Buzzkill (Pecan Bayou Series) (16 page)

“What time will
you be here?”

“We should be
there in about three hours,” he said, “and Betsy, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? You
mean like a wedding gift?” I was a little amazed that he thought getting his
new bride a wedding gift would be a surprise.

“Not just any wedding
gift. Probably the all-time world’s best wedding gift ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

I wondered if
the home weather forecasting kit I had for him in the back of my closet was
going to measure up to the world’s best gift … ever.

Aunt Maggie,
Danny, Zach and I stopped by the community church to meet up with Myrtle Richey
to hear the song she would be singing at the wedding tomorrow. I know it was
last-minute, and I was willing to trust her, but Mr. Andre insisted we
double-check on her choice of music. He was already waiting in the parking lot,
sitting in his pearly white Lexus. My whole body ached, and I was feeling close
to exhaustion already. I clung to the thought that maybe the load would be
lifted somewhat when Leo joined me in all of this. He would be by my side
tonight at the rehearsal dinner, and I looked forward to waking up with him on
Sunday morning, free of all of this marital mayhem.

As we stood in
the back of the musty church, Myrtle was standing at the front, her hands clasped
at her bosom. She hit a high note as her hand rested on the shoulder of a
middle-aged woman pounding out vocal warm-up exercises on the organ. The
woman’s hair was done up in a bouffant style that looked fresh from the Hair
House. I could recognize Ruby’s work from a mile away. As she plunked down the
notes, a single strand of hair fell down into her eyes and wobbled back and
forth as she moved along the keyboard.

“Well, she
certainly is loud. I’ll give her that,” Mr. Andre said.

I hadn’t really
thought about what kind of music would be played during the ceremony. Myrtle
also sang selected pieces for the Mother’s Day Luncheon and was a yearly
spectacle as she stood atop her husband’s furniture store float in the
Christmas parade. This year she’d sung “Santa Baby” into a sound system that
consisted of a speaker tied to the roof of a garishly decorated pickup truck.
With that image now in my mind, I began to feel a little nervous about what she
had picked for us. She had excitedly chattered on the phone that her vocal
styling would reflect on how Leo and I met. Seeing as she loved the fact that
we met at a paranormal ghost hunt, I was half worried she would blurt out, “Who
you gonna call? Ghostbusters!”

Myrtle looked up
as we walked down the aisle and immediately stopped singing, leaving her high
note hanging in the air. She moved her hands up to the side of her rounded face
as the joy of our arrival seeped out of her. “Good, you’re here at last,” she
said. “We’re so glad you decided on us. I’m sure whoever Mr. Andre would have
suggested would have been great, but I’m doing this for free, out of the
goodness of my heart. I always say stay local and let us have the opportunity
to make this your best wedding ever.”

She stopped,
realizing this wasn’t my first wedding. She spoke again, this time in a quieter
voice. “We’ve been so excited to share this with you, honey. I think it’s
probably the most special wedding arrangement I’ve ever put together for
somebody.” She looked down at the organist and patted her shoulder. Don’t you
agree, Irma Jean?” Irma Jean nodded as she blew on the piece of hair that had
slipped out and pulled the stray strand back into her bouffant.

“Well, that’s
good to hear,” I said. “We had no idea that planning a wedding would involve so
many mishaps and problems. Knowing that our song is safe and sound with you
really helps.”

“Oh, yes. I
heard about that,” Myrtle said. “Let’s face it – everybody in town has heard
about it.”

“I threw my jar
out,” Irma Jean said.

“A terrible
thing. You couldn’t have known that you were whipping up pure acid. Poor
Prissy,” Myrtle said.

“You just better
hope Nancy Olin doesn’t sue,” Irma Jean said.

“Tell me about
it, sweetie,” Mr. Andre added.

I tried to
change the subject. “So, about the song?”

“Okay.” Myrtle clapped
her hands together in delight. “Because you’re marrying a weatherman, we’ve
decided on this little number.” She cocked her head to Irma Jean. “Hit it,
Irma.”

Irma Jean rolled
off a glissando and started into a sultry version of “Stormy Weather.” Myrtle
started to strut back and forth letting her hand trail along the top of the
piano like a torch singer.

“Don’t know why,
there’s no sun up in the sky, stormy weather …”

Aunt Maggie
stifled a giggle. “Oh my, Betsy. You’re going to need to wear red, that’s all I
can say.” Danny backed up and sat stupefied in the pew. He was entranced by
Myrtle’s version of a torch singer. Zach put his hands over his ears and shut
his eyes.

I wondered if it
was too late to book a DJ.

“Good Lord,” Mr.
Andre said. He ran back to his briefcase and pulled out a piece of sheet music.
He plopped it in front of Irma Jean at the organ. “Can you play this?”

“Well,
certainly,” she said, focusing her bifocals on the music.

“Trumpet
Voluntary? This is all instrumental. But what about me?” Myrtle whimpered.

“Hum along,” Mr.
Andre answered.

A voice yelled
out from the back of the church, “Is Pastor Green here?”

We turned to see
Yancey Fischer, his face red from exertion.

“I think he’s in
the back,” Myrtle said, still perturbed. “What’s the matter, Yancey?”

“It’s Morton. He
needs the last rites or final blessing or whatever it is that you do. He’s
dying.”

“He’s dying?
What happened to him?” Aunt Maggie said as Myrtle clomped her sensible shoes to
the back of the church to find Pastor Green.

“I found him at
his house,” Yancey said. “He had been reading his Bible, and somebody stabbed
him. When I got to him he was still conscious, so he’s on his way to the
hospital. He couldn’t speak, but he really wanted me to have this.” He pulled a
small black Bible out of his coat pocket. “He just kept pointing to the passage
he had highlighted.”

Yancey Fischer
held up the page for all of us to see. Pastor Green came closer to the book and
adjusted his glasses farther down his nose.

“This is most
confusing,” he said. “He has highlighted the story of Jacob and Esau. Genesis
27, verse 23.”

“Sorry, Pastor.
It’s been a while since I been to Sunday School,” said Yancey. “Why would he
mark that? Is this about me and him?”

“No,” began the
pastor, “well, maybe. It
is
about two brothers. One puts on an animal
fur to trick his father into giving an inheritance to him instead of the
rightful heir.”

“What? That
can’t be right,” Yancey said. “Listen, Pastor Green, sometimes he can be a
self-righteous dumb cluck, but we’ve never even come to blows over anything.”

Aunt Maggie put
her hand on Yancey’s arm. “I’m sure you didn’t. He was probably just reading
through that passage when he was attacked. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“He’s absolutely
right. Why don’t you head to the hospital and we can lock up here,” Myrtle
said.

“Thank you so
much, Mrs. Richey,” said Pastor Green. “I hope it’s not too much of an
imposition?”

“Consider it
done.” Mr. Andre said.

Pastor Green and
Yancey started walking toward the door.

“Not to be
indelicate, Mr. Fischer,” called Mr. Andre after them, “but will you still be
having the reception for Prissy tomorrow? There’s nothing as terrible as a
bride off her schedule. I know I shouldn’t even ask, but I was her wedding
planner once.”

Yancey Fischer
focused on Mr. Andre as if coming out of a bad dream. “I don’t know. I’ll see
what I can do to get some extra help tomorrow,” he sighed. “Sure … I mean of
course, I don’t want to disappoint the Olins and the mayor’s family on our
first day.” He broke into a sob. “Even if Morty doesn’t live to see it.”

Maggie stepped
in front of me. “Let’s not speak too much of this in front of …” she nodded
toward Danny.

“You’re probably
right,” I said. “We need to finish.”

“Yes, we do,”
Mr. Andre said as Irma Jean started pounding out the Trumpet Voluntary.

My father raised
his wine glass. “Cheers to the bride and groom. May their lives always be
filled with happiness and good barbecue.”

After leaving
the church, I barely had time to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. Leo and
Tyler were already waiting at the house, and Leo’s mother had arrived from
Galveston. After a short rehearsal at the church, mainly because the
Olin/Obermeyer party was waiting in the vestibule, we gathered at the Bayou Restaurant.

I had only spent
time with Gwynn Fitzpatrick on a handful of holidays, so I was still
understandably nervous around her. She was a high school science teacher, and
just listening to her talk I could see where Leo developed his own fascination
with the science of weather. Growing up on the island of Galveston, they had
seen their share of hurricanes. Leo’s father had passed away before we met.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick was an attractive older woman with grayish-blond hair that
fell to her neck. She had warm blue eyes that reminded me of Leo. After Leo’s
dad died, Gwyn hadn’t seemed interested in dating anyone new. I think it would
take quite a guy to replace him.

The crowd
gathered around the pushed-together tables at the Bayou Restaurant as they
raised their glasses towards us. Leo reached over and put his hand over mine
and whispered into my ear, nuzzling my neck.

“Don’t forget, I
still have to give you your surprise.”

I laughed as his
lips tickled my neck. “I’m beginning to think it won’t be that much of a
surprise,” I replied as I pulled him closer.

Mark leaned
over, flashing his network smile. “Oh, trust me, Betsy, it’s going to be a
surprise.”

“You know, too?”
I said. “I know I didn’t see Leo dragging in any little silver boxes from the
jewelry store. As a matter of fact, I didn’t see you bring anything.”

“Just be
patient. The best is yet to come,” Mark said.

This, of course,
set me on a different train of thought. What did he have that was such a big
surprise for me? My curiosity was piqued.

“For once, my
dear daughter, you just need to sit back and enjoy,” said my dad. Did he know,
too? Now I wondered just how many people at the table were in on Leo’s gift.

“Betsy, Leo
tells me you had a bee incident up here,” Gwynn said. “Was this man an
experienced beekeeper?”

“Yes he was.”

“Glad you
brought that up,” Leo said. “What do you know about bees and pheromones, Mom?”

“Alarm
pheromones are released when a bee stings another animal,” she said. “Other
bees are attracted, and they behave defensively, stinging or charging the
animal.”

“Would you
happen to know if this pheromone has an odor to it?” I asked.

“Um, it sounds
funny,” she said, “but they say it smells like bananas.”

“Martha said she
added the scent of roses to her calamine, but I couldn’t really place what it
smelled like,” I told Leo.

“You could have
been smelling the mixture of the two scents.”

Here we were,
about to get married, and we were talking about a grisly death. We hadn’t even
started to discuss Morton, my second pre-wedding death. It couldn’t be a good
omen for our life together. I felt the exhaustion starting to sweep over me in
my moment of contemplation.

“Betsy?” Leo had
been watching me.

I forced a
smile. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

I bit my bottom
lip. “Yeah. Just tired from everything going on. You know.”

He nodded. “You
sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”
His eyes met mine, seeking a last bit of reassurance.

I glanced over
at my father, who was listening attentively to Danny telling him about
something. If there ever was a man comfortable in his own skin, it was my
father. He laughed out loud as Danny came to the end of his story. Now that I
had been around my mother, I couldn’t imagine him with her. Had they once felt
the way Leo and I were feeling? They were like two incompatible parts, and yet
they made it work long enough to create me. I wondered why my dad, like Leo’s
mom, had never remarried. For him it had been a lot longer than a few years.
But for all that, he seemed happy, content even. In less than 24 hours Leo and
I would be married. My life, Zach’s life, would change forever.

“So Betsy,”
Rocky said, “have you-all decided where you’re going to be living?”

“I guess,” I
said, “but we haven’t put a contract on a house. Until we do, Zach and I will
be living with Leo and Tyler in their apartment in Dallas.”

“You know I
really hate to hear that, Betsy. I have to say, working with you has been an
experience.” He took a sip of his wine. “It also doesn’t hurt that you seem to
be a magnet for murder in this town. Just when the Gazette gets into a sales slump,
I can count on you to trip over a body somewhere in town. You’re like
clockwork.”

“Oh my, Leo.
Life for you will never be dull,” Leo’s mother said.

Leo leaned back
and put his arm around me and sighed. “Let’s just hope that part of her life is
over.”

A burst of wind
hit up against the windows of the Bayou Restaurant. Across the way, the new
floodlights that the Fischer Brothers had put up at Chateau Fischer swayed
slightly in the wind. I thought back to Morton.

“Don’t worry,
Betsy,” said Leo. “This system will hopefully clear out if another one doesn’t
pile on it.”