Avalee's Gift

by Linda Apple

  I loved living in the city. Frankly, I never wanted to return to Moonlight, Mississippi and risk ever seeing Mrs. Jackson again. But I did miss my parents. So, instead of visiting my parents in my hometown, I flew them to New York, or wherever I happened to be in the world. I never married. There were several serious candidates, but the shadow of guilt that resided in my soul insinuated itself into every relationship I ventured to try.

  But life is truly strange. It is both unfair and beyond generous. While it was unfair in my youth, it was generous in my waning years of middle age.

  In a whiplash of events, I returned to Moonlight to help restore the struggling family floral business and met a ghost. Tyler Jackson, Marc’s baby brother, had grown into his twin. After a ridiculously short amount of time, he professed he’d fallen in love with me. Of course, I resisted him. Not only was there a twelve-year age difference between us, the guilt that had kept me single all my life also stood in the way of my loving him. It didn’t help that he looked enough like Marc to be his double.

  Undaunted, Ty chipped away at my resistance with his playfulness, tenderness. His maddening crooked smile that pushed in his deep dimples also factored into my weakening. And those deep mahogany eyes. They were still windows into his soul. Somehow, he convinced me he truly preferred older women. But what really made my wall of defense fall was the tenderness and patience he showered on me. He honestly understood the true meaning of love.

  Until Ty, I really hadn’t understood love. I equated it with romance—bursts of heady feelings of exhilaration, desire, and passions. Like what I had with Marc. Not that those feelings weren’t real. They were, but they were not love. I’ve come to think of them as a by-product of love. These ecstasies, like fireworks, burn out and the ashes fall cold to the ground. Ty valued, respected, and treasured me as a person, putting my needs above his.

  Marc never treasured me, and in the end, he didn’t value or respect me either. And if I were being honest, I didn’t him either.

  I love Ty—truly love him.

  Because of this love, I must face what I ran away from over thirty years ago—his parents.

  Tonight, at supper we plan to tell them of our engagement.

  God give me strength.

  Chapter One

  Friends can blow away the darkest clouds, if only for a while.

  ~Avalee Preston

  Morning broke in gray, rain-heavy clouds. I snuggled deeper under my comforter wishing the day were already over. The storm brewing in the atmosphere over Moonlight would be nothing compared to the one sure to erupt inside the Jackson home when Ty and I told them about our engagement.

  Such a shame. There were so many things to be happy about. I hated having this cloak of dread draped over me. Molly Kate, my forever sister-friend, married her long-lost lover, Stan Montgomery. We had only three weeks to plan and pull off their wedding. And I must say, we did an excellent job. Christmas was in four days, and we had yet another whirlwind wedding to plan for another one of my FSFs, Jema and her fiancé Levi. Even with all these joyful events, I struggled with being glad about anything considering the gallows of condemnation awaiting me.

  Pfff. “Snap out of it Avalee.”

  Great, now I’m talking to myself. Coffee. Strong and laced with real sugar and cream. The only thing powerful enough to coax me from my cocoon of blankets. The room felt unusually cold. Was it the weather or simply the transition from a warm bed to a cold room? I slipped on my robe and slippers then ambled down the stairs to the kitchen—and to the coffee.

  Momma sat at her small drop-leaf table positioned against the wall where her little smiling plaster of Paris fruits and veggies hung. As tacky as these whimsical figures might appear to decorators, I liked them. They had greeted me every morning as a child. In fact, I wouldn’t mind a few of my own for my kitchen after Ty and I married.

  She looked up from her paper. “Morning, baby.”

  “Morning.”

  “Have an orange roll. Molly Kate brought some by as a thank you for feeding Gypsy and Kricket while she and Stan were on their honeymoon.”

  Tempting, but first thing’s first. I grabbed a mug and filled it with dark roast. “Some honeymoon. Two nights in Memphis.”

  “Oh, they plan on a cruise in early summer.” Momma held out her cup to me. “But what with it being Christmas and all, they’d rather be home.”

  After filling Mom’s cup, I joined her at the table and stared longingly at the box of orange decadence. MK’s rolls had taken over the town, which caused some pretty hard feelings. The baker at Magnolia Tea Room was the first to introduce the rolls, and he accused Molly Kate of copying his recipe. He even threatened to sue her although he’d done the same thing. Before the tearoom opened, he visited Molly Kate’s cafe, Taste of Heaven, and bought several of her baked goods after asking her all kinds of questions. When the tearoom opened, sure enough, a few of her items appeared on his menu. In the end, the great orange roll drama only amounted to his kicking up dust, or should I say powdered sugar? Her recipe was clearly superior.

  I put the coffee cup to my lips and tried to stop lusting after the pastries. “So, what are your plans today?”

  “I hope to finish up my holiday baking, and then Felix is going to carry me in that old truck of his to make my deliveries.”

  Every year, Momma gave food gifts to everyone in the neighborhood, all her doctors and their staff, her bank tellers, and the church staff.

  “So who gets what this year?”

  She cocked her head, pursed her lips, and looked up through squinted eyes. “Let’s see, I made turtle candies and orange glazed pecans for the neighbors. They always ask for those you know. For the doctors I made corn dip, haystacks, and the pecans. For the bank folks, I made a pan of fudge and corn dip. And I made several batches of cookies for the church office. That’s what I’m finishing up this morning.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of work.” Secretly, I hoped she saved back some corn dip for us. I could eat it with a spoon. Who needed corn chip dippers?

  Momma smiled. “It sure is, but I love it. Making all this and delivering it is one of the things that makes Christmas for me.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “That and having you home this year.”

  Guilt rose inside me. I could count on one hand the times I came home the day before Christmas and left the day after. In my defense, I’d flown my parents to New York for Christmas many times, but I knew it wasn’t the same for them.

  “What are you doing today, sugar?”

  I groaned. “Dreading tonight. I’m mentally preparing myself for an evening of passive-aggressive conversation.”

  “Oh honey, surely it won’t be that bad.”

  “Fortunately, you didn’t see her attack me after Marc’s funeral.” I snatched part of Mom’s roll and popped it in my mouth. The tangy, buttery-sweet pastry made me forget everything except the next bite.

  “Baby, back then she was hurting. We all were. Losing a child is the ultimate injury.”

  She put a roll on a plate and pushed it toward me. I didn’t give myself time to think about the fat and calories I was about to consume. Mindlessly, I plucked out the tender center, smeared it with butter, nudged it into my mouth and savored the soft, melting, food of the gods.

  Momma’s words stirred deep within me the ghost of what had never been. Even at my age, the longing for a child had never died. However, my fifty-six-year-old body had given up trying to create a child and created Hell instead. Hot flashes and night sweats plagued me. “I suppose you’re right. But it’s hard. I was hurting then, too.”

  Momma stood and collected the dishes. “Hon, don’t be chained to bitterness. Life is too short. Let it go and make room in your heart for peace.”

  Her reference to chains reminded me of two dogs I saw on one of my walks. They were all tangled up in the leads their owners used to tether them. Poor animals. They were miserable. Perhaps it would help to remember that pitiful image while at the Jackson
s and hopefully keep from growing even more bitter. Perhaps…

  Mom went to the cupboard and pulled out a bright red tin with white and silver snowflakes scattered over the lid. “I made three different kinds of fudge for you to take tonight for Emma and Marcus: chocolate with pecans, peanut butter, and white chocolate macadamia. If nothing else, this should sweeten their mood.”

  “One can only hope.” I finished my roll and pushed back from the table. “For now, I’m going to focus on the more pleasant aspects of the day.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Planning Jema and Levi’s New Year’s Eve wedding.” I stood and stretched. “We are meeting at MK’s this morning.”

  Momma plunged her hands in the sink of hot, soapy water. “I’m certainly glad Levi kept his name instead of going back to Matthew. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around his first name after calling him by his middle name for so long.”

  “Me either.”

  I thought back to when Levi first entered our lives. My friend Jema befriended him at Life Source, the homeless shelter where she volunteered. He was a pitiful sight when she first saw him in the soup line. His long, matted hair, dirty fingernails, and tattered clothing would have given most people pause before they gave their heart away. But not our Jema. She immediately recognized his kind soul, and her compassionate heart connected with his, never expecting anything from him but his devotion. Turned out he was Matthew Levi Abrams, a billionaire from Canada who disguised himself as a man who had nothing in hopes of finding someone who would love him for himself and not his wealth. He found a gem in our Jema. When he decided to continue going by his middle name, Levi, he explained it this way, “I was reborn in Moonlight. I found true love and true friends. In Canada, I’m Matthew, the only heir to our family fortune where the focus is wealth and the accumulation of more wealth. But here I’m Levi, a man with purpose. A man who is loved for nothing more than himself.”

  “Well, all I can say is Jema isn’t letting grass grow under her feet before she marries. New Year’s Eve is in three weeks.”

  “True. Just like Molly Kate. Glad I’m not in a rush. Ty and I have months to plan.” In my heart of hearts, I wished we were marrying earlier. But May would be beautiful, and I’d always wanted to be a May bride.

  “Are Jema’s girls coming to the wedding?”

  “No, they will still be in Italy. This is such a hurry up deal they couldn’t make arrangements, and besides, they didn’t want to disappoint their hosts.”

  “I suppose they will see their mother in Italy then.”

  “I think that’s the plan.”

  Momma dried her hands with the dishtowel draped over her shoulder. “I’d love to see Italy. Hey, why don’t y’all honeymoon there? Mother’s Day is in May.” She poked my side with her elbow. “Hint, hint.”

  “I’ll think on it.” And I did for a hot second before deciding no one was going with me on my honeymoon but Ty.

  The little yellow cuckoo bird slid out of its Swiss chalet clock and chirped eight times. I had to be at Molly’s by eight-thirty.

  “I’d better get ready Mom.” I leaned over her five-foot frame and kissed her forehead before hurrying upstairs.

  ****

  Every time I turn onto Leslie Lane and see the old Norton Mansion, I’m enchanted. Since childhood I’d dreamed of seeing the inside of the mansion and playing on the magnificent lawn under the enormous Magnolia trees. And now it belonged to one of my best friends in the world. Molly Kate and Stan were turning the majestic white antebellum into a B&B. They moved into the two-story house adjoined to the mansion by a sunroom breezeway. This house, I understood, was built as a mother-in-law home. The previous owner, Mr. Norton, must have thought a lot of his wife’s mother. It is exquisite in its own right.

  Molly suggested we meet at the mansion instead of her house since the wedding would be held there. She also offered to leave all decorations from her wedding from two weeks ago in place, which made my job easier. The fairy lights were already strung and the greenery in the arrangements would still be good. All I had to do was order fresh flowers to replace the faded ones.

  A cold breeze blew across my face when I opened the car door. It smelled crisp and moist with a faint evergreen note. Could this be a harbinger of a rare snow? I hoped so. Hugging myself, I hurried up the brick walkway to the porch and rapped on the double cherry wood doors.

  The moment Molly Kate answered my knock, their little Jack Russell, Kricket, rushed out gleefully barking her hello.

  “Get yourself in here, girl. It’s turned cold out.” Molly Kate patted her knee. “You, too, Krickers.”

  The pup scampered inside and turned to see if we were following.

  “Where’s Gypsy?” I was pretty sure introducing a dog into the family had her kitty’s nose out of joint.

  “She’s with Stan at the house. I brought Kricket with me to give Gyps a break. She doesn’t appreciate puppy-enthusiasm.” Molly took my coat and hung it on the hall tree. Marriage sure agreed with her. The expression in her jewel-green eyes and her broad smile evidenced her happiness. “Lordy, it is cold out.”

  “You can say that again. I sure hope you have…” I didn’t have to finish my sentence because the heavy aroma of fresh ground coffee wafted over me. I lifted my nose to the fragrance and breathed deep. Nothing says, “Welcome. Have a seat. Relax and stay a while,” like brewing French blend.

  MK read my mind. “Coffee? It will be ready in a jiffy. We’re still waiting on Lexi. Jema is in the kitchen sampling apple spice scones.”

  “Ooooh, sounds wicked. I’ll have to try a pinch.” Nothing, other than her orange rolls, tasted better than Molly Kate’s scones.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sakes, eat a whole scone.” Molly shook her head. “How will you ever be fabulous like me if you stay in that skinny body?”

  Lexi pushed through the door and rushed in. “Sorry for barging in without knocking, but it is too bitter out there to be polite.” A flaming red strand of hair fell from under her knit wool beanie.

  “How does coffee sound?” Molly held her hand out for Lexi’s soft gray hoodie.

  “Like heaven.” After tossing the hoodie to Molly Kate, Lexi danced around hugging herself, reminding me of an Irish sprite. “Why in heaven’s name doesn’t this place have a hot tub? It’s got everything else.”

  “Good idea. I’ll talk to Stan about that very thing.” She nodded her head toward the kitchen. “But for now, we need to get a wedding planned.”

  When we tromped through the door, Jema looked up from her magazine and beamed revealing perfect teeth. I swear that girl could be a lipstick model, even at fifty-seven. “Hi y’all.

  Lexi rushed the coffee pot and grabbed a mug. “Ready to get this planning party started?”

  “More than ready.” Jema folded the corner of her magazine and closed it.

  A thrill rose up in me when I thought of how the next wedding we planned would be mine. Even though I stood at the threshold of qualifying for Social Security, I intended to go all out. Jema, bless her, promised to come and be a part of all my wedding plans even though she and Levi would still be in Italy. She now had more money than an oil sheik, so flying back and forth wouldn’t be a problem. I could be jealous; the temptation was certainly there. But if anyone deserved this fairy-tale life, my precious friend certainly did.

  After Lexi took a tentative sip from her mug, she cupped her hands around it and sighed. “Ahhhh, that’s good.”

  We all chatted a few moments, then Lexi set her cup down, jumped up and announced, “All right everybody, it’s time to go crazy. With all of Levi’s money, this will be the wedding of the century!”

  Jema grinned. “Welll…”

  Lexi put her hands on her hips. “What?”

  “You are not going to believe what I want. And the wedding of the century isn’t it.”

  I poured a second cup, sat at the table beside her, and reached for one of the pads and pens Molly set out for us to take not
es. “So, tell us. What do you want?”

  Jema glanced at each of us before she spoke. “I know y’all are going to think Levi and I are crazy, but we don’t want a large wedding. Just the opposite, we want a small, intimate ceremony. During his masquerade as a homeless man, he learned firsthand about the hardships of not having the most basic things like food, clean water to bathe, and privacy. But he also found he enjoyed a quiet life.

  “But honey,” I could tell Lexi’s ire was growing. “What about you? You’ve struggled all your life. You deserve extravagance.”

  Jema arched her eyebrow and gave a wry smile. “You don’t have to have a large wedding bash to be lavishly elegant.”

  “Ooooh, I see.” Lexi rubbed her hands together. “I feel better. Now let’s get lavishly elegant.”

  Molly Kate moved the platter of apple-spice scones to the table. “Are y’all going to sell your house?”

  “We decided to rent it. The plan is to tour Italy and decide where we would like to buy a villa, then after we purchase one, we plan to live in it for a year or so. Then move home and build a house on the lake.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus.” Molly shook her head.

  “Are you selling the villa after you leave Italy?” I reached for a scone and cut it in half, knowing full well I’d end up eating the whole thing.

  “No, we will keep it for vacations and such. Levi can use it for business. And of course it will be available for my three closest friends.”

  Molly Kate and Lexi high-fived each other.

  “Hmmmm, think y’all can find something by May? I wouldn’t mind honeymooning in Italy.” The scone tasted fabulous. I grabbed the other half.

  “I promise you this, A, we will do our best.”

  “Okay girls, let’s get down to business.” Molly Kate sat back in her chair and poised her pen over a tablet. “What’s the theme going to be?”

  “Well, Levi and I chose New Year’s Eve because It symbolizes saying goodbye to the old and hello to the new. That’s what we are doing. Goodbye to our old lives and hello to our new life together. We want to throw a fabulous party, confetti, sparklers, fireworks, champagne—the works.”