“We are going to have the ceremony at the community church.”
Andre’s eyebrows raised as he nodded and smiled. I had finally done something right.
“Do you have any kind of documentation on this?” he asked.
“Not officially, no,” I said. “I have talked to the pastor about it, though and he says it’s open. We live in a small town, Andre. Documentation isn’t always required.”
“Mr. Andre,” he corrected.
“We just don’t have the same kinds of waiting lists like there are in the big city.”
He clutched his hand to his chest. “Well, that’s a relief.”
“And your invitations?”
“We weren’t going to send those out until mid-January. We were afraid people would lose them. I have them ordered.” Mr. Andre’s eyes slanted toward me. “Well, they’re not exactly ordered, but I do have them picked out.”
A pause hung in the air as Mr. Andre summoned up the strength to go on. “Are you sure we’re planning a wedding and not some kind of country barbecue where they cook a pig over a spit?” He clasped his hands together in front of him to emphasize his point. “You are in crisis mode, Madame Happy Hinter.”
I gulped. So maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t nailed down enough of the details. I felt a tear escape onto my cheek. Andre, used to overwhelmed brides, reached over to a satin-covered tissue box and slapped it down on the table in front of me.
“Dry your eyes, sweetie. We’ve got work to do,” he said. “You should know what a lucky girl you are. I just removed myself from a wedding on the same day. No one – I repeat, no one – does a wedding like Mr. Andre, but even I have my limits on troublesome brides and monster mothers. As fate would have it, I’m yours.”
He walked over to a filing cabinet and pulled out a large white leather binder. Mr. Andre’s picture was on the front, and underneath that, “Weddings Exclusively by Mr. Andre” was embossed in gold lettering.
“I don’t care what religion you are,” he said. “This, lovey, is your new bible. Carry this with you everywhere and fill it with notes, questions, business cards, quotes and everything – I mean everything – that has to do with your wedding. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I said and saluted before I could stop myself. Aunt Maggie broke out into a laugh, but Mr. Andre turned quickly, fixing his eyes on her. She quickly stifled her reaction and stood up a little straighter, becoming just another draftee in the world of white satin.
CHAPTER TWO
“So, Mr. Andre is going to check out the photographer and the florist, and we are going on a wedding cake tasting tomorrow.” Leo, who had been sitting on the floor of my den with his back up against the couch, looked at all the paperwork I had spread out on the coffee table. He rubbed his eyes and then picked up some of the cost projections.
“Um, Betsy …”
“And then of course we have to consider a caterer if we are going to have anything more than wedding cake,” I rattled on.
“Betsy?”
“And as for the band, if we think we want a band, we will want to audition some groups in the next few weeks. That’s going to put us over budget, but it will add to the ambiance of the evening …”
Leo reached over and grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me toward him. He gently touched my cheek with his hand. “Betsy, have you just crawled out of a plant spore somewhere? Where did my slightly disorganized, budget-conscious, sweet little Betsy go to?”
I smiled. “She’s right here.”
“No, she’s not.” He cupped my chin. “Bridezilla is here.”
“Leo!” I pushed at his shoulder, almost knocking him into the Christmas tree next to the couch. He picked a little white angel off the tree and floated it in front of me with his hands.
“The bridezilla of Pecan Bayoooouuu!” His voice resembled the announcer on the late late movie, right about when the monster comes out of the lagoon. I folded my arms and tried to keep from smiling at him.
“Seriously, Betsy. Why are you so … together all of a sudden?” he asked. “Did you check out a book on wedding planning? Wait, there’s some sort of show on cable, right?”
“Can’t you believe that for one moment I could pull off a little event like creating a wedding?” I asked in return.
“No.”
“Leo!”
“Sorry,” he said. “But really, what happened?”
I slumped and looked down. “Okay, you’ve got me. Aunt Maggie paid for Mr. Andre.”
“I’m not so sure I like where this conversation is going,” he said.
“Be serious.”
“So, do I need to be jealous of this Mr. Andre?”
“He’s a wedding planner.”
Leo laughed and I continued, ignoring him.
“He's the premier wedding planner of the tri-county area. Brides come from miles around to get him to ‘sculpt their dream day. Nothing to worry about.’”
“Now I’ve heard it all,” he said. “So how much is Mr. Andre costing your aunt?”
“Too much, but she wanted this to be her wedding present.
I went to my desk in the next room, now piled with brochures, and of course, my wedding bible. I returned and handed him a list of names. “Here is the final guest list. I added the names you emailed me so we’ll be ready to stuff and mail the invitations.”
Leo glanced at the list. “Who is Charlotte Kelsey? I thought I’d met all of your family.”
“You haven’t met her and you probably won’t meet her,” I said. “That’s my mother.”
“Your mother as in the one-who-left-your-dad-after-having-an-affair-with-another-patrolman mother?”
“That’s the one.”
“So why are you inviting her?”
Why was I inviting the woman who had managed to miss all of the important milestones in my life? Why would I honor her absence with an invitation to my wedding? He had a point.
“I guess I did it … just because it seemed like the right thing to do.”
“That’s why I love you,” he said. “Always choosing the path anyone else would avoid.”
“Even if there might be a dead body on it somewhere?”
Leo laughed. “Even then. I’m surprised the town mortician hasn’t asked you to carry around some of his cards.”
“Very funny.”
“What would you do if she wanted to come to the wedding?”
“First I would try to recognize her,” I said. “I haven’t seen her since I was four, but don’t worry about it. She won’t come. She didn’t come to my graduations, both high school and college, she didn’t come to my first wedding, and she has never, not even once, acknowledged that I have Zach. I mean, seriously. What kind of mother is that?”
I picked up a pen and drew through her name on the guest list. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think let’s just leave her off.”
“Are you sure?” asked Leo.
“I … I don’t know,” I faltered. I took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “And your mother will be up from Galveston? I really haven’t had a chance to spend much time with her.”
“She’s pretty excited about the wedding,” he said. “She’s going to be bringing my Aunt Flo and Mrs. Martin, one of the ladies she teaches science with at the high school.”
Since Leo’s father died of a heart attack five years ago, his mother had kept busy with friends and her hobby of watching the Galveston sky for hurricanes.
“Anything else on Mr. Andre’s list?”
“Oh, and I have a printed sample of the invitation for you to look over.” I sorted through the papers and came up with an ivory invitation with a scalloped edge. I settled back next to him and handed it over.
“Isn’t it lovely with its delicate gold lettering?”
Leo’s gaze fixed on the invitation.
I reached over and took a gulp of my wine. “So with that issue on the table, I was hoping we would marry in Pecan Bayou, right? You
weren’t thinking Dallas?”
“Oh, no, Pecan Bayou is fine. As a matter of fact, I can’t think of a place I would rather get married,” he said.
“I’ll talk to Pastor Green to see if we can get the community church. It is a Saturday on Valentine’s Day, so it may be busy.”
“That’s true. Everyone wants to get married on Valentine’s Day,” he said. “That way you never forget your anniversary. Hallmark sets the whole day aside for you, and roses go on sale at the grocery store. You can’t beat that.”
“Leo, what a romantic you are!” I teased.
“I’m a realist, that’s all. It’s always good to figure things out beforehand. That’s how I plot thunderstorms, you know.”
Leo’s way of planning ahead reminded me of the secret he kept from me when we first met. He came to town on the story that he was part of a real estate investment firm, but in truth he was a meteorologist from Dallas. He also told me that Tyler was his son, then it came out later he was his sister’s son. Would this be a pattern we would follow into marriage? Leo was a wonderful, kind and caring man. I knew in my heart it could never be the disaster it turned out to be with Barry, but would there be other secrets I would uncover along the way?
“So are we finished with the latest batch of details?” Leo scooted over and planted a kiss on the side of my neck. I felt my heart speeding up slightly. He kissed my neck again, starting to work his way down. I reached back and pulled him to me.
We were finished with wedding planning for the evening.
******
The next morning, I threw on some jeans and a red sweater and was just brushing through my hair when I heard Leo coming in the back door with donuts. Tyler ran in front of me to the living room, where Zach was now dressed and tying his shoes.
Leo pulled me into his arms and kissed me. He smelled of soap and tasted like chocolate icing. What a nice way to start the day!
“Now that’s the way to say ‘hello,’” I whispered.
“You should check out my ‘hola,’” he replied.
“Gross, you guys,” Tyler said. “You do know about germs? We are in the cold and flu season you know.”
Leo grinned. “Yes, I heard that, so that’s why we’re all going down to the drug store to get flu shots this morning.”
“That’ll get us on the road on time,” I said. “Not really, boys.”
“Tell me our to-do list today Ms. Bridezilla,” said Leo.
I hit his chest. “Stop calling me that. I am nothing like those crazy brides on TV. I’m low-maintenance, remember?”
“Right. So where are we going?”
“First we’re stopping by the community church to make sure we can get married there.”
“I think I can pass the written test. After that?”
“After that we’re off for some wedding cake tasting.”
“I’m definitely on board for that,” he said, grinning.
Pastor Green was out on the lawn of the church changing the sign for Sunday’s message when we pulled into the church parking lot. He waved to us just as he was closing the glass after replacing the letters inside.
“Pastor Green, I’m so glad we caught you,” I said as we crossed the brown winter lawn of the church.
Pastor Green was the brother of Ruby Green, our town beautician,. He raised his eyebrows and smiled at Leo as if he were a pleasant surprise. “Hello, Betsy. Is this your young man?”
“Oh, yes. Let me introduce you to Leo Fitzpatrick.” I gestured to Leo.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I hear you’re a weatherman,” said Pastor Green said .
I turned to the boys, just now getting out of the car. “And you’ve met Zach, and this is Tyler, Leo’s son,” I said.
“Well, you’ll certainly have a full house,” said the pastor. “Boys, we have a little playground over there. I know you’re pretty big, but you might find something that interests you.” Tyler and Zach took off running. “I was about to call you, Betsy. It’s quite fortunate you stopped by. I know we spoke of your wedding being on the weekend of February 14, but well, our congregation has been blessed with some good news since then. You aren’t a member here, so you wouldn’t know about this, but our very own Prissy Olin has decided to marry Theodore Obermeyer, the mayor’s son, on that very same day. I know you were counting on using the church, too, so I’ve come up with a plan to keep all the brides happy.”
“It’s important to keep the brides happy,” Leo said.
We will have both weddings, but the Olin wedding, which will probably require more cleanup, will be scheduled right after yours. We have an hour between the two ceremonies to take your flowers out and put hers in. I hope this isn’t too much of a bother.”
I held up my hand to stop the reverend. “Seriously? You want to have back-to-back weddings?”
Pastor Green reached back and rubbed the back of his neck. “It is Valentine’s Day, dear, and I am so sorry. I could possibly accommodate you the next weekend.”
“The next weekend?”
“I’m free that weekend,” Leo said.
“I suppose we could.” I leaned up against the sign and crossed my arms. I knew what I wanted to say would make them think I was just another picky bride, but this was the last wedding I planned to have in my life, so I spoke up. “I really wanted to get married on Valentine’s Day, and I’m not sure if we can get Mr. Andre, our wedding planner, for the next weekend.”
“Well, then we’ll just have two weddings on the same day.”
“Have the Olins and the Obermeyers agreed to this?” I asked.
“Most of them have. Prissy was a little put out, but as the day gets closer I doubt it will be an issue. Nothing like wedding planning to keep a bride busy.”
That was an understatement. “Do you know of any good locations for a reception that other couples have used?” I asked.
“There are many lovely places for a reception around here. There’s the new Chateau Fischer, and if that isn’t available you might even be able to grab the VFW Hall.”
“I guess it’s time to get creative,” I said. “As much as I love the smell of stale beer and cigarettes, I think we’ll pass on the VFW Hall. Where is Chateau Fischer?”
“It’s out by the bayou, just down the road from the baseball fields and Wilhelm’s Bed and Breakfast. Morton and Yancey Fischer have done some beautiful things out there and hope to open it in time for the wedding season. I don’t think they’ve booked anything yet, so it just might be your answer,” said Pastor Green. “Let me get their number and you can see if they’re out there this morning. He turned and went into the church.”
“I’m having a hard time remembering anything out in that direction,” I said.
“It sounds interesting. It might be nice to have something outdoors with nature all around us,” Leo said.
“And if it rains?”
“You’re hanging around with a bunch of weathermen. I guarantee they all have umbrellas in their cars.”
Pastor Green came back out of the building and handed me a piece of paper with a number scrawled on it.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’m just sorry we’re so popular on that day,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “We would love to have your family join the church after you’re married. We have some fine folks in our congregation.”
“We’re not even sure where we’re going to be living yet,” I said. Leo’s eyes darted to mine.
“My job is in Dallas,” Leo said.
“Ah yes, Big D,” said the pastor. “Well, whatever you decide, you’re always welcome here.”
A rumble of thunder pierced the air. Pastor Green hunched his shoulders and looked up. “Better be getting back inside. Looks like we’re about to get some rain. Nice of you to stop by.”
Leo gestured to call the boys off the swings. “Come on boys, let’s go.” They jumped off the swings and ran across the lawn.
As we made our way back to the car, the rain sta
rted falling heavily.
Once we were securely inside the car, I started punching in the number Pastor Green gave me. A voice on the other end answered as the rain drummed on the outside of the SUV. Yancey Fischer, co-owner of Chateau Fischer, happily informed me that we were welcome to come visit Chateau Fischer, provided we didn’t mind a little mud. How romantic.
CHAPTER THREE
Chateau Fischer was slightly less glamorous than its name. The “chateau” was nowhere in sight. I think I would have named it Fischer’s Field instead. Morton Fischer was pounding in a sign at the end of the road that led to Pecan Bayou’s newest wedding venue. We pulled up as he placed the hammer into the pocket of his aged denim overalls, which fit snugly over his bulging midsection.
“Mornin’ Miss Happy Hinter! Are you thinking of saying your nuptials here at Chateau Fischer?” he said cheerily. “We would be so pleased if you would write about it in your column in the Gazette. The whole world needs to know about our little patch of paradise here.”
“Thank you, Morton. I’ll be sure to take notes,” I said from the passenger seat.
“When you write it up, make sure you put my name first, not Yancey. Do it the alphabetical way,” he said. “Now, you just follow the road and it’ll take you to our new event area.”
I nodded in acknowledgment as Leo rolled up the window. We drove down a road lined with towering oaks that stretched their scraggly winter branches over us. The road wound around until it fronted Pecan Bayou. The bayou was pretty stable now, although it had some marshy areas on the other side. Whatever the Fischer brothers had set up, it would need to be several feet back from the bayou in case the water levels rose. The Bayou Restaurant on the other side had a deck up on stilts for just that reason.
“Can you imagine getting married here in July or August?” I said.
“Sounds like fifty shades of sweat to me,” Leo said.
We pulled into a cleared field marked “parking” and then experienced the complete effect of Chateau Fischer. Yancey Fischer was unfolding chairs and sliding them beneath tables under a white canopy. He wiped off a tabletop with a hankie from his pocket and then turned to greet us.
Buzzkill (Pecan Bayou Series) Page 2
