by Meg Benjamin
“So we’ll figure out something else. It’s not right that Janie here can’t be in the wedding—or Lars either.” Billy’s mouth twisted. “Besides, I’ll be damned if I’ll let that goddamned little gold-digger ruin my daughter’s wedding.”
Reba sat up again, eyes narrowed. “There is that. Maybe I can get something from Dallas.”
“We had a thought.” Janie swallowed hard.
“We?” Reba raised an eyebrow.
“Pete and I, but Docia and Cal too.” Janie swallowed. “We were sort of discussing it.” If she could only get through this part of it, the rest would be minor. She took a deep breath. “Maybe we could make the wedding a little less formal.”
“Meaning?” Reba’s other eyebrow lifted as well.
“Well, we could have the wedding in the morning at Morgan’s winery. We’d all wear something we could get in town—my Mom can help us at the Lucky Lady. Then we could have the reception out here in the afternoon. Just sort of explain to everybody that this was a party for the wedding rather than the wedding itself, which would already have taken place.”
Janie’s voice trailed off. Reba and Billy both stared at her as if she’d sprouted a third eye.
“So who would come to this wedding at the winery?” Reba asked faintly.
“Well, maybe just family and close friends. I mean the patio is really beautiful, but it’s pretty small. Not like the grounds here.” Janie studied her toes. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Reba. If she was going to have a meltdown, Janie would rather not know in advance.
“Family and close friends. Well, that should whittle it down some, although when you consider all those Toleffsons, it wouldn’t narrow it down a whole lot.” Reba’s voice sounded slightly choked.
Janie glanced at Billy. He looked like he was preparing himself for a nuclear attack. “Um…sweetheart…” he began.
“Fine.” Reba took a healthy swallow of wine.
Billy stared at her. So did Janie.
“Fine with me.” Reba nodded. “This whole thing spun out of control a long time ago anyway. If we went ahead with the wedding we planned, I’m afraid we’d get hit with the plagues of Moses or something. Not that that Sherice doesn’t resemble a special kind of plague all on her own.”
Billy’s face split into a cautious grin.
Reba cradled her glass in her hands. “I assume that woman will no longer be participating.”
Janie frowned. “Sherice? I think she’s gone. She cleaned out her closet anyway.”
“Perfect.” Reba drained her glass. “I don’t suppose you could get Millie Toleffson to join her.”
Janie and Billy both blinked at her. Reba waved a hand. “Forget I said that. You think you can get your mama to open up her dress shop tonight?”
Janie nodded. “Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow morning for sure.”
“Tomorrow at the latest.” Reba stood. “I want this whole thing settled. Give her a call and then give me a call. Billy, when this is done, you and I are going off someplace where they don’t have phones.”
“Bora Bora?” Billy smiled hopefully.
“I was thinking more like Mars.” Reba stomped back into the Woodrose dining room.
Pete asked Janie to meet him at the Coffee Corral for dinner and an update. His mom and dad were having dinner at Brenner’s. Lars and Daisy were at McDonald’s. Cal and Docia were God knows where, probably making good use of their time. And Pete really wanted to see Janie Dupree.
Even in the midst of the day’s insanity, he hadn’t forgotten last night.
She breezed into the Corral, looking thoroughly delighted with herself. That was fine with Pete. He was delighted with her too.
Janie slid into the seat across from him at the table. “She bought it!”
“Who?” He yanked his wandering thoughts back to the situation at hand. Apparently, her delectable smile wasn’t a reaction to him after all.
“Reba. She’s okay with the new, improved wedding. And Morgan says the patio isn’t booked for the morning, so we can have it there. We can look it over tomorrow—the rehearsal’s tomorrow night. I’ll try to get Mom to open up the Lucky Lady early in the morning so we can pick out some bridesmaid dresses. And the bride’s gown, I guess, if Docia really wants something different. Have you eaten? I’m starving all of a sudden.”
After Pete ordered burgers and fries, Janie leaned back in her chair, still glowing. “I know today was one disaster after another, but I really think we’ve got it back on track. Docia should be happy now.”
“Why should I be happy?” Docia pulled up a chair and dropped down at their table.
“Because the new, improved Wedding of the Century is finally on track. Your mama’s okay with it. The patio’s booked. Everybody’s going to rally round.” Janie beamed.
Pete thought of Sherice and her parting promise to be in touch. “Most everybody anyway.”
Cal slid into a chair beside Docia, toasted cheese sandwich in hand. “Has anyone thought to inform Judge Farber that he needs to be at the winery instead of the Woodrose and in the morning instead of the afternoon?”
Janie’s face fell. “No. Rats, I didn’t think of it. I’ll call him first thing.”
“I’ll call him.” Docia pulled her cell phone out of her purse. “It’s my wedding, I can take some heat for a change. Besides, I found him that first edition Tony Hillerman he was looking for. Y’all just hang on for a few minutes.” She walked back to a spot in the hall where it was marginally quieter.
Cal watched her, smiling. “God, I love that woman.”
“Good. It’s too late to find you a sub at this point.” Pete took another bite of his burger, chewing happily until he heard Cal’s gasp.
Pete looked up. Cal sat rigid, staring at the doorway, his jaw tight.
Pete turned and looked back. A tall man was standing in the entrance to the dining room. At first glance, he thought it was his dad, but then he looked more closely.
That face had haunted his nightmares for most of his early childhood and even beyond. It still showed up now and then in his dreams when he was under stress. Like now.
The man caught sight of them and headed slowly toward their table, one corner of his mouth turning up slightly in a tentative grin. He stopped beside Cal, raising his hand in a cautious greeting. “Hey, bro.” His voice sounded rusty from disuse.
Cal sat silent, staring up with furious eyes.
Pete pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. Of course. The general disaster had lacked only this. “Hey, Erik.” He sighed. “Long time, no see.”
Chapter Eighteen
Janie stared curiously at Erik Toleffson. He looked taller than either of his brothers but less formidable in other ways, softer, less muscular. His face was worn, deep grooves running across his forehead and from his nose to the corners of his mouth. His thick dark hair was beginning to gray at the sides. He looked like he needed to sit down.
“What are you doing here, Erik?” Cal, usually the warmest, friendliest man she knew, sounded like an Albanian border guard.
Erik shrugged. “I came with Dad. He was supposed to tell you I was here, but then he got busy with other stuff. I guess he didn’t let you know.”
Cal flexed his hands on the table, gripping them into fists again. “No, he didn’t.” He still hadn’t looked at Erik after that first startled stare.
“I think what Cal really wants to know is why you’ve come, Erik.” Pete stared up at him.
Erik shrugged again. “I wanted to be here for my brother’s wedding.”
“Even if that brother didn’t want you to come?” Cal finally raised his gaze to Erik’s face. Janie felt like wincing. She’d never seen that much hostility in Cal’s eyes before.
“Yeah, even then.” Erik’s shoulders slumped. “I’m in this twelve-step thing, have been for a while. One of the steps is to atone for things you’ve done in the past, people you’ve hurt. And that’s you guys and Lars. More than a
nybody else in my life, I guess.”
Cal closed his eyes, his shoulders stiff. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Erik.”
“I figured you might not be.” Erik smiled slightly, looking more like a Toleffson than he had before. “I’ll hang around anyway, in case you think you might be able to listen to me sometime.” He nodded to Pete. “You too.”
“Where are you staying?” Pete’s voice sounded grudging, as if he really hated to ask.
“There’s an extra room in the B&B Mom and Dad rented. I’m bunking there.”
Pete blew out a breath. “Okay, Erik. We’ll think about it.”
“Good enough.” Erik ambled toward the door without looking back.
As soon as he was gone, Cal slumped back against his chair. “Well, shit.”
“I thought Dad was being a little cagey about something this morning. Didn’t realize he was planning anything this big, though.” Pete drew a french fry through his ketchup, then sat staring as it dripped onto his plate.
Docia returned to the table, beaming. “We got the judge—he can come to the winery and to the Woodrose.” She slid into her chair. “So who was that standing at the table just now? I thought it was your dad, but it wasn’t, was it?”
“Nope.” Cal wrapped his sandwich in a napkin and handed Docia her burger basket. “C’mon. Let’s see if Al will wrap this up for us. I’ll explain everything on the way home.”
Docia widened her eyes at Janie, then hurried after him. Janie glanced over at Pete.
He sat with his hands folded on the table, staring down at his half-eaten hamburger. “I need to take Olive out for a walk. You want to come?”
“Sure, we can talk about the wedding.” Janie glanced at his set face. “Or not.”
Pete’s mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “I vote for not.”
At the apartment, Pete opened the door to a frantic Olive. “Hey, come on, I just took you out before dinner. You can’t be desperate again.”
Olive scrabbled her paws against his thighs, blinking her large black eyes as Pete rubbed her ears.
“She just missed you.” Janie watched Olive lick his hand.
“Novel idea.” He gave her another half smile. “I’m not used to anybody missing me.”
I will. She clamped down on that particular thought very quickly. She absolutely wasn’t going to go there. Not yet, anyway. She watched Pete clip the leash to Olive’s collar.
“I guess you’d like to know what that was all about back there at the Coffee Corral.” He herded Olive out into the darkening night.
She shrugged. “Only if you’d like to tell me.”
“C’mon, Janie.” His grin was somewhat lopsided, but still more of a grin than he’d shown before. “No more Ms. Nice, remember? You just saw a family meltdown. It’s okay to be curious.”
They walked back toward the residential streets, away from the lights of Main.
“So I guess Erik is your big brother, right?” She figured that was a neutral enough thing to ask.
He nodded. “He’s two years older than I am.”
“Two?” Janie thought of Erik’s tired eyes and worn face. “He looks older than that.”
Pete grimaced. “He’s had a hard life. Most of it by his own choice.”
“Y’all didn’t get along.”
“At least you didn’t make that a question.” He glanced at her again, his eyes bleak.
“He looks…” she searched for a word that wouldn’t throw everything off, “…tired.”
Pete stopped, turning to look at her. “Erik made our early lives a living hell. I spent a large part of my childhood either trying to get away from him or trying to keep him from beating up on Lars and Cal. Dad stepped in frequently. Mom did occasionally. Didn’t help. Once we all got big enough to defend ourselves we managed to fight him off, but it took us a lot of years to do that.”
He tugged on the leash to pull Olive away from the oleander she was examining.
“You don’t think his twelve-step program will help?”
“I have no idea whether it’ll help him or not. The question is, do I care?” He looked up the street, then crossed to the side with a sidewalk. “My mom has decided we all need to forgive and forget. She’s all about family sticking together.”
“You don’t think that’s a good idea?”
He shook his head, staring down at Olive as she trotted ahead. “I’m now going to tell you something that would cause my mother heart palpitations if she ever heard about it, but here goes. My parents had to get married. Mom was pregnant with Erik.”
Janie blinked at him. “She told you this?”
“Christ no! Lars and I figured it out when we looked through her wedding book one day.”
She frowned. “Why does that make her big on family?”
“My mom made a choice.” He ran his fingers along a picket fence beside them. From the far end of the street, Janie could hear children whooping. “She left college to have Erik, and she never went back. She’s an administrator at the nursing home in town, but she could have gone a lot farther than that if she hadn’t dropped out.”
“Maybe she’s happy.”
Pete shrugged. “I think she is. Pretty much. The point is, Mom made that sacrifice because she believed in having a family. And I don’t think she’ll be happy if that family doesn’t hang together, including Erik and, God help us, Sherice.”
Janie sighed. It sounded logical. Also highly unlikely.
“See, I think it also explains why Mom is so set on keeping Lars and Sherice together.” He nudged Olive forward again when she showed a little too much interest in a rose bush. “From Mom’s perspective, people are supposed to stay together no matter what. Marriages take work.”
“They do actually. My mom and dad weren’t the world’s happiest, but they bumped along together pretty well. Probably because they both worked at it.”
“Amazingly enough, so do mine.” Pete started walking again. “I guess Dad is trying to get all of us brothers to reconcile too, but I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
She trailed along behind him, staring at the first stars that peeked through the trees at the intersection. “I always wanted a sister or a brother. I thought that would be neat.”
He gave her a dry grin. “I have one I can pass on to you, but I don’t make any claims for his being much of an asset to your life.”
“You protected them, didn’t you? Lars and Cal,” she said slowly.
“I tried.” His mouth twisted. “I don’t know how much good I was in the long run.”
“You do that, Pete. You look after people.”
Pete sighed. “You make me sound a little like Olive.”
Janie walked along beside him in silence for a while until he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
She looked up into the molasses depths of his eyes, then stopped. Pete frowned slightly. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” She stood on tiptoes, running the tips of her fingers along the sides of his face, then sliding them into his hair. He stood still, watching her. Janie closed her eyes and brought her lips against his.
She tasted salt and French fries. And Pete. Her tongue moved carefully against his, rasping lightly. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear Otto. Frigid. Icicle. She wondered if she was doing this right.
Suddenly, Pete’s arms locked around her waist pulling her tight against his body. The hard swell of his arousal fit at the V of her legs and she found herself lifting up to cover him more completely.
Pete groaned into her mouth.
Janie felt a sudden jolt of power. She’d done that. She had. She’d definitely done it right. In your face, Otto.
He pulled back to look down at her. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but right now, more than anything, I want to take you back to the apartment and make love to you until you scream.”
“Oh gosh,” she whispered.
He watched her, his face crea
sed with strain. She’d done that too.
“Yes,” she said carefully, trying to get her heart rate back into the normal range. “I think that would be a very good idea.”
Pete threw back his head and guffawed. “Oh, man, Janie Dupree, you are the sexiest Ms. Nice I have ever encountered.”
Janie Dupree, Janie Dupree, Janie Dupree. Her name pulsed along his brain like a heartbeat. It alternated with another pulse that said “Hurry, hurry, hurry, now!”
Pete leaned over her, running his hands under her T-shirt, feeling satin skin, the jut of her shoulder blades beneath his fingers. He probably should have undressed her before he pushed her onto the bed, but there was that whole hurry, hurry, hurry thing.
Janie grinned up at him, then grasped the bottom of his T-shirt, pulling it up over his head. “I want you naked, Toleffson.”
“Yes ma’am.” Pete unsnapped his jeans and kicked off the rubber sandals he’d been wearing all day.
She started to unfasten her shorts, but he put a hand on her arm. “Nope, I like to do that.”
Janie leaned back, watching him. One hand stroked lazily across his stomach. Pete took a deep breath.
Her bra today was bright red lace. He could see the dim outline of her areola through the interstices, and felt himself grow harder. He’d always been a sucker for lace and satin. And areolas.
He pinched her nipple, feeling it pebble between his fingers, then rubbed it against the soft, textured surface of the lace. Janie moaned faintly and Pete leaned down to take the nipple into his mouth.
His tongue rasped over the fabric as he sucked. Her body moved against him, arching slightly off the bed. He pulled back and blew gently.
Janie moaned again.
Pete’s hands dropped to the waistband of her shorts, unfastening, unzipping as he pushed them down impatiently. Her panties matched her bra—red lace and silk.
Hurry, hurry, hurry started pulsing through his brain again.
He pressed his palm against her mons, covering her, rubbing his fingers across the silk that enveloped her folds. Janie pushed her hands up against his chest, hard, and Pete glanced down at her face.
