Once Upon a Moonlight Night (The Bella Novella Collection Book 1)

by Janice Thompson

  I remembered that day well. Guido had almost ruined a perfectly lovely wedding rehearsal that night by stealing a guest’s toupee. Never. Again.

  We all followed behind them to the car. Nick, their chauffeur for the day, led the way, luggage in hand. God bless that brother of mine for being willing to go so far out of his way for family.

  Then again, that’s how it was in the Rossi household. Going out of one’s way was just the way of it. . .and I wouldn’t change a thing.

  Rosa looked on as the men loaded her luggage in the trunk of the vehicle, then glanced our way, her eyes flooded with tears. “Ooh, I’m going to miss you all so much.”

  “No you won’t,” Laz countered. “You’re going to be too busy to miss anyone.” He quirked a brow and pictures of that red negligee skittered through my brain. Gross. I scrub-brushed my thoughts and refocused.

  Rosa kissed us all on the cheeks, then gave Mama the biggest hug of all. “I’ll post our pictures on Facebook so you can keep up with us.”

  “Facebook?” Laz grunted, then mumbled something about how social media would be the death of them. He gestured for my brothers to bring their bags down the front steps of the veranda. Nick and Joey did fine with theirs, but D.J. struggled with the largest bag. One of them took off like it had a mind of its own, tumbling down the steps. He caught it just before catastrophe struck.

  “Easy there, cowboy.” Laz patted my husband on the shoulder. “There are some mighty fine new things in that bag. My sweetie went shopping, you see.”

  Ew.

  “Let’s go back to the Facebook comment.” Rosa offered a little pout. “Now Laz, be serious. You know our viewers will expect us to post photos every step of the way. I plan to do just that. And you know we’ll have to tweet, too.”

  “Tweet?” Another grunt followed from Uncle Laz. “The only tweeting I do is after eating Brussels sprouts, but I don’t plan to have any of those on this trip.” He gave her a little wink and then slung his arm over her shoulder as she groaned aloud.

  Rosa began to hum That’s Life, her favorite Sinatra tune—and the theme song for Brock Benson’s new sitcom. Uncle Laz’s gaze narrowed, and for a moment I thought he might counter with a Dean Martin song. Strange. I thought my aunt and uncle had ended their ongoing feud over which was the better singer—Old Blue Eyes or Deano. I had my preference, but knew better than to state it aloud.

  I watched as Nick helped them into the backseat. He’d just come off of a late shift at Parma John’s the night before and must be exhausted. I could read the weariness in his eyes. Still, he’d willingly volunteered to transport the happy travelers to the airport. Hard working guy. Hmm. More proof that I came by it honestly.

  My gaze shifted to Club Wed next door. The expansive old Victorian loomed like a beacon in the night, calling my name. It had a Pied Piper quality about it, which sucked me in, whether I felt like working or not. Today, on my day off, I knew I should avoid the place, especially since D.J. and the kids were keen on going to Moody Gardens to see the holiday decorations. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to stop by the office for just a minute to check on something.

  As we waved goodbye to my aunt and uncle, I turned to my hubby, braving the question. “D.J., would you mind watching the kids for a minute or two? I need to check on something in my office. Make sure I don’t have any messages on the machine. Won’t take long.”

  He gave me that look I’d grown accustomed to. I recognized it as the same look my mother used to give me whenever she wanted to scold but chose to bite her tongue, instead.

  “I’ll just be a minute, I promise.”

  The minute turned into about twenty minutes. I couldn’t help myself, really. One voice mail led to another, one email message led to the next, and before long I was talking to one of our vendors.

  I’d totally lost myself in the moment when I heard a familiar cry. Rosie. Looking up, I noticed D.J. standing in the door. “Bella?” His wrinkled brow clued me in to the fact that he wasn’t particularly happy with me. “You’re still working?”

  “What time is it?”

  “Ten minutes till one. The kids are starving. We were going to have lunch at Parma Johns before heading to Moody Gardens, right?”

  “Right.” I slapped myself on the forehead. “D.J., I’m sorry. I don’t know what comes over me. It’s like. . .”

  “Someone puts a spell on you.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I gestured to my office. “It’s this place. It has that effect on me.”

  “Then let’s get out of here before it pulls you through the looking glass, okay? I’m so hungry, I could eat a whole sausage pizza by myself.”

  As we headed outside, the skies overhead hovered with their dismal gray clouds. Uh oh. A strong wind drifted in from the south, blowing the leaves from the trees in the front yard. Rosie began to cry, but Tres greeted it as an opportunity. He ran across the yard, chasing the leaves and squealing with childish delight. In that moment, I was struck by a thought that must have come from heaven on high. Even with a storm blowing around us, Tres’ carefree attitude made me feel like a kid again. I wanted to toss my cares—and my work—to the wind and just play.

  I couldn’t help but think that I had a few lessons to learn from my son. What I needed was a new perspective. Eyes to see the winds the way my little boy did. If I could manage that, perhaps I could relax a little. Re-learn how to rest. And while I was at it, I might just get to watch the tension unfold itself from my husband’s wrinkled forehead.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Shake Down the Stars

  “In my opinion, too much attention to weather makes for instability of character.”

  ― Elizabeth Goudge

  There are those rare people in your world who sparkle and shine above and beyond the norm. They rush in like a mighty wind and whirl around you with such verbosity that you wonder how much you can take. But they glisten with such an effervescent shimmer that you know—in spite of their wackiness—that you would sooner die than try to live without them.

  Such was the case with the Splendora sisters.

  I’d met Twila, Jolene and Bonnie Sue years earlier at a charismatic church in the tiny town Splendora, miles north of Houston. The three plus-sized divas made a vivid first impression as they worshipped up and down the aisle, three buxom Tammy Fayes, complete with the eyelashes and tattooed lip liner. Being raised a Methodist I’d never witnessed such vibrant displays of worship before. Or seen that particular shade of eye shadow. And the glittery blouses, along with the upswept hairdos and strategically placed hair clips, made me wonder if, perhaps, I’d ventured onto a movie set instead of a local church. Still, one couldn’t help but be drawn in. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them that first night, and now—years later—they still drew my attention every time they showed up on the island.

  I laid aside my pre-conceived ideas as soon as I got to know them. Twila won me over with her charm and her heart for the Lord. Well, that, and her remarkable makeup tips. Who knew that you could use hemorrhoid cream to get rid of wrinkles? Amazing revelation. My mother still lathered up before she went to bed at night, thanks to Twila.

  The three God-fearin’ gals wormed their way into the hearts of my family members and the whole of Galveston, alongside them. We always saw the ladies more often during the holidays because they sang at our local Dickens on the Strand event. The mayor always made a big to-do over them. And why not? Their harmonies were legendary, and they put on quite a show for viewers, with over-the-top choreography and snappy rhythms.

  With all of this in mind, I decided to take matters into my own hands and include them in Justine’s wedding plans. She would love these gals. No doubt about it. And her guests would, too. In fact, this might just take the Splendora trio’s fame to new heights, what with Houston’s mayor showing up. Perhaps they’d get more gigs out of it.

  On the first Thursday in December, just a little more than two weeks shy of Justine’s big day, the Splendora sisters blew into Club We
d like an incoming hurricane. I had issued the invitation knowing Justine was still looking for entertainment for her reception. Still, I had to laugh when I saw their Victorian gowns and feathered hats.

  “You’re singing tonight at Dickens on the Strand?” I asked.

  “What was your first guess?” Twila primped a bit and laughed.

  “Love that burgundy dress on you, Twila.” I let out a little whistle. “You’re as pretty as a Victorian postcard.”

  “And nearly as old.” She gave me a wink. “Kidding, kidding. But I’m feeling my age with the weather changing so much. Just about the time my hip joints unlock from the cold, it turns hot again and they slip out of place.”

  “We’re in Texas, Twila. What do you expect? If you don’t like the weather, just hang on a minute. It’ll change.” Bonnie Sue doubled over with laughter. “Oh, that’s rich.”

  “Speaking of rich, did you taste those chocolate truffles in the foyer? I nabbed one on the way in. Hope that’s okay, Bella.”

  “Of course. I put them there for guests.” Not that these gals were guests. They were family. And, as I ushered them into my office, I hoped to make them Justine’s family, as well. We’d start with proper introductions.

  Justine looked up as we entered, her eyes widening as she took in the Victorian costumes. “What have we here?”

  “Friends from Splendora,” I said. I turned my attention to the trio. “Ladies, I’ve invited you here today to meet a new bride, Justine.” I gestured to the lovely bride-to-be and Twila gasped. She reached with a plump hand for a Club Wed brochure from my desk and began to fan herself. “Why, I’d know that lovely face anywhere.”

  “Ooh, me too.” Bonnie Sue leaned in close to Justine, whose eyes widened. “I never forget a face. We’ve seen you. . .somewhere.”

  “She’s a movie star!” Jolene plopped down into the seat next to Justine and reached with a fingertip to brush a loose hair from her face. “Tell me I’m right. No, I know! You’re in Brock Benson’s TV show, right? The one about the Greek gyro shop? I know Bella has been helping the producers. You must be one of the actresses, am I right? Oh, I can see why they hired you. You have the loveliest pores. And that eyeliner job is spectacular. Where did you have it done?”

  “Eyeliner job?” Justine squirmed in her seat. “I’m not in a sitcom, though I do feel a bit like I’m in one right now.” She offered a faint smile. “But it’s likely you have seen me on TV. I’m on every night on the—”

  “I know! I know!” Bonnie Sue let out a squeal. “You’re that beautiful blonde on Wheel of Fortune. Vanna something? Ooh, I just love that show. I’ve always been head-over-heels for the host, Bob Barker. Quite a sexy old guy, if I do say so, myself.” She fanned her face with her hand. “And you haven’t aged a bit, not one little bit. But don’t you ever get tired of flipping all of those letters around? I mean, a job’s a job, and you sure get to wear some pretty clothes and all, but just standing there, day after day, flipping letters? It has to get old.”

  “Justine doesn’t work on Wheel of Fortune, Bonnie Sue.” Twila rose and took a couple of steps in Justine’s direction. “And Bob Barker hosted The Price is Right, so get your facts straight. This is that precious weather gal from Channel Eleven. The one who took over after the real weather guy—the one from the National Hurricane Center—left.”

  Oh. Ouch. I stared at Justine, who flinched. Ack.

  “Justine is a trained meteorologist,” I said. “Her predictions are spot on.”

  “Oh, please forgive me if I over-spoke. I was just so enamored with that older fellow who used to do the weather. So trustworthy. It was almost like he had a direct line to the Almighty, who fed him information on the sly about upcoming weather problems. You know?” Twila took Justine by the hand. “I would imagine that any weather person would have to have the Lord on speed-dial, wouldn’t you?”

  Justine looked perplexed by this notion. “Well, I never really thought about it much, to be honest.”

  “Ooh, you must think about it. He’s the one who controls the weather, wouldn’t you agree? So, you have to have a lifeline to the One making the decisions, especially in your line of work.”

  “I. . .I suppose.”

  “He hung the sun, the moon and the stars in place. And He knows every cloud in the sky…moves ‘em around at his good pleasure.” Bonnie Sue interjected. “He’s your real boss, girlie, so if you haven’t asked him to take on that role in your life, you might want to consider it.”

  “No offense, ladies, but I studied weather systems. I know how it works. There’s a cause and effect reason for everything. Scientific explanations. You know?”

  “Gobblety-gook.” Twila waved her hand in the air. “Of course, there are scientific explanations for everything. But you can’t science away the Lord, honey. He created all of it and He determines when the sun rises and sets, when and how the stars twinkle in the sky. . .every little old thing! He’s in charge of it all.”

  “R-right.” Justine shrugged and shot me a “How do I get out of this?” look.

  “I suppose if the weather didn’t change, half the people I know wouldn’t have a thing to talk about. I’ve never heard so much senseless chatter about wind and rain.” Bonnie Sue clamped a hand over her mouth and her cheeks flamed pink. “Oh, I’m sorry, Justine. Didn’t mean to rain on your parade.” When she realized what she’d said, she busted out laughing. “Well, cut off my legs and call me shorty. I just can’t seem to keep my foot out of my mouth today. I simply meant to say that weather is your business and I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

  This somehow led to a discussion about a storm the ladies had experienced while onboard a cruise ship. I remembered that particular tropical storm well. In fact, I’d spent that night hunkered down in the foyer of the Rossi home, along with the people I loved.

  “Ain’t nothin’ like a life-threatening storm to teach you just how much you’re loved,” Jolene said. “Folks trying to get in touch with their loved ones, doing what they can to make sure everyone they care about is okay.”

  “Never thought about that before,” I said. “But you’re right. On stormy days I just want to hear DJ’s voice. And I call Sophia to talk to the kids, too. I miss them on rainy days, for sure.”

  “Rainy days were made for cuddling.” Twila gave me a knowing look. “And for makin’ babies.”

  “Twila!” Bonnie Sue whacked her on the back. “That’s nobody’s business.”

  “I’m just saying, lots of babies get their start on rainy days.” Twila looked Justine’s way. “Now there’s a scientific fact for you. Look it up on the Internet. You’ll see I’m right.”

  For whatever reason, all three Splendora sisters—and Justine—looked my way. I put my hands up in the air. “Oh no. I don’t know if there’s rain in the forecast or not, but even if there is it doesn’t mean more babies are coming. We’ve got four little tornados already.”

  “You never know.” Justine’s eye’s twinkled. “These ladies might be on to something. Ain’t nothin’ like a storm to broaden the family tree.”

  At this point the ladies decided to hold an audition. They broke into a rendition of Stormy Weather in perfect three-part harmony. Justine looked on, eyes twinkling with merriment. They followed this song with another, Blue Skies. I had to admit, they really sounded good.

  When they ended, Justine clapped and let out a squeal. “Ooh, this is perfect. You’re hired. You’ll be great at the reception. Are you free on the night of the 19th, ladies?”

  “Bella already asked,” Twila said. “And yes we are. We’d be happy to sing at your wedding reception. From what Bella’s told us, it’s going to be a night to remember.”

  “Oh, I hope so.” Justine sighed. “Everything’s coming together so beautifully.” She paused for a moment and her smile seemed to fade.

  “Something wrong?” I asked, concern overtaking me.

  “Oh, just thinking about a little family situation we’re facing. You know how
it is at weddings, Bella. There are always a few folks you’d rather leave off the invitation list.” Her eyes filled with tears, my first clue that we might be in for a real problem.

  “Justine? Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “What is it, honey?” Jolene rested her hand on Justine’s arm. “You can tell us.”

  She sighed and took a seat. “I hate to complain, especially to total strangers.”

  “We’re not strangers,” Twila took a seat next to her. “We’re one big happy family. At least we will be, by the time the wedding is over. So, what’s happening? How can we help?”

  Justine’s gaze traveled to the floor. “I just thought this whole wedding thing would be easier, but I was wrong.”

  “What’s happened?” I asked, my heart rate increasing.

  “It’s so dumb. My dad—have I mentioned my parents are divorced?—anyway, my dad wants to bring his fiancée to the wedding. Well, actually, they’ll be married by then. They’re running off to Vegas week after next. But my mom is flipping out, and I don’t really blame her. I mean, it’s only been three months since my parents’ divorce, and my dad left my mother for the woman he’s now engaged to. It’s going to be so hard on my mom to have Didi there.”

  “What about you?” Twila asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it’s important that you be comfortable,” Twila said, her voice soothing. “What’s going to be the best—and easiest—thing for you?”

  Justine rose and paced the tiny office, finally turning back to face us. “I just need—want—everyone to play nice, and that’s going to be easier if Didi isn’t there. She’s a piece of work, for sure. And I know she’ll go out of her way to make my mom feel uncomfortable. And if my mom’s uncomfortable then I’ll be uncomfortable, which kind of ruins the whole day.” Justine groaned. “Why is this so hard? You would think someone who predicts storms could weather a few in her own life.”