George dropped his chin to his chest and muttered. I couldn’t tell if he was praying or swearing. “The bore holes, Pastor. The. Bore. Holes.”
“He’s right, Hugh!” Dewey said. I guess one good turn deserved another. “We bore holes at different spots around the basement, and we can see them coming!”
I looked from one to the other and then at the other men. George and Dewey slapped one another on the back, and the rest of my merry men went back to being oblivious. “How does that help us, guys? So, we can peek out a hole bored into the wall and see someone coming. Why don’t we just go upstairs and look out a window? Why do we need an underground fortress?”
“That’s downright silly, Hugh,” Dewey said. “How would we shoot ’em if they could see us?”
“Shoot them? Now we’re shooting them?”
It seemed that George had wearied of my stupidity. “Listen, Hugh, and listen good. We bore holes in the walls around the room. We look out those holes. We see the enemy. We shoot ’em. Simple.”
“But how can you …”
“You put the gun barrel into the same hole you saw ’em through and shoot,” he said.
“What? You’d be looking out at ground level. You gonna shoot ’em in the ankle? Besides, once you take your eye away from the hole, you’re shooting blindly.” I couldn’t believe I was arguing with two senior citizens about shooting terrorists in the ankle from our church basement, through holes bored in the walls, no less. “Guys, this just isn’t going to work, and it doesn’t make any sense, anyway. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”
George and Dewey harrumphed and walked over to a corner to talk about me behind my back. I know that because they talked so loudly, I’m surprised Mel couldn’t hear them at the inn. While they did their best to hurt my feelings, the rest of the men and I agreed to meet at Sadie’s the next morning to plan our next move.
The men filed past me to the stairway that leads to the sanctuary. “What time are we meeting?” I said to no one in particular.
Pastor Parry spoke for the rest of them. “Seven o’clock, Hugh.”
Just to make sure I didn’t pull anything shady like I had that morning, Leo stopped in front of me, took his pipe out of his mouth, pointed the stem at me, and said, “Sharp!”
I gave him a thumbs-up. One by one, they traipsed up the stairs. I could hear them as they entered the sanctuary then stomped their way up the aisle to the foyer and out the front door.
Alone at last, I closed my eyes and lowered my head. “Lord,” I prayed, “thank You for putting these men in my life. I don’t know if You meant them as a blessing or a punishment, but they’re doing a good job at both, so either way, Your will is being done.” I thought for a moment then continued. “Father, I don’t know what Your plan is by having the president in our midst, but please keep a close eye on all of us. And finally, if it’s Your will, could you give me some idea of what, if anything, You want me to do? Is there something in particular you have planned for me or the president or anyone else in Road’s End as a result of his visit? In Jesus’s name, I pray. Amen.”
I felt lighter, as I always do when I pray, but still in the dark. I didn’t know if that was because the Lord wasn’t ready yet to let me in on His plan or that one of the men turned off the basement light on the way up. Thanks, guys. I smiled when I realized if we had windows down here, I wouldn’t be in the dark.
But then someone would want to install cannons.
Chapter 17
Sadly, things were not going well on the home front. Melanie is a whiz at making the best use of her time when planning an event, but since she had no time to plan this one, she and Mandy were scrambling to put everything into the nuptials they wanted now and, as I was soon to learn, anything they might regret not putting into it.
I pulled out two chairs from the kitchen table and sat. Mel poured us each a cup of coffee and sat down in hers—the chair, not the coffee—with a sigh.
I raised my mug to my lips and blew on the coffee, “You okay?”
She took a sip before answering. “Ouch. It’s hot. Be careful. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired and in shock.”
“In shock because of the president or because you’ve been working with the fine ladies of Road’s End?”
She set her cup on the table and ran her finger around the edge. “Both, I guess. It’s certainly a challenge to work with Sadie and Ruby Mae and Winnie and Martha on anything at all, but on something this important?” She shook her head then looked at me and smiled. “But I’ll make it through.”
I appreciated her optimism, but I had my doubts. Sadie was in charge of baking and decorating the wedding cake and all the other confectionary delights we’d be serving at the reception. Ruby Mae was, as she now referred to herself, the Head Presidential Wedding Dressmaker. Never mind that this was in no way a presidential wedding. The president was a guest only, not a participant, and would no doubt make himself as invisible as possible once he crossed over into the Road’s End Zone. At least he would if Special Agent Ross MacElroy had anything to say about it. But we both knew nothing would dissuade Ruby Mae from making the very most of her duties. I only hoped the dress didn’t turn out anything like the hats she created and wore every day of her life.
Winnie and Martha had taken charge of decorations and food, respectively. All this help from the kind women of our little town meant one thing: Mel would have to work harder than ever to avert disaster. Although Mel would never admit it, I knew working with these ladies had to be akin to working with four argumentative, spoiled, vocal, three-year-old children in need of a nap. They all meant well, but they were also as headstrong as the men I’d just met with in the church basement.
Sadly, Mel and I, Mandy and Jonathan, Stuart Thomas Rogers and Special Agent MacElroy were in a world of hurt.
Mel leaned back in her chair. “Today, Mandy and I went over our regret list.”
“The RSVPs?”
“No, that’s taken care of. As far as I know, most everyone we invited is coming, aside from the boys, of course. Anyway, we call the things we’ll wish we’d done, but didn’t, our regret list.”
“I don’t get.” Frankly, I rarely get it.
“That’s okay. It’s a woman thing. We’re thinking of aspects of the wedding we might someday wish we’d done, but missed.”
I still didn’t get it. “How do you know what you’ll regret in the future?”
“You project,” she said. “You know, as in making projections. We look ahead and try to figure out where you’ll be in five years. Ten years. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.”
No, I didn’t know, but I imagined I would soon. “Enlighten me, dear.”
“It’s not that difficult, Hugh,” she said as if speaking to a dimwitted monkey about to tackle Banana Peeling 101. “We put ourselves, mentally, into the future and look back to see what regrets we’ll have.”
“You can do that?”
“Of course, we can do that. Don’t you?”
I sighed. “Mel, I have enough trouble dealing with instantaneous regrets without projecting into the future to conjure up some new ones. Why would you do that?”
“To help us plan, dear,” she said, patting me on the arm. “It’s not that difficult, and it’s not that unusual. Don’t you ever ask yourself what’s the worst thing that can happen if you do something?”
I cocked my head sideways and gave her that we live in Road’s End, remember? look then nodded.
She grinned. “Then you know what I mean. Women like to mull these things over before making any earth-shattering decisions.”
“Like what color mints we should serve?”
“Ha ha. No. I’m serious here. No woman wants to plan her wedding without thinking about what’s truly important to her. For instance, what if Mandy had decided to be married in a church and rent a hall for the reception in Richmond and years later wished she’d asked us if they could have it here?”
“You mean save he
r parents all this last-minute trouble of having the President of the United States visiting our town? No Secret Service detail nosing around? No worrying about our crazy neighbors bringing down the government?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, well, something like that.”
After a few minutes of sipping coffee, I asked, “What else were you up to today? And where’s Mandy?”
Mel set her mug down and stood to reach for the coffeepot. She held it up in my direction; I nodded, and she refilled our cups. “Well, I can answer both questions with one word, no make that two. Ruby Mae.”
“Gotcha. Is Mandy all right?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. Gave herself a headache trying not to scream, I think, so I sent her upstairs to rest. To be honest, though, the dress is going to be magnificent. It’s just that Ruby Mae never, ever stops talking.” She poured cream into her coffee and looked up at me. “I can’t believe it, Hugh. Our little girl is getting married.” She started to tear up, and I started to panic.
I have to admit that in the wake of Mandy’s announcement that STR was Jonathan’s uncle, I’d put the thought of Mandy becoming a married woman on the back burner. It blew back into my mind like a dust devil, twirling and sucking up my other problems into one big bunch of turmoil.
“I think I’ve been avoiding that thought,” I said. “Let’s face it. In spite of all this other stuff going on, the most important thing is Mandy’s wedding and her being happy. I hate saying this, but I hope we like Jonathan.”
Mel shrugged. “I know.” She wiped the tears away. “I’ve thought about that, too, but if Mandy loves him, I’m sure we will, too. After all, what bigger surprise could she spring on us than what she already has?”
If we’d only known.
Chapter 18
Time passed in a blur of preparations—anticipation for Melanie and Mandy, and disaster prevention for guess who. The wedding was in two days. Jonathan was scheduled to arrive in Road’s End during the afternoon, and Mandy was understandably anxious to have her bridegroom in the general vicinity. But she seemed jumpier than usual.
When I mentioned it to Mel that morning before going downstairs, she hugged me and said, “It’s just a simple case of pre-wedding jitters, Hugh. Don’t you remember being nervous before our wedding?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, as I returned her hug, “but the minute I knew you’d actually shown up at the church, I was fine.”
“You thought I wouldn’t come to my own wedding?”
“It wasn’t your part of the wedding I was worried about. It was the me part. I was afraid you’d figure me out for the fool I am before I had a chance to trap you into a lifetime of marriage.”
She grinned that dazzling smile of hers and said, “You mean you were a fool because you wanted to marry me?”
“No, you goof. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” she said, giving me a pat on the back. “You’re right. You can be a fool.”
“Thanks. You think that’s all it is? Jitters? Because she seems pretty darned skittish to me,” I said. “You know, we haven’t met this Jonathan guy. What if he’s got two heads or wears his hair in a ducktail and rides up on a Harley dressed in a black leather jacket with chains hanging down all over the place?”
“A Harley dressed in a black leather jacket and chains? Doesn’t seem very plausible, does it?”
“Okay, I said that wrong.”
“And two heads? How’s that work?” she pressed on.
“Isn’t the fact that he has two heads bad enough?”
“Well, yeah, it would be if it were true.” She poked me in the chest. “No, I’m wondering how he wears his hair on the second head. Ducktail? Mohawk? Bald?”
I sighed and plunked down on the side of the bed. “Now you’re just plain scaring me.”
She sat beside me and reached over to take my hand. “Think of it this way. Anything less than two heads with ducktails or Mohawks and a Harley wearing black leather will be a definite improvement. Right?”
I thought about that for a second. She was right. I nodded and grinned at her. “You always have a way of making me feel better, don’t you? How do you do that?”
“It’s a gift,” she said, standing up and placing my hand back in my lap with a little pat. “It’s a gift.”
“I still think there’s more to Mandy’s nerves than pre-wedding jitters,” I said. “Just to be on the safe side, I’m going to keep my eye out for him.”
Mel laughed. “And do what? Check for two heads?”
I squeezed her arm. “Well, if he has two heads, that’ll make him just that much smarter—I hope. Naw, I’m keeping an eye out for him because I want that Harley.”
Mandy took three steps, turned around, took three steps, turned around. Even being the largest at the inn, the Peacefield Room wasn’t that big and assorted pieces of luggage stacked on the floor didn’t leave a lot of room for pacing. She’d done her best to walk out her nervousness for the past fifteen minutes but still felt sick to her stomach.
This was the day of reckoning. In just an hour or two, her parents would meet Jonathan. That in itself was fine; they’d fall in love with him as she had. He was a true gentleman, gifted with a sense of humor and high intelligence. They’d recognize those qualities in him immediately, just as she had. She was confident they’d know he was the right husband for their daughter a mere two minutes after meeting him.
But it wasn’t what they’d know that bothered her at the moment; it was what they didn’t know, what they had no way of knowing.
What they’d find out today.
Jonathan Sterling wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand then gripped the steering wheel of his rental car and drummed his fingers. Ten more miles. He glanced at the odometer. Make that nine. Mandy was right about this place being in the middle of nowhere.
He glanced in the rearview mirror at his son. Tanner was almost four years old and thrilled to pieces to look out the window from his car seat at the landscape sliding by.
“Yook, Daddy! Cows!”
Jonathan looked to his left. “Those are horses, Tanner. Good spotting, though. Cows are squattier …” Squattier? Was that a word? “… and fatter. Keep looking. You’ll find one.”
He couldn’t help smiling at the interest Tanner showed lately in plants and animals in their natural habitat. His son knew what dogs and cats looked like, but farm animals, or anything wild for that matter, were found only in his books at home. Must be Mandy. She loved the country, too. He looked around. Couldn’t blame her for that. The countryside was an explosion of color. Trees that lined the road wore their garments of green. Wildflowers dotted the fields. Mandy was right. Virginia was beautiful.
“Now when we get there, Tanner, I want you to be the most polite little boy you know how to be, okay?”
“’Kay, Daddy,” Tanner said. “No running in the house and no howweween.” Tanner’s hollering came out sounding more like Halloween.
Jonathan grinned. “That’s right, Tanner. What else?”
Tanner thought for a moment, his little eyes squinted to facilitate figuring out the answer to this serious question. Then he brightened. “Say pwease and t’ank you. Say ’scuse me if I bup or walk in fwont of someone. Don’t intewupt.”
“Very good, Tanner,” Jonathan said. “I’m proud of you. Now remember, there will be a lot of grownups at the wedding but probably no other kids. I know it’ll be hard to be good all that time, but I’m counting on you to be on your best behavior.” Jonathan stretched his right arm behind him and twisted his hand palm upward. “Deal? Gimme five!”
Tanner grinned, leaned over, and smacked his dad’s palm. “Dewew!”
With another five miles of highway behind them, and no cows in sight, Jonathan added one last request. “Tanner, be sure to be nice to Mandy’s mom and dad, okay?”
“Gwampa and Gwamma!”
“That’s right, Tanner.”
“What’ll they call me?”
J
onathan laughed. “They’ll call you Tanner, silly.”
Tanner giggled. “I’m not Tanner Silly. I’m just Tanner.”
“Okay, then, little man. They’ll call you Just Tanner.”
“No! Tanner!”
“My name’s not Tanner,” Jonathan teased. “I’m Daddy!”
His son giggled again and delivered the line Jonathan was so used to hearing ever since his little boy had heard the old joke. “Just don’t call me yate for dinner, Daddy!”
“That’s right, big guy. You don’t ever wanna be late for dinner!”
Chapter 19
Special Agent Ross MacElroy’s stomach felt like a scorpion colony had taken up residence. He reached into his pocket for the bottle of antacids. Gone. Great. That meant another trip to the drug store. The pharmacist already thought he was selling them on the street corner. Maybe he’d just stop by the closest convenience store and avoid the squinty-eyed stare and puckering lips of the pharmacist and the lady behind the counter at his usual place.
He’d tackled much riskier missions than the one staring him in the face; heck, he helped stop an assassination attempt on STR the year before. But there was something about the quiet, innocent-looking village of Road’s End, Virginia, that screamed, You’ll be sorry. Just you wait. He felt it, all right; he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Stuart Thomas Rogers had certainly faced crowds of disappointed voters during the first three years of his inaugural term—Christians, for the most part—and Ross was sure the president could handle the senior citizens of a small town that could claim only one road going both in and out. Talk about remote. No, those feisty senior citizens might hurt STR’s feelings, but they certainly couldn’t hurt him physically. And let’s face it, how much could they possibly know about current events or what was good for them or the country? Tucked away in that nearly invisible cluster of ancient stores, eighteenth-century homes, and one small historic church, they couldn’t possibly have the slightest clue what was going on in today’s world. After all, how savvy could a group of people in their seventies and eighties be? Didn’t they have their day? Hadn’t they already passed their years of influence, of having their say? Sure, they had a right to live a good life and all, but to mold public opinion and grab the ear of the POTUS? Ludicrous.
Faux Pas (A Road's End Mishap Book 2) Page 10
