“Oh, dear, that smell might be an issue,” Jean-Pierre said, his nose crinkled with distaste.
“Sometimes it gets damp down here,” I explained.
“Well, since the theme isn’t Mildew Madness, I think we need to stay upstairs,” Jean-Pierre said, shaking his head and leading the way back to the main floor.
Meridee directed us into the kitchen. She had fixed coffee and iced tea and put out some mini coffee cakes she’d just pulled out of the oven. “Watch out. These are hot. Have a seat and help yourself. Don’t be shy.”
“Oh, Miss Meridee, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble,” Jean-Pierre said, taking a seat next to Coco at the yellow laminate table. “But, honey, I am so glad you did.”
“My word, everything sure does smell delish.” Coco took a bite of the coffee cake. “Mmm, wonderful. Thanks for letting us use your lovely home for this very unique event.”
“My pleasure, y’all. Miss Vivi is like a granddaughter to me. She grew up in this house almost as much as did my Blake. I will do whatever y’all need.” Meridee poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and walked over to the sink to wash the coffee cake pans.
“Okay, down to business,” I said. “I want this event to feel extra special to Vivi, like she is a princess for the day.”
Jean-Pierre grabbed his notebook. “Okay, a princess bride and baby momma combo. Got it. We can have a lot of fun with all the games and activities this way.” He jotted down a few notes, then peered over his glasses. “Anything else you want to throw into the mix?”
Meridee spoke up from the sink. “I thought y’all were goin’ down to see Miss Myra Jean for Vivi’s shower.”
“Oh, Nanny, I haven’t had a chance to tell them about the psychic yet.” I would have used a little more tact, seeing as they were the ones planning the shower.
“A psychic?” Jean-Pierre asked slowly.
I cringed. They were a classy company. They even had swans planned for the wedding. Swans! I wasn’t sure where a psychic would fit in with an affair planned by guys who considered swans and string quartets essential to an event’s success.
“Yes,” Meridee went on. “My dear old friend Myra Jean does readings and talks to spirits. We’re gonna take all the girls down to see her. Isn’t that gonna be fun?”
“Seriously?” Jean-Pierre was already frazzled. He stood up and walked around the table. “Does this visit to the tarot card lady or whatever she is really need to be part of the shower? I just don’t know if it will fit in with—”
“It surely does,” Meridee insisted. “And Myra Jean only uses tarot cards sometimes. Besides, Vivi is the one who decided it would be fun for everyone at her shower to have a reading. She believes in Miss Myra’s gifts.”
Yes, Vivi did believe what Myra said, and I just hoped that her shower day predictions didn’t trigger a homicide attempt on the hubby/daddy-to-be.
Jean-Pierre glanced at me, a bit exasperated. “Can’t you do anything to stop this?”
“Not likely,” I said. “The readings are her wedding gift from me.”
His mouth dropped open in horror, as if I’d shattered his former belief in my exquisite taste.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I protested. “Vivi asked for this and I just want my best friend to be happy. That is my job, after all. I am her matron of honor.”
“Okay, then,” Jean-Pierre said, throwing up his hands. “We’ll put group mystic reading on the list. The day is all about Vivi, after all.”
“Oh, I just love the whole idea!” Coco stood up and began moving around excitedly. “I always wanted to have a reading myself. It sounds like a teetotal hoot and a half.” He leaned over to a grumpy Jean-Pierre and linked one arm with his. “Hand me my ruby slippers, honey, we’re off to see the wizard!”
I smiled at his enthusiasm, relieved to have at least one of them on board with the idea. I was just hoping the “other woman” the psychic spoke of didn’t turn out to be the Wicked Witch of the West.
3
That afternoon I met Vivi at the courthouse, and Lewis was waiting there on the sidewalk with his soon-to-be bride.
“I am so excited I can’t even think,” she said. “Can you believe Lewis and I are going to get our marriage license?” She was exuberant.
“Hey, Blake, thanks for coming and being a witness to history,” Lewis said as he gave me a hug.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I said, smiling at them.
“Hey, baby,” Vivi said, turning to face Lewis. “Did you know that the psychic this morning said there was another woman in this little domestic portrait we’re painting?” Vivi threw it out there just like that. Completely out of nowhere, without giving either of us a warning. I should’ve expected something like this. She’d been so upset this morning, and she was probably stewing on it all day long while I was with the planners. Looking at her now, I could tell she couldn’t take the worrying anymore. She needed to get this out of the way as soon as possible. Of course, Lewis was stunned.
“What?” he said, confused at the sudden turn in the conversation. “Another woman? Hell, ain’t nobody but you, Red. Nobody for me but you.” He gave her a reassuring smile.
“Aww, sugar.” The relief in Vivi’s face was obvious. “I love you. But that psychic did give me a scare. She’s usually right about the things she sees, but I couldn’t believe it when she suggested you’d been cheatin’. Blake says she’s probably picking up vibes from the baby. She’s the other woman,” Vivi said as she patted her stomach. She gazed up at Lewis and smiled. “I mean, I just know it’s a she.”
“I’m sure that’s it. And besides, I’ve already told you I’ve never trusted those psychics. They just make things up to keep you comin’ back for more.” Lewis helped Vivi up the courthouse steps and into the lobby of the beautiful old building.
“Here I go. Oh, Blake, I can’t stand it, I’m so excited, I’m gonna burst.”
“Honey, let’s hope not.” If this was how she felt picking up the license, we’d likely need to give her medication on her wedding day. We went inside and followed the signs down to the marriage license office.
As we walked through the door, Lewis stopped and held Vivi in front of him. “I love you, Red. Today’s our day,” he said with a grin. “We’re gonna be official. I am so happy, baby.” He leaned down and planted quite a kiss on her.
She blushed right up to her red-haired roots, then smoothed her dress over her five-month baby bump and laughed. “I’m so nervous. I changed clothes six times.”
“Well, you look gorgeous. Let’s do this.” Lewis was just as excited as she was.
We approached the lady at the counter. She looked to be around fifty-five, with straight brown hair cut in a severe bob. She scanned Vivi’s burgeoning belly. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry, you must have the wrong room. This is the office to apply for a wedding license.”
“And what the hell makes you think I’m in the wrong room?” Vivi snapped, but her eyes were smiling. She loved toying with people.
The lady looked down at Vivi’s tummy. “Well, I just, um...”
“Yes, I am pregnant and I am wearin’ white at the wedding, too.” Vivi was loving this. “Now can I apply for my marriage license, please?”
“To each his own. You can work out those details with your minister,” the woman said with disinterest. “Y’all got your information ready to go?”
“It’s all right here.” Vivi handed over her paperwork.
“And how about you, sir?”
Lewis was grinning like I had never seen him before. His face was flushed with joy as he lay down his documents. “Never been more ready than I am today.”
The lady studied the information and typed all the appropriate answers into the computer on the counter. After a few moments of awkward silence, sh
e frowned at the screen and then cleared her throat.
“Well, sir, I’m not so sure about that. I think you may have been a little more ready about thirteen years ago,” the woman said, clicking a few more keys. She looked up at him. “The great state of Alabama frowns on bigamy, and you, sir, are already married. By the way, aren’t you our play-by-play announcer? Roll Tide.” She smiled.
“Wait. Already what? Did you just say my fiancé is already married?” Vivi repeated in shock.
“There is no damn way!” Lewis was livid, his face turning a blotchy red.
“This is a mistake,” Vivi said, her voice rising. “I have known him for every one of those thirteen years and he has never been married!” She was about to pitch a full-out conniption fit right here in the courthouse.
“Ma’am, I have never been engaged, much less married,” Lewis insisted. “A person would know that, I think.”
“Well, sir. This is your birth certificate. This is your social security number. It matches all the information you just gave me, right down to the signature. This wedding certificate belongs to you, alrighty.” She printed out a copy and handed it over to let Vivi and Lewis read it for themselves. “As you can see, Mr. Lewis Heart married Miss Tressa Mae Hartman in April of 1999. I have no record of a dissolution of marriage.”
Vivi turned white as a ghost and leaned into me. I held her up and walked her over to the bench just outside the room. I was fanning her with some pamphlet I had picked up, and she looked about ready to faint.
Lewis followed us, holding the evidence in his hand, his mouth still dropped open. “There is just no way in this world, no way,” he said again. “This can’t be real. I know it can’t.”
“Get me some water, quick,” I said. “Vivi’s gonna pass out.”
“Where’s the water? Where?” Lewis went into panic mode.
Great, I thought. Now they’re both flippin’ out.
“Oh, I see it.” He ran down the little hallway in his slick dress shoes, heading for the watercooler, when he wiped out completely and landed on his back. I could hear the breath leaving his body from twenty feet away.
Vivi was crying and muttering, “No, no, no.” She didn’t even see him fall.
“Lewis, oh, my God, are you okay?” I asked.
“Fine,” he groaned, stumbling to his feet. “I’ll get that water now.” He made his way hurriedly toward the watercooler down the hall, his dress shoes still slipping on the newly waxed vinyl floor of the Tuscaloosa courthouse.
He grabbed some pointy paper cups, filled two of them and ran back to us, sloshing water all over his chest and slip-sliding as he came. He was a mess.
“Here you go, baby.” He gave Vivi one cup. She was still hyperventilating.
“Lewis Heart, please tell me this is a mistake,” she begged.
“I swear, I can explain.”
“Explain? Oh, my good God in heaven!”
Vivi jumped up, turning beet-red, looking like she was ready to wring his neck. She faced him down with her hands on her hips. “You mean to tell me this is true? You’re married for real? Oh, for Christ’s sake, Lewis, why haven’t you ever told me?”
She dropped back down on the bench, then leaned over onto me and began sobbing. “Why, Lewis? Oh, my God, why? We don’t have time for you to get a divorce before our wedding. It’s all over. I won’t have my wedding day, and I’m gonna have to birth this baby as an unwed mother.”
“Oh, honey,” he said, getting down on one knee in front of her. “Let me tell you all about it.”
“Yes,” I said, “I, for one, am interested in the whole sordid story.” I scowled down at him. My mind was racing. All this time I’d truly believed he was devoted to Vivi, but this news had thrown us for a loop. And this was my best friend we were talking about. There was no way I was gonna let this ass get off easy for hurting my Vivi.
Lewis clutched Vivi’s hands. “Okay, here goes. I sorta remember this.”
He had to be kidding. Sorta?
“Lewis, you gotta do better than that,” I said. Vivi’s head still lay on my chest, and my arms were wrapped around her protectively.
“I was, like, twenty-one, and we had this thing at my fraternity,” he began.
“This thing?” Vivi asked, finally sitting up.
“Well, we were all a bit drunk and someone teased somebody else that he was too chickenshit to get married. Things kind of went on from there, until the brothers at the frat decided to perform a fake wedding ceremony with our chaplain. So this dancer chick, Tressa was her name—”
“Yes, we heard,” I interrupted.
“Well, Tressa offered to be the bride and give a lap dance to the lucky groom.”
“Seriously?” Vivi snapped. “You took her up on that?”
“I was a kid! And I was drunk. I’m not saying it’s the best decision I ever made, but you know how I was back then. The wild one, the daredevil. We all had a bet that no one would go through with it, and I finally volunteered.”
“Always some sort of horny man bet. I hate that. We never behaved that way in college.” Vivi folded her arms and huffed. The truth was, we’d gotten in our own sort of trouble back then, but I wasn’t about to remind her now.
“Well,” Lewis went on, “I figured this guy was pretending to be a chaplain and fake-married us, or so I thought. He had us sign some joke certificate they’d drawn up and everyone toasted us. Then, she gave me my...uh...dance, and I left. I never saw her again.” Lewis was up pacing and shaking his head. “I thought it was all a big joke, but I guess the chaplain turned the papers in. He must have been a real preacher—and what he was doing at that party I will never understand. My God, I just can’t believe...” He sank down on the bench next to Vivi and covered his face with his hands.
“But that means... Well, this Tressa probably has no idea y’all are married, either,” I said, putting my lawyer hat on. “I do know one thing, though,” I added, looking at Vivi. “She’s not staying married.”
The two of them sat there in shock, trying to process the mud slide that had just knocked us off our feet.
“We have to find this woman,” I insisted.
“And what are we gonna do when we find her?” Vivi asked. “Show up and tell her, ‘Hey, you’ve been secretly married to the love of my life for thirteen years and, sorry, but we sorta need an annulment today. Just sign on the dotted line. Okay?’ Something tells me that won’t go over very well.”
I cringed, since that was basically my plan. “Look, I’ll see what I can find out about her, and then I’ll get back in touch with y’all. Go on to your meeting, Lewis, and we will call you later.”
“Vivi, you gotta believe me,” begged Lewis. “I love you! I don’t even remember what this girl looks like. It was so long ago, and it was a frat party, and I was twenty-one and stupid. Believe me, Red, I love only you.”
“I know you do, Lewis.” Vivi sighed. “I know it. Blake will help us. Right, Blake?”
Uh, yeah, I thought, nodding and smiling. Just tack it on to the list after “Plan the perfect double shower” and “Tackle the wedding of Vivi’s dreams.” No big deal.
But I knew that Vivi needed me and I wasn’t about to let her down. And I think it’s safe to say that Miss Myra Jean has a gift, for we most certainly had found the other woman.
4
Vivi and I flew back to her house, not even caring about the speed limit. We had a serious appointment with Google on my laptop.
We went inside, and Vivi got the going-to-war food of cookies and iced tea, while I ran up and grabbed my computer. After a couple of hours of snooping, I located one Tressa Mae Hartman in Birmingham, Alabama. Her age matched the woman we were looking for, and when we clicked on images after entering her name, we both nearly fell out of our chairs.
The picture that popped up on my screen was of a woman in her early thirties, brassy reddish-blond hair, frosted lips and a pound of eye shadow in shiny blue. Her pink cheeks made her look like the Little Drummer Boy, and she was wearing a bedazzled string bikini in camouflage...with a beeper from about 1990 attached to her hip. She was pointing at the camera like her finger was a pistol.
Vivi and I were physically unable to close our mouths. For several seconds.
I broke through my shocked stupor first. “Wow, I sure as hell thought Lewis had better taste than that, bless her heart.”
Vivi shook her head. “I’d say she’s had a nip and tuck and then some.”
“I didn’t even know implants came in those sizes,” I mused. “Surely they’re not real. How does she even stay upright?”
“Somehow, I don’t think upright is her favorite position,” Vivi groused.
“Now, Vivi, come on...” I chided, but I couldn’t hold back the fit of giggles that burst out of me. Once we’d managed to get our breaths back, Vivi turned back to the screen.
“It says here she’s a bar singer. And who names her kid after a shampoo, anyway?”
“I do believe there’s a bar singer in Birmingham who’s fixin’ to get the surprise of her life,” I said. “We’re gonna have us a road trip.”
My cell phone rang. It was Sonny Bartholomew, Tuscaloosa’s chief homicide investigator, my old high-school sweetheart and now full-time man of my dreams. As with the news of my separation, I’d been trying my best to keep my deepening relationship with Sonny under wraps while Harry was running for Senate, because, well, news of the candidate’s wife embroiled in a smokin’-hot love affair with the chief of Homicide doesn’t really help the campaign.
Wedding Belles Page 2
