes and shaking her head emphatically.

Periwinkle collected her thoughts after everything had been talked out and everyone was pitching in with the final kitchen cleanup. For once—and possibly just this once—she had been wrong about Harlan, jumping to her hasty conclusions the way she had. Perhaps it was her assumption that he was the man across the street that had influenced her. But she was now doubly thankful she hadn't told the others about her recent encounter with him. That would only have muddied the waters and caused more gossiping behind her back, and she did not want that kind of distraction going on in her kitchen. She had The Twinkle's sterling reputation to uphold.

In the end, it had all turned out to be nothing more than a lot of hyperventilating about a foolish teenaged prank. More importantly, she realized that nothing had really changed. There was no actual threat to her takeout and delivery service as she had feared for a couple of stressful hours, and it was time to turn her thoughts to the food she would be preparing tomorrow for
The Robber Bridegroom
review at the library.

Then, too, with luck and reading in bed a little later than usual, she would finally finish those last ten pages of the novel. True, she hadn't followed some of it particularly well up to now, but she fully intended to hold up her end when the serious discussion got under way. Ultimately, this brief distraction would not deter her one iota from helping Maura Beth and Jeremy clear the deck for what was certain to be the most unusual wedding Cherico had ever staged.

8

Adoring Eudora

T
here was no getting around it. Maura Beth felt like a bucketful of cold water had just been splashed in her face, and she immediately began rethinking her unbridled optimism of the evening before. The first inkling that she might have been living in a fool's paradise was her mother's flabbergasted expression when she walked into The Cherico Library for
The Robber Bridegroom
festivities, somewhat overdressed for the occasion. The woman had never been really good at hiding her emotions; she was often tactless in dealing with her peers, believing that her wealth and social position insulated her from any wrath her behavior produced. So when the Mayhews and all of the McShays arrived from the lodge a good fifteen minutes before The Cherry Cola Book Club review and potluck was to begin, Cara Lynn did not hesitate to reveal her first impression to her daughter.

“I don't know what to say, Maura Beth.
This
is where you've worked all these years?
This
is what you've been raving about in all your phone calls and e-mails?”

Trying her best to remain calm during what amounted to a kamikaze attack, Maura Beth scanned the group with a diplomatic smile. “Yes, this is my labor of love, Mama. To each her own, I always like to say.”

Connie quickly came to her rescue. “Maura Beth has done wonders with the place, Cara Lynn. What I mean is, she's made it so much fun to come here for these outings. We're so proud of our Cherry Cola Book Club. It's brought us all together, and we've learned a lot along the way. And best of all, Cherico is going to get a brand-new library, thanks to your daughter.”

“And not a moment too soon from the looks of things,” Cara Lynn said after another disdainful sweep of the cramped lobby filled with metal folding chairs. Then she pointed to the two black-and-white posters of Eudora Welty that Maura Beth had positioned on either side of the podium. On the left side was the youthful Eudora, while the distinguished, elderly version graced the right. “Is that by any chance the librarian who worked here for years before you came? Looks like the job just wore her out. No makeup, no hairdo, nothing.”

Maura Beth decided to rise above her mother's sudden cattiness. Having Councilman Sparks stirring things up in previous book club meetings had prepared her for such unwarranted behavior. “That's very clever of you, Mama. Of course, we all know that Miss Welty's great talent was a matter of the prose she wrote. I don't think she was ever very concerned with how she photographed. At any rate, there's the buffet table just waiting for us across the room. We have our usual favorites—chicken spaghetti, gumbo, and the like; and a few new treats such as hot fruit, cashew cheese log, and clam canapés that Periwinkle and Mr. Place brought us from The Twinkle. So shall we all head on over and serve ourselves? I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starving.”

“Nice work there, Maurie. You handled it like a pro,” Jeremy whispered to her out of the side of his mouth as they led the way to the food and drink.

That was all Maura Beth needed to hear to remain calm and focused on the task at hand. Jeremy had become her rock on so many different levels, and when he gave her arm an affectionate squeeze, she knew there was nothing her mother could say or do to knock her off-course. Nonetheless, she was honest enough to admit to herself that she was disappointed by her mother's snippy remarks. Where was the gracious, bubbly woman who had been so chummy with Susan McShay last night at the lodge? Had she merely been an illusion?

It did not take long, in fact, for Maura Beth to notice that her mother and future mother-in-law were keeping their distance from one another. Her years of librarianship, which included figuring out the behavior and preferences of her patrons as they came and went, were serving her well here. The two women sat on opposite ends of the front row of chairs with their husbands in tow once they had helped their plates. Finally, Maura Beth put her speculation on the back burner and informally opened the discussion about
The Robber Bridegroom
while everyone continued to balance their plates on their knees. Ordinarily, she would have waited for all the eating to be over and done with and then taken to the podium, but she felt the need to get the bad taste of her mother's testiness out of her mouth.

“So, let's get right down to it. What did y'all think of Miss Welty's work?” she began, as she precisely speared one of Periwinkle's stuffed mushrooms with her fork. “In other words, who adored Eudora?”

“I did!” Becca called out, raising her hand and wiggling her fingers. “Even though it was a little over the top in parts. I thought all the characters were larger than life, and I was especially intrigued by the concept of a gentleman robber like Jamie Lockhart. I didn't know there could even be such a thing. If you steal for a living, you're not a gentleman in my book.”

“Things were different way back then in pioneer times,” Maura Beth pointed out. “The concept of law enforcement was a bit iffy, which made life rough along the Natchez Trace for travelers. So, would you agree with those who insist that
The Robber Bridegroom
reads more like a fairy tale than anything else?”

Becca nodded emphatically. “With characters named Big Harp, Little Harp, Mike Fink, and Goat, I'd say so.”

Then Jeremy took the floor. “It's certainly been compared to the Brothers Grimm, and the good versus evil part is easy to identify. But I would definitely agree that life along the Natchez Trace was rough. Back then, travelers from Nashville to Natchez had actual bandits like Big Harp and Little Harp to deal with. Some lost their money, others even lost their lives. That's established historical fact. Eudora Welty just expanded and embellished the truth a bit from her knowledge of Mississippi folklore. And quite colorfully, I might add.” He paused for a barely audible chuckle. “Of course, there were no park rangers to protect people the way they do today. I can vouch for the fact that the biggest threat to safety out there now is the occasional flying deer.” He pointed to his rib cage. “I still have a slight hitch from that bad wreck I had. But my doctor says it'll disappear over time.”

“I believe in angels on our shoulders at critical times,” Maura Beth added, her eyes tearing up slightly. “I think you're living proof, Jeremy.”

The remark seemed to pour a layer of good feeling over the gathering; but not long after, Miss Voncille drastically changed the tone of the discussion. “I did enjoy the novel, but it made me think long and hard about the fairy-tale aspects you just mentioned, Maura Beth. I've found myself applying that to my own life. Mainly, that I think Locke and I ought to consider giving up this fairy-tale notion of getting married at our age, even though I'm the one who's been lobbying him so hard for it. I never thought I'd be saying something like this, but there it is.”

Locke rested his fork on his plate and turned her way. “Maybe this isn't the time and place to discuss this, Voncille.”

“Perhaps not. But there are all sorts of complications when too many characters are involved in anything, whether it's in a novel or real life,” she answered. “Locke Jr. and Carla are determined to keep us apart, and I don't like the feeling of being the villain in all of this.”

“But you aren't. They are!” Locke protested.

“That doesn't stop me from feeling the way I feel!”

“Maybe we're wandering off the subject a bit here,” Maura Beth said, mindful of her role as the even-tempered moderator. “Perhaps we should get back to the plot of our read here.”

But Miss Voncille had evidently touched a nerve, and Periwinkle stepped in to pick up on her theme. “I think Voncille makes a good point, though. When Harlan and I got married, I know I thought I was living a fairy tale. I was a princess, he was my prince, and the entire universe revolved around us. Okay, so maybe there wasn't the sort of plotting and horse trading that went on in
The Robber Bridegroom,
but looking back on it all, I can clearly see that I wasn't near in control of my life as I thought I was. I mean, you get all these gifts and good wishes, and there's wedding cake and then rice thrown at you when you leave for your honeymoon. You're on this incredible adrenaline high. But where's the course you should take for the reality of marriage? Who prepares you for that? I know my mother hugged me, and told me, ‘Everything'll be just fine, darlin' girl.' That's what she always calls me. But things didn't turn out to be just fine. I think weddings are like fairy tales, plain and simple. But some of 'em don't have happy endings.”

“I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Periwinkle, but that seems a little too cynical to me,” Connie said, sounding a bit irritated. “Douglas and I have always worked out our problems, haven't we?”

“Work being the operative word,” Douglas agreed.

“Same for us,” Becca added, gesturing toward her Stout Fella. “I mean, isn't that the real point of a wedding? The fantasy part fades quickly, but you take that first step and then start the business of working hard at your marriage. At least, that was our approach.”

Stout Fella nodded with his biggest, most boyish, grin. “Amen! I think I've learned that the hard way!”

Then Maura Beth steeled herself as she saw her mother leaning forward in her chair and frantically waving her hand a few times. She'd witnessed that sense of urgency in her mother's demeanor many times before, and it was never a good sign. “My opinion is that weddings can be very disappointing if they're not done right. They have to be thought through and not just thrown together any old place. I'm speaking about propriety and tradition here. And not only that—”

William Mayhew interrupted, grabbing his wife's arm and shaking his head. “Cara Lynn . . . don't. Not here.”

“No, I'll have my say,” she continued, clenching her teeth as she loosened his grip. “I haven't come all this way to be a mousy little wallflower in the background. I'm the mother of the bride, for God's sake. Unless you're planning to get married over and over again like Elizabeth Taylor did—and I'm sure she didn't intend for things to turn out that way—a wedding should be a once-in-a-lifetime affair. It should be unforgettable and beautiful and full of pictures you can paste into an album you can show off to your grandchildren when you get old. It should have the perfect setting. And so what if it costs a lot of money? If you have it, you should spend it—even lavish it on your only daughter. Parents wait all those years to see their children get married and settled in life, and their opinions and ideas should count for something. I don't see why this is so difficult to understand.”

Maura Beth closed her eyes while quickly trying to figure a way out of her contentious dilemma. She even briefly imagined Eudora Welty herself overseeing the whole book club meeting from her perch in literary heaven and clucking her tongue in despair. Why, this was nowhere even close to what she had intended to convey with her fanciful novel! So, how had they managed to veer so far off track? It was almost as if Councilman Sparks were in the room again, stirring things up the way only he could manage—but this time wearing a Cara Lynn Mayhew mask. Oh, the irony of it all!

“Mama, I think we should discuss this later in private,” she finally managed. It was clear from everyone's downcast facial expressions that they were all very uncomfortable with the latest exchange between mother and daughter.

Then it was Jeremy's turn to try to rescue the situation, clearing his throat and speaking very emphatically as he reverted to teaching mode. “Getting back to the novel, I think the plot is a bit on the grisly side at times. First, you have Jamie saving Clement from being murdered and robbed by Mike Fink. Then we learn all about Clement's past where his first wife and sons were captured and tortured. It's the sort of fairy tale that stops just short of the blood and gore you'd expect when a giant shows up stomping around and shouting, ‘Fee-fi-fo-fum!' ”

Maura Beth's laugh was clearly forced, but she was grateful for the change of subject. “Good point, Jeremy. Who has something else to add? Come on, now, don't be shy.”

Unexpectedly, and before anyone could say anything further, Cara Lynn put her plate down on the floor, sprang up from her chair, and headed toward the door in a huff, her nose way up in the air. “Come on, William. Take me back to that lodge!” she demanded. “I've had enough!”

Maura Beth immediately got to her feet as well. “Wait, Mama. Please don't leave like this!”

William turned to his daughter at the last second with a pained expression on his face. “I'm so sorry, sweetheart. There's just not much I can do when she gets this way.” Then he headed after his wife at a fast clip, mumbling unintelligible things under his breath.

As was the case with nearly every previous meeting of The Cherry Cola Book Club, unforeseen circumstances had brought things to a screeching halt. It never seemed to fail, and no one—not even a stupefied Maura Beth—knew what to do or say for the longest time.

Finally, Mamie Crumpton, who had been uncharacteristically quiet so far and mainly concentrating on her plate of food, spoke up. “Your mother seems to have a very short fuse, dear.”

Maura Beth couldn't help but blush, hanging her head. “Unfortunately, I can't remember when she didn't.”

“I'm afraid this is all my fault, Maura Beth,” Miss Voncille suddenly insisted. “I shouldn't have wandered onto the subject of marriage the way I did. I should have stuck to reviewing the novel.”

“I guess I'm equally to blame,” Periwinkle added. “I went on and on about my bad marriage experience, and we weren't here to talk about that. I think I just added fuel to the fire.”