by B. E. Baker
She rolls her eyes. “It was my job as your tax preparer to tell you both, and my firm should have made it right.”
“But they agreed to buy you out completely, without any kind of penalty,” Luke says. “And that concession resulted in income of what to us?”
“A hundred and thirty thousand dollars.” Mary scowls. “Your brother laughed when I offered to pay him a hundred of that to make things right.”
“That’s good. If he’d taken you up on it, I’d have had to punch his pretty boy face.”
Mary swats my arm. “Stop. You’d have done no such thing.”
“Paul and I are just glad that we won’t have to worry about our taxes ever again, not now that Manning Tax will be handling it.”
“I haven’t decided whether to start my own firm,” Mary says. “And I certainly haven’t decided on a name.”
I lean close to her ear. “Let’s just say that I have ways of being persuasive. I think Manning Tax has an excellent ring to it.” I can’t help smile when I feel a shiver run up her back. Works every time.
“We’re at a wedding, Luke,” she says in her school teacher tone.
I love her school teacher tone. “I’m aware. But my brother’s big, empty house is right there and the ceremony isn’t for. . .” I check my watch. “Forty more minutes.”
Mary startles. “Forty minutes? I’m supposed to be helping Trudy get ready. Can you check on Amy and Chase and that dumb chicken and make sure they’re all fine?”
I think she may love that ‘dumb’ chicken almost as much as the kids. I smile. “Sure. I’ll do that.”
I watch fondly as she waddles away, unbelievably cute as a pregnant lady, not that she believes me. I find Chase immediately—squealing at the top of his lungs as Andy completely ignores him and Paul’s dumb lab waits to play fetch. Chase and Troy are arguing over who can throw the ball again, but they’ll work that out themselves. “Carry on, boys,” I say.
They ignore me.
I find Hope not much later, being adequately watched by Lucy and Coach Brian. They may be a little distracted, but I imagine they’ll keep a dog or cat from attacking it. I can’t help be a little bit proud, as I watch them flirting. Who knew Amy was such a savvy matchmaker? Brian is laughing way too loud at Lucy’s jokes, and Lucy can’t seem to take her hand off his arm.
But Amy. . .where is she? I figured she’d be watching Lucy and Coach Brian from around the corner. Or playing with the dog. Or petting the chicken. Or ordering the wedding staff around. I can even imagine just how that would go. ‘No, that flower arrangement is all wrong.’
I finally duck inside Paul’s house, moderately nervous at this point that I still haven’t found her.
“I don’t care! How can you not understand that? I bought your excuses for the first year, Doug. Over and over, like a moron. But at this point, I just need you to pay the child support. I’m done. If you don’t pay me by next Friday when my rent is due, I’m going to file a lien. My lawyer says I can.”
Silence.
I creep toward the voice, curious who in the world would be inside his house, yelling at someone right before Paul’s wedding.
It’s Geo’s new wedding planner helper person. And someone’s with her—that horrible little brat who’s so awful to Amy. Piper’s wearing denim shorts, a shirt with a sequin heart, and sparkly sneakers. Certainly not wedding attire. I close my eyes and sigh. Right. Mary mentioned that Geo was going to hire the mother of someone Amy knew. She didn’t mention it was Piper. I’d have put a stop to that one for sure.
“No, it’s not fine if you just—” She growls into the phone. “I’m working Doug, at my dream job, not that you care. Today’s your weekend so I didn’t make other arrangements, and I can’t have her here.”
She pauses.
“She’s not dressed, for one.”
A pause.
“I can’t afford to buy her a new dress. She wears the same few outfits over and over. How much do you think I made at Kroger?”
Another pause.
“I wouldn’t have time to get her one, even if you wanted to pay for it. It’s almost time for the ceremony. And she can’t stay here. Their little brat hates her for some reason. I guess when your dad is rich as sin, you can dislike whomever you want. I need you to come get her.”
Wait. Amy hates Piper? What’s going on?
“Excuse me,” I say.
Piper’s mother freezes and turns around. “I’ll call you back.” She hangs up. “You’re Amy’s dad.” She swallows.
“Amy doesn’t hate your daughter, you know.”
Piper’s studying the carpet.
“Although if I were Amy, I would. If you had any idea how many times Amy came home crying because—” I clench my fist. “But if that’s really what you believe, that’s between you and your daughter.” I shrug. “If you see Amy, please make sure your daughter leaves my spoiled brat alone and tell her that her rich as sin father is looking for her.”
Piper’s mother blinks.
I’m sure she’s worried I’ll tell Paul or Geo and she’ll get fired. She should be nervous. Her daughter’s awful and frankly, a menace. But maybe Mary was right—it does appear that the mother, at least, is struggling. She may not have handled things gracefully, but I haven’t been under that particular type of pressure. Maybe I’d have been just as oblivious to my child’s behavior or problems.
When I walk back outside, Amy’s sitting on the ground by Lucy, leaning over the box and petting Hope. I hope she’s not getting grass stains on her skirt. Mary always finds her the most beautiful dresses. This one goes with Trudy’s green, blue, and purple theme perfectly, and stains would distress my already stressed-out wife. “Hey, kid.”
“Hi Dad.” Amy smiles at me.
“Can we chat for a second?”
She hops up. “Sure. Did you see? Hope is totally fine about the velvet cord with the ring on it being tied around her neck.”
“Uh, great.”
“She pecked at it for a little bit, but now she’s leaving it alone.”
“Okay.”
Amy frowns. “Is something wrong?”
“So Piper is here,” I say. “Her dad didn’t come get her, and her mom doesn’t seem to be having any luck getting anyone to come pick her up.”
Her tiny shoulders fall and I want to march back and kick both Piper and her mother out. No matter how hard things are for them, they hurt my angel. Amy’s nice to everyone. What kind of brat—
“It’s fine,” Amy says. “She won’t be mean to me at my aunt’s wedding.”
“What?”
“She can stay. It’s fine.”
I clear my throat. “The thing is, she’s not really dressed for a wedding.” I don’t mention that apparently her mother can’t even afford an appropriate outfit.
“Oh.” Amy’s brow furrows. “I have a dress in my bag in the car that she can use.”
“Why do you have a dress—”
“Because Mary made us pack those hospital bags like a month ago, remember?”
“Hospital bags?” What is she talking about?
“She was worried that if the baby came early, you might not know what to pack to take with us to Grandma’s.”
Mary’s a genius. “There’s a dress in yours?”
Amy nods. “In case it happened on a Saturday.”
For church the next morning. “You don’t mind if Piper borrows it?”
She shrugs. “If she knows it’s mine, she might not want it.”
“Then you’d better be the one to offer it to her.”
Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Uh, no. That’s a bad idea.”
“I think it’s a good idea.” I take her hand in mine. “I’ll come with you.”
“Dad—”
I squeeze her hand. “Do you trust me?”
Amy nods.
“Okay, well, this isn’t easy to say, okay? But I think Mary was right. She said that Piper and her mom might be having a hard t
ime, and after hearing part of a phone conversation I shouldn’t have heard, I think they are. If you don’t make fun of her for it, she might ease up a bit. She might even realize that you’re not her enemy.”
Amy gulps. “Okay.”
“Alright.” I keep her hand in mine as we walk into Paul’s house.
“Piper’s mom,” I say. “I don’t know your name, I’m sorry.”
“It’s Lindzee,” she says. “Lindzee Nickloh.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lindzee,” I say. “This is my daughter Amy.”
“Hi,” Amy says, pointedly not looking at Piper.
“Amy didn’t realize Piper was here, but when I told her she wasn’t dressed and that she might not feel like she fit in without appropriate clothing, she had an idea.”
“I have a dress in my car,” Amy says softly. “If you’d like to borrow it.”
“Oh.” Piper glances up at her mom, whose lips are tightly pursed. Her mom shrugs. “Okay. That would be really great.”
Amy and I extricate the dress from the bag and bring it back. It’s not quite as elaborate as the one Amy’s wearing, but it’s still very nice. Delicate embroidery runs across the bodice and down the skirt. “You can keep it,” Amy says. “It’s a little too short for me, but I bet it’s perfect for you.”
Amy’s only an inch taller than Piper, but it was the perfect cover for a kind gesture. I’ve never been more proud. I watch Piper to see whether she’s upset at all, but I only see gratitude.
I doubt this will transform her, but any cooling of tensions would be welcomed. “Alright, we better go take our seats,” I say. “Especially since you have a chicken to prepare.”
“A chicken?” Piper asks.
Amy beams. Nothing makes her happy like telling the story of Hope. She launches into it with the skill of a veteran storyteller. “And just last night,” Amy says, “she ate her first piece of watermelon—on her own.”
“That’s cool,” Piper says.
“And my mom says it’s not a day too early,” Amy says.
Her mom. It’s the first time she’s called Mary that in weeks. I close my eyes and pray that it’s not a fluke.
“Alright.” I offer Amy my hand. “Let’s go.”
Amy reaches the chicken just in time. Two minutes later, the wedding march starts, and I hurry up the aisle to sit next to Mary on the front row. Given Mary’s advanced pregnancy, Trudy isn’t making her wedding party line up for the ceremony. We both turn around to watch as Chase and Troy bean everyone in the aisle in the knee, the foot, the elbow and even the shoulder with flower petal wads.
Trudy knew this would happen.
I chuckle at it anyway.
And then Amy and her diapered, injured chicken walk down the aisle. That chicken rests its head right on Amy’s chest, and my heart expands until it barely fits inside my chest. Mary did this—helped Amy to find the bravery to take such a big risk, and then nursed that chicken day in and day out, while pregnant and hosting my useless sister-in-law.
I lace my hands through hers. “Thank you,” I say softly.
Mary leans against my shoulder. “For what?”
“For being you,” I say. “For taking on everything that comes. For never complaining. For taking care of everyone around you. And most of all, for loving me.”
Mary’s eyes well with tears and she swats me again. “I’m not wearing waterproof mascara, Luke Manning, so shut your mouth.”
“Whose fault is that?” I whisper back. “You’re at your sister’s wedding.”
“My waterproof ran out,” she hisses.
I shrug. “Not my fault.”
And then Mary’s eyes shift from my face upward, and I know Trudy’s coming down the aisle, led by my beaming father. He didn’t have a daughter to give away, so filling in for Trudy is a pretty big honor.
Trudy may not have the competency of Mary, but she has come so far in the past year and a half. She’s beaming as she walks up the aisle, her smile turning into a laugh when she notices the piles of flower petals where there should be an evenly distributed layer. Ah, kids.
I spin in my chair to see my brother. He’s staring at Trudy like he’s on death row and she’s his pardon. Like he’s in freefall and she’s the parachute.
“He’s finally as pathetic as us,” a deep voice behind me says.
I look over my shoulder at James Fulton the third and practically do a double take. “Paul invited you?”
James shakes his head with absolute mirth. “Not even close, but Trudy invited my delightful wife.” Paisley waves. “And I’m her permanent plus one.”
I laugh. When I met Mary at that bar, no one could have ever convinced me that James would be a guest at Paul’s wedding, and my wife’s sister would be marrying my brother. “I’m glad to see you looking so pathetic,” I say. “It suits you.”
“You wear it well too,” James says.
And then the music stops, and the pastor starts yammering. “Did you prepare vows?” he finally asks.
“I did,” Trudy says. “Should I go first?”
Paul shakes his head. “Heavens no. You always let the worst go first. Did you learn nothing in primary school?”
“Primary school?” Trudy laughs. “In America, we call that elementary school.” She rolls her eyes. “Fine. You go first, mister bossy.”
Paul beams. “Mister bossy. I imagine most of the guests know that the first time I met you, I was your boss. I’m pleased to say that you’ve been in charge ever since.”
I chuckle.
“But I wouldn’t have it any other way, because before I met you, I was utterly lost. Before I met you, I worried about things that didn’t matter. I fretted over nonsense. Meeting you was what I needed—a kick in the pants to set me on the right path.”
“Those are the vows you planned?” Trudy’s eyebrow flies up. “It’s not even a promise. It’s just a statement—and not a flattering one. I’m not a kick in the pants, but I’ll show you—”
“Let me finish,” Paul says with a grin.
Trudy sighs. “If you think you can redeem yourself, go ahead.”
“All these people are here for a wedding,” Paul says. “There’s even a miracle chicken. Did you see that?” He grins. “With all these guests watching, I better do a little better than just try.” He takes her hand. “My vows to you are that you will always be my boss. You will always be my true north. You’ll always be the light that helps me see what matters. And I promise that when I’m wrong, which still happens, you have my permission to kick me in the pants, any time you want. I won’t even complain. Much.”
Trudy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “That was a little better.” She leans up on her tip toes and kisses him lightly.
“Hey, it’s not time for that yet,” the pastor objects.
“Did you hear what he said?” Trudy asks. “I’m the boss.”
Mary laughs, and I chuckle again.
“In all seriousness though, my life was a disaster when I met you, Paul. I liked you immediately. Who wouldn’t?” She looks around at the audience. “I mean, look at him.”
Lots of ladies giggle.
“But I wouldn’t even consider dating Paul Manning, partially because I didn’t know you were Paul Manning, but also because I wasn’t ready to date anyone yet. I thought I needed to graduate, find a good job, and get my debts repaid before I would be ready. In fact, I made a list, and I was determined to work my way through it before even considering a relationship.”
“You did accomplish every single thing,” Paul says. “On your own.”
Trudy smiles, but it’s all for Paul. “I did, and only then did I realize that my list was a waste of paper. You don’t become ready to love someone because you’ve graduated from college, or because you have a job, or because you’re financially secure.” She touches his face. “In the process of doing those things, I learned to trust myself again. I learned that I was enough, and that confidence in myself allowed me to believe what
you’d been telling me all along, that I was all you wanted. That I was good enough to love you, and that I could trust you to love me back.”
Trudy turns toward the audience. “So if you’re making lists and checking things off, take a good look at the things you’re waiting on. Sometimes the real list you should be following has nothing to do with accomplishments. What you need is to develop a little faith in yourself. Paul waited while I restored mine, and it’s his patience and his support that made him the one for me. Not this gorgeous face or this magnificent house. So my vow to you, Paul, is that I will keep on trusting you, and keep on supporting you, and keep on believing in you now, tomorrow, and next year, come what may. I’ll believe in us forever.”
“Now,” the pastor says. “Now I pronounce you husband and wife and invite you to kiss.”
And boy do they listen.
When they finally stop, Trudy looks right at Mary. “Who wants cake?”
All the guests cheer.
I stand up and offer Mary my hand. “My sweetheart.”
She stands up slowly, one hand on her lower back. “My back is killing me—these chairs are horrible.”
“Your back hurts?” I ask.
She nods.
And then liquid splashes on the ground. “Um, what was that?” I ask.
“I think my water just broke.”
“What?” Paisley asks behind us. “Did you just say your water broke?”
Trudy’s walking down the aisle, but she’s close enough to hear it. “Whoa! Did you hear that?” She whoops. “My sister’s having her baby!”
Mary shakes her head. “It’s fine. Let’s cut the cake.”
My brand new sister-in-law shoves her way through the crowd. “You’ve lost your mind if you think a little cake is more important than supporting my sister or celebrating my nephew’s birth.”
She’s not kidding.
“Can we get that cake to go?” Paul asks.
And it turns out, we can.
9
Amy
Mary’s water broke like the second Aunt Trudy’s wedding ended.
And then everyone went totally bonkers.
