“Aren’t you worried he’ll stir up trouble?”
“At a Neeley wedding? Pretty sure if he wanted to do that he would’ve ruined my parents’ big day, not ours.” D.J. gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Besides, I have it on good authority—Mama—that Tommy Deets used to be quite the Texas two-stepper back in the day.”
“So?”
“So . . . he likes to dance. Bonnie Sue needs a partner . . .”
“Wait a minute. I thought you said we weren’t matchmakers.”
“Well, I’m just saying if the two of them happen to be in the same room when the music comes on, it could work out in everyone’s favor.”
“I’m trying to picture Bonnie Sue dancing with Mayor Deets.” A little giggle followed. “She’s a good four inches taller than he is.”
“Love knows no limits, Mrs. Neeley. Surely you know that.”
“Are you calling me short?”
“No.”
“Are you calling me fat?”
He stared at my belly but then responded with a resounding, “No! I’m just saying that our love has overcome a lot of things that would’ve stopped other couples.”
I nestled into my husband’s arms, and he gave me a kiss to convince me of that point. After several more sweet kisses, we headed back to the double-wide to join the others. I was surprised to see that Twila, Bonnie Sue, and Jolene had arrived together.
“I thought they weren’t speaking,” D.J. whispered.
“Yeah, me too. Weird.”
As we approached the front yard, the ladies headed right for us. Twila reached to give me a hug.
“Bella, we’ve come by to ask your forgiveness.”
“My forgiveness?”
“Yes.” Twila stepped back and shifted her gaze to the ground, then back up again. “For what happened at the wedding facility awhile back. I think the whole running-for-mayor thing went to my head a little. My attitude lately has been . . . well, a little puffed up.”
“And my temper has been out of control,” Jolene said. “I think I’ve been working too hard.”
“I just think they’re both nuts.” Bonnie Sue shrugged. “But who am I to say?”
“Point is, I nearly let my flesh ruin my testimony.” Twila sighed.
Okay, so the woman did have a lot of flesh, but how had it ruined her testimony?
“What she’s trying to say is that her carnal nature got in the way of her spiritual walk,” Bonnie Sue explained.
“Could you cut the Christianese and just say it plain and simple?” Jolene asked.
“Yes.” Twila groaned. “I blew it, Bella. I wanted to set a fine example of what a Christian should be like, and this whole running-for-mayor thing caused me to go off track. I’m here to ask your forgiveness.”
“Why my forgiveness, though?”
“Because, honey, I committed to help you with the wedding facility. But my mayoral campaign has turned my best friends against me.” She looked at Bonnie Sue and Jolene. “And it’s made things difficult for you. That’s the last thing you need right now.”
“But we’ve come here today to tell you that we kissed and made up,” Jolene said.
“We did not kiss.” Bonnie Sue wrinkled her nose.
“It’s just an expression,” Jolene said.
“Point is, we’re back to normal now.” Twila reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Doubtful,” D.J. whispered in my ear.
“I heard that, young man, and for your information, we’re about as normal as you can get in Splendora. So take us or leave us.”
“We’ll take you,” I said, laughing.
“Well, that’s good,” Twila said, “but if you take one of us, you have to take all of us. We’re BFFs and nothing will ever change that.”
“I’ll take you all, thank you very much.” I chuckled.
We laughed and talked as we walked back toward the double-wide. Inside, I could hear the voices of my family members as they enjoyed one another’s company. Bonnie Sue stepped inside and went straight to the kitchen for some of Earline’s pecan pie, but Jolene stopped me before we joined the others.
Her face lit into the prettiest smile. “Oh, Bella! I keep forgetting to tell you, I’m just so excited about the banana pudding.”
“Wait. What banana pudding?”
“The one I made last night. It’s in the fridge. I’m about to ask Bonnie Sue to run it over to the mayor’s house this evening on her way home. I’ll come up with some excuse why she should be the one to do it. But girl, that recipe is fantastic. Tastes so yummy.” She licked her lips. “Don’t ask me how I know.”
“Are you saying you found a recipe that will do?” I asked.
“That will do?” she echoed. “Well, honey, it’ll more than do. Earline’s banana pudding is sure to win a man’s heart, plain and simple. I don’t have any doubt about it.”
“Did you say Earline’s banana pudding?” The words came out as a hoarse whisper.
“Of course.” Jolene gave me a strange look. “Bella, are you not feeling well? You brought me the recipe yourself.”
“No. I. Didn’t.”
“But I found it taped to my front door in an envelope that said ‘Top Secret’ on it. I felt sure you put it there.”
I shook my head, unable—or maybe unwilling—to believe what I was hearing. Had my husband really done this? He’d bypassed me altogether and shared his mother’s recipe with Jolene? Was he crazy? We would all pay for this. Possibly with our very lives.
I pinched my eyes shut as Jolene hollered out across my mother-in-law’s kitchen, “Yoo-hoo! Bonnie Sue? Would you do me a favor?”
“Sure.” Bonnie Sue looked up from her pie. “What do you need, Jolene?”
“Well now, I’ve got a yummy container of banana pudding in the fridge. I need you to drop it off at Mayor Deets’s place this evening on your way home.”
You could’ve heard a pin drop in the double-wide.
“Banana pudding?” Earline asked after a moment. “You’re taking him banana pudding?”
Bonnie Sue’s eyes widened. “Why would you ask me to do that?”
“Well, I understand banana pudding is his favorite. Isn’t that right?” Jolene said.
Bonnie Sue turned red in the face. “Well, yes, but what does that have to do with me?”
“The Bible says you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. So that’s what we’ve decided to do.”
“The Bible does not say that,” Bonnie Sue countered. “It’s a proverb.”
“And Proverbs is a book in the Bible, so I know God must approve.” Jolene waved her hand in the air. “Anyway, we’re trying to soften him up—Mayor Deets, not the Lord—so that he’ll realize how foolish this wedding facility business is. I certainly can’t take it because I don’t drive very well at night. And Twila can’t take it, obviously. She’s his opponent. In the political sense, I mean. In the spiritual sense, we’re all brothers and sisters. Amen?”
“I still don’t think banana pudding will do the trick.” Bonnie Sue shook her head. “Unless there’s poison in it or something.”
“Bonnie Sue!” Jolene gasped. “Surely you don’t mean that.”
“Of course not. I’m just being silly. But I don’t understand why we’re feeding the man. Doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
She muttered as she continued to eat her pecan pie. Earline, on the other hand, stared at all of us, her eyes narrowed. It was just a matter of time before she figured out that D.J. had shared her banana pudding recipe with Jolene. I could feel it in my bones. And when she found out . . . look out. I had a feeling we were all going down.
21
It’s Only Make Believe
A good country song takes a page out of somebody’s life and puts it to music.
Conway Twitty
The month of December blew in with freezing temperatures and icy winds. Normally southern Texas didn’t get subzero temperatures, so this threw me a little. Still, it didn’t stop t
he work at the wedding facility. And neither did Mayor Deets or the city council. They never made a move in our direction, one way or the other.
The strangest thing had happened. Ever since the night Bonnie Sue took the banana pudding to the mayor’s house, the threats against the wedding facility had come to a halt. Not only that, Clayton had stopped his over-the-top articles about preserving historical sites.
Maybe there really was something special about that pudding.
I pondered this as I drove to the wedding facility on the day before our vow renewal service. I needed to focus on last-minute plans for the big day. What better place to do that than the wedding facility? I also wanted to see how Blossom’s decorating was coming along. I couldn’t stay long because Jenna, Jasmine, and Lily had talked me into a spa day in Kingwood. Sounded like fun, especially on a chilly day like today.
D.J. met me at the front door of the wedding facility and led me inside. He scooped little Rosie into his arms and proceeded to give us the grand tour.
I gasped as I saw the foyer. Nothing could have prepared me for the change. The paneling was gone. In its place, ivory walls gleamed under the rustic but elegant sconces. They cast the loveliest shimmer of light on the place. I walked through, completely blown away by the little details. Blossom was a genius. So was my husband, who had designed all of this in the first place.
“Oh, D.J., it’s fabulous.”
“You think?”
“I know!” I made my way into the reception hall, now trimmed with new drapes and a great new dance floor. Perfect. The chandeliers weren’t as fancy as the ones at Club Wed, but they didn’t need to be. In many ways, I liked the décor here better. This was a room where you could kick back and have fun. Nothing hoity-toity. Wasn’t it D.J. who had used those words? Now I understood what he meant. A room like this beckoned its guests to relax. Enjoy. Kick back. Dance. Be.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t want you to see the chapel today,” D.J. said. “I want it to be a surprise on our wedding day.” He gave me a little wink. “But I think you’re going to like it.”
“Like it? If it’s anything like this room, I’m going to love it.”
D.J. set Rosie down, then wrapped me in his arms and planted kisses on my cheek. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his drew me in. “It’s almost time to move back to Galveston,” he whispered. “Where the gulf breezes blow and the smell of salt water permeates your soul. You nearly ready to go back home, Bella-bambina?”
Sounded lovely, but for whatever reason, my heart twisted a bit at his words. Leaving Splendora would be a lot tougher than I’d thought. Somehow, in spite of my earlier reservations, I’d fallen head over heels in love with the place. With the people. With the trees.
I’m a tree hugger now.
I sighed as I looked out the window at the pines to my left. A little girl from New Jersey, transplanted to Galveston, uprooted—pun intended—to Splendora. And now D.J. was about to uproot me again, taking me back to Galveston.
Galveston.
I smiled as I thought about Club Wed. The Strand. Broadway. The beach. The Rossi homestead. My beautiful Victorian home. The new sitcom. Brock Benson and his wife Erin. Mama’s role as advisor on the show.
There were plenty more adventures ahead on sunny Galveston isle, if I could just get myself back there.
But first I had to get married. Had to waddle down the aisle and say “I do” to this handsome fella one more time.
“Hey, what’s this I hear about us not seeing each other on the wedding day?” D.J. shook his head. “Seems a little silly to me.”
“It’s tradition. The bride and groom can’t see each other on the wedding day.”
“Well, yes, but . . .” He pointed at my belly. “Considering the circumstances . . .”
“Doesn’t change a thing. We’re abiding by tradition, D.J. Neeley. I’ll be spending the night at Jasmine and Lily’s house tonight, along with my friends.”
“What about the kids?”
“My parents arrived an hour ago. They’re headed out to the cabins on Peach Creek. They’ll get Tres after school.”
“Sounds good. Speaking of Lily, did you hear that she and Cecil went on a date?”
“No way.”
“Yes. They went to the movies in Humble last Saturday night. I heard all about it from Cecil. He was over the moon.”
“I had no idea. I wonder why she didn’t say anything.”
D.J. shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think it went really well. He said they ended up at a Starbucks talking until really late. They have a lot in common, apparently.”
“I could’ve guessed that. They’ve seemed like a great match all along.”
“I know. Can’t wait to see what happens there. He’s a great guy. Don’t think she could do any better, that’s for sure.”
From behind us, I heard someone clear his throat. I turned to discover Clayton Deets standing in our foyer. Yikes. I hoped he hadn’t heard the conversation about Lily and Cecil. How awkward would that be?
“Sorry to stop by without calling first,” Clayton said as he headed in our direction. “But I wanted to ask you two a few questions.”
“About the mess with the bylaws, you mean?” D.J. shook his head. “If so, you can forget it. I’ve read them, but I have no intention of changing our plans. We appealed to the city council, but they’re not meeting again until next month, so we’re moving forward with our plans until we hear otherwise.”
“No, not about that.” Clayton released a loud sigh. “But since you brought it up, you might as well know that those bylaws aren’t even approved yet. That’s why you haven’t seen them online. I haven’t updated the site because the committee can’t come to an agreement. My uncle proposed the changes, but, well . . .”
“The others won’t play along?” D.J.’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. And they’re not likely to.”
“So folks are finally standing up to your uncle?”
Clayton nodded. “And if you want the whole truth, I’m one of them. I finally told him what I think about all of this. He needs to let this go, and I told him so.”
“Well now . . .” D.J. slapped Clayton on the back. “That pretty much changes everything.”
“I hope so.” Clayton looked around the facility and nodded. “It’s looking good in here. Real good.”
“Thanks.” D.J.’s face lit into a smile. “Want to see the rest?”
“O-okay.” Clayton looked around as if he half expected his uncle to come walking through the door. When we made our way into the reception hall and then the kitchen, he looked duly impressed. “Man, I remember the old wood floor. Dangerous. I love the new tile.”
“We got a great deal on most of this stuff,” D.J. said. “My company does a lot of high-end renovations on the island, and we often get materials that people are tired of or didn’t like.”
“Well, it looks great.” Clayton sighed. “I guess I’m not supposed to say that. I’m probably just supposed to keep on writing those articles for the Gazette the way my uncle feeds them to me.”
“So those are his thoughts, not yours?” D.J. asked.
Clayton’s eyes closed and he shook his head. “I’m a dead man.”
“No you’re not, Clayton.” D.J. led the way back into the foyer. “You’re just a man in an awkward situation. But I think I can help you come up with an article idea that will top any of the ones your uncle has given you. Interested?”
“If it involves Brock Benson, your top-secret wedding guest, then yes. Definitely.”
“Must not be a very big secret if you know.”
“I think Bonnie Sue let it slip to Uncle Tommy. She mentioned that Brock is staying in Galveston a lot these days. Something to do with your family?”
“He’s filming a new sitcom on the Strand,” D.J. explained.
“Inspired by my family,” I added.
“Do you think you can get me an interview with Brock?” Clayton
asked.
“On one condition.” D.J. looked him squarely in the eye.
“Oh?”
“I’d love to see you put out some articles in support of the wedding facility. And since we’re talking about your writing, why not go back to doing what you loved?”
“What I loved?” Clayton looked confused.
“Sure.” D.J. nodded. “I remember your older pieces. Great stuff. Let’s be honest, if you could write about anything you wanted—really write about anything in the world—would it be politics?”
Clayton paused and I could read the sadness in his eyes. “Well, no. I’m not really that interested in politics, if you want to know the truth of it.”
“And yet you cover political things more than anything else.”
“Well, I have to cover whatever is happening locally and there’s a lot stirring politically, so . . .” He shrugged and leaned against the wall.
“There’s really not that much stirring politically,” D.J. said. “Well, unless you count Twila’s run for mayor against your uncle. But I haven’t really seen you covering her campaign much. There was no mention of the new billboard she put up or the grassroots campaigning she and the other ladies have done.”
Clayton’s gaze shifted downward. “The Gazette has already endorsed my uncle.”
“You mean you have already endorsed your uncle.” D.J. put his hand on Clayton’s shoulder. “I get it. I really do. I’ve got family. But you can’t go along with him just because he says so. You’re a grown man. You can make your own decisions. Sometimes all it takes is making the first move. Taking the first step. Having courage.”
Clayton nodded but said nothing. After a moment, he reached for his phone and checked the time. “Sorry, but I have to get going. I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes at the Gazette.” He headed to the door and then turned back. “Thank you for what you said, D.J. You’ve given me a lot to think about. And thanks for arranging the interview with Brock.”
“No problem. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?” Clayton asked, still not looking convinced.
D.J. and I nodded in unison and he headed out the door.
“Interesting,” I said. “I have to wonder where he would be if his uncle didn’t keep him under lock and key.”
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