Til Death Do Us Party

by Vickie Fee

  After Mama and Earl had surveyed the table, we sat them down in camp chairs under the awning and positioned between the two fans. Larry Joe and Dave quickly unfolded and set up lawn chairs that had been stashed at the back of the camper for the rest of us. Crystal and Di began taking drink orders.

  Little Junior had to be melting inside that polyester jumpsuit, but he was a trouper. After he’d drunk a bottled water and everyone had helped their plates, he performed some Elvis standards accompanied by his guitar pal, whose name we learned, was Vinnie.

  Little Junior launched into a leg-shaking, pelvis-swiveling rendition of “Hound Dog.” We were all enjoying the show, including other campers who had begun to gather around. Our star attraction followed up with a slower number, “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Larry Joe walked up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist. Di and Dave were sitting side by side on the picnic table bench, with her knee brushing up against his. Applause erupted when Little Junior finished the song. A neighboring camper rushed up with a bottle of wine and two champagne flutes in his hands. After glancing around the circle, he looked to Larry Joe and me and asked, “Are you the newlyweds?”

  “No, they are,” I said, pointing over to Mama and Earl.

  He handed them the glasses, filled them with sparkling wine, and announced loudly, “Congratulations to the happy couple.”

  Those with beverages in hand joined the toast. Other neighbors hauled over an oversize ice chest and opened the lid, revealing a cooler filled with beers.

  “We come bearing gifts. Is it okay if we join the party?”

  Earl stood up and said, “The more the merrier. My sweet bride and I invite all of you to celebrate this special day with us.”

  People swarmed in, bringing offerings of chips, cookies, and whiskey, and some even brought their own hot dogs over and threw them on the grill over the white-hot coals.

  Little Junior took an intermission to quench his parched throat with iced tea and eat a few nibbles. New friends—some of them adding their own lawn chairs to the circle, while others stood and mingled—introduced themselves. Our party now included people from Ontario to Oklahoma, from infants to elderly.

  Mama was looking red faced. During the intermission, I encouraged her to go inside the air-conditioned camper for a few minutes. Earl felt duty bound, as host, to remain with the guests, but then he was used to cutting fields of hay in the summer heat. Mama was a bit more delicate.

  It felt twenty degrees cooler inside the Winnebago. Mama plopped down on the banquette seat with her glass of iced tea, and I ripped several paper towels off a roll and handed them to her.

  “Whew. Thanks, hon. I was getting a bit overheated out there. But everything, except maybe the weather, is absolutely perfect. You’re good to your mama.”

  “I’m sorry the wedding at the chapel got ruined by a dead guy.”

  “Don’t be, Liv. Truly. While I’m sorry a man got killed, this turned out so much better. It means the world to me, having Little Junior perform the ceremony. Nephew did a beautiful job, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And it was nice having my brother here for my wedding—even if it took a murder and an arrest to get him here. And where else could we have held a wedding reception where we’d make new friends from all over the country?”

  I sat down next to her and gave her a hug. “As long as you’re happy, Mama. That’s all that matters.”

  We rejoined the party and Little Junior got the crowd on its feet, clapping and cheering with his performance of “All Shook Up.”

  I looked over at Crystal. She might not have liked Elvis music, but it was obvious from the look in her eyes she was smitten with a certain petite Elvis tribute artist.

  Things wound down, neighboring campers started returning to their mobile abodes, and Crystal, Di, and I started clearing up.

  “Mama, the guys have loaded most of your belongings into the camper, and I put everything else left behind at the hotel into a suitcase for you. It’s sitting on your bed inside the camper. I didn’t know if you two would prefer to spend tonight here or back at the hotel. It’s up to you.”

  “We might as well get settled into our little honeymoon shack,” Mama said, looking over to Earl. “That okay with you?”

  “Home is wherever you are, darlin’.”

  They were so cute. Larry Joe, sensing I was about to tear up again, leaned over and said, “Say your good-byes to your mama and try not to cry.”

  I wasn’t making any promises, but I gave it my best.

  “’Bye, Mama. You and Earl have a wonderful time—and take lots of pictures to show us when you get home.”

  I gave her a quick squeeze and stepped back so others could give her a hug, and so I had a shot at escaping without bawling.

  Little Junior deposited us at the front door of the hotel. Since we were booked on midday flights tomorrow and planned to take the shuttle to the airport, we said our good-byes to Little Junior and Uncle Junior curbside.

  I wrapped my arms around my cousin, still wearing his Elvis jumpsuit, and cried, hoping it wouldn’t be as many years until our next visit as it had been since our last.

  “Little Junior, let us hear from you. And you always have a place to stay in Tennessee, you know.”

  “I know. And I plan to come out and visit Aunt Virginia and Uncle Earl. Maybe next spring.”

  “Good. I’ll throw you a party,” I said.

  Upstairs, I showered and packed our suitcases, except for toiletries and the clothes we planned to wear in the morning. Then I fell into bed after the busiest, most stressful, and exhausting vacation I’d ever had.

  * * *

  We made it to the airport in time for Daddy Wayne, Larry Joe, and Dave to plug a few dollars into the one-arm bandits before we boarded the plane. My mother-in-law sat in a padded seat at our gate, keeping an eye on everyone’s carry-ons—something TSA would take a dim view of.

  Di and I strolled over to the bank of windows, watching the runways as planes took off and landed.

  “Dare I say there seemed to be a warming trend between you and the sheriff?” I ventured.

  “You could say.”

  “Does that mean there’s been a cooling trend with Jimmy? I gathered that you went to meet him after Little Junior’s welcome home dinner.”

  “Yeah. I’m a complete idiot. Feel free to agree,” she said.

  “What happened?”

  “What I should have seen coming. I went over to Jimmy’s place to look over the plans for his new business and catch up on family news. What’s going on with his mama and nieces. He has a roommate, but of course the roommate wasn’t home.”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” I said.

  “I liked it even less. Everything started out fine. We were fondly remembering old times—mostly with his family and not about us as a couple. One minute we were laughing and the next he was trying to romance me. Apparently, the first time I said no he didn’t hear me clearly. The second time I made sure he heard loud and clear. He apologized and I was willing to let him off the hook, since we have a history in that department, and we had been taking a stroll down memory lane.

  “Then he pulled something even more offensive.”

  I braced myself for what that might be.

  “He hit me up for money for his new business enterprise. As if. I should’ve seen that coming since he’d been basically making a sales pitch ever since we ran into each other at the casino that first night.

  “I started to leave and he offered to drive me back to the hotel, but I couldn’t stand to be around him another minute—which felt more like old times. I called a taxi and waited on his front porch for it to arrive.”

  “Oh, Di, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Everyone but me could see I was playing the fool. Despite what Dave, or anybody else might think, it was never romantic. At least not on my part. I really just wanted to believe that the sweet, young kid I knew and fell in lo
ve with way back when had finally gotten his act together. But, now I know he’ll never change. And I hate that, especially for his mama.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s not criminal to want to believe in people, even when they end up letting us down,” I said. “At least it seems he is working, and trying to build a business.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Di said. “That’s the part that hurts the most. He may have pipe dreams about this business. But he’s really just running a scam, trying to get investors to give him money,” she said, cupping air quotes around the word “investors.”

  “If he was really trying to save up his money, he wouldn’t be driving around in a brand new car. It still had that new car smell. How did I not put that together sooner?”

  “Because you wanted to give someone you used to care about the benefit of the doubt. You and his mother may be the only people in the world who were willing to do that. He blew it with you, so now it’s just his mama. But that’s entirely his fault—not yours.”

  “Thanks for saying so, anyway,” she said, staring into the distance.

  “Did you talk to Dave about any of this?”

  “Some. Enough for him to know Jimmy is completely in my past. I hope Dave may still have some part to play in my future,” she said.

  “I’m glad.”

  We stood wordless until they announced our flight was boarding. I looked around to make sure our gamblers were ready to go home.

  The men took the aisle seats to garner some extra leg room. After takeoff I gazed out the window with one last longing look at the shimmering desert oasis known as Las Vegas.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gazing out over Dixie’s town square from my office above Sweet Deal Realty, I couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to be home. Last night, Larry Joe and I had celebrated our return after driving home from the Memphis airport by falling into bed and sleeping eleven hours straight.

  I was checking e-mail and going over bills when my phone buzzed. It was Holly.

  “Hi, Liv,” she said. “I just wanted to check in with you. Do you want me to come into the office today so we can go over upcoming events?”

  “I’m going to work for awhile today. But you should take some time off. You had so many fires to put out while I was gone, you should receive hazard pay. I owe you, big time, lady.”

  “Aw, it’s awlright, darlin’. It’s not like you were taking it easy—having to track down a killer to get your cousin out of jail and get your mama to the altar. You’re the one who deserves a vacation. Besides, we have a pretty light load for the next couple of weeks.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m planning to work on a special project,” I said. “But it’s not a paying gig.”

  “You’re going to plan a welcome home party for your mama and Earl, aren’t you? Count me in,” Holly said, immediately reading my mind.

  “You might want to hear what I have in mind before you sign on. It’s a little crazy.”

  “Crazy is what we do best,” Holly said. “Maybe we should make that our slogan.”

  “Oh, no,” I said, laughing. “Crazy seems to find us easily enough. No need to advertise. Drop by the office after lunch, if you like. You still need to fill me in on how things turned out at the luau and the roving Class of ’Sixty-Eight dinner.”

  “Okay, but remember, truth is stranger than fiction,” she said.

  * * *

  I had printed out planning sheets and started scribbling notes on them before Holly arrived at the office.

  Holly swept in, wearing a tie-dye sundress with a very 1960s vibe, her hair pulled back in a short ponytail.

  “Okay, I’m dying to know what your truth-is-stranger-than-fiction remark was all about,” I said, as she sat in the chair across from my desk.

  “Well, let me see. What would you like to hear about first—the semi-indecent exposure at the luau or the unladylike behavior at the Priscilla look-alike contest?”

  “Ooh, I’ll take door number one. I want to hear all about the semi-indecent exposure incident at the luau. Did someone get drunk and decide to skinny dip in the swimming pool?” I asked.

  “If they’d been drunk I could have excused their behavior. Darlin’, these women are just desperate. Do you know Malcolm Tate? His house is where we held the luau.”

  “Not really, but Mama was telling me about him. I know he’s a widower. And Mama calls him ‘Spock Ears.’”

  “His ears are kind of pointy,” Holly said, breaking down in giggles for a moment. “Anyway, a couple of the single women in the group have set their sights on him as husband material. And believe me when I say Malcolm, pointy ears or not, is the best either one of them could hope for in the romance department.

  “They’d been practically elbowing each other out of the way every time he came around. During the cocktail hour before dinner, while everyone was mingling about with fruity cocktails topped with little umbrellas, a number of people, including Malcolm, went and sat by the pool. He was stretched out in a chaise longue and the two women raced to nab the chaise next to him. The one who won out was wearing a light blouse over a swimsuit top. Malcolm was politely chatting with everyone around him, and not paying any particular attention to her, even though she had shed the blouse and was sitting there in a somewhat skimpy swimsuit top. So then, she reclined the chair all the way flat, rolled over on her stomach, and unhooked her bikini top to sunbathe, presumably.”

  “Oh, my word,” I said, my mouth agape.

  “It gets better,” Holly said, taunting me. “The other contender for Spock Ears was so desperate to attract his attention, she jumped into the pool and then pulled herself up the side, looking like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest.”

  “Who won?”

  “He did. He got up and coolly walked away from the pool area, saying he really should check on the other guests.”

  “Good for him,” I said. “Now, what about the Godzilla Priscillas? Did they get into a hair-pulling fight?”

  “There was no hair pulling, but there was some nasty name calling and bad sportsmanship. They behaved until the winners were named, and the first runner-up took exception to not taking the blue suede ribbon. She started yelling about how the winner was too fat for a Priscilla look-alike and that she looked more like Elvis in his bloated later years.”

  “How did it end?”

  “The loser’s husband dragged her off the stage. Honestly, none of her classmates looked all that surprised. Apparently, she was a pill even back in high school.”

  “Oh, Holly,” I said, wiping tears from laughing so hard. “You deserve the blue ribbon for putting up with this group. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  “All in a day’s work,” she said. “So what are you planning for your mama and Earl’s homecoming? Ooh, how about an ice-cream sundae buffet? I know how much your mother loves ice cream,” Holly asked.

  “Nope. Are you ready for this? We’re going to throw Mama a belated reception based on some of her outrageous wedding ideas. You know, the one we were planning before she and Earl decided to just go to Vegas instead.”

  Holly furrowed her brow doubtfully for a moment before a broad smile crept across her pleasant face.

  “That’s brilliant, Liv. We already have some of the plans in place—and we know your mama will like it.”

  “My thoughts exactly. We’re going to scale things back a bit. The guest list is getting trimmed considerably, for one thing. But it still won’t be easy. We don’t have a lot of time to pull it all together.”

  “Trust me, after the Class of ’Sixty-Eight reunion, this will be a piece of cake. At least we have the venue. Earl’s farm, right?”

  “Right. And I already checked with Billy Tucker, and his Grills on Wheels barbecue catering is available for the evening. And he’s giving us the friends and family discount—after Nell told him he’d better.”

  “As I recall, your mama wanted a Viking-style gondola to ferry her and Earl out to the lit
tle island in the middle of the pond. And some swans swimming around for ambience? Are you dropping those elements since we’re just doing a reception, sans the ceremony?”

  “Not completely, but I’m going to take the original idea and mix it up a bit. Leave that part to me,” I said.

  “Gladly. What do you want me to do?”

  “We’ll go with a DJ if we have to, but I’d love to have a live band. Two-stepping and line dance music. But it’s short notice . . .”

  “You leave that to me,” Holly said resolutely.

  “Great. I’ll take care of the table and chair rentals and make sure Kenny and Harold are available to set up the stage and string lights in the barn. Larry Joe and I will go out to tidy up and sweep out the space.”

  “Awlright, darlin’. What else do we need to do?”

  “Pray it doesn’t rain,” I said with all seriousness. Those things that were beyond my control—like the weather for an outdoor event—were the bane of every party planner’s existence.

  I didn’t say so to Holly, but even more unpredictable than the weather would be whether or not I could persuade my little sister to come for the party.

  Tuesday afternoon, after having performed a half dozen minor miracles getting details worked out for Mama and Earl’s party on short notice, I decided to tackle the truly difficult chore of calling my sister. I knew the best wedding gift Mama could receive would be Emma’s acceptance of her marriage to Earl. I also knew it was going to be a hard sell.

  “Hey, little sister. We got back from Vegas day before yesterday. I think we’ve just about recovered. Hadn’t talked to you in a while. So how are my favorite niece and nephew?”

  “Lulu is four going on fourteen. That child already rolls her eyes at me. I swear, she’s so stubborn I don’t know what we’re going to do with her.”

  I resisted the temptation to say she took after her mom.

  “And Trey is into everything. He’s cruising the furniture and I believe he’s going to start walking any day now.”