Lilac Avenue

by Pamela Grandstaff

  Claire was unpacking dozens of white sheets when Scott arrived.

  “What are you doing?” he asked her.

  She enlisted him in helping her to unpack the boxes while she caught him up to speed on what she had heard.

  “So Courtenay probably notarized a will or insurance policy or something,” Claire said. “There’s some money they plan to collect after the funeral. When is the funeral?”

  “At three,” Scott said.

  “Darn,” Claire said. “I’m expecting a delivery here at three. I won’t be able to go.”

  “I’ll be there,” Scott said. “Sarah has commanded it.”

  “I wonder where they will meet with the attorneys afterward.”

  “Probably at Knox’s,” Scott said.

  “There was something else she said,” Claire said. “They’re worried about the toxicology report.”

  “Sarah got that moved up,” Scott said. “We should have it tomorrow.”

  “Meredith has a flight tomorrow, but I don’t know what time.”

  “I’ll let Sarah know,” Scott said. “My hands are tied as long as she’s in charge.”

  “Hey,” Claire said. “What are you doing Saturday night?”

  “Nothing, so far as I know,” he said. “I have the day shift but after that nothing.”

  “How would you like to get married to my cousin Maggie?”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope,” Claire said. “She’s on board and we’re telling everyone it’s Sammy’s christening.”

  “Really?” he said, and picked Claire up and swung her around, much like Farmers Market Frank had done. “You’re the best, Claire.”

  “Well, I’m going to do my best,” Claire said. “Let’s just hope the universe is as loving and perfect as Anne Marie says it is.”

  “I probably have a lot I need to do,” Scott said. “Right?”

  “Black suit, white shirt, and gray tie,” Claire said. “And show up on time.”

  “I will,” Scott said. “I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

  “And try not to irritate the bride too much beforehand,” Claire said. “If that’s even possible.”

  Scott laughed.

  “Only in a perfect universe,” he said.

  Maggie got out of the car and leaned back against it as Claire fed the parking meter.

  “Starlina’s Bridal?” Maggie said, reading the sign on the façade of the store. “Really, Claire?”

  “It was the closest one,” Claire said. “Plus Sam’s cousin’s daughter’s aunt or somebody owns it and Hannah says we can get the family discount.”

  “Thank you for not bringing Hannah along, by the way,” Maggie said. “I’m not sure I could do this with her yammering about it the whole time.”

  “About that,” Claire said, as they pushed open the heavy glass door.

  “You guys!” Hannah said, from her perch at the top of the bridal stage. “Look at me! I’m a princess!”

  Hannah twirled around. She was wearing the biggest, poufiest, lace-and-rhinestone-encrusted white satin wedding dress that Claire had ever seen. At the same time, it was such a small size that it looked as if were made for a child. All of this Hannah wore along with her ball cap and hiking boots.

  “Oh, Lord,” Maggie breathed out at the tail end of a deep sigh. “This may do me in.”

  Claire said, “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

  A young woman came out of the back room with her purse hanging over her shoulder, and greeted Maggie and Claire.

  “This is Starlina’s daughter, Dreama,” Hannah said. “Starlina is a first cousin on her father’s side to Sam’s cousin, Edie, who works at the county clerk’s office.”

  “Congratulations,” Dreama said to Claire as she shook her hand. “Is this your first wedding?”

  “Yes,” Claire said. “I think so.”

  Dreama raised her eyebrows and looked puzzled. Claire noticed Maggie had gone pale, and was looking at the racks of dresses as if they were funeral shrouds. Hannah was tap dancing and singing along with the music that was playing, Fred Astaire singing “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off.” Claire thought that was an unfortunate choice of music for a bridal store.

  “You say potato and I say potahto,” Hannah sang along with Fred. “You say tomato and I say tomahto …”

  “What do we need to do?” Claire asked Dreama.

  “Have fun,” Dreama said. “Everything’s priced and the accessories are over there. Mom’s giving you forty percent off.”

  “Are you leaving?” Claire asked.

  “If we call the whole thing off, then we must part,” Hannah sang, swishing her big skirt around in time to the music. “And oh, if we ever part then that might break my heart.”

  “I’ll lock you all in,” Dreama said.

  “What?” Maggie said, looking a little panicked.

  “Oh, you can get out,” Dreama said. “If there’s a fire or something just go out the back door. It’s got an emergency push bar.”

  “A fire or what?” Maggie said. “Tornado? Terrorist attack?”

  “Calm down,” Claire said. “Breathe.”

  “I’m going to the DMV, so who knows how long that will take,” Dreama said. “I’m putting the closed sign in the window, and if you get done before I get back, just go out the back way. It will lock behind you.”

  “Thank you so much for letting us do this on such short notice,” Claire said.

  “No problem,” Dreama said. “You need to try to find something that fits as good as you want it to. It sounds like you’re not going to have time for alterations.”

  Maggie sat down on the nearest pink velvet upholstered chair and put her head down between her knees.

  “I don’t feel so good,” she said.

  Dreama chuckled.

  “Looks like you’ve got a runaway bridesmaid there,” she said to Claire. “There’s a bottle of vodka and some ginger ale in the fridge in the back. Help yourself.”

  Dreama left, locking the door behind her.

  Claire looked at Hannah, who had pulled up the front of her dress and was twirling one leg ala folies bergere.

  “Tra la la boom dee ay,” Hannah sang. “I threw my pants away …”

  “Are you wearing boy’s underwear?” Claire asked Hannah.

  “Don’t knock ‘em,” Hannah said. “They don’t ride up and they have a pocket in front you can keep stuff in. Plus they’ve got superheroes on them. How cool is that?”

  Claire shook her head.

  “Maggie,” Claire said. “You just relax and remember to breathe. I’ll find some things for you to try on.”

  “I’m going to look like a parade float,” Maggie said. “A big white parade float.”

  “No, you won’t,” Claire said. “Not on my watch.”

  “Hey, guys,” Hannah said. “Let’s get a bucket of chicken.”

  “We are not eating in here,” Claire said, feeling that she needed to take charge of the situation immediately or it would all go south. “Hannah, stop that, this minute. You’re in charge of veils. Put your clothes back on and go find something fingertip length, ivory, kind of floaty; no gathers, no sparkles, and no tiaras.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hannah said as she clicked her feet together and saluted. “Boring veils coming up right away, sir.”

  Claire perused the racks, dismayed at the profusion of frothy wedding meringues she found there. She and Maggie were the same height, but Maggie was a busty amazon who would look ridiculous in a complicated dress with a huge skirt. After looking at everything in her size and finding nothing even close to what she had pictured being appropriate, Claire’s heart fell.

  What if this whole enterprise was just a series of continual disasters? She had promised Maggie she would take care of everything, make sure everything was perfect. Claire had a professional stylist’s skills and enough money to buy anything she needed, but this small town bridal barn was all she had to work with. Maybe there was
time to buy fabric and make something. If she and her mother stayed up all night working ... Delia used to make her sundresses when she was little. Maybe they could ….

  And then there it was. On the sale rack, of all places. It was ivory, elegantly simple, and in Maggie’s size.

  “There you are, my darling,” Claire said to the dress as she pulled it off the rack. “I was getting worried.”

  Maggie had her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Hannah was now singing along to “Straighten Up and Fly Right,” sung by Nat King Cole. She wagged her finger at Claire as she attempted a boogie woogie move.

  “Cool down, papa, don’t you blow your top,” she sang.

  “A veil,” Claire reminded her.

  “All right, all right,” Hannah said, and then continued singing, “What’s the use in jiving ...”

  “Maggie,” Claire said. “Come and try this on.”

  Claire held up the dress for her to see.

  “That’s not bad,” Maggie said when she looked up. “That’s not bad at all.”

  “C’mon,” Claire said. “Try it on. I’ll see if I can’t find some shoes.”

  Maggie took the dress to the dressing room and Claire picked out some ivory-colored ballet flats from a shelf full of shoe boxes. She and Maggie had the same size feet. Should she at least have a kitten heel? She didn’t want Maggie towering over Scott, or tripping as she came down the aisle. Maybe these low pumps? Claire considered and discarded every other style on the rack while Hannah sang and tried on veils.

  “Oh, wow,” Hannah said, as she abruptly stopped singing.

  Claire looked up to see what she was talking about, and there was Maggie.

  The A-line dress had a deep, wide, off-the-shoulder neckline and a side-draped bodice wrapped at the waist, which flattered her hourglass figure. The long bias-cut flowing skirt just skimmed her body at the hips before it flowed outward. With no train, the length was perfect if she wore flats.

  “I feel kind of naked,” Maggie said. “Are we sure this isn’t a fancy nightgown?”

  The fabric was matte ivory silk satin, in a miraculous weave that resisted the typical satin wrinkling issues. The effect was decidedly un-nightgown like. It looked like a million bucks on Maggie. It looked like it was made for her. Claire was so pleased.

  “That’s it,” she said. “Here are your shoes.”

  Maggie slipped on the ballet flats and turned to look in the semi-circle of mirrors surrounding the bridal stage.

  “I need a strapless bra and something to hold me in,” Maggie said. “From here to here, and maybe more than one pair.”

  “We’ll find something,” Claire said, adjusting the folds at her waist. “This color is perfect.”

  “What about my hair?” Maggie asked.

  “I’m thinking a loose, messy chignon,” Claire said, and held Maggie’s hair up so she could see the effect. “We want them to see the dress.”

  “It really is pretty,” Maggie said. “I didn’t think we’d find anything so ... me.”

  Claire beamed.

  “You look like the little girl in the movie Brave all grown up and getting married,” Hannah said. “You look like Merida.”

  Miraculously, Hannah had found exactly the sort of veil Claire had asked for. Claire pulled some hairpins out of her handbag and made a bun out of the unruly mess of Maggie’s red curly hair. Then she attached the veil, and draped the front over Maggie’s face. The veil was shorter in the front, where it ended at the waist, then draped down to below her hips on the sides, and to her ankles at the back. It was sheer ivory tulle, and had a narrow headband of tiny matte satin ivory roses. Claire draped it back to reveal Maggie’s happy face.

  “Great job, Hannah,” Claire said.

  There was a long quiet moment while Maggie regarded herself in the mirror as her cousins watched.

  “I think Scott will like it,” Maggie finally said. “I think he will be surprised how good I look.”

  Claire realized Hannah was being uncharacteristically quiet, and when she glanced at her she realized she was crying.

  “Hannah,” Claire said. “You sentimental old thing.”

  “You look so beautiful,” Hannah said. “Like in an old movie.”

  “She’s right,” Claire said. “That’s what I was picturing all along.’

  Maggie would not have looked out of place on the arm of William Demerest, walking down the aisle in a black-and-white movie to marry Cary Grant or William Powell.

  “Bridesmaids,” Maggie said suddenly. “What are you all going to wear?”

  “Ooh, ooh, ooh,” Hannah said, hopping up and down. “Can I pick them out, Claire? Can I? Can I? Can I?”

  “Certainly not,” Claire said. “You’re in charge of the music. I’m in charge of the dresses.”

  “Oh Lord,” Maggie said. “I’ll be walking down the aisle to James Brown singing ‘I Feel Good.’ ”

  “An excellent idea,” Hannah said. “I just need to get the sheet music for Sister M-squared. Do you think I can get that online?”

  “I will supervise her very closely,” Claire said to Maggie. “I promise.”

  “Good luck with that,” Maggie said.

  “I’m wearing a tiara,” Hannah said. “I don’t care what the rest of you do.”

  Scott stood at the back of the “Northwest Slumber Room,” where Mamie’s funeral was taking place, and watched the stalwart Rose Hill funeral attendees arrive. These were the people who attended every funeral, no matter whose it was. Since Mamie was a Rodefeffer, a certain amount of money had to be displayed in order to meet social expectations, and it was evident in the choice of casket and profusion of flowers. Mamie’s casket, an elaborately carved ivory-colored affair with a finish so shiny it looked liquid, was closed, which seemed to surprise (and disappoint?) many attendees. Scott was one of the few people who knew it was because Mamie’s body was still at the morgue, and the casket was empty.

  Former mayor Stuart Machalvie, whose wife Peg owned the funeral home, was greeting people as they arrived. Although loud pre-recorded organ music was playing, Scott could still hear the increased murmur of the seated guests as Sandy and Trick Rodefeffer arrived. Trick was noticeably unsteady on his feet. Sandy had a firm grip on his arm and a look on her face that was equal parts humiliation and a determination to rip the head off of anyone who commented on her husband’s inebriation. They sat in the front row, where Trick immediately leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and put his face in his hands. Sandy made a show of rubbing his back and combing the hair on the back of his head with her fingers while she held her chin up in the air and looked straight ahead.

  When Trick’s brother, Knox, arrived, Scott’s heartbeat sped up, and adrenaline shot through his bloodstream as if he were preparing to do battle. Knox scanned the room, made eye contact with Scott, and then quickly jerked his head away. Scott realized he had been holding his breath, and took a few deep breaths in order to calm himself down. It wouldn’t do for the chief of police to assault the nephew of the deceased at his aunt’s funeral, in front of the gossipiest citizens in the town. Knox sat down on the other side of Sandy, away from Trick, who didn’t give any indication he even knew his brother had arrived. Knox put an arm around the back of Sandy’s chair, but when Sandy immediately sat upright and moved forward in response, he removed it.

  Scott stared at the back of Knox’s toupee-covered head as if to bore a hole in it. So much of the town’s troubles over the past several years could be attributed to this man, or he was involved in some way. So far he had gotten away with the attempted murder of his first wife; the kidnapping and imprisonment of his second wife; a practice, through the bank he had managed, of making predatory home loans to local citizens; a scam involving the procurement of federal funds through grants funneled to his bogus nonprofit foundation; the establishment of multiple self-serving, backdoor political deals that benefited himself and his crooked cronies, and several land development schemes in which
he, along with the former mayor, had received kickbacks for facilitating.

  As a result of having many of his nefarious activities brought to light, Knox had lost his job along with any chance he had to run for political office, and now faced the very real possibility of both financial ruin and imprisonment. Although Scott had all the aforementioned reasons to despise Knox Rodefeffer, the murder of his Aunt Mamie, even with all her many foibles, faults, and character flaws, was the one act for which Scott now actively hated the man. Scott was determined Knox would not get away with it. Not in his town, not right under his nose.

  Scott was surprised to see Anne Marie arrive, and even more surprised to see her take a seat next to the ex-husband who had tried to kill her three years before. She was dressed in a navy blue dress suit with a white blouse, and navy and white pumps. Gone was the new age guru dressed in flowing garments, and back was the society wife she had been all the years she was married to Knox. When Knox put his arm around the back of Ann Marie’s chair, she didn’t seem to mind. They conferred quietly about something, and she rested a comforting hand upon his knee. It was a very interesting display to the room, and confirmed to Scott that whatever was going on, these two were deep in cahoots.

  Marigold Larson arrived in a dither, hugged Peg, shook hands with the bereaved family, and sat down on the other side of Trick. She then looked back over her shoulder to see who was in the crowd, so they could witness her prominent position at the funeral, and waved to one of her bridge-playing friends. She made eye contact with Scott, frowned, and curled her lip before she turned around.

  Peg Machalvie closed the doors to the room and somewhere, someone stopped the organ music. Father Stephen was not performing the service, even though he had been Mamie’s priest for more than thirty years. He had not, in fact, even been invited to attend. Instead, Mayor Stuart Machalvie stood up and went to the podium at the front of the room.