by Marta Acosta
Cornelia said, “They are such simple garments. A child could sew them.”
“Oswald has excellent needle skills,” I said. Sure, he usually worked with human flesh, but his technique was renowned. “Can’t he sew his own tunic?”
Cornelia and Oswald exchanged a look with each other and laughed. “No, darling,” she said. “The bride does this as a display of her love and wifely skills. The Council expects our tradition to be honored.”
I sighed. “Cornelia, are you telling me that you’re going to sew the wedding tunics when you get married?”
“Membership has its privileges. I shall hire someone to do it for me and we’ll all pretend that I’ve done everything myself from shearing the sheep to weaving the cloth.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “That is, if I ever decide to marry. Oswald, you should have seen the last fellow the registry matched me up with,” she said. The vampires had a dating service that matched up members based on their fertility levels. “One of the Van Burens, I can’t remember which because they all bore me to distraction.”
“Now, Corny, don’t be mean. The Van Burens aren’t flashy, but they’re good, honest men.”
She started laughing. “If I ever fall into a coma, I’ll be sure to look them up, dear.”
Oswald glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to run. Are you two going to stay around here, or will I have to bail you out of jail this evening?”
“Ha ha and ha,” I said. “Will you be back for dinner?”
“I’ll call later.”
He kissed me good-bye and then kissed Cornelia, too. It was only a kiss on the cheek, but I didn’t think he needed to get quite so close to her.
When he’d gone, Cornelia said, “Come upstairs and I’ll give you the drawings of the tunics.”
I accompanied her to the guest room and she gave me a sketch of a dark red, hooded cloak, embroidered at the cuffs and hem with flowers and fruit, for Oswald, and a simpler red gown, for me. I asked, “How am I going to make these?”
“It will take a few hours, but isn’t Oswald worth a little effort? Here is a detail of the needlework.” She gave me another sketch with an illustration of intricate embroidery.
“Are these pomegranates?” I asked.
“Yes, and grapes, figs. You should use a heavyweight silk fabric and silk thread. Let’s go into town and buy your supplies.”
She seemed to accept that I would drive her car. I flicked on the stereo and was surprised to hear an intriguing modern tango. “This sounds familiar,” I said. “I think my friend Mercedes had this band at her club in the City. Have you been there? It’s called My Dive.”
“Not yet, but I’ve heard of it.”
“You should check out the schedule before you go. Her taste is very eclectic.”
“Ian is so passionate about music, you know, and he’s always introducing me to new things.”
At an antique store in town, Cornelia bought a variety of tiny objects, including a china pillbox and silver hair combs. “Ilena will like these, don’t you think?”
“They’re pretty. I don’t know much about her taste.”
“Very chic, which is to be expected with most of Ian’s women.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I said, unable to resist adding, “But she did seem a little…bloodless.”
“Not everyone can be a pretty, chubby little pickle like you.” Cornelia laughed merrily.
“I can’t believe Ian told you that,” I said, even more embarrassed to feel my cheeks grow hot.
“Not Ian. Ilena told me. She couldn’t believe that you and he…Well, it was unlikely.”
“Yes, especially since Oswald, who is so handsome and smart and successful and a decent human being, is more my type.”
“Then aren’t you lucky to marry him!”
We stopped at a quilting and crafts shop, and the sales clerk sold me fabric and silk embroidery floss for the wedding tunics. I signed up for a beginners’ sewing class that met twice a week.
Then we went to a small cafй on the outskirts of town. As I parked, I noticed that the For Sale sign was gone from the nursery next door. A wholesale grower’s truck was parked in the drive, and a guy was unloading flats of bright annuals. This was the nursery I’d considered buying, but I’d been unwilling to deal with the chore of running a business.
And now I was stuck with remodeling a loft.
We were shown to a table on the back patio under the shade of old pear trees, their ripening fruit hanging pendent.
We shared small plates of food and a bottle of a light, fruity red wine. “Cornelia, is this your first job?”
“Hmm?” She was sorting through a fruit salad, picking out all the juicy blackberries, and popping them between her crimson lips. “I’ve always seen my life as my job. Ian thought I’d like it.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself,” she said.
Curiosity overcame caution and I asked, “What was Ian like as a child?”
“He was the same,” she said, and then her expression softened. “After my parents died, I was sent to his family. He was just a boy, but he took my hand and said, ‘Now you will be my sister and I will be your brother forever.’ He took me up to the bedroom next to his. He’d brought in all his favorite things, books, toys, a globe, his old teddy bear. He stayed close to me, making sure I wasn’t alone or scared. He liked to spin the globe and tell me about all the places in the world we’d visit when we grew up.” She smiled. “He kept his promise and we have visited all those places.”
I couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but I heard the catch in her voice as she said, “That’s why I’m so happy that he’s found someone who makes him happy.”
“So you think she’s the one, then?”
Cornelia smiled. “What I think isn’t important. He believes she’s the one. I hope to help coordinate my brother’s wedding.”
“Won’t the Council object if Ian marries an outsider? Even if her family is associated with your people?”
“They’ll be furious. But Ian doesn’t let them dictate his life,” she said. “Enough about my family. Let’s talk about your wedding. Oswald will want to make improvements, naturally. What procedures have you planned?”
“I’m not having any procedures. Oswald loves me as I am.”
“How sweet of him to say that! But Milagro, do be realistic. He is in the business of beauty.”
“That’s his business, which is not my life. I’m not going to be anyone’s showroom exhibit.”
“Don’t be so touchy! I was obligated to ask in my capacity as the wedding adviser,” she said soothingly. “How are your baking skills?”
“I can make cookies and brownies. Why?”
“You’ll have to make the traditional bride’s cake.”
“Why does the bride have to make…? Never mind. It’s a display of her wifely skills, right?”
“You do catch on. You’ll have to start immediately since the dried fruits must soak in the alcohol for two months, and the cake itself must be aged for an additional month so that its flavors ripen.”
“Is this a fruitcake?” Like any sensible person, I hated fruitcake. “It sounds like fruitcake.”
“You’ll need to make enough for the wedding party.” She reached into her handbag and took out a small binder. “Here are recipes that have been used in the last few generations.”
The notebook held copies of recipes. Some were beautifully written, but others were typed and some were illegible scrawls. One had measurements with descriptions like “half the size of a peahen egg.”
“Which is the best?”
“Choose any one you like. Sam and Winnie had a delicious spice-and-currant cake.”
“I’ll use that recipe, then.”
“A pity that it’s a family secret.” She patted my hand. “Don’t look so sad, pretty, chubby little pickle. Not every girl gets to marry a vampire.”
“Cornelia, if you call me that
one more time, I will drown you in a vat of holy water.”
“Meow! Kitten with a whip.”
I’d had enough of this tкte-а-tкte. “I think I’ll pass on dessert. I’d like to go to the nursery next door.”
“Wise decision. Skip desserts now and Oswald won’t have to suck them out of your hips later.”
“No one is ever going to cut me again, Cornelia.”
“You mean besides Oswald. It is in your vows.”
I tried to hide my surprise as I remembered the monogrammed penknife Oswald had given me. “I meant besides our recreational activities,” I said.
We paid our tab and went to the nursery. The small, narrow building out front had been painted and there were new flower beds around the shrubs. The wonderful fragrances of greenery, compost, and mulch calmed me.
The inside of the shop hadn’t been set up yet. Taped boxes were stacked on the floor by the bookshelves and display racks. I admired the jean-clad, taut rear end of the man bending over the counter by the register. I heard a sigh and saw that Cornelia was also appreciating the view.
“Hello,” I said.
The man stood and turned and I recognized my blue-eyed piratical acquaintance from the botanical garden. He was as lustworthy as I remembered, in a Whitney Farms Organics T-shirt that stretched across his rangy shoulders, his long black hair tied back with a length of green gardener’s twine. “Alfred Joseph!” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“Joseph Alfred,” he corrected. “After you told me about this place, I checked it out and here I am. I needed to invest in something and get out of the City for a while.”
I sensed movement next to me. Cornelia had shifted her slight weight to one leg and was wearing an “I vant to suck your everything” expression. “Cornelia, this is Joseph Alfred. We met in the City.”
Joseph Alfred gave her a huge, unabashedly heterosexual grin. “A pleasure,” he said.
“I’m sure it is,” she murmured low enough to make him come closer.
I made a note to add that one to my catalog of flirting tricks.
“If you can hold on a sec, I’ll show you around,” he said.
“That would be marvelous, Mr. Alfred,” Cornelia said.
“You can call me Joseph, sunshine,” he said.
While Cornelia and I were waiting outside at the entrance to the lot, I said, “Are you suddenly interested in gardening?”
“You have the oddest ideas. He’s got a unique quality, don’t you think?”
“If you mean he’s got a world-class butt, I am in complete concordance.”
I heard someone cough behind me and turned to see Joseph Alfred standing there. I said, “Geez, you can sure sneak up on someone.”
He looked amused. “Let’s start with the deciduous shrubs and make our way around to the annuals.”
Although the nursery wasn’t finished, he’d already set out areas for different plant groups. He’d built a large arbor to cover the shade plants and even cleaned out the old pond for water plants. “I’ll bring in the six-packs of petunias for Joe Average, but I’m going to specialize in rare and unusual fruit trees. I’ll be getting in some improved varieties of heirloom pears that are resistant to fire blight.”
“I’m going to be a regular customer.”
“I’ll give you the professional discount. In fact, if you’ve got any free time, I could use a part-time staffer.”
Cornelia smiled and said, “She doesn’t have any free time. She’s getting ready for her wedding.”
He could have had the decency to look disappointed, but instead he gazed at Cornelia. “I don’t suppose you’d like a gardening job.”
“You understand me so well already,” she said.
He walked us to the drive, but he and Cornelia were so engrossed in each other that I wandered into the nursery again, jotting down descriptions of things I might want to buy later.
When I rejoined them, I saw a small critter scamper into the shrubs. “The animals have already discovered the new habitat,” I said.
Joseph frowned. “I’m going to get some cats to keep vermin under control.”
“Good luck,” I said. “Our barn cats can barely keep up with all the field mice.”
He walked us to the car and opened the driver’s side door for Cornelia. “See you at seven, angel.”
“Adieu, Joseph,” she said.
When we were on our way back to the ranch, I said, “Did you make a date with him?”
“He made a date with me.”
“I didn’t think he was your type.” I was hoping she wouldn’t do something so terrible to him that I wouldn’t be able to go back to the nursery.
“Gorgeous has always been my type, darling.”
thirteen
the villainy of a fruitcake
W hen we got back home, Cornelia made appointments at the spa in town and dashed back out again. I spent the afternoon on my fauxoir, creating a fascinating meeting between Don Pedro and a wise witch woman in an Amazonian tribe. I put her in a parrot feather headdress, which added a nice visual, and she revealed her wisdom by repeating people’s words, causing them to reflect on what they had said, the way psychiatrists do.
When I finished the scene, I looked at the fruitcake recipes. Oswald’s grandmother had taught me a little about judging recipes, and my inexpert assessment was that these were stinkers. I called Edna and was happy when she answered her cell phone.
“Edna, how are you?”
“Good afternoon, Young Lady. What have you done now?”
“I deeply resent your implication that I only call you when I’m in trouble.”
“Hmph.”
“Where has Thomas taken you?”
Edna told me that while Thomas was shooting scenes in Montreal, she was visiting museums and enjoying all the amenities of their luxury hotel.
“Thank you for the highly edited, G-rated version of your stay with your sexy and addled young paramour,” I said. “You’ll never guess who has darkened our doorway. Cornelia Ducharme.” I gave her a brief rundown of recent activities. “Now I have to make some horrible fruitcake. All the recipes look vile. Some call for suet. Isn’t that something lardy that you put in bird feeders? Where is your recipe?”
“I don’t recall,” she said.
“But you keep all your recipes.”
“I keep all the ones that work, Young Lady,” she said rather quietly. “My cake was not a harbinger of a happy marriage.”
Edna seldom spoke of her marriage. “How thoughtless of me to ask, Edna. I’ll make do with one of these,” I said. “You know, it’s so quiet here without you that I find myself enjoying Cornelia’s company. But it’s like being friends with a rattler.”
“Cornelia isn’t terrible, Milagro. She developed a shell after her parents died, and Ian has always indulged her.”
“He suggested she take this job, which is funny considering that he never seems to work.”
“It is not becoming for a young lady to gossip.”
“Please tell that to the other family members, who all seem to know everything about me.”
“They are not young ladies and cannot be held to the same standards that you so woefully fail to meet.”
“I miss you. When are you coming back?”
“In another week or so, I think. Thomas wants to talk to you.”
I regressed momentarily and became excited that a Hollywood actor wanted to talk to me.
He came on the line and said, “Milagro?”
“Hi, Thomas. I hope you’re treating Edna well.”
“I treat her like the goddess she is. I need you to go to her cottage, get my black suit, and have it dry cleaned and sent to me.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“That’s the kind of attitude that makes Edna appreciate efficient room service. Overnight it.”
Edna got back on the line and said cheerfully, “We’re going out now, but I’m sure you’ll do something distinctive with the cak
e.”
“You’re saying distinctive, but you mean inedible.”
She chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, Young Lady. Don’t forget to send Thomas’s suit.”
I went to the Love Shack and found three different black suits in the closet. I took all of them to the dry cleaners in town and paid extra to have them delivered express to Thomas. When I returned home, I put together a tray of cheeses with crackers for cocktails.
Oswald and Cornelia came home within minutes of each other.
“Would love to chat, but I must get dressed,” Cornelia said. Her glossy ebony bob was perfectly sleek, and she had a new shade of crimson polish on her nails.
Oswald and I sat out on the terrace and I told him about meeting Joseph Alfred at the nursery and his date with Cornelia. “I learned about the fruitcake wedding cake today. Vampire fruitcake wedding cake, it’s one of those things you don’t imagine.”
“Nobody really likes it,” he said. “The one at Sam and Winnie’s wedding was tasty, though.”
“Oswald, is there anything else you want to tell me about a bride’s duties?”
He stared out at the fields. Ernie, accompanied by the dogs, was gathering up the horses for the evening. “There’s the cake and the tunics. That’s it, I think.”
“Really? What about the bride’s oath to allow her husband to take her blood?”
I was watching his face. The indirect, soft golden light made his gray eyes so clear and his pale coloring so lovely.
“It’s in the vows, but I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“But it’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“I’m a vampire.” It was the first time he’d ever said it to me. “I’m a vampire and I’d like to make love to you the way we used to. And if you want to take my blood, too, I’d really like that. I thought you enjoyed the tastes you had.”
“I did, Oz, I had that craving…” I liked to think I was sexually liberated, and I’d had his blood before, once accidentally when I was infected and the second time when I craved it during a state of delirium. “After Cornelia goes, we can try. We’ll take it slowly, light some candles and get out the massage oils.”
