by Tonya Kappes
Her lack of enthusiasm sort of surprised me. “I thought you’d be excited that people are recognizing The Bean Hive as a great choice for their catering needs and daily coffee consumption.” I put out of my head any notion that she was going to understand.
“Roxy, Pam Horton is here, and she wants to talk to you.” Bunny peeped her head around the swinging kitchen door before she stepped in. “And the afternoon staff is here, so I’m going to head out.” She disappeared, only to pop her head right back in. “Debbie is here too.”
“Tell Pam and Debbie I’ll be right there,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Have fun moving back into your cabin. If you need help, don’t call me.” She untied the apron from around her waist and hung it on the hook on the wall. She grabbed her brown pocketbook off another hook and adjusted it in the crook of her arm. “I’m too old.”
“You’re damn right, you’re old.” Aunt Maxi took a sip of her freshly poured coffee.
“Oh, shut up, Maxine.” Bunny glared at Aunt Maxi. “I might be old, but at least I’m not some bitter old biddy. And keep your hands off my Floyd.”
“I don’t want that old coot.” Aunt Maxi glared at Bunny. “He’s the one who wants me.”
“Well, I never,” Bunny gasped. She walked forward as though she was really going to do something, but we all knew she wasn’t.
“Enough,” I said, pushing open the kitchen door. “Bye, Aunt Maxi.”
After I greeted the couple of afternoon employees, who came to work right after their classes at the Honey Springs High School, I walked over to a free bar stool at the window next to where Pam had found a spot. I wasn’t empty-handed.
“Hi, Pam,” I greeted her. “How about a cup of our famous Spring Coffee Blend to go with this warm scone?” I asked.
“You’re so kind.” Pam’s eyes softened, and the corners of her lips slightly turned up. “I’d love a cup. But I can get it.”
To say that I didn’t know her was not really very accurate. Honey Springs was small, and everyone knew everyone else and mostly all of their business. Patrick and I had run into Pam and her fiancé a few times while we were out to supper, but that was as far as it had gone. It was most likely that Patrick had been invited to their wedding because their parents knew each other or the Cane Construction Company had done some work for them.
“Don’t be silly. It’s a service we offer.” I got off the stool and headed over to the coffee bar to retrieve both of us a cup, but not without going over to talk to Debbie first. She was sitting on the couch with a sleepy Timmy in her lap.
“You’re better than any playdate.” Her eyes softened. “It’s been a long day.”
“You doing okay?” I asked.
“Timmy’s sitter quit on me over the weekend. I’m currently looking for someone.” She shook her head. “Bliss of a single parent. I do all the work.”
“I’m sorry.” Though I didn’t know her before I moved back and started dating Patrick again, I still could feel her pain from the loss of her husband. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Patrick is going to keep him a couple of days this week.” She positioned herself on the edge of the couch before she jockeyed Timmy into position so she could stand.
“He is?” I asked, realizing I’d not talked to him yet, which was very unusual.
“Yeah. He said he’s had to cancel a few contracted houses.” She hoisted herself and a very limp little boy to stand.
I stood up with her and held my hands around her in case I needed to do some quick catching. She laughed.
“I’m an old pro.” She winked. “You’re going to make a great mother one day.”
“One day real far away.” I walked with her to the door and let her out of the shop.
I went back to retrieve the coffee for Pam and me. The usual afternoon crowd was starting to trickle in since school had let out. In came the parents who had dropped their kids off for practices and the high school kids who came in for social hour.
“How’s the wedding planning going?” I asked her, sliding the cup in front of her, careful not to spill. “You looked a little overwhelmed next door.”
“That obvious?” Her eyebrows dipped. She lifted the coffee with both hands. “I don’t know. It’s just not feeling like my wedding. That’s all.” She took a sip and then another. The pause between sips was apparently all she needed to just let loose. Her lips started going a mile a minute. “I guess it’s my wedding and I need to take charge. If Hillary wants to get married, maybe she should plan her own wedding. But she’s so bossy that no man can stand being around her. Truman and I never fight. Never.” She shook her head and pinched off a piece of the scone then popped it in her mouth.
“Ever since I let Hillary talk me into the different cake, the different color scheme, and all this fancy stuff, Truman and I haven’t gotten along. She even talked me into changing the bridesmaid dress because she doesn’t look as thin in the ones I’d picked out,” she mumbled with a mouth full of pastry. She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve unloaded on you, but sometimes it’s good to tell someone who’s impartial.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through this.” Apparently, it wasn’t the time to bring up the coffee bar for her wedding. I didn’t want to be like another Hillary in her life. “Is Hillary your best friend?”
I wanted to know so I could establish what sort of boundaries they had with each other.
“Yes. For years.” She took another bite of the scone then took a sip of coffee.
“Have you told her that you don’t want to do all those things she’s suggesting? Because really, she’s merely suggesting the changes. It’s you that has to implement them.” All of those years of law school did come in handy sometimes, especially the classes where I learned to listen to what the client really wanted. It was my job to come out of the courtroom with more.
In my head, Pam wanted an amazing wedding, but she wanted to keep her husband happy and her friendship with Hillary intact. It appeared that she didn’t know how to do both.
“No. She’ll get mad and stomp around pouting. I hate it when she does that,” Pam said.
“Why don’t you sit down with Truman and go over the dream wedding that you two wanted? If none of those details fit in with what you’ve got planned right now, then maybe you do need to have a little come-to-Jesus meeting with Hillary and tell her what’s what,” I suggested, merely trying to give her power back.
It was good advice, and I could tell by how her jaw relaxed that she had become receptive to what I was saying. Plus, if they went back over the plans they’d originally had, a coffee bar might be in there.
Just then, the bell over the coffee house door dinged, and none other than Hillary Canter walked in.
“There you are.” She tugged on Pam’s shirt. Her long hair lay perfectly across one shoulder. “Honey Springs sure could use a Starbucks.” She slid her gaze over to me. “It’s not that your little shop isn’t cute.” She shrugged. “I just like a nice cup of coffee. That’s all.”
“No offense here.” I bit back the words I really wanted to say. Though I wasn’t following my advice to Pam, it was my business, and it wouldn’t look good if I got into a fight with someone standing in my shop.
“It offends me.” Pam jumped off the stool and thrusted her fists downward as she came nose to nose with Hillary.
It appeared to me that Pam had suddenly found her voice.
“You can’t come into someone’s place of business and say hurtful things. You have no idea how good this coffee is.” The volume of Pam’s voice escalated with each word. She flung her ring finger in the air and wiggled her engagement ring in Hillary’s face. “This is mine. This wedding is mine. I’m sick and tired of you trying to make it yours. Maybe, just maybe, if you were nice or even the slightest bit kind, you’d get a boyfriend who would want to marry you.”
“You ungrateful little nobody!” Hillary’s nostrils flared. “You can never have the wedding you wan
t without me.”
In one fluid motion, Pam twisted around, grabbed her cup of coffee, and threw it on the front of Hillary’s shirt.
“You. You!” Hillary’s jaw dropped before her lips squished together and her eyes lit with fire. “You have lost your mind! And you,” Hillary hissed in a hateful tone, and she jabbed Pam’s chest bone with her finger. “You can find another maid of honor because you don’t deserve me!”
Suddenly, Hillary stopped. Her chest heaved when she sucked in a big breath. Her right eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. Then, it was as if the devil himself made an appearance right there in the front of my coffeehouse. A satanic smile spread across Hillary Canter’s thin lips.
She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but in light of your lack of friendship and what you’ve done to me today, Truman made a pass at me a couple of weeks ago. At first, I thought it was just a kiss, but later I realized he wants a real woman.” She shrugged and slowly tilted her head to the right. “Sure, I resisted at first.” She scrunched her nose. “But I, too, get awfully lonely, and I’m a real woman.”
Pam wasn’t going to let that go even as Hillary turned to exit the coffee shop. “You are a liar! I hate you! You’re dead to me!” Pam screamed after her.
“Are you okay?” I asked, ignoring the slamming shop door that Hillary had used extra strength to close.
“No.” Pam shook her head and rushed off to the bathroom.
I stood there for a minute, wondering if I should follow her or let her be. Then I decided that if I were in her shoes, I would want someone to check on me. My conscience was right. I headed in there and found her slumped over the sink throwing water on herself, but she wasn’t alone.
Loretta Bebe, of all people, was slowly dragging her hand up and down Pam’s back.
How did she slip into the coffeehouse without me hearing her? I eyed her suspiciously.
“Now, now dear,” Loretta’s Southern drawl oozed with comfort. Her words were drawn out with long sounds that made one-syllable words into two. Mr. Webster had to be rolling around in his grave. “It’ll all be just fine.” She patted and rubbed again. “You can take yourself down the boardwalk to Touched by an Angel Spa and get all these feelings worked out with a good massage.” Loretta’s twang made words sound so much more different than how they were supposed to be pronounced.
“Or you can get a spray tan. A little color this time of the year makes everyone feel so good. Not that I’d know.” She drew her head up to look at her reflection in the mirror. Her very tan face stared back at her before she noticed I’d walked in. “Honey, my skin color is all natural, since I’m part Cherokee.”
Yeah, right, I wanted to say, knowing that all the talk around town was that Touched by an Angel Spa had a running tab for Loretta and her tanning-bed habit. If she wanted to think that everyone believed she was part Native American, it was no sweat off my back. Who was I to judge?
“Roxanne.” She nodded at me.
“Low-retta.” I said her name the exact way she pronounced it.
She didn’t pay me any attention and went right back to rubbing on Pam. “Honey, we all get cold feet.”
“Cold feet?” Pam’s eyebrows formed a V when she looked up and back at Loretta’s reflection in the mirror. “I don’t have cold feet. I’m trying to keep myself from not running after my ex-bridesmaid and choking her to death.”
“Violence never solved anything.” Loretta smiled. “But vengeance is so rewarding.” She winked and turned on the balls of her black flats. She stuck her perfectly manicured red fingernails in her short-on-the-sides coal-black hair and raked a few stray pieces into place. She stared at me as she brought her fingers to the corners of her mouth and wiped away any lingering lipstick. “Look at Roxanne here. She got the ultimate revenge on that ex-husband of hers by moving here and snagging the most-eligible bachelor in Honey Springs while opening up her little dream coffee shop.”
“I’m not sure vengeance is a good thing either,” I said, making sure Pam wasn’t getting any silly notions from Loretta. Loretta was the last person on earth who should be giving advice.
“I don’t know if your little spat had anything to do with that mean, nasty Canter girl, but I do know that her mama and daddy have spoiled that little girl all of her life. Damn near sent them into bankruptcy.” Loretta’s brows rose. “Now, they’re so broke, they busted all ten commandants, if you know what I mean.”
I didn’t know what she meant, and I wasn’t going to stand there and let her gossip about the Canters and their financial issues. It wasn’t her tale to tell. Besides, Pam and Hillary were still friends. They were just going through a few growing pains, and that was what friends did with different seasons of their lives.
“Even if her parents are going through some financial issues, it doesn’t give Hillary the right to just bowl over anyone she wants. Poor Emily Rich had brought some of her petit fours to last month’s Southern Women’s Club, and Hillary was standing in for her mama. She had the audacity to make fun of Emily and the simple flowers Emily had decorated the tops of them with.” Loretta pasted a smile of nonchalance onto her face. “Emily didn’t let her get away with it either. She stuffed one in Hillary’s face. Hillary said that she hadn’t seen the last of her.”
“That’s what that message was all about,” Pam groaned. The corners of her mouth turned down. “Hillary called and told me that Emily was a fake and I really needed to rethink getting the cake from her because she uses box ingredients. Then she threw it in there how you only get married once.” She gulped and looked up at me. “Oh God.” She buried her head in her hands. “I called Emily and left a message that I just couldn’t use her bakery.”
“The nerve,” Loretta spat. “That girl needs to be put in her place.”
Loretta wasn’t making things better. She was making it worse, and Pam cried harder. “I’ve got it from here.” My lips formed a thin, straight line. “Thanks, Loretta.”
“Mmhmm,” she replied. “Anytime.” She waved her hand in the air. The stacked-up bracelets on her wrist jingled as she gave us a finger wave. “I’ll be seeing y’all.”
I waited until the door was completely closed to see if Pam was okay, because Loretta Bebe loved gossip, and I was sure she was standing outside of the door with a very curious ear to the crack.
“What can I do for you?” I asked, plucking a tissue from the box on the shelf next to the sink.
“Nothing.” Pam took the tissue from me and wiped the tears from underneath her eyes. “Do you think what she said was true? You know, about Truman.”
“Has Truman acted any differently?” I wondered.
“No. He just keeps saying that Hillary isn’t the bride when I tell him what she tells me to do.” She sniffed.
“I still think you need to talk to Truman about it. Find out if what Hillary said was true or if she was just nursing a bruised ego after you threw hot coffee on her.” I winked. “It was the good coffee too. Such a waste.”
Both of us laughed.
“Did you see her face?” A little color came back into Pam’s cheeks.
“Did I? It was great.” I chuckled. “But I wouldn’t take what she said for truth until you talk to Truman yourself.”
“I’m not marrying Hillary. I’m marrying Truman. And if she’s lying, and he didn’t make a pass at her, I’m not letting her ruin my one and only wedding. I’m going to go home and tell Truman exactly what I want for our big day. You were right. We need to sit down and go back to what we’d planned when we first got engaged and what we’d envisioned. Not what Hillary envisioned.” She wadded the tissue up in her hand and tossed it into the trash can below. “I wouldn’t be one bit upset if I never saw her again.”
So much for the still friends and all that changing-with-the-seasons crap.
She shook her hair, lifted her chin, and walked toward the door. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Roxy,” she said over her shoulder, “would you like to do a cof
fee bar at our reception?”
“I’d be honored.” I nodded and smiled, knowing that Pam was going to be okay, and I was going to rock that coffee bar.
THREE
“Are you sure?” I asked the salesgirl and twirled in front of the mirror that hung on the outside wall of the dressing room at Queen for a Day. “I’m not used to wearing a dress while I’m catering something.”
Morgan and Crissy had come by the coffeehouse after they got off of work, and we enjoyed a cup of coffee before I got the big idea that I needed something to wear to tend the coffee bar at Pam’s wedding, just in case the wedding was still a go.
Pepper sat on the floor, staring up at me. He always looked at me with loving eyes. Morgan and Crissy nodded.
“It looks great on you. Doesn’t it, Crissy?” Morgan stood behind me next to Crissy and stared at me.
“Fabby.” Crissy’s mouth formed an O. “And we can straighten your hair. It’ll look so good.” Crissy was always trying to get her hands in my hair. It must have been some sort of hairdresser mentality.
“Right, Jana?” Morgan asked the salesgirl. “It’s perfect on her.”
“Not only will you be representing your business, but you’re also an invited guest,” Jana said, putting a hand on each of my shoulders. Both of us looked at me in the little black dress that was much tighter than what I normally wore. There was something about a younger girl telling me that I looked good that made me instantly believe it. I adjusted the plunging V-neck to cover up some skin that I wasn’t used to showing then readjusted the sleeves.
“Honey, you could use a little help in that department.” Crissy put her hands inside her bra and gave a little boost to her girls.
The sales clerk continued to readjust the dress on me to make it fit how it was supposed to. I couldn’t help but notice her name tag.
“I’m just fine with what I was given.” I nodded and wiggled my shoulders back a smidgen. “I think I’ll take it.”
“Great.” Jana adjusted the dress again to sit a little lower down on the bust—too low for me.
