Mother of the Bride (10 page)

Gus barely had time to get to his feet before Bebe flung herself at him. He caught her around the waist with his left arm and the back of his chair in his right hand to keep her momentum from knocking them over. He had to swing her halfway around to do it, looked over the top of her red head and saw Cydney Parrish gazing at him. Gus wasn't sure if the tilt of her chin meant she didn't believe him or she didn't trust him.

“You don't approve, Cydney?”

“Offering Tall Pines is a lovely gesture.” She let go of her cup and tucked her hands in her lap. “Bebe clearly loves the idea. The decision is hers and Aldo's, of course, but I think Crooked Possum is too small and too far off the beaten track. We need a florist and a caterer, and it would be nice if the wedding guests had a prayer of finding the place.”

“I only care about Mother, Uncle Cyd.” Bebe turned and faced her aunt. “If she'll be stuck in Crooked Possum I'll be happy.”

“I'm sure you can find everything you need in Branson,” Gus said. “It's quite a booming little metropolis since country music came to town, and it's only a fifty-mile drive.” Each way, but Gus decided not to mention that. “An easy trip.”

If you're a mountain goat,
his inner voice said.
Have you no shame, Munroe?
Absolutely none, Gus realized. And no scruples, either. He'd sell his soul to the devil if he hadn't already sold it to his publisher.

“And Branson is, what?” Cydney asked. “Two hundred miles from Kansas City? A wedding can't be planned long distance, Mr. Munroe, and we only have eleven days.”

“Gus. So come to Tall Pines as soon as you need to.”

Cydney arched an eyebrow. “Would tomorrow be convenient?”

“Tomorrow's fine. I'll have your rooms ready.”

“Mr. Munroe.” She rose from her chair, shaking her head as she started gathering dishes. “You're not being practical. Aldo and Bebe have classes here in Kansas City.”

“School's not a problem, Uncle Cyd,” Bebe said. “Aldo and I have mostly lectures this semester. We've talked to our professors and we've decided to wait till summer to take our honeymoon.”

“Oh,” Cydney said. Dismayed for all of five seconds, then she said “Oh,” again, brightly, and gave Gus a smug look. “That's very
mature
of you and Aldo, but I see more problems than pluses with having your wedding in the middle of the Ozark wilderness.”

“Branson is hardly wilderness, Cydney,” Georgette said. “You were there last summer and you raved about the shops and boutiques.”

“I was a tourist, Mother. I bought crafts and gifts. I wasn't buying a wedding gown.”

“I
have
my dress, Aunt Cydney. Gramma bought it for me today. And my shoes and my veil.”

“That's three things, Bebe. Three.” Cydney held up as many fingers. “We have decorations and candles to buy—a million things. We know exactly where to find everything we need in Kansas City and we don't have to drive fifty miles to order the wedding cake.”

“Tall Pines is
perfect,”
Bebe said stubbornly, squaring off on her aunt over the corner of the table. “And it's
my
wedding.”

“And Aldo's,” Gus threw in, but no one paid any attention to him.

Not even Aldo, who was plowing through his carrot cake, oblivious to the snit Bebe was working herself into. She stood glaring at her aunt, who glared right back at her. Amazing, Gus thought. My plan is working already. He'd meant to cause dissention between Aldo and Bebe. Nothing major, just mix things up enough to pull their heads out of the clouds. Create a snag or two to make them realize they were planning a life together, not just a big party with cake and punch and nuts—provided by the Parrish family—for all their friends, but this squabble between Bebe and Cydney might work just as well. Get the whole family into it.

“Yes, Bebe, it's your wedding. And I admit Tall Pines sounds wonderfully romantic.” Cydney finished stacking
plates. “But I have a business to run and clients who depend on me.”

“I depend on you, too!” Bebe's lip protruded and started to tremble. “I can't get married without you, Uncle Cyd!”

“If you get married in Kansas City you won't have to.”

“That's blackmail, Cydney,” Georgette said severely.

“It's the truth. I have to work to support myself and Bebe.”

“You're forgetting something.” Georgette rose and started gathering dishes at her end of the table. “In twelve days Bebe will be married and it will be Aldo's responsibility to take care of her.”

“I know that.” So Cydney claimed, but the quick, caught-short blink she gave her mother suggested that maybe she'd forgotten. Or had yet to accept it. “But if I don't take care of my clients, someone else will.”

“So let someone else. You don't need to work sixty hours a week. You need time to finish that book you've been writing for ten years.”

“Five years, Mother. It's
only five
years.”

“Your father has written four books in that time,” Georgette said. Slackard, Gus thought. He'd written six and the screenplay for
Dead Calm,
his fifth best-seller. “How many chapters have you written?”

“This isn't about me, Mother.” Cydney ducked Gus a flustered, discomfited look. This was more than she wanted him to know about her and she didn't like it. “It's about Bebe and Aldo's wedding.”

“I didn't bring you and your clients into this conversation, Cydney.
You
did.”

“Yes, to make a point. Don't take this the wrong way, Bebe.” She glanced at her niece, then faced her mother. “It's not fair to expect me to put my life on hold because Bebe wants to get married the second Gwen steps off the plane from Moscow.”

“Of course it's not fair, but since you've put your life on hold for Bebe for the last five years, what's another twelve days?”

“Twelve days isn't the issue, it's the principle,” Cydney retorted, her jaw set and fire in her eyes. The same blaze Gus
had seen there last night when she'd told him to shove the codicil to Artie's will where the sun don't shine. “And I still think Crooked Possum is too small, too far away and too hard to find.”

“It doesn't matter what you think.” Georgette stopped gathering dishes and looked down the length of the table at her daughter. “Let Bebe have her wedding at Tall Pines or on the moon or wherever she wants and let's all work together to make it a beautiful, memorable day.”

“And don't worry, Uncle Cyd.” Aldo finished the last of his cake and his milk and picked up his napkin. “Tall Pines is big enough that you won't have to see my Uncle Gus unless you want to.”

In mid-wipe of his mouth, Aldo froze, an oh-m'God-what-did-I-say glaze in his eyes. Something he shouldn't have, Gus surmised, by the brilliant flush that shot all the way to Cydney Parrish's hairline. Well, wasn't this a kick in the pants?
He
was the reason she didn't want to come to Tall Pines.

“Aldo's absolutely right,” Gus agreed. “I'm in my office most of the time. You'll have the run of the place. Carte blanche to do whatever you need for the wedding. I won't get in your way.”

“All right. I know when I'm beat.” Cydney sighed exasper-atedly. “But don't blame me if the caterer can't find Crooked Possum.”

“Then it's settled,” Georgette said. “Bebe. You and Aldo will be married at Tall Pines.”

“Oh thank you, Gramma! Thank you, Uncle Cyd!” Bebe flung herself at her aunt, catching her around the neck in a fierce hug that jerked her chin up and locked her eyes on Gus.

He smiled at her. His headache was pounding—and his temper right along with it—but he was determined to keep smiling even if he popped a blood vessel. Cydney Parrish flushed again, ducked his gaze and slipped out of her niece's headlock.

“Oh Aldo!” Bebe clapped her hands together. “I'm so happy!”

“Me, too, Beebs.” He grinned and rose to catch her as she
danced around the table and into his arms, with remarkable grace in spite of the air boot on her ankle.

Gus watched Cydney Parrish stack dishes on a tray she'd taken off the sideboard. When she went to pick it up, he beat her to the handles.

“Let me help you,” he said.

“No thank you,” she said coldly. “You've done quite enough.”

Then she yanked the tray from him and stalked into the kitchen.

“Don't mind Cydney,” Georgette said, in a low voice at Gus' elbow as she came around the table, folding napkins as she gathered them. “It's tough to be the only girl in the family who isn't getting married.”

“I'll take your word for it,” Gus said, and she laughed.

“I've been saying no to Herb Baker for years,” Georgette went on, “but I said yes Sunday, so here we are all of a sudden with three brides in the family. Bebe and I, and Gwen is supposed to marry some prince she picked up in Russia. I'd feel left out, too, if I were Cydney.” She folded the last of the napkins—since they were soiled, Gus had no idea why—and smiled. “It was very nice of you to bring Bebe flowers. And very forgiving after what happened last night.”

Gus glanced through the spindles on the half wall that separated the dining room from the kitchen. Cydney Parrish stood with her back to him rinsing dishes, in a cloud of steam that fogged the window and a halo of light cast by the round neon fixture she'd switched on. He hadn't seen the chrysanthemums he'd bought her since he'd fallen on them and she'd peeled them off the ground. She'd probably thrown them away.

“I don't hold grudges. I wanted Bebe to know that,” he said to Georgette. “So I can expect you all tomorrow?”

“I think Thursday will be time enough. Give us a day to pack and get organized. I'd like to bring my fiance, Herb, with us, if you don't mind. I'm sure we'll need an extra pair of hands.”

“He's welcome. If you have a fax machine I'll send you a map to Crooked Possum and Tall Pines.”

“Lovely.” She touched his arm and smiled. “I'll give you my card.”

Gus ducked into the living room to collect his jacket from the couch. When he came back, Aldo and Bebe were cemented in a lip-lock worthy of Super Glue. He cleared his throat and they broke apart.

“Don't worry, Uncle Gus.” Aldo grinned and caught Bebe's hand as he turned around. “I won't get lost coming home this time.”

For the last time, Gus thought, hiding the pang he felt behind a smile. “Just in case, oh mighty Pathfinder, I'm faxing Georgette a map.”

“Here's the number,” she said, handing Gus a gray linen card.

“I'll send the map tomorrow.” Gus slipped the card into his wallet and the wallet into his jacket pocket. “And I'll see you all on Thursday.”

“We'll walk you out, Uncle Gus.” Aldo fished his keys from his pocket and slung his arm around Bebe. “We're gonna cruise in the Jag.”

“I should be off as well.” Georgette hooked her purse over her shoulder and glanced into the kitchen. “Need some help, Cydney?”

“Not now, Mother. I'm nearly finished.” She shut off the water, crossed the kitchen and opened the top freezer compartment of the refrigerator. She took out a filled ice bag, an old-fashioned blue rubber one with a screw-on cap, brought it to Gus and handed it to him.

“For your nose,” she said to him, then to Bebe, “Eleven-thirty, please. I'll be waiting up.”

“Yes, Uncle Cyd,” she replied in a weary singsong. “Eleven-thirty.”

“Thank you for this.” Gus gave Cydney a nod and the ice bag a toss on his palm. “And your hospitality.”

“You're welcome. Good night, Mr. Munroe,” she said curtly, then walked back to the sink and turned on the water.

chapter

ten

It took Gus twenty minutes after he left Cydney Parrish's house to find a Quik Trip that sold gas and road maps. He bought a Kansas City street guide and leaned against the right front fender tracing his way to the interstate while the Jag guzzled a tankful of super unleaded premium under a neon-lit aluminum canopy.

His ankles were crossed, his half lenses sitting almost straight on his not-so-swollen nose. A fuzzy moth swooping around the lights took a kamikaze dive into the map. Gus brushed it off, remembered the moth he'd wanted to pluck out of Cydney's hair last night and scowled.

Who did she think she was? Asking him if he knew what he was doing, muttering into her teacup at dinner, “That's not all you need.”

She hadn't a clue what he needed. Neither did Gus now that Aldo was getting married, other than a giant-size thumb to plug the hole in his life. He'd known Aldo would leave home someday; he just hadn't expected it this soon. Maybe he should have, but he hadn't. He felt lost and abandoned and had no one to blame for it but himself.

When the pump shut off, he went inside to pay for the gas and the map. A plastic vase full of peach-colored roses— $1.99 each—sat by the cash register. Gus glared at them. He should be glad in all the talk of brides and weddings that Cydney Parrish had thrown the mums away without telling her mother he'd brought her flowers, too, but he wasn't. He was annoyed as hell.

He bought a dozen roses, had the clerk wrap the dripping
stems in waxed paper sheets from the donut case, stalked out to the car and drove back to Cydney's house.

The only vehicle in the driveway was her blue Jeep Cherokee, the back window fogged with dew. Good. It was just the two of them. Gus got out of the Jag with the roses, shut the door and looked at the house.