We heard the sharp tap of high heels from the hall outside. The bedroom door opened, and Marian stuck her head inside. “Weezie! It is ten after seven and we have a house full of people downstairs wondering if you’ve changed your mind about getting married. For goodness sake, young lady, stop dawdling!”
* * *
The first person I saw when I walked into the parlor was Harry. He was standing in front of the fireplace beside Daniel, dressed in his new charcoal suit, with a silver tie that matched Daniel’s and a small orange blossom boutonniere. His graying hair curled just the tiniest bit over his collar. His deep fisherman’s tan was a sharp contrast to the crisp white dress shirt. He was clean-shaven, and when he looked up and saw me walk slowly into the room, his face broke into a broad smile that I knew was meant for me and me only.
Just a smile, but it literally made my heart flutter.
Cookie Parker was seated at a glossy white baby grand piano, and Manny was standing beside him, with a violin. They were playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D. But when Manny caught sight of me standing in the parlor doorway, he gave Cookie a subtle nod, and they segued into “Moon River,” which I knew Weezie had chosen because the composer, Johnny Mercer, was from Savannah.
I turned my head ever so slightly, and Weezie nodded. She tucked her arm through her daddy’s.
The music swelled, and I made my way slowly toward the makeshift altar, where Daniel and Harry stood to the left of James Foley, decked out in a navy pin-striped suit—but no necktie, not even for his favorite niece.
The room was filled with so many familiar faces, all of them turned to see the radiant bride gliding toward her future.
Finally I reached the altar. I turned. Weezie handed me her bouquet, and I planted a quick, impulsive kiss on her cheek before stepping to the right.
Joe Foley seemed reluctant to release his only daughter’s arm. He looked uncertainly at his brother. “Hi, Joe,” James whispered. “Good job.”
“Daddy?” Weezie whispered. “It’s time.”
But Joe was not about to be hurried. With a trembling hand, he caressed the bride’s face.
“You are every bit as beautiful today as your mama was when she wore this dress.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Weezie whispered. “Thank you.”
“Be happy, baby girl. You hear?”
He turned to Daniel. “You make her happy, son. Every day.”
Daniel reached out and shook Joe’s hand. “Thank you, sir. I will. I promise.”
Joe gave me a wink. “She got it right this time, didn’t she?”
“She sure did,” I whispered.
Weezie and Daniel stepped under Cookie’s not-really-Jewish canopy/chuppah, and I broke tradition and stood beside Harry, twining my fingers between his. He gave my hand a squeeze.
* * *
“Who gives this woman in marriage?” James asked.
Joe Foley stared blankly at his brother. Weezie nudged him gently.
“Oh. Oh, I do. Marian does too,” Joe blurted.
Laughter rippled from the front seats.
From there, the ceremony proceeded as weddings do. But my attention had wandered. I was busy looking out at the group arrayed around Weezie’s parlor.
Joe had seated himself in the front row beside Marian. She was clinging to him and weeping, and he was patting her back. James’s partner, Jonathan McDowell, sat at the end of the Foley family row with his mother, Miss Sudie, and Jon was beaming with happiness for his partner’s favorite niece.
I glanced toward the back and saw that Manny had joined Cookie on the piano bench and they were holding hands.
My own grandparents, Spencer and Lorena, had announced that they had no intention of missing my best friend’s wedding, even though Granddaddy looked the frailest I’d ever seen him, and was wearing a small oxygen mask. Grandmama sat right beside him on the stiff gilded chair, her hand tucked into his elbow.
My back was killing me, and I was suddenly feeling dizzy. I leaned slightly against Harry, and his arm crept around my waist, his hand resting lightly on top of my belly. Suddenly it all felt so right. Harry and I, standing in this room, two more links in a circle of love that radiated out from Weezie and Daniel.
* * *
“Jean Eloise Foley, do you take this man, Daniel Thomas Stipanek, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” James asked.
The baby kicked me hard. Harry pressed his hand against the sensation, and the baby kicked back. “I felt it,” he whispered, turning to me.
“I do,” Weezie said firmly.
“And Daniel Thomas Stipanek, do you take Jean Eloise to be your wife?”
“I do,” Daniel said.
Something came over me. I clamped my hand over Harry’s. “I do too.”
“Really?” Harry looked astonished.
“Really,” I assured him.
* * *
“Time to cut the cake,” Cookie announced. He handed Weezie a beribboned sterling silver cake knife and led her back to the dining room.
I’d been sitting throughout most of the reception. I was tired and too nauseous to eat anything. I nudged Harry in the side. “Look at that.”
“The cake? Do you want some?”
“God no. I mean, look at it. Weezie had to slap it together at the last minute from a bakery cake because Jethro and Jeeves ate her cake. All the stuff on the top, the little church and the Christmas trees, those are vintage Weezie. But that cake topper, that was Marian’s. She must have stuck it on top of Weezie’s wedding cake.”
“What’s wrong with the chocolate cake?” Harry asked. He did love chocolate.
“That’s Weezie’s mom’s cake. It’s a shame the dogs didn’t attack that one.”
“Jeeves is pretty particular about his chow,” Harry pointed out.
We stood up and joined the crowd about to watch Weezie and Daniel cut the ceremonial first slice of wedding cake.
Harry was snapping pictures of Weezie and Daniel, and Weezie and her parents, and me and Weezie with my cell phone when I gasped and grabbed the back of a dining room chair.
“It’s time,” I said, feeling my face flush.
“What?” Weezie asked.
“Now,” I repeated.
Harry looked from Weezie to me and frowned. “Now? You want to announce our engagement now?”
“Your engagement!” Weezie cried. “You’re getting married? When did this happen?”
“Now,” I repeated. “Right now.”
“Uh, BeBe,” Harry said uneasily. “You don’t want to steal Weezie’s thunder. This is her and Daniel’s big day. We can announce our wedding date later.”
“Now!” I said it as loud as I could. “Get the car right now and stop arguing with me. I think my water just burst!”
Epilogue
BeBe
Five hours after we arrived at the hospital, Michael Garbutt sauntered into the delivery room at St. Joe’s/Candler wearing a big blue shower cap and surgical gown and mask. He barely noticed me, instead giving Harry a hearty slap on the back.
“Man, I was just about to sit down to dinner with the whole family when the answering service called to tell me you were on the way here.”
“Sorry to interrupt your Christmas Eve,” Harry said, glancing down at me.
“Hey, it’s all good. I’ll take any excuse to get away from the in-laws,” Michael said. Finally he looked down at me.
“How you doing, Mama?”
I was limp and sweaty and exhausted. I’d been in hard labor for what felt like an eternity. How did he think I was doing?
“I’m okay,” I mumbled.
“The contractions are coming pretty close together,” Harry volunteered.
“She’s fully dilated,” the delivery nurse said.
“All righty then,” Michael said, gleefully rubbing his hands together. “Let’s go get ourselves a baby!”
* * *
“Oh, oh, oh, ohhhh,” Michael said softly. He held up the baby for me to see. “Lookie here
,” he crooned. “Looks like you and Harry got yourself a little cadet.”
He was cherry red, with tufts of dark hair plastered to his still-damp scalp, and his face was scrunched into a scowl so like his father’s I burst out laughing.
The nurse took him then, and did the things they do with newborn babies, and then they handed our son back to me, and he was wrapped up in what looked like a big red flannel Christmas stocking, with a soft candy-cane striped cap on his head.
Michael shook Harry’s hand and offered him a cigar. Then the nurse dimmed the lights in the room, and we were left all alone.
I looked up at Harry, who was perched gingerly on the edge of the bed. He was blinking back tears. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
“Boys aren’t beautiful,” Harry said, trying to sound brusque. He put out his finger, and the baby wrapped a tiny wrinkled hand around it.
“This one is. He’s absolutely the most beautiful, perfect baby ever.”
“If you say so.” Harry dropped a kiss on my forehead, and then one on the baby’s. We sat quietly like that for a long time, admiring our son, who quickly dropped off to sleep.
“You want to hold him?” I held the baby out.
“Think it’ll be okay? I don’t want to wake him up.”
“Take him,” I said, smiling. “He’ll have plenty of time to sleep.”
I transferred him into Harry’s arms, and the baby stirred for a moment, and then fell right back to sleep.
Harry stood up. “He’s a sturdy little fella,” he said, hefting the bundle in his arms.
“At eight pounds, two ounces, he’s more than sturdy. He’s a chunk,” I pointed out. “I don’t even want to think about how big he’d have been if I went full term.”
“He’s long too,” Harry observed. “Twenty-two inches? That’s about the size of a nice red snapper..”
I yawned. “He’s definitely a keeper. Don’t you think?”
“You both are.” Harry stretched out on the bed beside me, and I transferred the baby into the crook of my arm. “Did you mean what you said, back there at Weezie’s?”
“What do you think?” I said teasingly.
“I think we better get married right quick, before you change your mind,” Harry said. “What are you doing next Saturday?”
“It might take a little longer than that, just to get the legal stuff with Richard ironed out,” I reminded him. “But yes, I want us to get married, and as soon as possible. Maybe James will give us a two-fer—a death certificate and a marriage license.”
“That’ll work,” Harry said. He gazed down at the baby.
“What are we going to call this little guy? We haven’t even really talked about it much, have we?”
“We talked about naming him for your father.”
“No. Look at him. He doesn’t look anything like a Louis.”
“You’re right. How about my dad?”
“Arthur’s a good, strong name,” Harry allowed. “I kinda like it.”
“But maybe not for a first name.” I yawned again and looked at the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. It had been a very, very long couple of days.
“Hey,” I said. “You know what? It’s Christmas Day!”
“You’re right.” He kissed me on the lips. “Merry Christmas, BeBe. You just gave me the best gift any man ever got.”
I felt just the tiniest bit smug about delivering a Christmas baby after all. And then I had an idea. I looked down at the baby, whose rosebud lips twitched just a little as he hiccupped in his sleep.
“What would you think about calling him Nicholas? Is that too gimmicky?” I crossed my fingers.
Harry grinned. “Nicholas? You mean, like St. Nick? Yeah. Nick! I had an Uncle Nick. He gave me my first Penn fishing reel when I was ten. Nicholas Arthur Sorrentino.”
The baby stirred. His eyes opened wide. He made a faint mewing noise, and then, I swear, he smacked his lips.
I pushed down the neckline of my hospital gown and guided him into place, tickling the side of his cheek, the way the nurse had shown me earlier. He latched on to my breast, and a moment later, he was contentedly sucking away.
“He did it,” I marveled. “First try. He’s a genius!”
“Like his mama.” Harry shifted in the bed, then drew a lumpy green-and-white-striped tissue packet from the pocket of his rumpled suit pants. He dropped it into my free hand. “I almost forgot.”
“What’s this?”
“Christmas present.”
“Open it for me, please?”
He tore the tissue away, then held out a narrow filigreed platinum band with a round cushion-cut diamond surrounded by a galaxy of smaller stones.
For once, I was speechless.
“Weezie told me I should tell you it was a push present. You know, for having the baby. But it was never going to be that. In my mind, it was always going to be an engagement ring.”
“Harry, it’s beautiful!”
“It was my mom’s. I could get you something more modern if you don’t like this…”
“My fingers are kind of swollen,” I told him, holding out my left hand. But he slipped the band onto my ring finger and it fit like it had been made for me.
“What made you change your mind? About getting married?” he asked.
“You did,” I said simply. “I always loved you. Always. But I’d thought I’d been in love before. Too many times. Last night I knew this was different. We were different. I knew what we had was good and lasting. And then today, watching Weezie and Daniel, and my grandparents, even Joe and Marian Foley, it struck me—we have what they have. And they made it work. They made it last. Their marriages aren’t perfect. Ours won’t be either. But no matter what happens, I could never walk away from you. No matter what. You can be a fisherman or a farmer, or a, I don’t know, a forest ranger. You’re stuck with me, Harry Sorrentino. Forever.”
“Okay.” He offered me his hand. I hooked my little finger around his. “Forever. Pinkie swear.”
ALSO BY MARY KAY ANDREWS
Ladies’ Night
Spring Fever
Summer Rental
The Fixer Upper
Deep Dish
Savannah Breeze
Blue Christmas
Hissy Fit
Little Bitty Lies
Savannah Blues
About the Author
MARY KAY ANDREWS is the New York Times bestselling author of Ladies’ Night, Spring Fever, Summer Rental, The Fixer Upper, Deep Dish, Blue Christmas, Savannah Breeze, Hissy Fit, Little Bitty Lies, and Savannah Blues. A former journalist for The Atlanta Journal Constitution, she lives in Atlanta, Georgia. Visit her at www.marykayandrews.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
CHRISTMAS BLISS. Copyright © 2013 by Whodunnit, Inc. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Michael Storrings
Cover photograph by Herman Estevez
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-01972-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-01973-8 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781250019738
First Edition: October 2013
Christmas Bliss Page 22
