Pink Champagne (2 page)

He could’ve gone sailing with his dad and brother that weekend, but there’d be plenty other weekends for that. It was good to get away sometimes. Besides, Caleb was all for doing his part to keep distance between his cousin and Adia. And he’d never been to Virginia before that weekend. Tagging along had been the right decision for more reasons than one. He thought of the one glimpse he’d gotten of the bride’s face when she’d turned around and told them there would be no wedding.
Angry, scared, or maybe both, but still beautiful.
She’d made him forget all about whatever it was he’d been checking on his phone.

Good thing she was all the way up here in Virginia and he lived in Georgia. That kind of beauty could make him forget about his strike against relationships. And that was not the kind of thing it would be smart to forget. Like he told his mama every time she started hinting around about who was eligible and whose daughter needed a date to her niece’s debutante ball and all that other nonsense, women were nothing but trouble. He planned on steering clear of them for
awhile
. Well actually, he told Mama he was “focusing on his studies.” Mama Fletcher-Smith didn’t tolerate insubordination, after all, and he avoided picking a fight with that woman when at all possible.

He stood, stretched, and checked his pocket to make sure the key for the rental car was still there. After taking a last look around, he walked out of the glass door at the back of the church. Blinking against the late afternoon sunshine, he looked toward the parking lot at the side of the church. It was almost empty now, but a few people stood in groups, talking and laughing.

Time to get over to the community center. With any luck, he would at least get to meet this Quenby. After all, looking never hurt anyone, and he sure enjoyed looking at her.

He followed the GPS lady’s instructions to a subdivision a few miles away from the church. A concrete sign with brick pillars on either side of it was on his right as he turned onto the road that led into the community. Harper’s Row was written on the sign in large, burgundy script.

He drove slowly past the cookie-cutter, two story,
Colonial
style houses. Spying a small parking lot in front of a square, brick building at the back of the subdivision, he pulled in and parked. He got out of the car and hit the “lock” button on the remote. He looked around at the few cars scattered in the parking lot. He didn’t know anybody, and it was going to be kind of hard to just blend in with the crowd with so few people there. He had two options: go inside and shuffle around, making small talk with strangers until Macon showed up or wander around outside for a while.

Option two seemed more appealing. He preferred being outdoors whenever possible. He started whistling the melody to a song that kept coming on the radio recently—he couldn’t remember the name of it, but it seemed like that song was everywhere those days—and headed for the back of the building.

He almost collided with a woman coming out of the building. She wore what seemed to be a caterer’s uniform—black pants, a white blouse, and a black vest and bowtie. She was barking into her phone while tugging at her hair and seemed not to notice him at first.

“Whoa. Sorry about that,” he said, grabbing her shoulder to steady her.

She seemed annoyed until she looked up at his face. Then she smiled. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked. She seemed pretty stressed out.

“We’ve got it under control.” She nodded to a white van at the other end of the parking lot. Two people dressed similarly to her were shouting at each other and struggling with a stainless steel chafer.

“You sure about that?” he asked as one of them almost dropped an end of the chafer.

She looked over at the two and rolled her eyes. “Temps. Hard to find good help on short notice, you know?”

“I really don’t mind helping.”

“I can’t put a guest to work,” she said, turning her adoring gaze back to him.

He nodded in the direction of the two catering staff members. “Let’s get over there before somebody gets hurt.”

“Okay.” She laughed.

He led the way over to the van while asking her about the catering company. He was only casually interested in her answers until she told him
the company was owned by Quenby’s mother
.

Chapter 3

Her mother had asked her almost daily if she was sure about the pink champagne. Each time, Quenby said yes. She didn’t care if it wasn’t “traditional” or what her mother considered “wedding appropriate.” Quenby had to have it.

She and her friends turned the reception into a Freedom Party. Quenby wasn’t letting a good party go to waste. Her friends had asked a thousand times if she was sure. They seemed to think maybe she needed to go home and let the shock wear off or something. There was no shock. She was fine. Going home and sulking would mean that Derek had won. No way was she letting that happen.

Indigo made the announcement about the Freedom Party at the church to everyone still there after the debacle. She told them the wedding was off, but they were invited to Quenby’s bash. Quenby had taken her hair down so that it fell over her shoulders in soft curls. She’d changed into the dress she’d bought for after the reception—a sleek, black number that showed off the shoulders she and the personal trainer at her gym worked so hard on—and headed over to the Freedom Party with her mom and Talitha.

Her mom disappeared as soon as they got there—she’d probably gone to yell at her caterers for something. She did that when she was stressed out.

Macon and Indigo came up to her and Talitha soon after they walked in the door of the community building. They seemed to come from nowhere. Quenby poured herself a glass of pink champagne while they peppered her with questions.

“Quen? Are you okay? You really sure you want to do this?” Macon asked, putting a hand on Quenby’s arm and one on the side of her face like she had a fever or something.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Quenby nodded. “I’m just sorry you guys came all the way here for nothing.” Macon had come from Georgia and Talitha, her third bridesmaid, had come down from D.C. for the wedding.

“Are you kidding me? Don’t even say things like that,” Talitha said.

“Yeah. We came to be with you, and we’re doing that. Wedding or not.” Macon rubbed her shoulder.

Quenby nodded and gazed around the room. The cement-walled building was divided into two main spaces—a multi-purpose room and a kitchen. Not much to look at ordinarily, but with the flowers, candles, ribbons, and other decorations Quenby, her friends, and her family had spent the day and half the night before putting in place had transformed the place.

The DJ set up in a corner of the multi-purpose room. Her mom’s catering crew had set out a buffet-style dinner.
 
Why not? Everyone was already there, everything was already cooked, and there was a whole lot of food that would go to waste otherwise.
 

“Quen, have you had anything to eat yet?” Indigo asked.

“Not hungry.” Quenby sipped from a flute full of pink champagne.

“Quen, you need to slow down on the champagne.” Indigo raised her eyebrows as Quenby took another sip.

This was only her third glass. Yeah, on an empty stomach, but so what? “I guess we had a pretty good turn out for this, considering.” Quenby looked around the room. None of Derek’s guests had showed—not surprising. A few dozen of Quenby’s guests were there, though. Everyone looked kind of somber. It seemed like they didn’t know they were supposed to be partying. And when people came up to her, they seemed not to know what to say. They probably didn’t feel like they could offer congratulations to her. But they should have. She had plenty to celebrate. She’d regained her common sense and barely escaped a lifetime of misery.

Indigo said, “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. We could call it all off. You know I have no problem telling these people to go home. Most of ‘em just came here for a free plate anyway. You know Uncle Jessee did.” Indigo and Quenby waved to Indigo’s uncle. He nodded to them, mouth full of fried shrimp, and waved back.

Quenby snorted, waving her glass of champagne around as she made a gesture showing that she wasn’t concerned. “The only thing wrong is these people aren’t having a good time. The D.J. needs to pick up the pace or something. Once we start really having a party, everything will be fine. I’m gonna go talk to him right now.”

Quenby went to the D.J.’s table. While she was talking to him, and telling him what songs she wanted him to play, Adia walked into the room.

“Well. What the hell?” Quenby murmured.

“Huh?” the D.J. said.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. She walked over to Adia and asked him, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to make peace with you,” he said.

“I thought you weren’t coming to my wedding,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. A little champagne splashed out of her glass and dribbled over her fingers, but she ignored it.

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “I wasn’t. But, uh, Macon told me what happened. So I decided to show up for your freedom party. Figured we could talk.”

“Huh. Really. Macon called you?”

“She sent me a message.” He tapped the face of his phone, which rested on his hip in a belt clip, with his thumb.

“Let’s go out there for a minute,” Quenby nodded toward the small hallway that connected the main hall of the community center to the kitchen. She called over her shoulder to the D.J. “I’ll be back. In the meantime, get these people dancing.”

They walked to the hallway. She leaned against the wall and took a sip of her champagne. He was taller than Quenby, which was impressive considering she wasn’t all that short, and she was wearing heels. He looked down at her with that gorgeous, angular face that got him way too much play for his own good. His thick, dark hair, olive green eyes, and Italian ancestry gave him a male model prettiness that just wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, Quenby,” he said.

“Which part of it are you sorry for? What you did to Macon? Generally being an idiot, or
?...
” She took another sip. She’d refilled her glass generously when they passed the table full of pink champagne bottles on their way through the “party” room.

“All of it, but especially Derek and what he did to you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but—”

“He’s a jerk. Better to know now than once it was all legal.” Quenby stared up at him. “But you’re right. I’m not ready to hear it yet, ‘kay? This morning, I had plans to spend forever with that jerk.”

“Thank goodness you dodged that.”

“I wasn’t being smart, okay?” Remembering all of the doubts she’d pushed aside about marrying Derek in those last months, she wondered what was wrong with her. Had she been so desperate to find “the one,” she’d tried to force him to be it even though he clearly didn’t want to be? “Fine. I was being the worst kind of idiot. Happy?”

Adia brushed tears from the corners of her eyes. “Hey. Don’t you
start.
I’ll have to hunt him down and give him the fist in the nose he deserves if you do.”

She laughed. “Always trying to rescue me from my bad choices, huh?” In college, Adia had broken a guy’s nose for spreading rumors about Quenby.

“Somebody’s gotta do it.” He grinned. “So am I forgiven?”

“Have you asked Macon that yet?”

His grin faded. “All of us know that was a mistake.
A bad, bad mistake.
I’ve been trying to make up to both of you for that for a long time.”

Quenby shook her head. She’d warned them their relationship would only lead to trouble. And she’d been right. He could get girls to drop at his feet anywhere any time. Why did he have to go into their group of friends, causing drama?

“Macon came after me,” Adia said as if reading her mind. “Remember?”

“Just don’t do anything like that again.”

“Deal. Forgiven?”

She smiled. “Sure. And thanks.
For today.
I might’ve gone through with it if not for you.”

“Of course.” He hugged her. “Now let’s go dance.”

After dancing and mingling for a while, Quenby wanted to be outside by herself. Get some fresh air and clear her head. She grabbed half a bottle of champagne and headed outdoors.

The community building was at the back of a small subdivision, near the woods. It faced out onto a small artificial pond. The early evening sun shimmered off its surface, adding a little gold to the green-blue water.

She let the back door of the building close behind her and wandered down to the pond’s edge. The sight of the pond against the backdrop of trees with their rust, yellow, and brown colored leaves made for a picturesque late September scene. That was where the wedding party would have taken photos.

Her attention was drawn to movement in the reeds. A man with wavy blond hair stepped onto the grass. He’d rolled the cuffs of his wrinkled khakis halfway up his legs, but his pants were still wet around the bottom. Water droplets clung to his thick, muscular calves. Small rivulets of water streamed down the wet hairs on his shins.