That's Amore (Weddings by Bella Book #4): A Novel

by Janice Thompson

  “Yes, I, um . . . Fred and I are getting married in November,” Jasmine said. “Just so you know.”

  “November?” Blossom and Lily responded in unison.

  November? She must’ve changed her mind about getting married here, since the wedding facility wouldn’t even be open then.

  “Your loss is Fred’s gain, young fella,” Jolene said. “But look on the bright side.” She gazed at Lily with an impish smile on her face. “Lily here’s as single as can be. And she looks a lot like her twin sister, wouldn’t you say? Well, except for this new hair color she’s trying out, but maybe it’s not a forever color.”

  “One can hope,” Bonnie Sue whispered in my ear.

  Lily’s eyes widened, and I thought for a minute there she might turn and run from the room. Instead, she sighed and pinched her eyes shut. Who could blame her?

  Cecil, on the other hand, was hyperfocused on Lily. “Nice to meet you.” He gave the young woman an embarrassed glance, then turned back toward the scaffold. “Well, ladies, I, um . . .”

  “He’s mighty handsome, Lily,” Jolene said.

  “And polite too.” Bonnie Sue nodded. “But I’m guessing a big, handsome, strappin’ fella like this doesn’t need three old ladies fixing him up with any of the local girls, especially the ones with fiancés. I’m sure he can find a sweetheart on his own.” She narrowed her gaze as she looked at Cecil. “You can, can’t you? I mean, you’re not one of those shy types, are you?”

  “Well, I . . .”

  Bonnie Sue patted his arm. “You do like girls, don’t you, honey?”

  “Bonnie Sue!” I couldn’t help it. I’d never lost my temper with any of the ladies before, but this was too much.

  She looked flabbergasted by my reaction. “It’s a perfectly legitimate question, Bella, especially these days. I mean, a man this age, not married, could mean any number of things.”

  “It only means the right woman hasn’t come my way, that’s all.” Cecil raked his fingers through his uncombed hair, making it even messier. “And if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get back to work.”

  No doubt the guy was wishing for work in another state right about now. And judging from the laughter coming from his co-workers, Bonnie Sue’s ludicrous question had caused quite a stir.

  Cecil climbed back up on the scaffolding, and Blossom—God bless her—led the group of ladies out into the foyer, away from the workers.

  “Well, that was awkward,” she said.

  “No joke.” Lily shook her head. “Seriously. Can we leave now? And never come back?”

  Yikes. The last thing I needed was for Lily and Jasmine to back out on me now, but how could I get this train back on track?

  “Oh, there’s nothing awkward about that boy,” Jolene said. “He’s easy on the eyes, isn’t he? That tall physique. Broad shoulders.”

  “And those baby-blue eyes.” Bonnie Sue practically swooned. “He’s a true Texas boy.”

  “Wherever did you and D.J. find him, Bella?” Jolene asked. “I’d like to go and order up at least a dozen more just like him for all of the single young women in town.” She enunciated each word, her gaze fixed on Lily.

  Really, ladies? Could you be more obvious?

  But Lily seemed clueless. No doubt she couldn’t stop thinking about Jasmine’s announcement that she and Fred would be getting married in November.

  “What do you think, Lily?” Jolene asked.

  “About what?” Lily seemed lost in her thoughts. “Oh, about the facility? It’s coming along nicely.”

  Jolene grunted. “No, what did you think about the carpenter?”

  Lily shrugged. “Seemed nice enough, I guess.”

  “Nice enough?” Twila sighed and then leaned over to whisper in my ear, “Bonnie Sue’s not the only one who’s gonna stay single, I’m afraid.”

  “I still say the boy’s hair is messy,” Bonnie Sue said. “It’s hard for a fella to find a girl who will put up with that.”

  “But he does have that nice bronzed look about him,” Jolene said.

  “Bronzed?” Lily looked perplexed.

  “Like a statue?” Jasmine asked.

  “More like he’s been in the sun working hard,” Jolene said.

  “I’m opposed to people working in the sun unless they’re wearing sunscreen.” Bonnie Sue’s nose wrinkled. “Did you hear about Cora May Tucker? They found a spot on her right cheek—the one on her face, I mean. It turned out to be skin cancer. Basal cell. Remember when we were all teenagers, how she liked to lay out in the sun wearing baby oil?” She shuddered. “We were all so ignorant back then.”

  Jolene slapped herself in the head. “Bonnie Sue, I’m not saying that Cecil should go out into the sun wearing baby oil—though I do like the smell of baby oil. I’m just saying he’s got that tanned, bronzed look about him that’s very appealing.” She turned to face Lily. “To a younger woman, I mean.”

  “Well, I don’t think a tan is appealing at all,” Bonnie Sue said. “Give me a pale, pasty fella any day.”

  “Perfect.” Twila groaned. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for one.”

  “Just one more reason Bonnie Sue can’t find a fella.” Jolene sighed. “Not a lot of pasty ones in Splendora. Most are strappin’ hunters and such. They spend a lot of time outdoors.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s true. But I’m still not fond of the sun.” Bonnie Sue went off on another tangent about skin issues, and the conversation morphed into a dissertation on the dangers of too much time in the bright Texas sun. Before I knew it, Cecil had wrapped up his work inside and was loading up his truck. He stopped off to say goodbye to my kids, and I thanked him once more for the gift of the swing set.

  “He . . . he brought the swing set?” Lily gave him an admiring look.

  “Yes, and put it together himself,” I added.

  “Well, now . . .” Bonnie Sue stared after him as he got into his truck and pulled away. “A gal could forgive a fella’s messy hair and overly tanned skin if he loved children enough to bring ’em a swing set.”

  “And put it together with his own bare hands,” Jolene added.

  This garnered a sigh from all of the females. Well, all but Lily, who seemed to have checked out of the conversation. Still, a fella who loved children was a keeper, for sure.

  “Don’t you agree, Lily?” Jolene asked.

  “What?” Lily looked up from her phone and shrugged. “Oh, right. Sure. The swing set looks great.”

  Jolene groaned, then looked my way. “Bella, where did that young man say he hailed from? I don’t remember.”

  “He’s one of D.J.’s workers from Galveston.”

  “Well, let’s make him a Splendora resident.” Jolene clasped her hands together.

  “Yes, we should start by getting him to church,” Bonnie Sue said. “It’s been my observation that if you can get a man through the doors of a church, you can eventually get a wedding band on his finger.”

  “Bonnie Sue!” Twila slapped her on the arm. “We don’t bring our menfolk to church so that we can trap them into marriage.”

  “Who said anything about trapping?” Bonnie Sue looked offended. “Now, let’s get back to Cecil. How can we get him up to the church?”

  “Same way we did with Wilhelmina,” Jolene said.

  “Scarlet’s aunt?” I asked. “The baker?”

  “Yep. Quite a story there. She and Donny had only been married a short while. She was a new believer but not keen on being around church folks.”

  “And I’m not saying the church folks were particularly keen on her coming.” Bonnie Sue shook her head. “Most of ’em had already had a run-in or two with her and didn’t care to sit next to her on a Sunday morning.”

  “Now, I’m not one to gossip,” Jolene began.

  Twila gave her a “you’re not?” look.

  Jolene shook her head. “But no one here can deny that Wilhelmina’s got more nerve than Carter’s got liver pills.”

  I had to laugh at that
one. Not that I had much knowledge of liver pills.

  “It’s true,” Bonnie Sue said. “And clearly we’re not gossiping now, because everyone knows it’s not gossip to speak the plain truth. Gossip is when you share things that folks don’t already know.”

  “Amen.” Jolene nodded.

  Twila slapped herself on the forehead.

  “Point is . . .” Jolene rolled her eyes. “She’d already made her presence known outside the church doors, so folks were worried she’d bring her sorry attitude—er, negative behavior—inside the church.”

  “And the church is no place for negative behavior,” Bonnie Sue added. “Everyone knows that.”

  Jolene nodded and added a brusque, “Amen!” She leaned in as if ready to tell us all an amazing secret. “Now, I can’t say if Wilhelmina had ever set foot in a church till recently. But I’m here to tell you what happened that fateful night. The Holy Spirit latched on to her as Donny played ‘In the Garden’ on his saw, and she’s never been the same.”

  I remembered that night well. We’d all attended the talent show at Scarlet’s church. What a blessing, to see her aunt Wilhelmina so gloriously touched.

  “A’course, getting her through the doors of the church that first time took some doin’,” Bonnie Sue said. “And even after she married Donny and moved to Splendora, we still had a tough time getting her to come to Chapel in the Pines. The poor woman just didn’t know how to be part of a spiritual family.”

  “True, true.” Jolene nodded. “But she needed her brothers and sisters in the Lord, especially being a new believer and all.”

  “Yep.” Bonnie Sue nodded. “Once we decided we could tolerate her—you know, she is a bit of a pistol—we had to figure out a way to get her to a Sunday service. So I came up with the best plan ever. I ordered a cake for one of our socials and asked her to deliver it.”

  “You lied to get her into church?” I asked.

  “Well, no.” Bonnie Sue looked mortified that I’d accused her of lying. “Never looked at it that way. We really were having dinner on the grounds after church, and I didn’t feel like making dessert. Point is, Wilhelmina was swept into the Chapel in the Pines family that fine day, and I’m convinced Cecil will be too, if we can get his bronzed self through the doors.”

  “Amen.” Jolene nodded.

  “Ladies, what makes you think he’s not already a believer?” Blossom put her hands on her hips. “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”

  Boy, were they ever! I had to agree with Blossom, but I would never say so.

  “True, true,” Jolene said. “Well, if he’s already been won to the Lord, it’s a simple matter of making him fall in love with Lily here. No conversion necessary!”

  Lily’s eyes widened. “Wait. Get him to fall in love . . . with me? Why me?”

  Twila patted her on the back. “I’m sorry, honey. They’re just trying to be helpful.”

  “Because I’m so lame I can’t find a fella on my own? Is that it?” Lily huffed off to the car, muttering all the way.

  “Now you’ve gone and done it.” Bonnie Sue punched Jolene in the arm.

  “Me? Done what? I just told a story.”

  “That poor girl. She thinks that we think that everyone thinks she’s hopeless.”

  The only thing hopeless right now was this conversation. And worse still, my heart went out to poor Twila, who really looked as if she might fall down at any moment. How could the woman run for mayor if she couldn’t even walk? Or talk? She said her goodbyes, then headed to the car. Jolene and Bonnie Sue followed behind her, arguing over which of the two should do the driving.

  As the ladies pulled away—Bonnie Sue behind the wheel—I realized we hadn’t accomplished much here today.

  On the other hand, we had learned that Jasmine and Fred would be getting married in November, and that fact raised all sorts of questions in my mind. They obviously wouldn’t be getting married here, would they, since we weren’t opening until December?

  But if not here, then where?

  That would have to be a question for another day. I had to make sure Jasmine and Lily were still on board to help manage the wedding facility. After today’s fiascos, who knew? Oh, and I had to help my husband plan a rushed birthday party for our son. And call my sister to check on next weekend’s event at Club Wed. And talk to Rosa about watching the kids during my next OB visit. And convince three glittery women to keep on keepin’ on with their PR work. And oversee D.J. and his team at the new facility.

  If you didn’t count all of that, I had absolutely nothing to do.

  13

  For the Good Times

  To succeed in life, you need three things: a wishbone, a backbone, and a funnybone.

  Reba McEntire

  I’ve always appreciated large families. I came from one, after all. The Rossis were a gigantic—stress gigantic—Italian super-family. When we first moved to Galveston Island, we had enough people to form a ball team, more or less. These days we had enough members for two or three teams with players left over to sit on the bench.

  With all of my siblings now grown and married and the grandbabies making their appearances one after another, the Rossi clan had morphed into a thing of beauty. Sure, we were loud and chaotic. And yes, we didn’t always make the best first impression, thanks to our over-the-top ways. Still, I had to think that Galveston had welcomed us with open arms. I’d fallen in love with the island and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

  Well, for more than a few months, anyway. Take now, for instance. Leaving my home and my family for this little venture almost proved to be my undoing, emotionally and physically. So when D.J. decided that the whole Rossi clan should come to Tres’s impromptu fifth birthday party—in cowboy attire, no less—who was I to argue? I couldn’t wait to see everyone, even if it meant putting them up at the Motel 6 in Cleveland for the night once the party ended. Surely they would all talk about this for years to come.

  My parents arrived at the Neeley homestead first, along with my aunt and uncle. Mama rushed my way and threw her arms around me, then gushed over the kids, who squealed with delight. Pop followed behind her, presents stacked high in his arms. Rosa carried a plate with an Italian cream cake on it. Yum. But the family member who really caught my eye was Uncle Laz. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sight of my uncle heading my way with Guido perched on his arm.

  “What’s he doing with the parrot?” I asked Aunt Rosa.

  She sighed and shifted the cake in her arms. “Laz thinks that Guido needs fresh country air. He’s getting old now, you know.” She paused, then added, “The bird, not Laz. Hmm. Well, Laz too.”

  “But bringing the parrot to Splendora?” I asked. “What is he thinking?”

  “I was thinking that Guido could have a second chance at life, Bella.” Uncle Laz’s voice now rang out beside me.

  I reached over and gave him a hug, doing my best not to frighten the bird. At this point Precious took notice of the parrot. She yap, yap, yapped her way across the yard, headed straight for us. Guido flapped his wings and shifted his position. By now the old bird was probably used to my dog’s bark, but I’d hate to see him take off across the yard.

  I scooped my little Yorkie-Poo into my arms and scolded her to hush the yapping. “Guido needs a second chance at life?” I asked. “Is he ill?”

  “No. Not exactly ill. More . . . depressed.” Uncle Laz tickled the bird, but Guido refused to respond with his usual cheerful trill. From the back of her throat, Precious started that low growl thing. I stroked her behind the ears to calm her down.

  “I think Guido is tired of his day-to-day routine and needs something different. I thought some time in the country would be good for him. He could talk to some real birds. Then he’d know he’s not alone in this world.”

  “Sure. A day in the country might be a good thing.” Rosa passed the cake off to D.J., who carried it inside. “Might do us all good, for that matter.”

  “Not a day, Rosa. I’d
like for Guido to stay here for a week or two.” Uncle Laz looked my way. “You don’t mind, do you, Bella? He’s no trouble. Are you, boy?” My uncle turned his attention back to the bird, who slumped over in his hand.

  Rosa grunted. “Well, he’s no trouble as long as you remember to give him his medicine three times a day, feed him like clockwork, and put up with hearing most of your favorite songs sung in pig latin.”

  “I . . .” What to say, what to say? “I just don’t know where we’d keep him, Uncle Laz.”

  My uncle’s expression brightened. “Oh, I brought his perch. And he’s got a cage, but he rarely uses it anymore. Doesn’t really need it. He’s not going anywhere.”

  “But what if he got out?” I asked. “What if he flew away? I would feel awful if something happened to him.”

  Laz seemed to dismiss that idea. “He won’t. He never does.”

  “But remember that one time, years ago? He got out during a wedding rehearsal and—”

  Laz put his hand up in the air. “That’s water under the bridge. Guido promises to behave, don’t you, boy?” He stroked the bird’s feathers and Guido seemed to respond with a comforting look. If a bird could give a comforting look.

  I turned to D.J., who happened to be coming out the front door. He offered a shrug.

  Thanks for the support, hubby.

  “Why don’t we do this.” Uncle Laz set Guido on the porch railing. “Let’s give it three days. If he doesn’t do well, I’ll come back and fetch him, I promise.”

  “I have to make a run back to the island in three days,” D.J. said. “So I’ll hand-deliver him if he misbehaves.”

  Without trying to be too obvious, I gave D.J. my best “do you promise?” look and he nodded.

  “I guess it’s worth a shot,” I said. “But I don’t know how much attention I can give him with so many other things going on.” This led to a list of all my upcoming obligations—meetings with Jasmine and Lily, overseeing the work at the facility, taking care of the children, and finding a local vet for Precious, who had developed a weird skin issue, possibly an allergy to the grass.