Wed, Read & Dead

by V. M. Burns

  Nana Jo came out of her bedroom dressed in a royal-blue pantsuit with rhinestones around the neck and cuffs. Her statuesque build and auburn hair looked stunning.

  The boys whistled. “Looking good, Nana Jo.”

  “Thank you. Thank you.” She twirled. “Now, let’s go so we can get this party started before your mother has a cow. She’s texted me at least four times reminding me not to be late.”

  I realized I’d left my cell phone in the bedroom and hurried to get it. Sure enough, I had several messages from Mom too.

  We bundled up for the short walk down the street. Dawson looked as though he’d rather have a root canal but helped Jillian with her coat.

  “Dawson, can I talk to you for a minute?” I stood back to allow the others to pass. “You all go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

  Jillian smiled and hurried downstairs with the others. Dawson lingered back, head down.

  “Is anything bothering you?” I asked.

  He shook his head but avoided looking at me.

  I waited. Years as an English teacher in public schools taught me the power of silence and it didn’t fail me this time either.

  “I just feel awkward. I mean, this is a family dinner and I’m not family. You’ve all been really kind to me, but I was thinking your mom might not want me there.”

  I suspected this was the problem. Leon and I had never been blessed with children but, in the months since Dawson moved into the garage loft, I’d come to view him as the son I’d never had. He’d never known his mother, and his father was, last I heard, in prison. When Alex Alexander wasn’t in jail, he was an abusive alcoholic. I prayed for the right words to say. I looked at Snickers and Oreo, who’d been fed, let out to take care of business, and were waiting for me to leave and drop their dog treats on the floor, a ritual whenever I left. “Family is about more than blood and shared DNA.” I picked up Snickers. “I’ve had this dog since she was six weeks old. She’s twelve and has a bad heart, but she’s still my baby. If anyone tried to hurt her, I’d . . .” I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat. “I don’t know what I’d do, but she’s my baby.” I looked up. “I may not have given birth to you, but I’ve come to look at you like a son. I care about you just as much as I care about Christopher and Zaq.” I looked at Dawson and saw his eyes fill with tears. “We consider you a part of our family. Families aren’t finite. When Jenna married Tony, he became a part of our family. When my mother marries Harold, our family will expand again, and each time someone special enters one of our lives, we expand and make room in our hearts. My mom invited you because she looks upon you as family. I can’t force you to come, but you are welcome.”

  Tears streamed down his face, and I reached up and hugged him. We stood that way for several minutes until Snickers squirmed her way up and started to lick away Dawson’s tears. He made the mistake of laughing. When he opened his mouth, she stuck her tongue in.

  “Eww, plagh, ick. She got me.” He tried to wipe the dog kiss out of his mouth.

  I put Snickers down and reached in my purse for the bottle of Listerine spray I kept for just such situations as this.

  He sprayed his tongue and Snickers made a deliberate maneuver to sit with her back to Dawson. He laughed. “I think I hurt her feelings.” He picked her up and gave her a hug, careful to keep his mouth well out of reach of her tongue.

  For several seconds, she turned her head and refused his friendly overtures. Eventually, he found the right spot on her stomach and scratched while she closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest.

  “Do you two need a moment alone?” Jillian joked from the bottom of the stairs.

  Dawson put Snickers down and gave Oreo, who had been waiting patiently by the biscuit jar, a pat. He then reached into the jar and pulled out a couple of dog biscuits and tossed them down for the poodles. I picked up the remote and turned on the jazz station so they would have something to listen to while we were out, and we all made our exits while they were distracted with treats.

  North Harbor Café was just down the street from my bookstore and the cold December night meant we wouldn’t linger to look in store windows along the way. Frank’s restaurant had a reputation for good food and drinks and business had been doing very well since he’d opened. The crowds standing and waiting for seats were a testament to its popularity with the locals.

  We waved at the hostess as we passed on our way to the back of the restaurant and walked up the stairs. I glanced back at the looks we received from some of those waiting. While the upstairs of my building had long ago been converted into a loft apartment, Frank’s restaurant was not. One day, he planned to open the upstairs for dining, but for now, it was closed off and only opened for private parties.

  The rumble from a multitude of conversations and televisions mingled with laughter and the clang of plates and glasses followed us through the restaurant and wafted up the stairs. As we climbed, the noise from below grew fainter. The first-floor ceiling was high, so we had to climb quite a few steps to make it to the second floor. I’d accounted for the walk in heels from my store but had neglected to account for the trek up Mount Everest. In tennis shoes or flats, I could have made the climb like a pro. In three-inch heels it was an adventure. At the top of the stairs, I stopped to get my breath. I expected to be assaulted by the same noise level I’d encountered on the first floor. However, the silence hit me like a ton of bricks. The contrast between the noisy lower level and the funerary silence upstairs was jarring, and I felt disoriented. I looked around to get my bearings and reorient myself.

  There were less than twenty people milling around. After less than a minute, it was clear there were two distinct camps. The Robertsons huddled on one side of the room. The Hamilton clan was on the other.

  Dawson leaned close and whispered a quote from The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, one of my favorite movies, in my ear, “ ‘You’ll find more cheer in a graveyard.’ ”

  Frank Patterson walked up to me and handed me a glass of champagne and kissed me on the cheek. “I think you’re going to need this.”

  I made eye contact with Jenna and looked the question, What’s going on? She shrugged and inclined her head toward Nana Jo.

  I walked over to my grandmother. Nana Jo was certainly no wallflower and could talk to anyone about anything. I was shocked she hadn’t extended an olive branch and crossed the chasm that separated the two families. “What’s going on?”

  She sipped her champagne. “I used to believe I could talk to anyone, but those tight-lipped, hoity-toity aristocratic wannabes can kiss my grits.” She tossed back the champagne and sauntered over to the drink table and picked up another glass.

  I was so shocked I didn’t hear Emma’s approach until she spoke. “Boy, you guys missed the sparks. I thought Nana Jo was going to drop-kick Harold’s sister-in-law.” She inclined her head slightly, and we glanced in that direction.

  A middle-aged woman with dark eyes and dark hair in a black suit, with a matching fur coat and more jewelry than I’d seen on one person, stood near the window. She looked as though she was afraid to touch anything. Next to her stood a short, bald man with glasses. He was one of those nondescript men who blended in with their environment so well people never noticed them.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much jewelry before,” Dawson said.

  “Check out the fur coat,” Jillian whispered.

  “Full-length sable.” Emma nodded knowingly. “My great-aunt Vivian Anne has one. Although if I didn’t know better, I’d say this one is fake.”

  “She probably needs it to cover up that stick up her—”

  “Nana Jo!” I turned and stared at my grandmother, who merely shrugged. “What on earth happened?”

  There was silence for several minutes and then Nana Jo reluctantly explained. “I waltzed over to the Ice Princess over there and held out my hand and introduced myself.” She took a sip of her champagne.

  I waited for the rest.

  “F
rosty looks down her nose, sniffs, and refuses to shake my hand.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  Emma and Nana Jo both nodded.

  I stared openmouthed. “Maybe she . . .”

  “Maybe she’s deaf, dumb, blind, and was raised in a barn?” Nana Jo added.

  I shook my head. “I can’t think of any good reason for bad manners.”

  “There are no excuses for bad manners.” Nana Jo finished her champagne and exchanged her empty glass for mine and took a sip. “She looked down at me like Mr. Darcy looked at Mr. Collins in that movie you like to watch.”

  “Pride and Prejudice,” Emma, Jillian, and I all said together.

  “Whatever.” Nana Jo sipped my champagne. “I was madder than a wet hen and about to give that stuck-up ninny a piece of my mind when Harold and Grace strolled over. Harold was so excited and wanted to introduce Grace to his sister-in-law, Margaret.” She stared daggers at Margaret across the room. “That uppity witch had the nerve to sneer at Grace as though she’d just pooped on her best shoes.”

  I was shocked by bad manners and poor breeding until I learned she’d snubbed my mom. “Really?” I could feel my eye start to twitch.

  Jenna and the others had joined the group while Nana Jo was talking.

  Jenna nodded. “That’s not all. So, Harold introduces Mom and Margaret stares down and says, ‘I thought you worked here,’ as though Mom was a servant or something.”

  I raised an eyebrow, cocked my head to the side, and stared openly at the enemy. It was one thing for Jenna and me to mock our mother. We were entitled, but how dare this pretentious upstart think she was going to do anything to ruin my mother’s happiness.

  “Who’s the man?” I asked.

  “What man?” Nana Jo didn’t even bother to look. “The marshmallow is Harold’s brother, Oscar.”

  I turned to Frank. “Would you get me another glass of champagne, please.”

  He looked warily at me.

  My brother-in-law, Tony, patted him on the back. “I’ve seen that look before. When a Hamilton woman gives you the look Sam just gave you, it’s best to walk away. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Just walk away.”

  Frank started to speak, but Tony shook his head. “It’s best not to know. Plausible deniability.”

  Frank nodded knowingly. Christopher and Zaq nodded and the four men walked away.

  I glanced at my mom, who was standing near the center of the room. She looked as though she would burst into tears at any moment. Harold too looked as though he would weep. He petted and attended to my mother.

  Jenna leaned close. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

  I looked at my sister. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t give me that. I know my sister. When you start enunciating each and every syllable and you get that look in your eye, I know something’s up and you have a plan. Now, spill it.”

  I shrugged. “No plan. Not yet anyway.” I sighed. “Let’s just provide as much support to Mom as we possibly can and get through this.”

  Everyone nodded, and we walked over to where my mom and Harold were to provide a wall of love and support.

  Jenna held back and whispered in my ear, “So, we wait until it’s over and then we slash her tires, right?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. We wait until it’s over and then we let Nana Jo shoot her. She can claim she thought it was a bear.”

  I walked over to the Ice Princess and introduced myself. “Hello, I understand you’re Harold’s sister-in-law.” I emphasized the in-law. She looked as though she didn’t appreciate the reminder she wasn’t a direct descendent of the wealthy Robertson family. Score one for our side.

  She stared down her nose at me, but I stood tall and straight and stared back. “Since we’re going to be related, albeit by marriage, I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Samantha Washington. Grace Hamilton is my mother.” I turned to my sister. “This is my sister, Jenna Rutherford.”

  Frank, Tony, and the twins walked over. Frank handed me a glass of champagne.

  I took a sip. “And this is her husband, Tony. They’re both attorneys.” I didn’t bother to wait for her to acknowledge them but continued on with my introductions. “These are Jenna and Tony’s sons, Christopher and Zaq.”

  The boys bowed.

  “We’re so proud of them. They’re both on the dean’s list at Jesus and Mary University.”

  JAMU was to the Midwest what Harvard and Yale were to the East Coast. In fact, in some polls, JAMU actually ranked higher than the two prestigious Ivy League schools.

  I turned to Dawson. “This is Dawson Alexander, he’s the quarterback for the MISU football team and like a son to me.”

  Dawson bowed respectfully.

  “Frank Patterson is the owner of this establishment and a very good friend.” I noticed, with each introduction, my words became more clipped and my tone dropped. Unlike most people, when I was angry, I tended to get very quiet and enunciated more.

  Frank inclined his head. “My pleasure.”

  “I think you’ve already met my grandmother, Josephine Thomas.”

  Nana Jo glared.

  “Nana Jo recently returned from a performance in New York.” I leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “She’s a bit of a local celebrity.”

  Margaret’s expression became shocked as she nodded to Nana Jo.

  I looked around. “I can’t forget our dear friends, Jillian Clark and Emma Lee. Jillian is a student at MISU. She sings, dances, and was just offered an internship with the Bolshoi Ballet for the summer.”

  Jillian blushed but stood tall and straight.

  “And Emma Lee is a brilliant premed student at MISU. She comes from a long line of doctors.” I turned to Emma. “Did you say there’s been a doctor in every generation of your family for two hundred years or three hundred?”

  Emma smiled. “Actually, it’s four hundred.”

  “Of course, she can trace her family lineage back to the Mayflower.” I looked around. “I think that’s everyone.” I stared at Oscar. “It’s obvious you’re Harold’s brother. I can see the family resemblance.”

  He smiled and nodded but didn’t say anything.

  I turned to Margaret. “And you are?”

  She hesitated and a flush rose up Margaret’s neck and left her skin blotchy.

  “I’ve heard so much about Southern charm. You are from the South, aren’t you?” I added.

  She gave a false nasally laugh. “Well, yes. Yes, I am. I’m from a small town in Virginia. I doubt you’ve heard of it. Few people have.”

  “Try me,” I said.

  She hesitated a few seconds.

  “Sam used to be a teacher before she retired to start her own business,” Jenna said.

  Margaret plastered on a fake smile. “Lexington. I’m from Lexington.”

  “Lexington is where Washington and Lee University is. My uncle’s the president of the university,” Emma said with enthusiasm.

  I smiled. “Emma Lee, you know, descendant of General Robert E. Lee . . . Washington and Lee.”

  Emma laughed. “Well, we don’t talk about that much, other than to mention how grateful we are he wasn’t successful.”

  Harold walked over to our group. “Aren’t you a relative of General Robert E. Lee too?”

  Margaret laughed deprecatingly and fanned herself. “A distant relative . . . a very distant relative.”

  Harold muttered, “I could have sworn you said you were a descendant.” He waited for an explanation, but none came.

  * * *

  Eventually, dinner arrived and we sat down to eat. Margaret barely said a word throughout the entire meal. However, we kept up a steady stream of conversation and ignored her. Mom no longer looked as though she would burst into tears at any moment, and we were on cruise mode. Engagement cake and coffee and we could get out of here. I breathed a sigh of relief too soon.

  Margaret looked at her watch and leaned across the table. “What plans
have you made for the wedding?”

  Mom fluttered her hands. “Well, we haven’t exactly nailed down our exact plans yet.”

  Margaret gasped. “Not nailed down your plans? But, I thought I understood you are getting married on Christmas Eve.”

  “We are getting married on Christmas Eve.” Harold patted Mom’s hand. “There are a lot of decisions to be made, but we’ve picked the cake and are close to picking the venue.”

  “Dear me.” Margaret tsked. “I was afraid of this. The longer you wait, the less likely you are to get the best venues.” She glanced around the room as though to say this was clearly not the best, and I had reached my fill when it came to swallowing my words.

  “Are you implying there’s something wrong with North Harbor Café?” I folded my napkin and stared at her. “Because if you are, I’m about two seconds from—”

  No one got to hear what I was two seconds away from doing because, at that moment, a whirlwind came up the stairs wearing three-inch heels and a white suit with a white mink coat and matching hat. When she reached the top step, she stood for dramatic effect, shrugged out of her coat, tossed it over the railing, and announced, “No fear, Lydia Lighthouse is here.”

  We stared at the figure, but before we could figure out what on earth a Lydia Lighthouse was, Margaret hopped up from her seat. “Lydia, darling.” She hurried over to the woman and the two air-kissed. Then Margaret turned to face the group. “When I heard my brother-in-law was planning to get married in a few weeks, I knew I’d find the perfect wedding present.” She turned to the white-clad figure. “Lydia Lighthouse is the wedding planner for the elite. She’s traveled all over the world and will be able to insure all of the right people are invited and the wedding will be in the society pages and best magazines.” She paused as though waiting for applause. None came.

  Lydia Lighthouse was my mom’s height, slightly over five feet, but not by much. She was as thin as a rail and looked to be in her early fifties.

  Nana Jo leaned close to me. “She’s got on more makeup than a five-dollar hooker.”

  Lydia Lighthouse definitely wore a great deal of makeup and her false eyelashes were so long, it looked as though she had caterpillars on her eyelids. She had blue eyes, fair, pale skin, and her hair was bright red; she wore it pulled back under her mink cap. Lydia Lighthouse waltzed across the room, placed a white clutch handbag on the table, and pulled out a long cigarette holder and gold lighter.