by Fran Baker
Bonnie nodded, relaxing as he deftly dissolved the tension in her muscles. “I was so mad, I wanted to spit.”
“And I was so fed up with peach cobbler by the time the next contest rolled around, I was tempted to bribe the judges.” His long, gifted fingers found and relieved a knot at the base of her neck.
“I won the blue ribbon,” she reminded him proudly.
“But I got the best prize of all.” He bent over, his warm breath fanning her face. “And it was sweeter than anything those judges had ever sampled.”
“Help!” Dave stood on the back porch holding a bag of ice in each arm.
Luke opened the door, grabbed a dripping plastic sack and stored it in the kitchen freezer compartment. While Dave carried the second bag to the basement, Bonnie mopped up the puddles on the floor with paper towels.
“I saw Tom at the store,” Dave mentioned when he came upstairs. “He said that he and Sueanne would be here early to greet and seat the guests while we’re all getting ready for the ceremony.
“Did you tell him that we bought extra film yesterday for his camera?” Luke asked.
“I sure did.” Dave grabbed a piece of cold toast off the plate sitting in the center of the table. “I’ll go shower and shave now so the bathroom will be free whenever you are.’’
After the doors banged shut behind his little brother, Luke encircled Bonnie’s waist with his hands and she rested hers on his broad shoulders. In the most roundabout way possible, they’d finally arrived at the issue that remained unsettled between them. Easing into the truth, she delivered her good news first.
“I’m coming home, Luke,” she whispered. “This fall, after I’ve phased out my catering service in Manhattan.”
“Are you sure you can give up your business?” He lifted her chin with his index finger. “Now that I know how much—”
“I’m not going out of business,” she clarified. “I’m simply relocating.” She held his face between her palms, stroking the high planes of his cheekbones with her thumbs. “Until the other day, I hadn’t realized that Atlanta was undergoing such a corporate boom.”
“It’s got a case of the sprawls, all right,” he agreed. “Almost every major firm as well as a host of foreign companies has opened a branch here.”
“Well, corporations mean office parties, trade conventions, press breakfasts and such,” she explained. “Those are my favorite kind of catering assignments. Not only do the clients appreciate the quality, but they generally pay their bills when presented with them.”
“You can set up shop in my building, if you like.” Bending forward, he caressed her lips with his. “We might even work out an arrangement on the rent.”
“Actually, I was thinking of buying my own building.”
Her voice quivered with the delicious havoc his mouth was creating. “One story, perhaps, but with adequate space for a full-service gourmet kitchen and—”
He silenced her with a quick kiss. “You can worry about that later, after we’re married. Right now our main concern is setting a date, scheduling blood tests and arranging for a license.”
It was time for the bad news. Her heart pounded convulsively against her ribs and she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Luke, how does the idea of an October wedding strike you?”
“October?” he repeated, disbelief flaring in his eyes. “Frankly, it strikes me as one hell of a long and unnecessary wait.”
“It’s only five months or so,” she reasoned, “and we’ll both be busy, you with that shopping center project that you’ve bid on and me with—”
“What is it, Bonnie?” he demanded. “Why can’t we be married and busy at the same time?” His expression darkened ominously. “Or is this just a polite way of saying ‘So long, chump’ and skipping town on me again?”
She stiffened, hurt by his obvious mistrust, and freed herself from his embrace. “How can you even believe me capable of such a thing after what we’ve shared the past few days and nights?”
A faintly mocking smile touched his mouth. “Well, you aren’t exactly famous hereabouts for your farewell speeches.”
“Why is it that I’m supposed to forgive and forget, but you’re not?” she demanded. “Why do all the concessions have to come from me?” She whirled away from him, distraught. “Do you honestly think it was an easy decision for an eighteen-year-old girl to make, leaving her home and family...” Her voice broke then, but her posture was proud as she started toward the swinging doors.
He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Bonnie, wait—”
“No, Luke.” She pulled free of his grip and looked straight into his eyes before she left the kitchen. “I won’t fight with you about this—its too important to me. If you love me, you wait.”
Upstairs, Darlene was in a terrible dither. Wearing only her slip and pantyhose, she wandered into Bonnie’s bedroom with her arms outstretched like a scarecrow’s. “When I put my arms down I sweat,” she moaned miserably. “And I can’t get dressed until I fix my hair. But I put so much conditioner on after I shampooed that I can’t fix my hair.”
“Sit,” Bonnie commanded firmly after stepping out of the shower. She wrapped her own dripping hair in a thick towel, slipped into her robe and went to work transforming her cute kid sister into an utterly sensational bride.
“It’s a miracle,” Darlene marveled, staring at her starry-eyed reflection in the full-length mirror later. The very picture of old-fashioned loveliness, she wore a white crepe dress lavishly frosted with lace. Her shiny brown hair was pulled into a charming chignon at the nape of her neck, while a few loose wisps floated around her oval face. “I can’t believe it’s really me. For the first time in my life, I feel beautiful.”
“You are beautiful,” Bonnie insisted.
“So are you,” Darlene replied sincerely.
It was true, Bonnie admitted without vanity. Despite the scene with Luke, or perhaps because of it, her complexion glowed radiantly and her eyes sparkled with an extra brilliance. Her crepe dress, a soft, tiger-lily shade, clung to her shoulders while the kerchief hem flirted fashionably around her knees.
They posed for pictures, some silly and some serious.
“Thank you for the nightgown,” Darlene sniffled.
“You’re welcome.” Bonnie’s voice was equally shaky.
“And thank you for being the best friend any woman could have,” Darlene added tremulously.
They hugged each other very tightly then and dabbed at the tears only sisters can share.
Her expression puzzled, Sueanne hurried into the bedroom as fast as impending motherhood would allow.
“What, pray tell, am I supposed to do with all that food?”
“Leave it in the refrigerator,” Bonnie instructed.
“But the refrigerator is full,” Sueanne countered.
“Of course it is.” Bonnie turned her head, distracted by the noise. With the door open, she could hear that Uncle Ike had rosined up his fiddle bow for what she prayed would prove a wedding song of sorts. She also heard the voices. Male and female, laughing and talking louder than a convention of human buzz saws.
“You know how it is around here,” Sueanne explained with a shrug. “Everybody is just one big happy family. Luke and Dave are down there now glad-handing left and right.”
Darlene dashed to the window and peeked outside.
“Why, I’ll bet there’s thirty people lined up on the sidewalk!” she squealed. “And they’ve all brought covered dishes!” She swirled, skirt and hair flying, and clapped her hands. “Do you suppose they’ve come to give us a charivari?”
Bonnie crossed to the window and drew back the drape. Friends and neighbors she’d known all her life but hadn’t seen in years stood patiently in the sun. They’d come to pay their respects, she realized, and say a proper good-bye to the girls who’d grown up playing in the meadow.
She allowed herself a brief moment of shame for having forgotten the ways of her raising, then turned to
her excited sister with a smile. “Don’t quote me, but I think there’s one whale of a charivari taking shape today.”
Nervous giggling punctuated their last-minute flurry of preparations. Bonnie repinned her sister’s hair, anchoring it more securely this time. Darlene couldn’t find her shoes to save her soul. After five minutes of frantic searching, she located them where she’d left them—in a box on the floor of her closet. Sueanne lumbered up and down the stairs so often, Bonnie worried that she might well deliver her twins between progress reports.
Finally, the wedding hour arrived. Uncle Ike’s fiddle serenaded sweetly. Wildflower bouquets blossomed fragrantly. The guests sat or stood in quiet anticipation. Bonnie and Darlene descended the stairs, each to meet the man she loved.
Chapter 11
“For richer or for poorer,” the minister intoned solemnly.
Bonnie looked at Luke, standing across the semi-circle that the wedding party had formed in front of the fireplace. He cut a striking figure in a tropical-weight suit, custom-tailored to those incredible shoulders and his impressive stature. A starched and snowy shirt collar broke the tawny blend of face and fabric, accentuating the healthy hue of his skin and the bronzed thickness of his hair.
A wry smile curved her lips. When they’d eloped, he hadn’t even owned a suit. He’d worn a clean pair of jeans and a neatly pressed plaid shirt, while she’d let out the seams of her high school graduation dress to accommodate the weight she’d gained...
“In sickness and in health,” Darlene repeated distinctly.
Did Luke still suffer those awful hay fever attacks when the goldenrod flowered and the ragweed flew? Had he noticed the spidery white scar where she’d carved her hand instead of the Chateaubriand while catering an intimate dinner party one night last fall? Besides climbing scaffolds and playing a mean game of softball, what other kind of exercise kept him in such fine physical shape? Did he know that every evening, rain or shine, she slipped into her sneakers and walked from her shop to her small co-op apartment on the East side of Manhattan?
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Dave vowed gravely.
Bonnie’s head throbbed with memories. Sunlight glinting off gold whenever she’d hung their laundry to dry on the clothesline. Her girl friends cooing enviously when they would stop by to share the news of which college sorority they’d pledged. The compassionate nurse sliding her ring back onto her finger following the minor surgery which had dealt such a major blow to her ego.
Tears clouded her vision. What had happened to that plain gold band after she’d flung it in Luke’s face? She remembered hearing it hit the floor—the hollow clank had haunted her dreams off and on for years. Had he even bothered retrieving it, or had it just rolled into a corner and been swept away with her shattered hopes and the morning-after debris?
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister smiled indulgently. “You may kiss, if you’d like.”
When Dave and Darlene embraced, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Had everyone else here felt the same personal impact while listening to the wedding vows? Or were these simply tears of joy for two of their own, now one before God and man?
Bonnie glanced at Luke. Pride softened his chiseled features as he watched the newlyweds. He looked at her and their gazes locked. Her heart hammered expectantly, and her eyes asked but a single question. Before she could see the answer she sought in those darkly shadowed depths, Uncle Ike stepped between them and the reception got off to a foot-stomping start.
A crowd of well-wishers surged forward, further separating her from Luke. Bonnie shook hands all around, playing the role of hostess to the hilt while gradually working her way toward the kitchen. If anyone noticed the tremor in her voice or the lack of spirit in her smile, they were kind enough not to comment.
Precisely where she lost control of the intimate party that she’d arranged in honor of the bride and groom, Bonnie never really knew. Was it in the dining room, where she discovered Mrs. Painter defying the law of gravity in her stockinged feet atop a stepladder, cheerfully stringing purple and yellow crepe-paper streamers from the chandelier to the ceiling moldings?
“I saved these after the Easter egg roll on the church lawn,” the widow explained. “Never dreamed they’d come in so handy this soon.”
“I’ll bet the doctor who operated on your knees would have a coronary if he could see you right now,” Bonnie scolded, hoping the threat struck a little terror where it would do the most good.
Mrs. Painter seemed to give the matter careful consideration before she sniffed haughtily. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Bonnie steadied the ladder while the feisty widow slapped a piece of tape across a streamer. “Please,” the younger woman implored, imagining nothing less than total disaster, “let me help.”
“Okay,” the white-haired wonder agreed, “go organize that crew of casserole queens and leave me alone. I’d like to get done with this before I meet my Maker.”
In the kitchen, Bonnie acknowledged that the small reception she’d planned for Dave and Darlene was indeed a thing of the past.
A kettle of large white hominy bubbled on the stove beside a pot of fresh green beans flavored with salt pork. In a huge flat willow basket her potato rolls—baked to a delicate brown—nestled with crispy hush puppies, golden slabs of cornbread and thick slices of buttermilk bread.
Cinnamon-rich peach cobblers, tame gooseberry pies and bowls of carrot pudding shared counter space with the chocolate wedding cake that she’d created. And the platter of brisket she’d prepared ahead of time sat in the center of the formica table surrounded by other serving dishes piled high with fried chicken and sugar-cured ham.
Sueanne had tied a butcher-block apron over her slate-blue maternity smock, kicked off her sensibly heeled sandals and taken charge of the kitchen patrol. She spread her arms wide, blew a russet wisp of hair off her damp forehead and smiled. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think I’ve been sabotaged,” Bonnie teased.
“Roundly and soundly,” Sueanne confirmed.
Bonnie plucked a watermelon pickle off a relish tray and plopped the crunchy cube into her mouth. “This room looks like an emergency relief center.”
“Like I said earlier, you know how it is around here.” Sueanne selected a crisp cucumber spear from the same tray. “Money is scarce, but friends are sacred.”
On the verge of tears for the umpteenth time that week, Bonnie could only nod in agreement She walked to the sink and stared out the window, thinking of all the brutally lonely holidays she’d spent in strangers’ kitchens. Without a husband or family and with no close friends to speak of, she’d always been available for the assignments that other caterers refused because they wanted to be home for the celebration.
She had overworked herself on purpose, funneling every ounce of energy into a business that had eventually become the core of her very existence. What a price she had paid, nurturing profit margins as a substitute for the child she had lost and letting money take the place of love.
Sueanne shooed everyone else out of the kitchen, then stood beside Bonnie at the sink “You and Luke were always such perfectionists,” she mused quietly. “Even as kids, neither of you ever seemed satisfied with second-best.”
“Darlene called me the original golden girl the other day, but somehow it didn’t seem like much of a compliment,” Bonnie admitted in a whisper. “I wonder if she had a nickname for Luke?”
“Well, my daddy generally referred to the two of you as thoroughbreds.” Sueanne laughed softly. “I remember one night Tom and I were sitting in my folks’ kitchen when you and Luke stopped by after softball practice. The four of us made lemonade from scratch and used up all my mother’s sugar—”
“You and I were juniors in high school that spring,” Bonnie reminisced. “Luke was captain of his college team, and I was their unofficial cheerleader and scorekeeper.”
Sueanne nodded, obviously pleased that Bonni
e recalled the occasion. “My daddy joined us for a while and was so impressed, listening while Luke talked about how someday he was going to build bridges all over the world. Then you chimed in and described the tea shop that you intended to open in downtown Atlanta.” She chuckled. “Of course, you were also going to marry each other, own the biggest home in the Southeast and raise ten kids in your spare time.”
“We didn’t miss realizing our professional pipe dreams by much,” Bonnie murmured. Her eyes brimming with tears, she tore a paper towel off the roll and used it to blot them. “We fell a little short of our personal goals, though.”
“Darn! I brought this up to make a point and instead I’ve made you cry.” Sueanne rapped a fist on the edge of the sink. “I’m sorry.
“Don’t be—I want to hear what you have to say.” Bonnie managed a watery but convincing smile. “You can’t possibly be any harsher than I’ve been on myself. And the same is probably true of Luke.”
“What I’ve been leading up to is, in all the ways that count both of you were well-prepared for success.” Sueanne arched an auburn eyebrow, looking wise beyond her years. “It was failure that caught the two of you off-guard.”
“And how,” Bonnie agreed wryly.
“If you’re going to homestead, girls, build a fence.” Mrs. Painter shoved open the swinging doors and stormed into the kitchen. “In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a party of hungry people out there.” The “casserole queens” she’d referred to earlier marched in behind her and began taking the food into the dining room.
“Sueanne.” Bonnie stopped her friend in passing. “Did your dad really call me a thoroughbred?”
“He sure did,” Sueanne affirmed, picking up a plate of molasses cookies to carry out to the table. “He used to say, ‘Give Bonnie enough steel wool and she’ll knit a stove.’”
“Was that before or after the time I talked you into bleaching your hair and it turned orange?” Bonnie took her pesto salad from the refrigerator and stirred it, then garnished it with tomato wedges.
