by Vickie Fee
“Be sure to shoot video—and take lots of pictures—for Aunt Liv. I do wish we lived closer.”
While I truly wished I could see my sister and the kids more often, the geographic distance of her living in North Carolina was also a blessing in some ways. I may be the oldest, but she’s the bossy one. And she doesn’t just want to run my life, but Mama’s, too. After catching me up on the kids and making some pleasant chitchat, Emma finally addressed the elephant in the room.
“So tell me about Las Vegas . . . and the wedding,” she said haltingly.
I decided to start with Little Junior’s troubles, which led to us reminiscing about our cousin growing up, and about how Mama used to make Uncle Junior show everybody the hole in his leg left from a snakebite he got as a kid.
I moved on to talking about how upset Mama had been about Little Junior’s arrest, and made a point of mentioning how Earl had been so good to Mama when she needed emotional support. My sister had gone quiet, but hadn’t launched into a tirade against Earl, which I mistakenly took as a positive sign.
“Emma, Larry Joe and I are putting together a surprise welcome home party for Mama and Earl and I know it would mean a lot to Mama if you and Hobie and the kids were there—”
“You can stop right there, Liv. I’ll do my best to hold my tongue when I talk to Mama. I won’t say anything to her against that man, now that she’s gone ahead and married him. But I will not pretend to celebrate or give my blessing to their union. And I will not have my children calling some man Granddaddy who is not my daddy.”
“Emma,” I said, trying to talk over her and interject some sanity. “The kids don’t have to call him Granddaddy, any more than you have to call him Daddy. And nobody’s asking for your blessing. . . .”
Click.
She hung up on me, which was exactly what she’d done after she first found out that Mama and Earl were engaged. Sometimes I wished we had a brother. For some reason, I fantasized Emma would listen to him. At the very least, I’d have someone to talk to when she hung up on me. Unless he took her side and they ganged up against me. Maybe one sibling was enough. It was certainly all I could deal with at the moment.
* * *
Larry Joe had already left for work when I shuffled into the kitchen Wednesday morning around seven. As I waited for the coffee to brew, I peered blearily out the window. I spotted my pesky neighbor, Edna Cleats, stepping out her front door in a terrycloth robe and slippers, with her prized Persian cat cradled in one arm. Mr. Winky was the reason I was bleary eyed this morning. He had set off the Newsoms’ car alarm again in the middle of the night, a far too frequent occurrence in the neighborhood—although Mrs. Cleats refuses to believe Mr. Winky is capable of such mischief.
I watched as Mrs. Cleats padded down to the end of the driveway to retrieve her newspaper. It’s childish of me, I know, but I secretly hoped someone had stolen this week’s grocery coupons out of her newspaper.
I actually got to the office by about five after eight, which is early for me. I needed to check with vendors and caterers for a couple of upcoming events. And I wanted to research a lead I had on a wedding gift for Mama.
Mid-afternoon, Holly called to fill me in on her progress and see how things were coming along on my end.
“I’ve had a productive day, including going to see a man about a swan,” I said.
“I’m intrigued,” Holly said.
“I tracked down what I think is the perfect wedding gift for Mama and Earl. But even though I got a good deal on it, it’s still a pretty expensive present. And one I haven’t told Larry Joe about yet.”
“With all the minor miracles you’ve pulled off lately, I’m sure you can handle convincing one mild-mannered husband that you got the deal of the century on one expensive little gift,” Holly said.
“I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Eighteen
When I got home, I checked the answering machine. Since my sister has a habit of calling our landline instead of my cell, I was hoping for a message, or at least a missed call from her. Even if she wasn’t willing to accept Earl or swallow her pride and come to Mama’s welcome home party, I thought she might feel guilty about hanging up on me and offer an apology. But, apparently, little sister wasn’t contemplating any of the above.
The next morning, I was at the office going over my lists for Mama and Earl’s party when I realized I had hired the caterer, and rented the chairs and tables, etc. And I had “cake” on my list, but I hadn’t ordered the cake yet, or even talked to the bakery. I called Holly because I wanted her input on the cake design.
“Hey, I almost forgot to order a wedding cake for the newlyweds,” I said. “So what kind of design do we want? Something that says Vegas to connect with their wedding? Or something simple and elegant? Something with purple, since it’s Mama’s favorite color?”
“Since it’s an intimate guest list, you’re going with a smallish cake, right?” Holly said.
“Right.”
“Then I think we should keep it simple, add a few touches of purple—a few scattered flowers, perhaps. And go with a bold topper of some kind. Any ideas on that?”
After a quiet moment, we both said in unison, “Swans!”
“Yes, with their necks forming a heart. It’ll go perfectly with their wedding gift,” I said. “Thanks, Holly. By the way, have you confirmed with the band yet?”
“About that . . .”
“Uh-oh. I sense bad news,” I said.
“More like mixed news. We have the band, but the lead singer is in the hospital. Nothing serious, but enough to put him out of the picture for our party. They assure me they can get someone else, but . . . I’d feel better if it were someone I’ve heard perform. I was thinking about reaching out to the Elvis tribute artist we had for the reunion. He was wonderful. And since your mama and Earl had an Elvis theme for the wedding, it would be appropriate. And I’m sure he could do a few non-Elvis tunes, as well. And the band could throw in some instrumental pieces—”
“Holly, you’re a genius,” I said, interrupting her.
“Hold off on calling Elvis. I’ll get back to you.”
I was so excited I was pacing the floor. After a quick phone call to the bakery, I got on the computer to start researching flights.
With the cake and topper squared away I could move on to a much more complicated—and expensive—project. I started to go into Sweet Deal Realty and ask Winette for advice, but decided my mother-in-law would be the best counsel on this one. So I called her.
“Miss Betty, I wanted to come by and talk to you. How ’bout I pick up lunch for the two of us and head on over?”
She told me she had some fresh from the garden tomatoes and lettuce, some sourdough bread—and peaches.
“Hon, just come on over. I’ll make us some BLTs.”
“I’m on my way.”
The aroma and sound of bacon sizzling in a frying pan greeted me as I stepped into my mother-in-law’s kitchen, tapping on the unlocked door as I entered.
“Mmm, that bacon is making my mouth water.”
I retrieved glasses from the cupboard and ice from the fridge. A pitcher of fresh-brewed sweet tea was sitting on the kitchen table, along with plates bearing tomato slices. “I wanted to ask your advice about Larry Joe.”
She looked worried. While my mother-in-law and I were pretty close, I don’t talk to her about any squabbles Larry Joe and I may have. Although she’d be just as likely, or more, to take my side as his.
“Don’t worry; it’s not marital problems. It’s just I’ve already spent a good bit of money on a kind of expensive gift for Mama and Earl, in addition to the party. And now, I have another idea that will also cost a good bit. It’s not a gift per se, but if it works out, it will mean the world to Mama. The biggest problem is, really, that I’m spending all this money in the same week. And I haven’t given Larry Joe any ballpark figures on what all this is costing. How do you think I should broach the subject?”
&nb
sp; “Oh, I am relieved. I thought you were going to ask me a hard question. First off, don’t try to soft soap Larry Joe. He’s a lot like his dad and he always sees right through that. So just be up front. And secondly, your mama and Earl just paid our airfare, hotel, and most of our meals to go to Las Vegas. I realize it didn’t turn out to be a vacation, entirely. But it was still very generous. And I’ll be more than happy to point that out to my son if you need me to.”
“Thanks, and you’re right. Larry Joe tends to get more worried about what he thinks I’m not telling him, so I should just tell him the truth.”
“And, hon, I have a little savings account of my own, and I’d be glad to help with a special gift for your mama. Virginia is one of my dearest friends. Well, more than that, obviously. She’s family.”
“Aw, thank you, Miss Betty. You’re a sweetie. But I don’t need your money. It’s not like Larry Joe and I can’t afford this. It’s just . . . we generally try to budget ahead for more expensive things.”
“Would it be nosy of me to ask about this kind of expensive gift for your mama that’s not exactly a gift?”
“No. In fact I’m dying to share it with somebody. And you know all the parties involved, so you tell me if this is a harebrained idea.
“I phoned Emma after we got back, but haven’t had any luck getting her to come to the welcome home party. But she did get all excited when I told her about Little Junior’s budding career as an Elvis tribute artist, and started waxing nostalgic about memories of Little Junior when we were growing up.
“And today Holly told me the lead singer of the band we’ve hired for the party is out of commission and she was thinking about trying to engage the Elvis tribute artist who performed at the Class of ’Sixty-Eight Comeback Special—”
“And you thought you could hire Little Junior to perform instead,” she said, nearly springing out of her chair with excitement. “Liv, I think that’s an absolutely brilliant idea. It might be an enticement for Emma to come—and bring the grandkids. But even if she doesn’t come, I think your mama would be absolutely delighted to have Little Junior perform here. And it might be really nice for Little Junior, too, to get away for a few days after his recent troubles.”
“But I’m sure he’ll only be able to come if I pay his airfare, and it may be hard to find a good price on such short notice.”
“Don’t worry about any of that. We’ll chip in for his flight. And don’t call Emma back. Get Larry Joe to call Hobie. It’s not just about Emma coming; it would mean the world to your mama to see the grandchildren. Maybe if Hobie tells Emma he’s going to come to the reception and bring the kids with or without her, she’ll straighten up.
“Anyway, I’m so excited I can’t stand it. You need to get to work making it happen. Wayne and I are completely onboard, whether that old geezer knows it or not.”
I went to the office and got busy. First order of business was to call my recently exonerated cousin to see if he would come to Dixie.
“Hey, Little Junior. Your cousin Liv, here.”
“Hi, Liv. Have you heard from your mama?” he asked with sincere interest.
“No. But then she and Earl are honeymooning under big skies and away from cell towers. They’re supposed to arrive back in Dixie on Saturday, and Larry Joe and I are throwing a surprise welcome home party and wedding reception of sorts for them. That’s why I’m calling. I’d like to hire you to perform at the reception. I can only pay you two hundred dollars, plus airfare. But it would be a wonderful surprise for Mama—and it would be a real treat for family and friends who weren’t at the wedding to see you perform. What do you say?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes. Please.”
“I should really talk to Crystal about it.”
“Of course. And, while I can only afford your airfare, Crystal is certainly welcome to come.”
“Thanks, Liv. Let me get back to you after I talk to Crystal.”
“Okay. But I really need to know today. I have a live band booked, but if you can’t make it I’ll have to get another singer.”
I didn’t expect to hear an answer from Little Junior for a few hours. But he called back in less than thirty minutes and yes, he was coming to Dixie.
“But I won’t accept the two-hundred-dollar payment. Covering my airfare is more than generous of you,” he said. I told him I’d text him with the details as soon as I’d booked his flight.
I called Holly and told her about my grand scheme to get little sister to come to the party, and that she no longer needed to worry about finding a replacement singer.
“You don’t think the band will have an issue about working with my cousin the Elvis singer, do you?”
“Don’t worry, you just leave them to me,” Holly said with confidence.
“Do you have time to track down our best deal on airfare?”
“Consider it done. Good luck with getting Emma to the party. That’s one chore I wouldn’t even know how to attempt.”
“That makes two of us. But we’ll see what happens.”
I went back to the office and created e-mail invitations to send out. After tying up a few other loose ends, I went to the grocery store. I was going to tell Larry Joe the truth, straight up, but I thought he might digest it better on a full stomach.
I bought the ingredients to make meat loaf, one of my husband’s favorites.
Supper was just about ready when Larry Joe got home.
“Mmm, smells good, hon. And it’s meat loaf, my favorite,” he said with a Cheshire cat smile.
“What are you grinning about?”
“You don’t have to butter me up. Mama called. She told me to just pony up the money. And reminded me how lucky I am to have a wife like you, and that it’s not as if you’re spending the money on yourself. And that your mama and Earl have been good to us. And . . .”
“And . . . what else?”
“She’s absolutely right. I’m lucky to have you. And you’re pretty low maintenance—most of the time,” he said, taking a step forward, wrapping one arm around me, and pulling me close. Then, with the other arm, he reached past me and snitched a bite of meat loaf off the stove. I smacked his hand.
“And I thought I might have to use my feminine wiles on you. All these years, and I never knew all I had to do was talk to your mama.”
Larry Joe grabbed a beer from the fridge and I set our plates on the table and poured myself a glass of wine.
“It would still be okay with me if you wanted to unleash your feminine wiles on me after supper.”
“We’ll see. Did your mama also tell you that you’re supposed to call Hobie about coming to the party? Do you think that might help?”
“She did—and it couldn’t hurt. I think Mama’s right about it being easier to make headway with Hobie than with Emma. So I’ll give him a call tomorrow.”
“Great, and thanks, honey.”
“Liv, you know even with Little Junior coming and even if Hobie’s on board, your sister may not come around about your mama’s marriage to Earl, at least not for a few years. She’s stubborn.”
“I know, but I feel like we have to try. It would mean so much to Mama.”
“When are the great travelers supposed to get home?”
“Saturday. And I hate to admit it, but despite the fact she drives me crazy a lot of times, I’ve actually missed Mama. I can’t wait to hear her tales about the open road.”
“They’re not getting back until Saturday? Aren’t you cutting it close having the party the same day they get home?”
“Yes, I am. But if they’re home for a whole day there’s no way we can pull off a surprise. You know somebody in town would tell them about it.”
“Has your mama called?” Larry Joe asked.
“No, I didn’t really expect her to.”
“You should probably check in and make sure they don’t decide to extend their trip by a day or two. It would be a shame if the guests of honor didn’t sho
w up for their party.”
“Oh, no. That thought hadn’t entered my mind. I’ll go call her right now. I won’t be able to sleep until I know they’re making their way toward Tennessee.”
As I suspected, Earl was keeping to a strict schedule, and Mama said she couldn’t wait to get home to her own bed and her own kitchen.
Chapter Nineteen
On Saturday, we were working frantically to get everything ready for the party. Last we’d heard, Hobie was driving in with the kids, but he told Larry Joe that Emma was being pouty and noncommittal about coming. I didn’t have time to worry about her, but I was holding out hope.
Holly was making phone calls, double-checking on everything. My go-to guys, Harold and Kenny, were out at the farm, stringing lights and setting up the stage and sound system in the barn. I was running out to the farm to check on things between running other errands. And saying silent prayers that Mama and Earl didn’t get held up with engine trouble or a big accident on the highway somewhere.
Larry Joe was helping with hauling heavy things out to the barn in his truck, so Di had volunteered to drive to the Memphis airport to pick up my uncle and cousin. We stowed them and their suitcases at Earl’s farmhouse.
Di came out to the barn, where I was supervising setup to see if there was anything else she could do to help.
“No, I think we’re in good shape,” I said. “But if things start looking desperate I’ll send out an SOS.”
“Good deal,” she said. “What should I wear tonight?”
“Anything except that new green sundress,” I said, thinking how it might stir up old jealousies for Dave if he saw her in the same dress she’d been wearing when she got out of Jimmy’s car at the chapel that fateful night.
She gave me a quizzical look.
“I just mean I think most everyone will be dressed more casual tonight for the barn dance. Jeans and a tank top would be just fine,” I said.
* * *
Since the Winnebago wouldn’t fit in Mama’s driveway, Larry Joe had phoned Earl and arranged for us to meet them at the farm with Mama’s car. That way they could park the camper and drive back to Mama’s house. We had an ETA, but Earl said they would give us a call when they reached Memphis. This gave us the perfect opportunity to get them out to the farm without arousing their suspicions.
