I took a spoon and tapped at the rim on my champagne glass. “May I have your attention please?” The two wedding parties slowly quieted down.
“Thank you,” I said as Prissy glared at me.
“We appreciate everyone coming to our wedding today. We know it’s been a sad time for our little town with the deaths of Lenny Stokes and Morton Fischer.” Yancey took a gulp of dark beer at the mention of his brother’s name. “The thing is, Morton sent me a letter before he died. I thought the letter was just a bill or a refund from Chateau Fischer after we were forced to …” Prissy smiled as she tore her napkin into little pieces. “… chose to have our reception at this lovely place.” Wilhelm put his hand to his stomach and bowed smartly.
“Well, it seems it wasn’t a bill or a refund. It was a warning to me. Something that Morton felt was so important he marked it ‘personal and confidential.’”
“What was in it?” Martha uttered almost involuntarily.
“He was telling me who he thought Lenny’s killer was. I started to open it, but I never got around to reading it, you see. Someone else did.”
“Who then?” Yancey said.
“I did,” Leo said. “I did, but then I put it back in the envelope. Right after that, someone hit me on the back of the head, making me late for my own wedding.”
“And just who did he say did Lenny in?” Martha asked, tapping her finger on the table.
“Someone you’d never expect,” I said.
“So you know?” asked Rocky, looking for something to write all this down on.
“I know,” I said.
“I know, too,” Judd said.
Mr. Andre was gesturing wildly in the corner for me to stop talking about murderers at my wedding reception, but I chose to ignore him. He finally threw himself in a chair and drank an entire flute of champagne straight down.
“You see,” I continued, “it had to be somebody with a knowledge of flowers, because Morton had met this person, and he was a flower enthusiast. Morton tried to tell us who his killer was using the story of Jacob and Esau. Like Jacob disguising himself as Esau in the Bible, the killer was also hiding behind something. Ultimately everything had to do with flowers. Isn’t that strange? ”
“What are you trying to say?” Martha bristled.
“It also had to be someone who had intimate knowledge of both of the Valentine’s Day weddings.”
“I guess I would be in the category,” Pastor Green confessed.
“But mostly they had to be smart enough and mean enough to kill someone … using a flower.”
“That would be you Betsy, wouldn’t it?” Prissy said. “I mean, you already tried to kill me with one of your concoctions.”
Mr. Andre rose, straightening the deep red rose on his lapel.
“Not meaning to be indelicate in the face of all of this mystery-solving on a dark and stormy night,” he said, “but whatever Morton Fischer wrote on his rose-scented stationery is really not supposed to a part of our well-planned wedding celebration.”
“I apologize for messing up what you so beautifully orchestrated Andre,” I said.
“That’s Mr. Andre …”
“No, it’s Andre – or should I say Andrew as in Andrew Parker, a past guest of the State of Texas prison system? Seems like you have quite a past there.” I said.
“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Mr. Andre said shaking his head in disbelief.
"What kind of cologne do you wear Andre?" Leo asked.
"What does it matter?"
"Oh, just that I seemed to have a run-in with that smell earlier today." Leo said as he reached up and rubbed the side of his head.
“You’ve done time for assault. As a matter of fact, you were part of a community work program where you gardened for the governor himself at his mansion in Austin, didn’t you? You were quite talented with all kinds of flowers because you could always get the bees to pollinate them. The prison system really hated to lose you, Mr. Parker. You were talented, but you did your time. And what does a guy like you do to start a new life? You invented a new you and turned into Mr. Andre, wedding planner extraordinaire. You are a pretty smart guy, but you missed the mark when you told us about the rose-scented stationery. No one knew about that but me and Leo.” I said.
“This is ridiculous,” said Mr. Andre, picking up his manbag and heading for the door. “You’ll be getting my bill, Betsy.” As he walked to the door, George and Elena stepped in front, stopping him.
“Oh, the bill,” I said. “The bill that we see, or the bill that includes all the kickbacks you pressure your vendors into? That bill?”
“I didn’t have a lot of time to check you out but luckily, Bernard, the photographer you rejected, told my father all about your little scheme after he was caught in the bushes at the rehearsal dinner,” I continued. “He lost our job because he refused to pay your little fee. So let me ask you. Was Lenny the same way? I can’t imagine him agreeing to your terms.”
“Of course not,” said Mr. Andre. “Mrs. Stokes there can tell you I have never asked her for a cent outside the agreed-upon price. Isn’t that right?”
“No, no he hasn’t,” she said.
“And the seamstress. I never got a penny out of her.”
“No, he’s right,” said Lavonne. “I think you might have the wrong guy there, Betsy.”
“Lavonne had already been paid in advance so you couldn’t get your cut. If you approached Martha, then she would surely figure out you killed her husband. Lenny was never one to follow the pack, and he never ever would have parted with money he felt was his. I would just bet he threatened to expose you to the entire town and had no fear of him because of your …”
“Lifestyle,” Stan offered.
“Lifestyle,” I echoed.
“But what he didn’t know was that Andre was just a fancy-scented, designer-dressed ex-con.” My dad added.
“You killed my Lenny?” Martha rose from the table showing an anger I didn’t know she had in her. “You little son of a bitch!” With that she went flying across the guests and furniture, pinning Mr. Andre to the floor. George pulled her off before she flattened his nose with her fist.
“Get that woman away from me!” Mr. Andre shouted, smoothing out his lapel. He picked his rose up off the floor and replaced it in his buttonhole.
“Wait!” Wilhelm said. “He just told us that we would need to pay him cash if he were ever to do a wedding here again. We thought he was kidding.” Josephine nodded in agreement.
Mr. Andre let out a long sigh and then spoke with a much lower voice than any of us had ever heard come out of him. He pulled Morton’s letter out of his pocket and threw it on the table. “Whatever,” he said. “The governor’s wife loved me, you know. She introduced me when people toured the grounds. ‘Here’s our Andy,’ she would say. ‘The bee whisperer.’ Morton, who could barely remember his own name, remembered me. I’ll be glad to go back. I thought I was getting out of hell when they released me from prison, but becoming a wedding planner put me right back in.”
He turned to Prissy, who was cutting up a bratwurst and stuffing it into her face while watching the whole scene. “By the way, darling. Your new husband? He made a pass at me.” Prissy screamed through her bulging cheeks.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The next morning, I opened my eyes at Wilhelm’s B&B. Leo’s arm was draped casually around me. After ten years of living without a husband and just plain living without, this felt good. The rest of the combined wedding parties had continued the celebration until the road opened at around 2 a.m. Wilhelm provided us his honeymoon suite. Compared to the other three rooms, the honeymoon suite simply had a smaller television and a complimentary salami and cheese basket. The way I was feeling we could spend our whole honeymoon right here in this bed, even with the enchanting aroma of bratwurst making its way up the stairs.
“Good morning, Happy Hinter,” Leo said, planting a kiss on the back of my neck.
“Go
od morning, weather guy.” I turned around to face him.
“Are you ready for your wedding present?” he said, continuing to kiss me.
“Oh yes,” I answered.
Leo’s kisses stopped. “Do you hear something?”
I sighed, “No,” and pulled him back toward me. He wasn’t getting away that easily.
He started to kiss me again, and then stopped. “I definitely hear something.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. I heard it now, too. I got out of bed and pulled my cell phone out from under the heap of a wedding dress we had torn off together the night before.
“The Eyes of Texas are Upon You” came jingling out from under the covers. “Can you believe it?” I said. “It’s my dad.”
“Maybe there’s trouble with the boys,” Leo said as he grabbed a pair of shorts.
I opened the phone. “Dad? You do know I’m on my honeymoon, right?”
Dad chuckled on the other end. “Yes, I’d heard that.”
“What’s going on?” Leo whispered way too loudly from across the room. I shrugged my shoulders.
“What’s up, Dad?”
“Just tell Leo we’re ready when he is.”
“Huh?”
“Just tell him, darlin’,” said my dad.
After a lively breakfast of sausages and eggs delivered by a smiling Frau Josephine, Leo drove us out onto the muddy roads.
The town was decorated in hearts and flowers, with a string of hearts hung over Main Street. We passed Ruby Green’s shop, which seemed to have exploded in pink, and Bernard’s photography storefront had an advertisement for Spring Little League pictures. Benny’s Barbecue had spelled out “Best Wishes Betsy and Leo!” on their metallic sign. Luckily Leo seemed to speed up past the hardware store, so my faith in his gift-giving ability was reassured. Nothing like a new saw to say “I love you.”
Leo guided the car down a street that led into one of the older neighborhoods.
“Okay, you got me. What is my wedding present?” I asked.
“You’ll see.” He patted my knee. Now I was getting nervous. We were driving toward a street that held Pecan Bayou’s most historic houses. Some of the homes had been built as early as the 1860s and had withstood hurricane after hurricane. The two-story Victorian homes stood tall in the February light. Leo finally slowed the car in front of the old Morrison house. It was a rambling red brick home with a wrap-around front porch that held rockers, a porch swing and a big red heart on the front door. I remembered going inside a couple of times with Aunt Maggie when I was a child. Mrs. Morrison, the remaining family member who lived in the house, had died about a year ago.
“Why are we here?” I asked.
“Look again,” Leo said.
The lights in the house were on, which meant somebody was home. I looked at the front door again and suddenly noticed it wasn’t a big heart on the door. It was a big red bow.
“Leo? Why is there a bow on the door?”
“Because I believe that no matter how big the present, it should have a bow on it,” he said.
My brow furrowed as I looked back at the house. Wasn’t there a “For Sale” sign on that house last week?
Leo was now smiling so widely I could see every tooth in his mouth.
“Do you like it?”
“Like … the house? You bought the house?” I was really confused now.
“Well, I sort of bought the house. It was a wedding gift.” He answered my question slowly and clearly.
“A wedding gift? This is your wedding gift?”
“This is a gift to the two of us, and this card is for you.” Leo handed me an envelope with a woman’s handwriting on it.
I gulped as thoughts rushed through my head. “If we’re going to be living in Dallas, why would we need a house here?” I said.
“Because we’re not going to be living in Dallas.”
This was getting stranger and stranger. I put my hand to my forehead as confusion spread from temple to temple.
“We’re not living in Dallas? We’re staying here?” I knew I sounded like a four-year-old, but it was all too much to fathom.
“Let’s get out,” Leo said, opening his door. He came around to my side to help me out of the SUV, but I was already out the door by the time he got there.
“On the first day of our lives together, I have to make a confession to you,” he said. I looked up at him as we walked down the sidewalk. Is this where he tells me he really has another wife or maybe a penchant for pork rinds?
“I quit my job.”
Here we go.
“Because I got a new job.”
My heart was trying its best to release itself from the confines of my ribcage.
He continued. “Remember when Mark was going to Houston to interview for a job? What we didn’t tell you was he wasn’t the only one who interviewed. Your new husband is now a meteorologist for Pecan Bayou and the three surrounding counties. I will be forecasting for the airport, the county and the hurricane bureau. I’ll also be the on-air guy for the regional news.”
We mounted the steps of the grand old house. Leo pulled a key out of his pocket and dangled it in front of my nose. He put the key in the lock and opened the door. “Welcome home, Mrs. Fitzpatrick.”
“What about the boys? I mean, they’re all set to start school Monday in Dallas.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry, we’ll register both boys here.”
I opened the door and started to step inside. Leo pulled me back and then lifted me in his arms. Depositing me on the other side of the doorway, he said, “What do you think? Enough room for all of us?”
I glanced around the empty rooms. In the corner of the living room was a large bouquet of red roses with glistening Valentine’s hearts.
“Martha Stokes made these especially for me. I’m afraid I had to let her in on the surprise. She said to tell you something about making every day a good one?”
“This house? For us?” I couldn’t stand it any longer. I ran and jumped into Leo’s arms, knocking him to the ground.
“I guess that means you like it,” he said as I plastered him with kisses.
“I love it! I love it! I love you! I love you!” He returned my kisses and then pulled me up off the floor.
“Do you want to see the rest of it?” he said, gesturing grandly.
“Yes! But wait, who else knows?”
“Well, read the card.” I had almost forgotten the card I still clutched in my hand. I ripped open the back of the envelope. Inside was a short message.
Dear Betsy,
When I returned to Pecan Bayou there were many surprises. Some good, some bad. You were not the same little girl I left, but a wonderful young mother and an incredible woman. In our short time together, I recognized that I had missed out on so much and that my leaving robbed both of us. For that I am truly sorry. I can never get back those years in the past, but I would like to try to make some new memories in the years to come.
The house you are standing in was willed to me by my Aunt Lavinia Morrison. I was trying to sell it and hated to see it go out of the family. This is my wedding present to you and Leo. May you have many years of love and happiness.
Your Mother,
Charlotte
I held the letter close. What an incredible gift! Not only had she given us this beautiful house, but she found a way to give me the thing I truly wanted. I could stay in Pecan Bayou with all of the people I loved.
“Is this what all the secretiveness has been about?” I said.
“This and my new job.”
“I can’t believe she did this,” I said, looking at the written message on the card.
“She told me she wanted to do it,” Leo said. “She had to do it to finally start being the mother she should have been all along. Are you okay with living here now that you know it’s a gift from Charlotte?”
I looked around at the ten-foot ceilings, and my eyes caught on the ornate fireplace with the intricately carved ma
ntel. It was amazing.
“Yes, I think our family will be very happy here.”
Sirens started wailing out in front of the house, jolting us both. We went back out on the front porch to see everyone we loved gathered outside. Our friends and family were jumping up and down by my dad’s cruiser. Zach and Tyler came running up the stairs, almost tackling us with their exuberance.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Fitzpatrick!”
I put my arms around and Leo and felt that here, deep in the heart of Texas, I was home.
Helpful Hints From The Happy Hinter
Homemade Calamine Lotion
1/4 cup zinc oxide
4 teaspoons pink kaolin clay
4 teaspoons baking soda -or- 2 teaspoons calcium hydroxide
1/4 cup water
1/2 teaspoon glycerin (optional)
3-4 drops lavender, peppermint, camphor, tea tree or other antibacterial/antipuretic essential oil (optional)
Combine all ingredients in a small bowl and whisk until smooth. Store in the refrigerator for 1-2 weeks.
Used with permission from Nourishing Joy
www.nourishingjoy.com/homemade-calamine-lotion
******
Tea Tree Dandruff Shampoo
Add 1 drop of tea tree oil per 1 ounce (30 mL) of shampoo. Wash as usual.
******
Best Times to Buy Things for a Wedding
Wedding dress: January, February
Wedding ring: Around the holidays, Christmas and Valentine’s Day
Invitations: It’s not so much when you buy them but what you include or exclude from them. The more extras you get, the more you pay.
******
Application for Hives
Make a paste out of baking soda and water and apply to the affected area.
******
Birdie’s Pecan Pralines
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup white Karo (light corn) syrup
1 small can of condensed milk
1 cup chopped pecans
1/3 cup butter
Buzzkill (Pecan Bayou Series) Page 16
