Brides at Coconuts (Coconuts Series)

by Beth Carter

  “This is new territory for me too.” Hope plucked her phone out of her purse and Googled weekend activities in Crystal City. Brightening, she showed Tucker the screen. “We’re in luck. There’s a fall festival this weekend with all kinds of family friendly activities.”

  Tucker reached for her hand. “I love you. You’re the best partner.”

  Still holding hands, Hope said, “You’re not the only one with a secret.”

  He took another sip. “Go on, but this has been an eventful day. I hope it’s not too earth shattering.”

  “It’s more like embarrassing—for me, anyway.” She felt her cheeks pinken and waited for the server to set platters of food on the table.

  Staring from the food to Hope, Tucker said, “What is it?”

  “Don’t laugh. I’m a virgin. There, I said it.” Hope whistled. “That’s a load off.”

  “I didn’t know there were any left. Sorry, that was lame.” Tucker broke into a wide grin. “That’s magical, Hope. We’ve got to wait until our wedding night. That’ll make it extra special.”

  Hope planted a passionate kiss on his eager mouth, ignoring the restaurant patrons. “Thanks for not thinking I’m weird. Yes, I definitely want to wait until we’re married.” She giggled. “I’m probably the only thirty-nine-year-old virgin left.”

  Tucker scooped up some rice and beans. “Lucky me.”

  Chapter 71

  The following day Alex called a much-needed meeting at Coconuts. As the women settled around their favorite high-top table, her eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe that evil woman is here.”

  “Who? Hannah?” Hope asked.

  “Hannah’s an annoying, backstabbing know-it-all little bitch. Nikki’s the evil one.”

  “Much better.” Suzy laughed. “Succinct too.” The women followed Alex’s stare. In unison, they asked, “Which woman?” Alex pointed with her drink. “The one in the short shorts, red tank, and holding a cigarette. That’s Nikki, Tony’s ex, the mother of Joey.”

  “Oh, my God,” Suzy said. “And her husband comes here.”

  “With your intern.” Hope’s mouth flew open. “She has entered your—our—oasis. I wonder if she suspects anything.”

  “Who knows? She probably just wants to torture me.” Alex waved to Gus and motioned with her hand for drinks all around. He got the message and brought over chardonnay, merlot, a margarita, and champagne for Cheri.

  Holding her flute, Cheri sat riveted as she watched the interaction. Nikki spotted Alex and glared at her.

  Alex scooted her barstool back and stormed across the room. Hands on hips, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Nikki ignored her. “I came in to get a drink.” Shrugging, she said, “I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Tony told me you meet your girlfriends here.” Glancing around, she said, “Big fucking deal. It’s a bar with a beach vibe. Wow. How earth-shattering.” She scanned the crowd as she plopped on a nearby bar stool. “I suppose it’ll do.”

  Alex bristled. How dare Tony discuss anything about her favorite hangout with his wicked ex. “This is my special place. My oasis. Find your own.”

  Slurping a whiskey, obviously on purpose, Nikki said, “I don’t see your name on the door. I’m stayin’.”

  “It’s our hangout. Find another one.”

  “Like I said, I’m stayin’.” Nikki fished in her purse and retrieved a cigarette.

  Alex fumed. “No smoking.”

  “Okay, Miss Banker Husband Stealer. I have an e-cig for that.”

  Turning on her heel, Alex marched toward her friends. “The nerve of Nikki showing up here. I can’t believe Tony told her about Coconuts. She’s going to ruin it for me.”

  Both Suzy and Hope turned in Nikki’s direction. The woman waved to them as though they were long-lost friends.

  “Just ignore her,” Alex said.

  Alex downed her wine and ushered to Gus for another.

  Hope reached for a bowl of peanuts. “I feel for you but don’t let Nikki know you’re bothered. That’s the best way to handle a bully like her.”

  “She’s right.” Suzy held her glass in mid-air. “Ignore her.”

  Alex did her best not to look in Nikki’s direction. “Let me know when she slithers away.” She stared at her best friends. “What’s going on with you guys? Anything new?”

  Hope studied her margarita as though she had never seen one.

  Alex obviously noticed her silence. “What’s up, Hope? Got the wedding jitters?”

  “That’s perfectly normal,” Suzy added, as she patted Hope’s arm. “All of my brides get anxious beforehand.”

  Cheri leaned forward. “Cole and I have several ideas on how to decorate his barn. Don’t worry about a thing, Hope. This will be an eventful, fun time in your life.” Her voice broke. “I’m glad your life is improving since mine is in tatters.”

  The women swiveled toward the socialite. “What’s wrong?”

  Swiping at a tear, Cheri said, “It’s my mom. I’ve been unable to reach her for weeks. I called my dad and he said she’s detoxing in rehab. I knew she drank too much. I should have done—”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Hope said.

  “She’s right.” Suzy’s forehead creased with concern. “I’m sure she’ll be better in a few weeks.”

  Cheri set her champagne down. “I’m not in much of a celebratory mood. Mom can’t even have calls, nor visitors.”

  Alex shook her head. “I’m sorry. That makes my Nikki situation look like child’s play. Let me know if I can do anything.” Suzy and Hope offered their assistance and Cheri thanked them. “Just keep it confidential. We have to protect the Van Buren brand, you know.” She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s important now. I really miss Mom.”

  Chapter 72

  On Saturday, Hope and Tucker arrived at the address Britney’s mother had provided. Tucker shut off the engine and stared at her. “I’m shaking.” He held out his hand to prove his point.

  Hope kissed the back of his hand. “You’ll be fine.” He glanced at the house and back toward Hope. “I’m afraid. A grown man afraid of his own daughter. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

  “Not at all. You’ve never met. This is new for all of us.” She sighed. “And, sorry to say, there’s no telling what tales her mother has told her.” Hope studied his tense face. “Forget I said that. Relax and be yourself. Britney’s a teenager now. Who knows how she’ll react but I can tell you she’s a wonderful young woman. She studies hard but school isn’t easy for her. Brit’s a hard worker and a good person. You’ll probably know where you stand by the end of the day.”

  Swallowing hard, Tucker said, “I don’t know how to talk to a teen. What if she hates me?”

  “She won’t.” Hope cracked her car door open. “Let’s go.”

  Before they were up to the front door, they both spotted Britney peeking out the front window.

  Hope waved and began to knock on the door but the teen had already begun opening it. “Hi, Miss Truman.”

  “Hi, Britney. I want you to meet someone special. This is—”

  “I know. He’s my father.” Britney stared at Tucker and seemingly took in every tall, stocky inch of him. “We don’t look much alike. That’s probably good since I wouldn’t want a beard.”

  Her comment broke the ice. Tucker and Hope both laughed as he extended his hand. “You’re more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.” Tears filled his eyes. “We have a lot of catching up to do, young lady. I’m Tucker Jensen.”

  Britney stared from Tucker to Hope. “This is a little weird.” She laughed. “But I’m game. What are we going to do today? Mom is going to be gone until almost midnight.”

  Hope and Tucker exchanged glances. Hope spoke first. “This happens to be the weeken
d of the world-famous Crystal City Fall Festival. How does that sound, Brit?”

  “I’ve never been to a festival, so it sounds different. And hopefully fun. Let me get my phone.” Hope yelled after her, “You might want to bring a jacket in case it cools off tonight.” She heard a faraway “Okay.”

  After Britney locked the front door, they climbed into Tucker’s white SUV.

  Britney was unusually quiet as Tucker drove the twenty minutes across town. Hope glanced in the back seat and smiled. After he parked, they climbed out and bought tickets. Once inside, they spotted hundreds of festivalgoers, many with dogs.

  Britney appeared to take it all in. “This looks sick. There’s even music.” She smiled. “Mom never takes me anywhere like this.”

  Hope winked at Tucker and made a thumbs up sign behind Britney’s back. They strode past patrons who were buying homemade jewelry, listening to music at the makeshift stage, or sampling a variety of food. As they walked past street vendors, Britney stopped at nearly every one from ceramics to painting to woodworking. Hope was drawn to the booths with jewelry. Britney followed her as they perused displays of bracelets and earrings. Hope and Britney held up earrings, tried on bracelets, and giggled like a parent and a child.

  Tucker couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter. He could barely breathe, let alone speak. He sauntered over to the booth. “Pick out some earrings and I’ll buy you some.”

  “Really?” Britney reached for a black pair of skulls and held them beside tiny orange pumpkins. “These are my favorites. Will you buy some for Miss Truman too?”

  “I sure will.” Tucker waited as they made their final choices.

  Britney said, “Most of my friends would go for the skulls but these pumpkins are cute.”

  Hope held hers up. “We have matching earrings now. That’s what I chose too.”

  Both of them put their earrings on immediately.

  Britney frowned. “I want to take a selfie, Miss Truman but I only have a dumb phone.”

  Tucker asked Hope for her cellphone. “Let me take the photo of the two most beautiful women at the festival. Later, Miss Truman can email it to you.”

  As they strode past a caramel apple stand, a popcorn vendor, and another with roasted nuts, the mouthwatering smells filled the air.

  Tucker rubbed his belly. “Who’s hungry?”

  “Me,” Britney and Hope said in unison.

  After they decided on burgers and fries, Tucker found a wooden picnic table and motioned them over.

  Carrying three drinks, Britney tripped and dropped one. Her eyes bulged. “I’m sorry. I’ll go without.”

  “It was an accident. I’ll get you another one.” Tucker made his way through the crowd as Hope and Britney ate their food.

  That was nice of him,” Britney said. “Mom would have gotten mad and told me how expensive everything was.” As she took a big bite of hamburger, she pointed toward his fries, “His food is getting cold because of me.”

  Hope squeezed the teen’s arm. “He’s happy to do it. He feels terrible about . . . everything. It’s a long story and he should be the one to tell you but I do want you to know he was about your age when all of this happened. He’s a good man.”

  Britney gasped. “My age? I can’t imagine dealing with a baby at my age.”

  Hope nodded. “I know. Me neither.”

  After Tucker sat down, he handed Britney a fresh soda, unwrapped his burger, and ate half of it in one bite.

  Hope giggled. “Take human bites.”

  Mouth full, he swallowed. “My mom used to say that to me.”

  “Sorry it’s cold,” Britney said. “Thanks for getting me another soda.”

  Tucker rubbed his belly. “As you can see, I’ll eat just about any kind of food—hot or cold.”

  Britney studied him as she polished off her fries. They both covered their fries in catsup, while Hope dipped hers in a pool of the red sauce. “What are we going to do after we eat?”

  “Eat some more,” Tucker said, and laughed.

  “I think I saw a face painter down the street. You’re a good artist, Britney. Would you like to have your face painted?”

  “Yeah. I guess,” Britney said. “But only if you two do it too.”

  “I’m in.” Tucker rolled his burger paper into a ball. “You’re a good artist? What do you draw?”

  She shrugged. “You know. Anything.”

  Hope interjected. “Last year, Willow had an art project for her senior students and Britney was allowed to participate. She painted the most gorgeous peacock on the back of the art teacher’s VW Microbus. Willow drives the artwork all over town.”

  “Do you have a picture of it?” Tucker asked.

  Britney beamed. “I’m not that good. Miss Truman, do you have any photos on your phone?”

  “I sure do.” Hope was already scrolling through her pictures. Once she found the peacock, she held it up for Tucker to see.

  “You painted that? It’s incredible. Your work should be in the art museum.”

  “Nah. I’m not that good. But I’m trying to get an art scholarship. Miss Truman thought I should.”

  Tucker glanced at Hope and said, “Miss Truman is a smart woman. You should listen to her.”

  Hope threw their dirty plates away. “Let’s go get our faces painted.”

  As they made their way through the throngs of people, Tucker was on the left, Hope in the middle, and Britney on the right. Once they found the face painter, they stood in line and reviewed the choices of drawings. Britney’s eyes widened. “This is dope. I think I’ll get a witch. Or maybe a black cat with a hunched back. I can’t decide.” She peered closer to examine the possibilities on a board outside the booth. Turning to Hope she said, “What are you getting, Miss Truman?”

  Hope stared at the designs. “I think I’ll go for a pumpkin or a sunflower. What about you, Tucker?”

  “Um—” Tucker remembered the skull and cross bone earrings Britney liked. “Definitely the skull.”

  “Sweet.” Britney made her way to the artist and plopped down on a wooden stool, after deciding on a black cat. While the artist created the image, Hope whispered to Tucker, “How do you think it’s going?”

  “I’m still shaking but not quite as bad. She’s such a sweet kid. Cute as a button too.” His eyes glistened. “I feel like a jerk. Look at all of the years I’ve missed.”

  Hope reached for his hand and continued to whisper, “You’ll make up for lost time. I hope I didn’t breach your confidence but I did tell her you made this decision when you were in high school. She seemed shocked and said she could never handle a baby at her age.”

  “Really?” His voice caught. “She said that?”

  “She did. You’ll win her over. Give her time. Enjoy today and—” Excited, Britney tapped on Tucker’s arm and posed with the new design. “Isn’t it lit? I love this cat. I don’t want to wash it off. Do you think it’ll last until Monday if I don’t wash my face, Miss Truman?”

  “Um, that’s not the best idea.” Hope thought about the acne breakouts that Britney often had.

  “I want the other students to see it. I never get to do anything cool like this.”

  “How about if you wash half your face?” Tucker offered. “And maybe sleep on the other side so you don’t smudge it.”

  “That’s a great idea. Thanks. It’s your turn, Miss Truman.”

  Hope sat down while the artist made fast work of a sunflower on her cheek. Tucker and Britney watched as the creation took shape.

  “You shouldn’t wash half of your face either, Miss Truman. That’s beautiful.”

  Hope reached for a hand mirror. “It is nice. Tucker will you take our selfies again?” After the women posed, he requested the skull and crossbones.

&n
bsp; Britney kept a close eye on the artist, observing every brush stroke as the image took shape. “You have a fun job.”

  The long-haired woman grinned. “I sure do but it doesn’t exactly pay the bills.”

  Britney’s face fell. “Too bad.”

  Once she finished the painting on Tucker’s face, Britney and Hope both laughed.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s perfect,” Hope said. She reached for her phone. “Want me to take a picture of you and Tucker, Brit?”

  “Uh-I don’t know. Okay.”

  “You don’t have to,” Tucker said. “I’ll take another one of you two.”

  “How about a selfie of all three of us,” Hope suggested. After she snapped a few photos, they crossed the street toward an improvised pumpkin patch.

  Chapter 73

  Britney ran toward the pumpkins and stood in the middle. “Take a picture. I love pumpkins. I’ve never had one.”

  “You’ve never had one?” Tucker reached for the largest pumpkin and attempted to heft it off the ground.

  The man said, “That’s our prize-winning pumpkin, sir. It weighs over 200 pounds. It’s not for sale, but pick any of the others.”

  “That’s a good thing since I’d need a tractor to lift it.” He turned to Britney. “Pick out a pumpkin. Any one you like. You too, Hope.”

  As the three of them struggled to carry their pumpkins down the street, Hope giggled. “I think they should sell wheelbarrows next year.”

  Once they made it to his vehicle, Tucker carefully wrapped the pumpkins in a blanket he had inside and wedged them in an area between the seats so they wouldn’t roll. “Want to go back and get caramel apples?”

  “How about pizza?” Hope asked. “I’m a little tired from all the walking. Do you like pizza, Brit?”

  “Does anyone not like pizza?” Britney latched her seatbelt. “This was so much fun. Thanks.”