Small Town Girl (31 page)

Mary was part of the receiving line in the vestibule, leav-ing Tess free to join the crowd outside. The wind had come up to relieve the afternoon heat, and great white cloud puffs scuttled along the blue backdrop. A black carriage and two Appaloosa horses waited at the curb. Judy fell away to visit with someone she knew. Even those who pretended not to be staring at Tess were. But not one soul approached.

Not until Casey came out of church. She made a beeline straight for Tess, exclaiming, "Wow, you look awesome, woman! Where'd you get that dress? And those
shoes
!"

"Casey, am I glad to see you."

"What's wrong?"

Tess leaned close and lowered her voice. "I was feeling like a turd in the punchbowl. Everybody looking but nobody coming close."

Casey giggled and glanced around to find many people standing off, watching the two of them.

"They're probably scared. Hey, these clothes…
woman
! You can't find anything like that in Wintergreen."

"The dress came from Barney's in New York. The shoes are from Nordstrom's in Seattle."

"Kil
ler
!" Casey came close, and whispered, "Don't tell Faith, but I think Dad was staring at you all through the service."

"I doubt it."

"He was, too, but I bet you're used to guys doing that, aren't you?"

"I'd be lying if I said no, but some situations are more comfortable than others. This one isn't. Stick around, okay?"

Faith approached and commandeered both of Tess's hands. "Well, hello, Tess. Heavens, you look stunning."

"Thank you. Doesn't everybody?"

Kenny was right behind Faith, attempting to pretend polite indifference to Tess. Their glances settled elsewhere. "Wasn't it a nice ceremony?" Faith prattled on. "I thought for sure you'd sing today."

"Rachel asked me to but I told her I just wanted to be a regular guest this time."

"I'm sure she was disappointed."

"She was very gracious about it."

They made small talk until Judy rejoined them, along with Judy's daughter, Tricia, who brought a tall, thin, pretty girl with hazel eyes. "Aunt Tess? My friend Allison wants to meet you. She's a big fan of yours."

Tess shook the girl's trembling, damp hand. "Hello, Allison."

She was one of the shy ones, blushing furiously, trying hard not to show her braces. In the end she failed and a set of blaze-pink hardware flashed clearly behind her wide smile. She stammered what thousands of others before her had stammered, things like "Gosh, I can't believe I'm really meeting you," and "You're so pretty," and "I couldn't believe you were really Trish's aunt." All the while Judy stood by, observing with the same uppitiness as that day at the hospital. Kenny stood back observing, too, behind Faith, making Tess self-conscious in a whole new peculiar way that made her proud of being a star but wishing that today she were not. For this one day she wished she were just a nondescript girl free to flirt with a guy who sort of turned her on. Instead, every move she made was watched by dozens.

The crowd around her grew, cutting her off from her family and taking snapshots without asking if she minded. Someone requested an autograph and she murmured, "Not right now. The bride and groom will be coming out soon." An overweight woman in a polka-dot dress barreled over, and blared, "Mac McPhail, my
Gawd
, it's really you! Oh, honey, could I shake your hand?" As if that were not enough, she insisted on giving Tess a hug. Hugs often left makeup on her shoulder and flattened one side of her hair. Of all the fan responses she disliked, getting hugged was the most invasive. Over the fat woman's shoulder she caught Kenny's eye and shot him an expression of hopeless resignation, to which he replied with a sympathetic wince. After that she didn't see him again. The crowd circled, and—like it or not—she found herself the center of attention.

When the last of the wedding guests spilled from church, she caught sight of Kenny wheeling Mary down the ramp leading from the side door of the vestibule. The bride and groom emerged into the wind, which made a parachute of her veil. She clapped a hand to her head to hold it on while birdseed flew and the church bells clamored overhead. Then Casey appeared at Tess's side.

"Dad's taking your mom to her car. He says take your time."

"What happened to Ed?"

"Tricia had to pour punch so he had to take her ahead to the reception hall."

"Where's Faith?"

"She's right over there talking to her sister. Listen, I'm taking off. See you at the reception!"

She was gone with her friends and minutes later Tess moved toward the parking lot where she found Kenny standing beside Mary's car waiting for her. Mary was already installed in the backseat with the door still open. It was a relief to speak to him directly at last.

"Thanks for taking over my job."

"I could see you were a little busy." His grin told her he was referring to the woman in the polka-dot dress. "She didn't crush you, did she?"

"Not quite. Did she leave any makeup on my dress?"

He took advantage of her question to touch her for the first time: his fingertips brushed the blue silk at her collarbone. "None that I can see."

"Who is she anyway?"

"Lenore Jeeters. She's on the city council."

From the backseat Mary spoke up, "A loud-mouthed sow who could do the play-by-play at the Super Bowl without a microphone. She's always trying to get me to talk you into coming back home for fund-raisers, Tess. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction, even if I thought you'd say yes, which I know you wouldn't."

Tess leaned down and smiled into the car. "Thanks, Momma. I owe you one. How you doing? You getting tired?"

"Doing just fine, but I sure could use some supper.
Wouldn't mind if you'd get me to that reception before I faint dead away."

Kenny slammed the car door and for the moment he and Tess became an island again, cut off from Mary, feeling that surflike push-pull of an attraction that was inadvisable. "I mean it, Kenny. Thanks for seeing after Momma… again and again and again." She took her turn at touching him… on the sleeve, letting her hand trail down as she moved away. Their fingers joined in passing—a quick, private pressing of flesh, then Tess continued around the car.

The reception was held out in the country at a place called Current River Cove, which years ago had been a roller rink, then an onion-storage shed before someone had bought it and knocked four long windows in the wall, hung a wide deck on the side facing the river, installed a kitchen and turned it into the most roomy reception hall in Ripley County. It was carpeted in ghastly indoor/outdoor olefin with more colors than an oil slick, furnished with Formica tables and stackable chairs, and it smelled like a generic school lunchroom when the wedding party arrived. A band was setting up in one corner and their filler tape amplified a mixed bag of country music across the hall.

Over two hundred guests milled and mingled, waiting for the arrival of the bride and groom. Though they had for the most part kept their distance from Tess on the church steps, the presence of cocktails seemed to signal that it was now all right to approach her and make small talk. It seemed to Tess as if she spoke to every one of them during the half hour before dinner was served. All except Kenny Kronek, who visited with everybody else in the place and must have decided once again to keep some distance between himself and Tess. But Tess seemed to have developed some sensory radar that kept her aware of where he was every minute.

Nearly every person asked her why she hadn't sung at the wedding and if she was going to do so at the dance.

"No," she replied again and again. "I'm a guest here today. The bride and the groom are the stars." There had been hundreds of similar situations during the course of her career, and she had learned well how to avoid upstaging the guests of honor without alienating her fans.

When the bride and groom arrived and dinner was served, Tess and Mary sat at a round table for eight, joined by Judy and Ed, and Tricia, who was done tending the punch bowl. No sooner were they seated than Faith Oxbury approached, and asked, "Are these seats taken?"

"No," Judy answered. "Sit down. My other two kids were ushers so they're seated at the head table."

"Do you mind?" Faith asked Tess politely.

Mind? Sharing a table with Kenny? Unwise, perhaps, but what else could Tess answer? "No. Not at all. I wanted to talk to Casey anyway."

"Oh, good. I'll go get Kenny." While she was gone Casey arrived, breathless, and took the chair right next to Tess. "Boy, I've been talking to some of the members of the band. Are they gonna be good!"

"Do you know them?"

"Two of them. We used to do a little messing around together with guitars."

While they visited, Faith returned with Kenny in tow, and the two of them took the remaining chairs directly across from Tess, filling out the table. With everybody knowing everybody else, the conversation bounced around and changed subjects often.

Dinner turned out to be a tasty combination of chicken and herbed cheese rolled around asparagus and baked in puff pastry with a light tarragon cream sauce. The wines were excellent—a peppery pinot noir and a fruity zinfandel that were passed around and poured and toasted with and laughed over. And in the case of Tess and Kenny, used as a shield to deflect gazes that tended to get tangled up a little too often.

It was Faith who mentioned Mary's earrings and peered at them more closely.

Mary touched one and divulged, "They're real. Tess gave them to me this afternoon." Six people admired them and yodeled praise. The seventh pursed her lips and nudged her husband's elbow. "Give me some more of that wine, Ed."

Mary said, "Yeah, give me some more, too, Ed."

"You're on medication. Momma," Judy chided. "You're not supposed to be drinking alcohol."

"Tell you what, Judy. You get two new hips and sit at your granddaughter's wedding and see if you don't want to celebrate a little bit. I didn't take my pills this morning, and a couple of glasses of wine aren't going to kill me. Fill 'er up, Ed."

Everyone became more jovial except Judy.

In the middle of the meal Tricia brought up the fact that Tess was taking Casey to Nashville and that everyone in town was buzzing about it.

"Isn't she wonderful?" Casey beamed at Tess, dazzled and slightly giddy: she'd been sneaking sips of wine. "She's making all my dreams come true."

Tess said, "It's not a record contract, Casey, it's only singing backup on a single cut."

"I know, but Nashville, Mac! It's what I've dreamed about my whole life long!"

Mary had finished her second glass of wine and was looking well pleased with everything. Ed, also under some alcoholic influence, grinned and said, "Nice going, Casey. You've got a class act to follow in Tess here."

Faith said, "I think it would be appropriate to make a toast to our up-and-coming star." They all raised their glasses, Judy, too, unable to do otherwise without looking like a jerk. But the moment the toast ended she slipped from her chair and escaped to the ladies' room.

Tess watched her go, laid down her napkin and said calmly, "Excuse me, please. I have to talk to Judy."

Once inside the ladies' bathroom she locked the door. The room had three gray-painted stalls and a vanity with two sinks. Judy had thrown her handbag on a counter between them and was stabbing at her hair. Tess set down her own beaded handbag and faced Judy's profile rather than her reflection in the mirror.

"All right, Judy, let's talk about it."

"Leave me alone."

"No. Because I can't stand this anymore."

"Stand what?"

"Your jealousy. I've been home for three weeks and every single time I've seen you, something has managed to get your goat. Either it's somebody asking for my autograph, or somebody asking me to perform, or something I gave Momma."

"You love to throw it in our faces, don't you?" Judy accused. Abruptly her voice became mimicking. "Look at
me
, the rich, famous star coming back home to show the peons just how drudging their lives are!"

"Damn it, Judy, that's not fair! I have never flaunted my fame or my money around you and you know it!"

"Start with your car, and those clothes you're wearing today, and your
mobile phone
." She made the words sound reprehensible. "Yuppie country star cruises into town talking on her phone, impressing young girls who have dreams of being a star, too."

"I do my business by long distance. And you bought new clothes for the wedding, didn't you?" Judy refused to answer. "All right, then, so did I. And as for Casey, I wouldn't have paid her two cents' worth of attention if she didn't have talent. But she does, and if I can help her develop it, why shouldn't I?"

"You made sure you announced it where everyone would know how
magnanimous
you are, didn't you?"

"I didn't
announce
it. I told Casey a week ago at her own house, in private. Somebody else brought it up tonight, and somebody else made the toast. But you could barely stand to lift your glass with the others, could you? You can't even be happy for Casey. And at Momma's house the day she came home from the hospital, when everybody asked us to sing, what should I have said? No? Because my sister Judy can't stand it? She's going to go in the kitchen and sulk? That's what you did, Judy, and it hurt me. It always hurts me when you treat me as if what I do for a living is something I should be apologizing for. Do you know that you've never once said, 'Congratulations,
Tess' or 'Nice song, Tess,' or 'Bought your tape, Tess'? Nothing. As if what I do doesn't even exist. Instead, when anybody else offers me any kind of attention you just curdle up inside. But this is what I
do
, Judy." She leaned forward earnestly, one hand on the vanity top. "I sing. I sign autographs. I wear glitzy clothes and get photographed for magazine covers because it's part of my work. And when I have the chance to discover new talent and bring it to Nashville, I'm going to do it. Should I pretend none of that is true whenever I'm around you? And should I drive a rusted-out used car for you, too? And not give Momma nice things because it pisses you off? Look, she isn't going to be around forever, and if I want to buy her emeralds, I will! And if I want to take Casey to Nashville, I will! And if you can't accept that, then I pity you. Because the people who really love me are glad for me,
and
for my success,
and
for my fame, because they know I worked damned hard for it."