“So, fun news,” Butch said.
“What?” She didn’t look up.
“You’re going over to Daphne’s house tonight while Tippy and I go get some hot wings.”
“Oh, I love chicken wings! They’re so cute!”
Butch glanced sideways at her as he pulled from the curb. “You hate chicken wings. They’re spicy and there’s gristle and preservatives and stuff.”
“Those cute wings and drumsticks? I like to pretend they’re people and put on a little play with them.”
“Well, I’m sure Daphne has something far more fun in mind. She’s babysitting you, and babysitters are always fun.”
“That’s true. But why can’t I go?”
Butch suppressed a sigh, which made his stomach start hurting. Why did kids ask so many questions? It was like she knew something was up. But the more he tried to play it cool, the more he looked like a raging liar.
“Just . . . You can’t, okay? It’s just . . . We’re talking business. You’d be bored and then you’d get whiny.”
“I get whiny when I’m tired, not bored.”
“Ava, you’re going over to Daphne’s and that’s the end of it.”
She threw the phone aside and folded her arms. “Fine.”
“And you’re going to behave yourself. Daphne is doing us a favor.”
“She’s doing you a favor.”
Suddenly Butch felt very much like an angry bird.
CHAPTER 25
BETH
AFTER SCRAPBOOKING and before beginning to prepare dinner, Beth went to her room and prayed, kneeling at the foot of the bed. Normally when the weather was nice, she sat on her back porch and prayed for her children while sipping her coffee. This, though—this anguish she felt deep in her gut—required more than nice morning air. God had to move. God had to do something. The more she thought about Marvin, the more she understood that Robin was wrecking her life. What kind of mother would she be if she didn’t try to save her from herself?
Her prayers for her kids had never been pretty but had always been earnest. Many were in the middle of a crisis. Lots of bad breakups of friendships and love interests. There was the year nobody showed up for Robin’s birthday party. There was the year it looked like Chip was going to fail fourth grade because of his handwriting. Lots of hospital visits for croup and stitches and broken bones.
When there was no moment of crisis, she rested in the Lord, except for the daily prayers of protection over her children. She was sleep deprived most of the time—so exhausted she would fall asleep when her head hit the pillow but then startle awake in the early morning hours, remembering she had to wash a jersey or make cupcakes or sign a detention slip. How had she survived? By the grace of God, she believed, and now she had another hill to climb. When would it end? When would she be able to rest and watch her children simply live?
The more she thought about Robin marrying Marvin, the more her heart raced and her mind crumbled into despair. Robin was so smart. How could she really think Marvin was a good match for her? Something had blinded her. Maybe it was true love, but true love didn’t pay the bills. Beth knew from experience that it was possible to find love and practicality all in one guy. Robin needed to marry a guy like her father. Why wasn’t she out looking for that guy?
That ended her prayer time. It was mostly questions and worries, tossed up and handed off to the one she always trusted would hear her.
Downstairs she began preparing dinner—probably an overly ambitious undertaking, considering her emotional state, but Marvin was coming over. And Robin needed to clue in to what would be expected of her as a wife. They couldn’t order pizza every night. She needed to think about her future—the future of her meals, at the very least.
Beth roasted asparagus, baked Italian chicken, and opened a bag of salad, but she’d sprung for the fancy salad dressings—the kind that were refrigerated in the produce section—and picked up a cheesecake from the bakery. Now she took off all the labels, putting it on the glass cake holder she’d gotten as a wedding present from her mother-in-law but had never used. Not legitimately, anyway.
She put out the nice dishes and lit the candles and moved the dinner off the stove to platters on the table. Marvin arrived right on time, just like Robin said he would, and Robin greeted him excitedly at the door. They kissed and hugged, and Beth had to turn away.
“Did you bring them?” Robin asked Marvin.
“Bring what?” Beth asked.
Marvin held up a paper bag. “The wedding invitations!”
“Chip! Nathan! Dinner!” Beth caught herself and her words. The anger that had curtsied in front of Dr. Reynolds was now showing up for the dinner call, which sounded more like a cattle call. Regardless, Chip and Nathan rumbled down the stairs and gawked at the table as they passed by.
“What’s the occasion?” Nathan asked.
“There’s no occasion. Just dinner as usual,” Beth tried. But even Larry looked confused. Mostly they ate in front of the TV these days.
“So, invitations! How . . .” Her words hung in the air, partly because she couldn’t get herself to say wonderful. She’d thought the invitations were something she and Robin might do together. “Let’s sit down before the food gets cold,” Beth finished.
At the word food, everyone swarmed. Beth sat lost in her own paradox. She didn’t want Robin to marry this fellow, yet she was devastated by being left out of the planning. Of course Robin had to start now. The wedding was planned for August. Why was that surprising? Because she’d always dreamed of Robin’s wedding day, and she’d been in that dream, shopping and giggling and having memorable moments with her daughter.
“Beth, this looks amazing,” Marvin said, scanning the table.
“Thank you, Marvin.”
“Maybe one day I’ll share my secret family recipe for pizza dough.”
“Oh. How thoughtful of you.” Beth smiled like it was punctuation, but nobody seemed to notice the emphasis. Marvin had already forked a chicken breast and was now sawing at the poor bird as if they were in medieval times.
“Why don’t we say a prayer?” Beth said smoothly, warmly, like Blythe Danner in Meet the Parents. She’d always wanted to be Blythe Danner. Wispy and wise and thin. She made pot holders look elegant.
Chip cocked an eyebrow. “We never pray at dinner.”
“That’s not true,” Beth snapped. “We always pray when we eat at the table.” Which was never these days, thanks to the invention of DVR and TV trays.
Larry tried to break the tension. “We pray, just not always on a schedule. We bless the food, we don’t bless the food. But we always feel blessed.”
Marvin chuckled. “I understand. I like that about you people.”
You people? Larry led the blessing while Beth stewed. She excused herself to the kitchen for salt so she could compose herself. Losing her temper wasn’t going to help. She grabbed the counter, breathing deeply, trying to let her little girl go. She imagined herself putting Robin in God’s hands, and then God working it all out—driving some kind of wedge between Robin and Marvin. Yes, she was just going to have to trust God and be available to help Him whenever possible.
She smoothed her hair for the seventh time and returned to the table, forgetting the salt.
“Mom,” Robin said, her eyes shining, “come look! Tell me what you think!”
Beth’s heart melted. “Tell me what you think.” She’d stopped hearing that when Robin turned thirteen and, that she could recall, hadn’t heard it since.
Beth slid into the seat next to Robin and put her hand on her shoulder. “Look at what?”
“Our wedding invitations!” Robin slid a stack out of the bag Marvin had brought in. Beth, admittedly, felt a tiny shudder of excitement. Even more than her own wedding day, Beth had dreamed of Robin’s wedding day and all that she hoped it would be.
She held one of the envelopes up into the light. Her first thought was that the color scheme seemed . . . different. “Orange an
d, um, what is that? Aqua?”
“That’s the new rage—putting colors together that don’t match at all!” All came out with a squeal after it.
Beth felt her teeth clamping together in the exact way that her dentist had warned would cause TMJ problems. She lifted the flap and there it was, so official-looking, with the invitation formally coming from Larry and her, but in a font that looked like it came from a horror movie.
“Oh, how . . . how nice. And looks like everything is spelled correctly,” Beth said, pressing her resolve into whatever positive element she could. She looked at Marvin’s parents’ names. Dan and Judy Hood. They seemed so normal, except where did the name Marvin come from? She’d almost expected to see a Marvin Senior. Maybe it was Dan’s middle name or something.
She had noticed that Marvin had the self-confidence of a kid with a much more age-appropriate name. Maybe she should just get over the name. She had other, bigger things to worry about.
The conversation continued around the table without Beth until there was an audible gasp from Nathan.
“What’s wrong?” Larry asked him.
Nathan was reading the invitation. “Marvin’s last name is Hood . . .”
Chip said, “You’ll be Robin Hood!”
“Isn’t it cute?” Robin clapped. Marvin grinned. Chip snorted. Nathan cackled. Beth rose to get the salt for the second time.
From the kitchen, she heard the conversation continue. “That’s cool!” Chip said.
“That should be your wedding theme,” Nathan said. “Your groomsmen could be the merry men!”
“Hilarious,” Larry said, and Beth felt herself grow angry. Again. Not Larry too. Surely he could see what a joke this wasn’t.
“Oh no, we already have a wedding theme,” Robin said, and Beth felt a wash of relief as she picked up the saltshaker. Maybe there was common sense left in her daughter after all.
“What is it?” Beth asked, returning to the table.
“It’s a surprise,” Robin said, grabbing for the salt.
“It would be cool to have, like, a bow and arrow with my tux,” Marvin said. Knuckle bumps ensued.
“We’ve already decided this,” Robin said, pinching his cheek. “Babe, you’re going to look so handsome!” She set her fork down. “Mom, Dad, listen. We know weddings are expensive. Marvin and I are going to take care of the whole thing.”
Beth said, “But, honey, it’s tradition to . . . The groom’s parents do the rehearsal dinner, and the bride’s parents do the wedding. I mean, we can’t fly you to Hawaii for a beach wedding, but your father and I can help out.” With a loan they were going to have to get at the bank. College was doing a number on their finances. “Right, Larry?”
“Well, what were you thinking in terms of cost?” Larry asked.
“We’ve already decided,” Robin said authoritatively. “We’re paying for it all. We just want you to come and enjoy yourselves.” She put her arm around Marvin. “I have to brag on Marvin a little. He’s been working two jobs to help pay for the wedding.”
Larry looked impressed, and Beth felt a surge of hope. She remembered what Dr. Reynolds had said, that nobody had ambitions to be a pizza delivery boy forever. It was a step toward something else. And if Marvin was willing to work two jobs, it meant he had fortitude. He was a sweet guy, always polite, and seemed to adore Robin, but until now Beth had not sensed fortitude.
Larry helped himself to more asparagus as he asked, “Another job? Really? What’s your second job?”
“Pizza delivery.”
“We know about that one,” Beth said. “What’s your new job?”
“Pizza delivery.”
“He works for two different pizza places,” Robin gushed.
“Oh,” Beth and Larry said together, though Larry’s sounded like he’d been informed and Beth’s sounded like a dream had met a sudden and violent death.
“I figure it’s what I know, you know?” Marvin said. “It’s what I’m good at. I got all the ins and outs of pizza delivery.”
“It’s way more complicated than you think,” Robin said.
“It’s like the other night,” Marvin said, stretching his arm around Robin’s shoulders. “I had a supreme and a half-sausage, half-mushroom to deliver to Parker Avenue, but I also had a pepperoni and hot wings to deliver to Maple. Buck, this slightly incompetent guy I work with, he forgets to put the peppers on the supreme, so I have to go back, and by this time, I’ve only got twelve minutes until they get the pepperoni and wings for free. And you can’t get to Parker and back to Maple in twelve minutes.”
“No, there’s no way,” Nathan said, and Beth was momentarily distracted by the fact that both Chip and Nathan seemed to be listening in utter hero worship.
“What did you do?” Chip asked.
“It gets worse,” Marvin said.
Doubtful, Beth lamented.
“I start down MacArthur, and . . .” He paused dramatically. “Construction. There’s a line of cars a quarter mile long.”
“Oh, that’s it. You’re toast,” Nathan said.
Suddenly Marvin took on an air of authority, his eyebrows raised as if he were about to impart philosophical wisdom. Beth shifted her attention from Robin to Larry. Yep, it was confirmed. All were enamored.
“In the pizza business,” Marvin said, “never say never.”
Beth tuned out the rest of the conversation about how Marvin somehow got to where he needed to go with all the pizzas still hot. That same irrational feeling that had lurked over her at Dr. Reynolds’s office, that made her yell at a man she hardly knew, caused her to grip the edge of the table. She could not lose it. Not here, not now. If she lost it, Robin might not ever listen to her again. She tried to focus on what Dr. Reynolds had been telling her. Be present, focus on the moment, do what you can now, don’t live in the past—and also, yes . . . Remember, Beth? Remember? He told you nobody wants to deliver pizza for the rest of their lives.
She turned and smiled at Marvin. “It’s great that you take it so seriously,” she said. “It really is. Not that many people would’ve cared so much.”
Robin looked delighted. She leaned over and gave Marvin a hug and then hugged Beth, too.
“Boy, Marvin, you’ve really impressed us tonight. I’d like to hear more about your future plans,” Beth said.
Larry nodded. “Yeah, definitely. What are you going to do once you’ve moved on from the pizza business?”
Beth nodded, glad Larry was connecting back to reality.
“Well, that’s what I want to do.” Marvin looked unsure even as he said it.
“You have no post-pizza plans?” This was the first time all evening that Larry seemed concerned. He’d been living out the Summer of Intense Fun so much that he’d forgotten some essentials.
“Pizza is the future,” Marvin said. “It’s still the number one food in America. It’s the only recession-proof meal. You know what they feed troops overseas?”
“Pizza,” Robin chimed in with a smile.
“You know what four of the last seven death row inmates chose as their last meal?”
“Pizza,” Robin said again.
There was no questioning Marvin’s passion for the product. His face lit up every time he mentioned it. But wasn’t that a problem? A Chernobyl kind of problem?
“Last month,” Marvin continued, “you know those miners who were trapped for three days? You know what they asked for when they got out?”
Nathan, Chip, and Robin answered in unison: “Pizza.”
Beth realized her hand was over her mouth like she’d just witnessed a pedestrian accident. But no, it was her daughter’s future being slammed by an overrated American staple.
“He does eventually want to manage his own pizza place,” Robin said, placing her fork upside down on her plate, then folding her napkin over it, just like Beth had taught her when she was little. She still remembered that, and Beth felt emotion surging up her throat. She’d taught her daughter manners. How coul
d she have failed to teach her the dangers of falling in love with a pizza delivery boy?
“That’s right. I do,” Marvin said.
“That sounds good. Nothing wrong with that,” Larry said, casting Beth a hopeful glance.
Robin turned to her, grasping her hand. “Mom, did you ever hear how he proposed?”
Beth shook her head. “No. We know so little. I would love to hear . . .”
“We were having pizza, and when I opened the box, Marry me was spelled out in pepperonis.”
“Oh, that’s so . . . original.”
“And,” Robin said, plunging her hand into her purse and emerging with a miniature pizza box, “this is where the ring was.”
“So . . . cute . . .”
“She freaked.” Marvin smiled.
“Tell us another delivery story!” Chip said.
With that, Beth touched Larry’s knee. It was a soft touch with a scorching undertone, the kind that needed no explanation. “We’ll get dessert!” Beth said, her voice high with desperation disguised as excitement.
As Larry followed her into the kitchen, Beth collapsed against the counter.
“Oh, cheesecake!” Larry said.
“Larry!” Beth said. “Don’t you see what’s happening here?”
Larry put a hand on her back. “Sweetie, I know this is a little terrifying, but—”
“A little terrifying? Larry!”
“Listen, Robin is going to be fine.”
“No, she’s not. . . . She’s really not. . . .” Beth fought back a sob that wanted to escape. “Why isn’t she being smarter about this? Making Marvin understand he’s got to have a more stable job?”
“Well, he does make a good case for the stability of the pizza business.”
“This isn’t a joke,” Beth said, standing fully erect, turning to scrub her hands under the faucet water for no reason.
Larry rubbed her shoulders. “I want to tell you a story.”
“This is no time for one of your stupid stories.”
“This is a good one.”
Beth rolled her eyes.
“The day after I asked you to marry me, your father paid me a visit at work.”
Just 18 Summers Page 16
