The Real Thing

by Tina Ann Forkner

  I wondered if, like me, Peyton hated cleaning up cotton balls and nail clippings, but loved the gossip.

  Marta pointed to where she’d taped a newspaper clipping on the wall. She recited by heart. “It was a sweet twist to see the pretty flower girl wear the veil instead of the bride.”

  “How sweet!”

  “You know I had to read that to the customers, don’t you? They bragged on her till she was pink as these counter tops.”

  “Did she get embarrassed?” Even a simple comment from me about anything in front of her friends could splotch her cheeks pink. The time I tried to wipe a smudge on her chin? I didn’t even want to think about it.

  “She didn’t look up the whole time,” Marta said. “But I’ll tell you what, she couldn’t keep that smile from her face either. I think that veil was magical.”

  “Me, too,” I said, remembering how the gauzy fabric hanging from the pearled hat had worked like a curtain hanging between her and the wedding. It was a feel happy hat and veil. Maybe it’d been just what she needed.

  Marta smiled. “She told me she felt like a princess.”

  “A cowgirl princess,” I said with a smile. “It’s such a shame she doesn’t want to be a rodeo queen. That’s one way in which I wouldn’t mind her being like her mother. Can you imagine the outfits we could dress her in?”

  “It’s a crying shame,” Marta agreed. “So, anyway, let’s don’t talk about the ex-wife when I’m trying to talk about your wedding. I was saying, while those ladies prattled on about how beautiful Peyton was at the wedding, Esther just had to bring up that slip.”

  “The slip?”

  “The slip!”

  “Just great.” I could only imagine the conversation. Peyton would have been mortified to have everyone talking about that.

  “You know what Peyton said?”

  “There’s no telling.” I was dying to know.

  But before Marta could answer, Peyton walked into the shop, flushed and out of breath. She pulled little Stevie by the hand and carried that maddening purple phone in her other. I pulled my eyes away from the purple glare, and glanced at the clock. I was still on Hawaii time and didn’t realize school was already out for the day.

  Peyton narrowed her eyes at me. Had she overheard us talking about her? And the day had started out so well!

  I greeted them both with a smile, hoping for the best. Much to my shock and delight, Peyton smiled, whatever had been bothering her suddenly gone.

  Stevie exclaimed, “Sissy picked me up from school and we walked all the way here!”

  In Castle Orchard, all the way here was a short walk past Bill’s Barber Shop with the red and white striped pole in front, past May’s Sweets with all those delectable cupcakes in the window, past the candy shop, past the Mayor’s office, past the flag pole, past the Magnolia Plate Diner, with its gleaming silver booths and a tree across the street sporting Magnolia blooms really as big as a plate, past the post office, and then to The Southern Pair.

  Since I was having my nails done, Aunt Marta sat both of them down on barstools at the counter and popped the tabs on two canned root beers.

  “I was just telling Manda about the slip.” She said the slip, like it was a juicy bit of gossip. I studied Peyton’s face to see if Marta had brought on one of Peyton’s adolescent pouts, but her eyes sparkled. Today promised to be a good day for her. Thank heaven for small favors.

  “Oh that,” Peyton said, letting go with a giggle that bounced around the empty shop. I wished she would laugh that way for just me, just once.

  I also would’ve liked world peace and a sweetener that tasted like real sugar.

  “I’ll let you tell it,” Marta said, plunging my fingertips into a sudsy solution.

  “How did they know about the slip?” I asked.

  “Oh, boy,” said Peyton. “You should have heard ole Esther. Of course, there was no way your missing slip was missed by these gossipy grandmas. I mean, even I saw the sun shining right through your dress.”

  I almost pulled my fingers away from Marta, but she tut-tutted for me to be still.

  “Don’t worry,” Peyton assured. “I kept moving over to block the sun from shining through your dress, but the preacher kept moving me back.”

  “How sweet of you.” I exclaimed. “The preacher should’ve left you alone.”

  Marta shook her head and I envied the way she could so easily relate to Peyton. “Isn’t that just like a grownup, Peach? Always telling you where you belong.”

  “Exactly,” Peyton said. “I’m fourteen, almost fifteen, but nobody notices, right?”

  I wanted to tell her that nobody noticed because she didn’t always act like it, but then I remembered she acted exactly like a fourteen-year-old. It was part of the problem I had with her, but nothing I could do about that. Not really her fault, I reminded myself.

  “So,” Peyton said, stretching out the word until she had my attention. “Esther said the neatest thing about your slip.”

  “Esther is a gossip.”

  “She is, but just listen,” Marta said. “This is the best part.”

  Peyton held her fingers in the air and pretended to hold the slip between her finger and thumb, much like I recall doing in the orchard on my wedding day.

  “All those ladies said they heard the slip was still hanging in the tree, but Esther said…” And she mimicked old Esther’s voice perfectly. “Most definitely not, ladies. I can assure you those big black crows took it to their nests.” Peyton’s face was all smiles and my heart swelled that sweet old Esther managed to take the embarrassment out of the moment for Peyton. “And then she said, ‘I saw those crows flying over the wedding two-by-two with it in their beaks like in Cinderella.’”

  And I could imagine it as well—those crows conspiring to get rid of the sad slip for me.

  “I think she’s right,” I said.

  Marta had already finished my nails, so I slipped my fingertips underneath the drying light, its blue warmth hardening the polish while we chatted about all the fun Peyton and Marta had.

  When I announced that the kids and I had to go home, Marta put up her hands to stop us.

  “Hold on! We’ve got something for you, Mandy.” Marta clicked over to the reception counter and pulled out a box wrapped in what could only be called the pinkest of the pinks.

  “Peyton helped pick it out.”

  Lifting the lid of the box, I gingerly pulled a full slip out and spread it over the pink Formica countertop. Immediately a rush of happiness surrounded me. This had to be a happily-ever-after slip. We all three marveled at the swath of white silk.

  “Shiny!” Exclaimed little Stephen.

  “Don’t climb on the counter, Stevie.”

  “It looks like a silky dress,” Peyton said in awe as she ran her finger along the tiny edge of lace. “And not for an old lady.” Our eyes met, and I accepted the apology in hers for the old lady slip comment she’d made back in the orchard on my wedding day.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I said. When I saw the price on the tag, I gasped. “Marta. This costs way too much for a little slip.”

  Marta grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped off the tag. “You did not see that!” She patted my hand. “It’s like the ladies told Peyton. A good slip can last for a lifetime, so no price is too high when a bride is starting over, right, Peyton?”

  “Yep. Esther said, ‘It might be able to last a lifetime, but it’s only good for the life of one marriage.’”

  I stifled a laugh, thankful again for Esther’s candor.

  “Well Esther should know,” I said. “She’s been through three slips herself.”

  Marta gave me a knowing glance and even Peyton smiled, obviously forgetting how she had wondered if the old slip was her mother’s on my wedding day. We were all giggling like hyenas about that slip when the bell rang and the door flew open. We’d forgotten to flip the sign.

  The woman who walked in, fake eyelashes glancing around the room, asked, “Excuse
me. Do y’all know where in this town I can find that bronco-riding Keith Black?”

  I shot Marta a look that said, “Obsessed fan.”

  Marta shot me one that said, “Rodeo queen.”

  Chapter Three

  Marta and I were still relatively young at thirty-one, but we both gawked at the much younger-than-us, striking, blonde woman standing in the doorway with her sleek physique. She wore a pretty jeweled t-shirt, high-waist denim shorts, and tall cowgirl boots and looked just like she’d stepped out of a country song, just like in the song by that country duo Maddie and Tae.

  Then another Taylor Swift wannabe, if Taylor was a young black woman in cowgirl boots, walked in and stood beside her fair-headed counterpart. She wore a cute summer dress so short that I wondered if it was a shirt and she just forgot to wear her pants.

  Marta and I shared a glance. Definitely rodeo queens. Not that all queens were like these, but there are always a few if you know what I mean…

  Marta shaded her eyes for a moment to tell me their smiles were unnaturally white and too bright.

  “So, you girls know him?” the blonde asked.

  Peyton started to speak, but I placed my hand on her arm. This wouldn’t be the first time random tourists, particularly young women, had walked in looking for Keith. Normally, rodeo fans were a pretty decent bunch, but every now and then men like Keith got fans showing up because he tipped his hat to them as he walked by and they took it as a personal invitation to visit his hometown.

  “Most of our customers are women,” I said. “He doesn’t come here.”

  “Really?” The blonde looked confused. “Because he told us his fiancé and her sister owned a place where we could get the best manicure in Tennessee.” She held out her hands to show us her already-perfectly-manicured hands.

  “And,” the other woman said, “he said they could help me find an old-fashioned present for my Grandma’s birthday—something to make her feel the way she used to feel before she got sick. We were just passing through and thought we’d stop.”

  Now, that changed things. This was business. Marta and I both started talking at once.

  “Not his fiancé anymore,” Marta said. “Meet Keith’s wife.”

  “Oh,” the fair one said.

  She looked hurt, which was strange, right? I looked at Peyton to see if she recognized either one of them, but she obviously didn’t, since she wore a narrow-eyed expression aimed at the women.

  “Well, congratulations,” the blonde said, seeming to gather her bearings. “I’ve been traveling a lot. I’m surprised my momma didn’t at least mention Keith finally got married, again.”

  I hated how she said the word again. Did she have to remind me that I was the second wife? I mean, it should be called first as long as the previous wife is alive. Keith was not a widow, as far as we knew, and it had always seemed to me that the first and second wife labels should be switched in cases of divorce.

  Marta and I exchanged the raised-eyebrow look.

  “I’m Adrienne,” the queen continued. “But call me Adri.”

  “And I’m Jordynn.” The other queen held out her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Adri and Jordynn.” I offered my most dazzling smile, the one that makes people offer up their deepest secrets once we’ve convinced them to choose a color that would improve their mood. Marta wore the exact same smile.

  “And you must be Stevie,” Adri said, shaking his little hand and moving on to Peyton.

  Peyton stared. “You know my dad?”

  “You betcha,” Adri said. “My big brothers and sister went to school with him.”

  “So, did you know my mom, too?”

  Adri’s eyes flicked in my direction, then back to Peyton. “A little. I was practically a little girl back then, but I always thought she was an amazing horsewoman and one of the nicest people I ever knew.”

  Peyton’s face flushed with pride and excitement. “You knew her, too?” she asked Jordynn.

  “I knew of her,” Jordynn said. “I wanted to be like her when I was little.”

  “Have y’all heard from her?” Peyton asked.

  Adri nearly choked with surprise. “No, honey. We haven’t heard from her,” she said, while Jordynn focused an undue amount of attention it seemed on the toes of her boots.

  Strange.

  “Oh.” Peyton cast me a look. Blame? Or a cry for help? I couldn’t tell.

  “So,” I said, interjecting before Peyton could ask more inappropriate questions. “Marta has a knack for doing the most adorable nails on rodeo queens.”

  “So does Manda,” Marta said. “Don’t let her fool you, but she is much better at creating beautiful things.” She motioned toward the furniture and other merchandise in the store.

  “Would you have time for nails?” Adri asked.

  “Let’s see if we can squeeze you two in.” I looked up from the appointment book. “You are rodeo queens, right?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “It shows,” Marta said.

  Jordynn’s hand flew to a loose ringlet of hair.

  “But in a good way.” I assured.

  “Well, what other way is there?” Jordynn sashayed over and sat down in one of the chairs without being asked. Adri followed. Marta and I examined their nails, as if we were doctors examining a rash or a wound, and in many ways we were. Nail doctors, so to speak, and heart doctors, too. We make nails beautiful and then we comfort hearts with the mementos we sell.

  “What rodeos are you girls queens of?” I’d met so many.

  “Pillar Bluff,” Adri said. “I’m the reigning queen, and Jordynn’s the lady-in-waiting.”

  “Oh, so y’all are just a hop, skip, and a jump from here.”

  “That’s right,” Adri said with a sigh. “And it’s just as hot here as it is in Pillar Bluff. How are we going to make it through the summer?”

  “With air conditioning,” I said. “Peyton, would you mind turning up the AC, please?”

  Peyton, the doll that she was when she wanted to be, turned up the AC and produced cans of Coke from the fridge, kindly handing them to the queens while I discreetly stuffed the almost forgotten silky slip back into its package. I gave Peyton an extra squeeze, not caring that she wriggled away, before I let her and Stevie walk to Daddy’s. It wasn’t far if they cut through the orchard side of the farm. Marta could have handled both manicures, but since these gorgeous women knew my husband and his ex, yet I had never heard of them, I wanted to stay. Before either of them knew what had happened, they were wearing big smiles and Marta and I were filing their nails and plying them with questions.

  “So, I guess y’all are twins?” Adri asked, stating the obvious.

  Why do people ask that all the time?

  “How could you tell?” I said, chuckling.

  “Y’all are beautiful,” Jordynn said and Adri chimed in her agreement.

  Right then, whether I wanted to or not, I kind of liked them both.

  “So, you’re coming to Pillar Bluff to watch Keith ride tomorrow, right?” Adri asked.

  “Of course, she is,” Marta said.

  “Of course, I am.” I gave Marta a reproachful look. She was always trying to speak for me. Of course, I had to admit it went both ways.

  “Oh, good.” Adri explained. “Maybe we can all hang out. There’s a dinner. All the queens are invited. I’m so excited. So many cowboys. Can you both come?”

  “Your fiancé one of them?” Marta asked.

  Adri had removed her ring and stowed it safely in her purse before her manicure, but not before I’d gotten a good look at it. At least she was taken, not that I really thought Keith’s head could be turned. Jordynn’s pretty ring finger was free of jewelry.

  “He owns the stables over in Pillar Bluff,” Adri said. “Lots of people board their horses there. So, yes, he’s a cowboy, but he gave up bronc riding.”

  I tried not to let my envy show on my face. I knew it wasn’t fair to have been attracted to my husba
nd’s fearlessness when I met him, only to wish he would quit riding the rodeo after our wedding.

  “I only wish I had a cowboy,” Jordynn said. “But I’m footloose and fancy-free, as they say.”

  “Me, too, honey,” Marta said.

  After their nails were bright and hard with shellac, I started pulling things from the shelves that Jordyn’s grandmother might like. Jordynn had shared that before her grandmother was sick, she’d loved to work in her garden, so I collected an assortment of garden-related items, all vintage and repurposed by me to become comforting decorations on someone’s mantle or windowsill. Jordynn gasped when she saw a spade that I’d painted yellow and decorated with a spray of dried lavender, thanking me profusely for finding something she just knew would make her grandmother smile.

  “So, we’ll look for you at the rodeo in Pillar Bluff,” Adri said. She was standing in front of me, her shiny hair swooping angelically around her tanned shoulders. She could obviously ride a horse and her knot wasn’t tied yet. And, technically, she wasn’t at all a little girl, but I shook away my silly thoughts. I was married to my own cowboy.

  No reason to be jealous of this little girl.

  “You can bet your boots on it,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

  “Oh, and—” she said. “I’m sorry if I upset your daughter.”

  I smiled at her use of the word daughter. It made me feel all warm and sappy, like a real mom might feel.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Even though she was only nine when it happened, naturally, she still misses Violet.”

  Adri looked sad. “It surprised everybody in my family when Violet disappeared, and even more when Keith got those divorce papers served to him. Your husband’s family and mine have always been good friends. It just didn’t seem like something Violet would do, you know?”

  She looked at me, waited for a response, and then blushed a rosy red.

  “Oh, gosh,” she said. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t be saying anything to you.” Adri looked like she wanted to say more, but she shook her head.

  “Hey,” I said. “Let’s grab a drink in Pillar Bluff this week.” I had a feeling there was more to talk about. While I didn’t want to dwell on the past, if Adri knew something that might help me to navigate being part of Keith’s family, then getting to know her might be helpful. Plus, I couldn’t help but like her just a little.