Swinging on a Star (11 page)
“Perfectly placed, humph!” Bonnie Sue laughed. “There’s a reason it was perfectly placed. The man was wearing a hairpiece.”
“Oh.” Jolene’s expression darkened. “Anyway, his name is Bjorn and he’s from Norway.”
“Of course.” Mama nodded. “They’re all named Bjorn.”
They are?
“Bjorn’s wife died a few years ago,” Twila said. “He’s a widower now.”
“Poor guy,” I said. “So now he spends his days traveling the seas?”
“Yes, and he meets literally thousands of beautiful women,” Bonnie Sue said. “But the fairest of them all—at least from what we could tell—was Jolene.”
“Wow.” I didn’t know what to say, but Rosa sure did. She jumped on the story with full vigor.
“That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve heard in years, Jolene! I’m so happy for you. In fact, I’m so taken by your story that I might just have to go on a cruise myself.” Rosa took Jolene by the arm, giggling like a schoolgirl.
I could almost envision my aunt on a cruise ship. Of course, there would be that one little problem at dinnertime. She rarely ate food that she hadn’t cooked herself. Still, if we could overcome that one obstacle, she’d probably have the time of her life.
Rosa apparently wasn’t ready to let go of the story about the captain. “I’m trying to imagine what sort of courtship you would have with the captain of a cruise ship, Jolene,” she said. “Will you have to live at sea if he asks you to be his?”
“Oh, I haven’t thought about that.” Jolene frowned. “I don’t know that I could ever leave Splendora. I love my friends and my church. They had a little chapel on the ship, but it’s just not the same thing.”
“What a barrel of pickles this is.” Bonnie Sue sighed.
Jolene’s eyes filled with tears. “Well, I don’t suppose I have to marry the captain. I can just dream of him. He can be that one special memory I have of a beautiful cruise to the Caribbean.”
“Jolene!” Twila shook her head. “It wasn’t a beautiful cruise to the Caribbean. We were swept out to sea by a hurricane.” “Technically, it was a tropical storm,” I said. “Not a hurricane.”
Twila’s eyes narrowed as she turned my way. “Honey, call it what you like, but when you’re on the inside of a metal tube, hurling this way and that, a sprinkle can feel like a hurricane. We were trapped inside there like sardines, and I didn’t think we were ever getting out.”
“Thank God we found some other believers and went to prayer,” Jolene said.
“Oh?” This piqued my interest for sure.
“Heavens, yes,” Twila said. “You know what the Bible says about two or more being gathered together. So we went on a hunt for Christians. And by the time we were in the eye of the storm, we had a real prayer meeting going on. In the casino, no less. Even the captain joined us.”
“That man can really pray.” Jolene sighed. “That’s how I knew he was the right man for me. Handsome and a good pray-er—the perfect combination.”
I had to admit, I understood that last part. After all, D.J. was one of the best pray-ers I’d ever met. And it went without saying that he was handsome.
What could I make of this story? The poor ladies had almost been lost at sea and still managed to find the good in the midst of the bad. Unfortunately, it looked like they were fading quickly. I offered them two rooms—mine and Sophia’s—and they headed upstairs for what I hoped would be a good long nap. After all, I had work to do. With the skies finally clearing, I saw my first glimmer of hope that this show—er, wedding—might just go on!
Demo version limitation
After the incident with Laz and Rosa, I decided anything was possible. Not only would we pull off this wedding on the heels of a tropical storm, it would be the best wedding anyone on Galveston Island had ever seen.
If we could just avoid the paparazzi. We had two more visits that afternoon from reporters. One of them posed as a Food Network employee, but we saw through his bag of tricks. The other one hid in our bushes, scaring the daylights out of me as I came up the front stairs.
Brock kept his distance upstairs, but I felt bad for him. Was this how he lived, hidden away from people? Sure didn’t seem like much fun.
Thankfully, Twila, Jolene, and Bonnie Sue managed to sleep through all of the chaos. Who could blame them? They’d had a rough voyage. And D.J.—sweet D.J.—went back and forth from our house to the wedding facility, doing anything and everything I asked him to do. At 4:30 I snuck up on him helping Laz and Jenna with the turkey legs.
“Hey, you.” I wrapped my arms around him and planted a kiss on him that he wouldn’t soon forget. “Thank you so much for all your help.”
“Anything for my girl.” He returned my kiss, this time more passionately than before. He stared into my eyes, his baby blues making my heart flutter. “What’s the plan for tonight? You’ve got the rehearsal, right?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I was hoping to catch a few minutes with the family for dinner first, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. The Food Network is counting on a huge crowd gathered around the dining room table.” I paused, then looked at him. “What about you? Do you want to stay for dinner with the family or hang out over here with us during the rehearsal?”
“Hmm.” He shrugged. “Do you need my help with anything during the rehearsal?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Then I guess I’ll have dinner with your family, if that’s okay with you.”
I gave him another hug. “I’ll try to sneak over for a few minutes between the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner to get in on the action. I don’t think the bride and groom will miss me very much if I do.”
“It’s a date.” He kissed the tip of my nose, then dove back into his work.
At 5:00 I made my way next door to check on the castle. I found Larry and his workers hanging the gas lamps and putting in the tables and chairs. I could hardly believe their progress.
When I arrived back at the house, I found Twila, Jolene, and Bonnie Sue snacking on Rosa’s garlic twists and gabbing with the men from the Food Network. Well, if one could call flirting gabbing. Thankfully, they’d changed into regular clothes. No sequins here. No sir. They still looked a little groggy but appeared to be in good spirits.
Twila took to pouting when the oldest camera guy said they needed to go out back to get some footage of Uncle Laz’s garden while there was still sunlight. For a minute there I thought she might follow him, but she restrained herself. Brock chose that moment to walk into the room.
“Is the coast clear?” He looked around to make sure the television cameras had moved elsewhere.
“They’re out back,” I assured him.
Brock had donned a pair of black slacks and a fabulous dress shirt in an amazing shade of blue. He’d also spent a little extra time on his hair, from the looks of things. And his skin glistened from the tan he’d acquired while out to sea. Gone were the taped-up glasses. The man who stood before us was pure Adonis, no doubt about that.
Twila, Jolene, and Bonnie Sue took one look at Brock and turned to me, squealing with delight.
“Bella! You did it!” Twila said. “We weren’t even gone a full week, and you’ve turned the ugly duckling into a swan.”
“More than a swan.” Jolene let out a whistle. “I don’t know how you did it, Bella, but you’ve almost made him look like . . . ” She paused, then shook her head. “Like a movie star.”
“I’ve been reading
People
magazine,” Brock whispered as he settled onto the sofa between the ladies. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“I read
People
magazine too,” Bonnie Sue said. “But only for the news stories.”
“Of course.” Brock nodded, then leaned back against the seat, allowing the women to talk about him at length.
Thankfully, this Brock-a-thon didn’t last long. Marian arrived at the front door with tears in her eyes. The bridesmaids fussed over her as I ushered them inside. She tossed her cell phone into her purse and turned my way.
“What is it, honey?” I asked the question with fear and trembling, unable to take much more.
“I’ve got some terrible news.” Her voice trembled, and she paused to draw a deep breath before continuing. “The madrigal group that was supposed to sing at the wedding tomorrow night . . .”
“What about them?”
“They can’t come. Their lead singer had to have her gallbladder removed. She’s in the hospital in Houston.”
“Can’t they sing without her?”
“Apparently not. And I’ve been counting on them. It was going to be one of my favorite parts! What are we going to do?” I noted a hint of desperation in her voice.
Twila sat straight up on the sofa. “Honey, leave it to me.”
“Leave it to you?” Marian turned her way with a confused look on her face.
Twila grinned. “You probably don’t know this, but Jolene and Bonnie Sue and I used to sing together at county fairs and such. You should’ve seen us at the last one. We were quite the rage. Drew in a real crowd.”
“Ah.” A look of sheer terror came over Marian as she took in this information. The bridesmaids, to their credit, didn’t say a word, though their eyes spoke volumes.
Twila nodded. “And we had quite a repertoire back in the day.”
“Oh heavens, yes.” Jolene giggled. “We did everything from Elvis songs to Sinatra. And a few Gershwin tunes, for the older folks.”
“In three-part harmony,” Bonnie Sue threw in.
Mama happened to walk in at this very moment. She looked at the women and nodded. “Earline told me all about your singing abilities. She said you were once offered a contract.”
“Yes.” Bonnie Sue sighed. “But Twila made us turn it down.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because the company wouldn’t let us sing Christian songs. And I told the girls, if we can’t sing about the Lord, they can just forget it!”
“Amen!” the other two women chimed in.
“We do occasionally sing secular music,” Twila said. “Remember, I told you we sang karaoke on the cruise ship.” She giggled. “And I hate to brag, but we brought the house down. That’s why the captain was so taken with us. We got to sit at his table.”
“I’m sure you were wonderful,” I said, trying to keep this conversation on the positive side. “But this wedding is medieval. We’re talking music from the 1500s and 1600s. And it’s a cappella, which would be tricky under the best of circumstances.” “Don’t underestimate the power of God working through us!” Twila said. “Do you have any samples?”
“I have a CD in my car,” Marian said with a hopeful look on her face. “Would you like to hear it?”
“Sure.”
Minutes later, I listened in a state of disbelief as the trio of sisters joined voices to duplicate one of the songs they’d been listening to on the CD. It was remarkable, really. They sounded just like the real deal. Better, even. Why had I doubted them? The bridesmaids went crazy—in a good way—and I could read the relief on Marian’s face.
“You’re hired.” She extended her hand in Twila’s direction, beaming from ear to ear.
“But . . . what will we wear?” Jolene asked, tugging at a loose hair. “The things we packed for the cruise won’t work for a madrigal presentation.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Twila took a seat on the couch, her brow now wrinkled in concern. “They didn’t have sequins during the Renaissance era, did they?”
“No.” Marian bit her lip and sighed. “I don’t know what to do about that part.”
“Oh, I know!” Mama said. “The opera house has a huge wardrobe room filled with costumes from every production over the past ten years. You ladies come with me and I’ll get you suited up in no time.” She glanced at her watch. “
The
Marriage of Figaro
doesn’t start for another couple hours, so we have time. C’mon.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the foyer.
“But . . . I’m not a small girl,” Jolene said with a pout. “I doubt any of those costumes will fit.”
“This is the opera we’re talking about here.” Mama turned back with a smile. “I can assure you we’ll find costumes to fit. Now come with me, ladies. We can listen to that CD on the way over. In fact, I’ll even have Francois, our vocal coach, give you a few pointers. And when we get back to the house, we’ll talk about how to do your hair for the big night.”
“Just one problem.” Twila’s words stopped us cold. “If we hang around for the wedding, we’ll have to look for a place to stay tonight. Should we book a room at a hotel?”
“I doubt you could get a room,” I said. “They fill up mighty quick whenever we have a storm.”
“What are you talking about? Hotel?” Mama looked stunned. “You’re staying at the best hotel of all. The Villa de la Rossi. You can have Sophia’s room, and she can sleep in Bella’s.”
I tried to envision the three women all sleeping in Sophia’s double bed but stopped myself before the chuckles took hold. The trio disappeared out the front door on Mama’s heels, laughing and talking all the way. I could hardly imagine what they would come back looking like.
At 6:00 the guys from Stages arrived on our front porch looking winded but pleased.
“I can’t believe we got it done,” Larry said. “But the castle is up, everything is functional and looking good. I’ll have to come back tomorrow to put in the fabric for the river. The ground’s too wet right now.”
“Understandable.” I laughed. “Looks like God provided a little river of his own.” I offered them my thanks, then sent them on their way. Afterward I checked the front yard for paparazzi. No doubt a few were hiding on the roof or under the azaleas. Nah. The place looked clear.
Marian and the bridesmaids headed next door, chattering with abandon. I watched as Rosa and Laz took control of the crowd, ushering them into the dining room for an Italian feast. I was starving but wouldn’t be able to stay. I planned to sneak back over after the rehearsal, so I asked Rosa to save some food for me. She willingly obliged. I gave D.J. a kiss, told him to enjoy his dinner with the family, and headed back to the wedding facility with Brock at my side. We made our exit out of the back door of the house, just in case any lingering reporters hovered nearby.
By 6:20 the bridesmaids were going strong, their nervous energy igniting a flame in me. By 6:40 the groom and groomsmen had arrived. At 6:45 almost everyone was in place. I’d never heard so many
oohs
and
aahs
coming from one crowd. Seemed none of them had ever been in a castle before. At least, not one this realistic.
