The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (27 page)

“What’s first?”

“The makeup,” Hannah said.

“The mascara looks good and it’s impossible to remove if you don’t have eye-makeup remover. Do you?”

“I’ll keep the mascara.”

“The lip gloss looks subtle. I can’t tell you’re wearing anything. Your lips are only a little more coral than usual.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me about the dress.”

“I’m not a dress person. I take big steps and if I try to walk like a girl, I look like an idiot. I’m so clumsy.”

“Okay, what do you want to wear? What would make you feel comfortable?”

Hannah pulled something glittery from the bag on the top of the dresser and held up a coral knit shirt with beads around the neck. “I bought this today.” Then she reached in a drawer and pulled out a pair of dark, skinny jeans. “I’d feel more comfortable in these.”

“Hannah,” Adam called from the second floor. “Gabe’s here. Gussie, we need to go. Your folks are waiting.”

“Be right there,” Gussie answered.

In no time Hannah pulled off the dress, tossed it on the bed, and changed. Then she slipped the flip-flops back on. “And my hair?”

“Let me take care of that.” Gussie put both hands on Hannah’s head and messed her hair up. Finished, she took a step back. “That looks more like you, both curly and spiky. How do you feel now?”

“More like myself.” She let out her breath. “Thank you.”

While he drove toward Austin, Gabe began several conversations, but Hannah only answered with
yes
or
no
and an occasional silence.

Once seated in the restaurant, Gabe took her hand. “Hannah, are you all right?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m very uncomfortable.”

“Why?” He studied her face, which did look tense. “We’ve been together for a week. During that time, you were fine.”

“Yes, but we were working together in what seemed like a completely different world. This is reality.” She nodded as if to emphasize the difference. “Now we’re out to dinner and acting like…like we like each other and are adults, dating.”

“Hannah, I do like you. We are on a date and we are adults but we’re also still Hannah and Gabe who kissed each other a lot in San Pablo. It’s good we’re together.” He rubbed his thumb across her palm and she looked up at him, eyes wide and startled.

“I’m not good with people,” she said.

“You’re very good with me.”

“And I’m not myself, not tonight.” She waved toward her nice, glittery shirt. “I’m wearing a spangled top and makeup.” She leaned forward so her face was only inches from him.

He nodded. “Very nice.”

“But you didn’t notice?”

“I do now that you’ve pointed it out. You look fine but I always think you do.” He watched her, hoping they’d settled that and could return to the Hannah and Gabe of San Pablo, but he hadn’t convinced her. “I like the shirt. It fits great, and the sparkly stuff.” He waved toward it. “Nice.”

“I was shooting for pretty.”

While he tried to figure out what to say that would satisfy her, Hannah continued, “I spent a lot of time to look like this and all you can say is ‘nice’ and ‘great.’ I expected you to say beautiful or magnificent and even…” She paused to take a deep breath. “Even sexy.”

“You look really great.” He grimaced as he recognized that wasn’t the word she was looking for, then he said, “Absolutely gorgeous and really smoking.”

Better, he could tell by her expression.

“I think you are the most beautiful woman in the world. I’ve always thought that,” he said sincerely. The words almost shut her up.

Actually, they did for nearly five seconds before she said, “Even when I’d been working for twelve hours in scrubs and my hair stuck up and my face was shiny?”

“Even then.”

“Then why did I bother…?”

“Thank you for the extra effort. You look gr…really pretty. I like the makeup. Thank you.” He leaned over and kissed her quickly.

“Oh,” she said when he leaned away. “Then that’s okay.” She picked up her menu and studied it.

After they ordered, Gabe said, “I have a proposal for you.”

Her eyes opened wider than he’d thought they could. Probably
proposal
hadn’t been the best choice of words.

He started over. “I have a proposition for you.”

Her eyes opened even wider.

Still not the best choice of words. The way things were going, he wished he’d brought a thesaurus.

“I have a plan.” Much better. “I have a plan I’d like to discuss with you.”

She still didn’t relax.

“A plan?”

“You told me there aren’t enough orphanages in Kenya for all the orphans.”

“That’s right.” She nodded as the waiter placed their drinks on the table.

“Well, what if I build one?”

She frowned. He could tell she was turning the idea over in her brain, studying it, attempting to think it through.

“All by yourself?”

“Depends on how much it costs.” He shrugged. “Might have to ask some friends.”

She blinked and this time did lean closer to him. “Let me get this straight. You and maybe some of your friends want to come to Kenya and build an orphanage yourselves? Like a Habitat for Humanity project?” She sat back. “Are your friends carpenters? Electricians? Plumbers?”

“I didn’t mean we’d physically build it. I meant, we’d pay for it.”

She still looked confused. “Who’d pay for it?”

“I would and some friends if necessary.”

She took his hand and patted it. “That’s a wonderful idea, but, Gabe, where would you get that kind of money? You’re a high school basketball coach.” She stopped for a second before she added, “Do they get paid really well in Texas?”

“Actually, I have some investments from my playing days.”

“Oh.” As the waiter placed their salads in front of them, she let go of his hand and watched Gabe.

He handed the bread basket to her. She pulled off a chunk, but he didn’t think she was paying attention to food.

He could almost see her logical brain attempting to evaluate and quantify his proposal. He’d thought his idea would interest her, that perhaps she’d respond with a smile or a
Thank you
, maybe even a
Tell me more
, not a puzzled stare.

“Hannah?” he said when the waiter left the table after grinding pepper on the salads.

“Gabe.” She leaned forward and gazed into his eyes with a sweet smile, an expression he’d never seen cross her face before. “Thank you. You know, you can’t just build an orphanage, as generous as that sounds. Any gift would have to include money to sustain it, hire and pay staff, begin new programs.”

Did she think he was stupid?

“You probably didn’t think that far ahead, but…”

Gabe did something he never thought he would. He glared at her. “I’m not an idiot. I know that. Yesterday and today, I talked to my accountant and the guy in charge of my investments as well as several friends. The backing would include both the initial building and future support at the level of five million a year.”

“Five million a year? How?” She shook her head. “How can you do this? You’re a high school basketball coach.”

“You know I played in the NBA, right? I made a lot of money.”

She nodded. “But I figured you lost it or spent it all or you wouldn’t be here.” She waved around her. “In Central Texas in a small town coaching a 3A team.”

“I coach here because I like it. I don’t have to work. I choose to.”

“Oh.” She took the information in and considered it. Finally she said, “You really are a nice guy.”

“Thank you,” he said in a solemn voice with no inflection.

She blinked. “I insulted you, didn’t I?”

Before he could say anything, she rushed on. “I’m so sorry. I have no people skills. I can explain viruses to a classroom but when I try to talk to a person, I don’t know how to and that makes me feel like such an…”

“Hey, hey.” He picked up her hand again and held it between his. “I threw this at you with no lead-in or explanation. No wonder you’re confused. I’m sorry.” He grinned at her. “You thought I was like the prodigal son and had spent all my money in riotous living?”

She took a sip of water before she answered, “Not exactly.”

“If you’re not after my money, you must love me for my personality?”

“I…I…no…I…”

Her mouth dropped open and she straightened up, ready to grab her hand away, but he didn’t allow that.

“Shouldn’t have said that. I embarrassed you.” He let go of her hand, which she speedily dropped on her lap. She didn’t look at all ready to even tease about feelings. Certainly not about love.

“Let’s talk about the orphanage or we could talk about us. You and me,” he said as if to make sure she understood.

“Let’s talk about the orphanage.” Her voice definitely set boundaries as to the topic of further discussion. She pushed the salad away while the waiter approached with their dinners and set the fish in front of her and the steak in front of him. “I want to understand everything about your plan.”

“A few years ago, I formed a charitable trust with several other players. We use it for projects all over the world and here in the United States. I talked with all of the partners. They agree this is a great project.”

Hannah bombarded him with questions. Her grilling lasted through the entrée and nearly to the key lime pie she’d ordered for dessert.

When, at last, he convinced her he had the backing and would carry through, she asked one more question. “Why do you want to do this?”

“You said there was a need.”

“I expect you to tell me the truth. Are you saying that my expressing a need was enough for you?”

“No, there’s more.” He struggled for the words to express how she’d convinced him. “When you talk, I see Kenya in your eyes,” he said. “I see how much you care. When you told me about the need for orphanages for the children you love, that moved me. My friends and I can help. We want to make a difference and we can, even if only for a few hundred children.”

She studied him carefully and with so much attention he felt sure there was salad dressing or steak sauce on his cheek. He picked up his napkin and wiped at his face but Hannah didn’t even notice as she considered everything he’d said.

“Thank you for explaining,” she said slowly. “Thank you for your offer.” She paused and smiled. “I wish I’d worn the dress.”

He had no idea what she meant, but he really didn’t care when Hannah smiled at him.

Y
es, I’m worried about not working.” Birdie rubbed the ears of Carlos the Cat, who sat on her lap. Foolish creature acted like he was her little nurse.

She looked around the people assembled in her small living room on Tuesday evening, two weeks after the surgery to screw her arm together: her granddaughters, the Widows, the preacher, Hector, and Bobby. “But I don’t need an intervention.”

“I brought you a lovely piece of apple pie my cook made. It has a sugary lattice crust on top.” Blossom nodded toward the kitchen. “Let me know when you’re hungry.”

The flighty woman had arrived at noon and moved in to take care of her. She hovered. Blossom hovered sweetly and considerately but having her around nearly drove Birdie crazy. Blossom kept asking if she could fluff her pillow. Birdie had never been a fan of fluffy pillows. When Birdie fell asleep on the sofa, Blossom woke her to ask if she wanted to get into bed. When Birdie had told her she was fine, Blossom had draped a blanket over her. Eighty-five degrees in here and the woman worried she’d get cold.

Everyone was watching Birdie, waiting for her to answer. “Thank you, Blossom.” They kept watching her but she wouldn’t give them the pleasure of speaking. If they wanted to get this intervention going, they’d have to take control.

Winnie flipped open her notepad and started, “We need to talk to you about several things.” Of course she began the topic. Bossiest woman Bird had ever met.

“Birdie,” Mercedes said, “we know you can’t work for six to eight weeks.”

Inside, Birdie became hysterical. How would they survive if she couldn’t work for that long? But she nodded coolly.

They all looked at her, every one of them afraid to bring up finances. Then Mac went to the front closet, pulled out a box, and brought it over to Birdie’s lap. A shoe box. Not wrapped because Birdie thought pretty paper was a waste of money and the motion of wrapping a complete bother.

For that reason, the shape of the box and the letters stamped on the top,
SHOES FOR THE WORKING WOMAN BY COMFORT FOOT
, gave away the contents. Birdie sat back and studied the words. “We can’t afford these.”

“Grandma,” Bree said. “We can’t afford for you to fall again. We can’t risk that.”

She couldn’t say a word. Just sat on the sofa, not moving and feeling so squishy inside she couldn’t speak, didn’t dare try. Instead she checked the end of the box. Exactly her size. Well, of course. The girls knew it.

Opening the box, she reached inside to push the tissue paper aside. There lay the shoes she’d craved for so long. She put her hand inside and felt the softness that would cradle her foot as well as the strong arch support. The sole was crepe but the expensive kind that slid a little, not the kind that got caught on everything and flipped the wearer. On top of that, the soles were all one piece so she didn’t have to worry about their pulling apart in layers. Brilliant white with round toes and laces long enough to tie but not so long she’d trip over them.

Her first reaction was to put them in the box and shove the shoes away because she hated to feel needy. Her second was to accept them because she really needed them.

She looked up at Mercedes, her friend for her entire life, and could read her lips when she whispered, “Just accept and be grateful.”

“Thank you, all of you.” She shook her head in wonder at what caring people she knew. Maybe an intervention didn’t count as a terrible thing.

However, she knew the event wasn’t over because everyone looked at the preacher. She figured he’d get all mushy. Pushy as well.

“Are you the spokesman for this collection of busybodies?” she asked Adam.

“Guess so, Miss Birdie.” He glanced around the group. “We’ve heard that you haven’t accepted the help others have offered.”

The pillar attempted to look confused, then innocent. Neither expression suited her at all.

“We talked, you and I, about church people returning some of your care during the hard times of their lives.”

“Exactly what I‘ve done.”

“But Father Joe tells me his cook brought you a chicken potpie and planned to help with chores but you grabbed the pie and ran inside, closed the door, and wouldn’t let her in to help.”

“Preacher, there’s no way an old lady like me could run that much.”

He glared at her. She played the old-lady card when it suited her.

“Pansy says the nurse showed her how to clean your arm but you won’t let her,” Mercedes said.

“I can do that. I don’t need all these people around to do things I can do for myself.”

“Hard to clean that wound and dress it with only one hand,” Winnie stated, calling Miss Birdie’s bluff.

“Howard brought you a casserole to show how much he appreciates all you do and has more plans to work around your house. A little fix-up and some repairs here and there.” Mercedes added, “But you locked the back gate.”

“And Mattie Patillo brought a nice corn pudding to tell you how much she misses you at the diner but you wouldn’t let her come in to wash the dishes. She’d signed up for that time.”

Birdie didn’t bother to answer any of them. They’d lecture her no matter what she said.

“All in all, we’re hearing you aren’t allowing anyone to do anything but cook for you,” Adam said. “And the Ladies’ Guild wanted to…”

“I don’t need…,” Birdie began, but she knew that wasn’t the way to start.

“Be quiet, Bird,” Mercedes muttered.

The preacher went on as if neither woman had spoken. “First, I want to tell you how much I admire the way you’ve accepted food from the community so graciously.”

“Thank you.” She nodded but knew that wasn’t all he meant to say. Those words were only to soften her up. “Had to accept it for the girls.”

“Grandma, just listen,” Bree said.

“This intervention is to ask you to welcome the people who care about you and allow them to help you,” he continued, as she’d known he would. “As you know, we have a schedule of who will come in and fix your lunch and help you with whatever you need.”

“I’m perfectly capable of fixing my own meals,” she stated.

“Grandma, don’t make me tell on you,” Bree said.

Ungrateful child. Maybe this morning Birdie sloshed milk on the table when she attempted to pour it in the cereal bowl and had sprinkled her frosted flakes across the surface because she couldn’t get the hang of eating with her left hand. And she could forget being able to butter toast or make a sandwich. Couldn’t do those with one hand.

“The girls can fix me something before they leave for school.” There. That took care of that.

“I’ll worry,” Mac said.

“I’ll worry,” Mercedes chimed in. “With your bad shoulder and broken arm and aching feet, you could fall and not be able to get up.”

“Hrrmph. Not like I’d die there on the floor. The girls do come home.”

Her gaze met eight pairs of eyes, none of which showed agreement. “All right, all right. Set it up and leave me a schedule so people don’t just drop in unexpectedly.”

“Don’t throw them out,” Mercedes warned.

She nodded toward Hector and Bobby. “What are they doing here? They don’t want to take care of an old lady.”

“Miss Birdie,” Bobby said, “Hector and I volunteered to help you with the outside of the house or any chores you need inside, like to change a lightbulb or look at a leaky faucet.”

She opened her mouth to ask if they were plumbers now but knew those words would sound grumpy. Such nice young men. She couldn’t insult them. She’d become soft in her old age. “Thank you.” She looked around the group. “Thanks to all of you.”

“You haven’t heard the best part,” Bree said. “Once school is out, I’m going to take over your shift down at the diner.”

“My shift? At the diner?”

“Isn’t that great? Mac’s going to cover weekends until school is out because I have softball. After that, I’ll work breakfast and lunch during the week so you won’t have to worry. We’ll have some money coming in.”

Birdie started to lean back in the sofa but that darned Blossom had grabbed the sofa cushion and was fluffing it. For heaven’s sake. Sofa cushions didn’t fluff.

“Tips will be down,” Birdie stated as she sat forward to accommodate Blossom. “From my regulars.”

“Oh, I think there will be plenty of people who’ll leave a tip for a friendly waitress,” Mercedes said.

“Are you saying I’m not a friendly waitress?” Birdie glared at her friend.

No one answered.

“Well, everyone, we’re finished here,” Birdie said. “Move along. Blossom says there’s a piece of pie. I’m going to eat that, then go to bed.”

“Let me help you stand up,” Hector said.

As she pushed with her good arm, he put his arm around her back and pulled. Once on her feet, she headed toward the kitchen while the guests left through the front door.

Carlos the Cat followed her.

The next weekend, Hector, Adam, and Gabe headed back to San Pablo for a short visit on campus with the coach followed by an afternoon of clearing rubble.

Hannah, Janey, and Yvonne spent Saturday working in the garden while Henry stayed at Sam’s old house and watched baseball. Actually, Gussie knew, he slept. Her father always said there was nothing better to sleep through than baseball unless it was golf.

All those desertions—even her own mother!—left Gussie alone with the Widows, representing both herself and Adam. Although after all her years of working she could afford a blowout, an expensive wedding would make him uncomfortable and take away from the simple act of celebrating a future together blessed by God.

However, she knew she had a fight on her hands because the wedding planners were determined to put on a bash that would show off the church, the Widows’ skills, and, way down on the list, the bride and groom.

Gussie entered the fellowship hall to find tables covered with—well, she didn’t know with what, but bright colors spread across each. All four of the Widows sat at the central and only uncluttered table. Miss Birdie wore a lacy pink sling over her cast, which didn’t look at all like her. She guessed it was a gift from Blossom, who adored that color on everyone.

“How are you doing, Miss Birdie?” Gussie asked. She hoped her question didn’t suggest Miss Birdie was too fragile to be here.

“Fine, just fine, but that’s not what we’re here for.”

Gussie should’ve known better than to mention her concern about the pillar’s health. Quickly she turned and greeted the other three women.

“Don’t mind Bird,” Mercedes said. “She’s feeling a little down because Bree took off to visit a college today and she realizes the nest is emptying out.”

“Don’t try to explain my moods,” the pillar said. “And I’m not a bit grumpy.” She glared at her friend. “Not…a…bit.”

“Let me show you around everything.” Blossom placed her hand on Gussie’s elbow and gently pushed her toward one table. “You need to pick a theme for the wedding. I have a few suggestions.”

Gussie knew very well that Blossom didn’t mean that she, Gussie, actually got to pick the theme. In fact, the wedding planners had probably tossed any they felt unacceptable; here, on the table, sat the few they approved.

Blossom picked up a card and began to read a verse. “‘Love is the joy of the human heart…’”

“I notice,” Gussie said when Blossom stopped reading, “that the main color here is pink. I’m really not a pink kind of woman. In fact”—she gazed across the table—“I’m not really into pastels.”

“Oh?” Mercedes stood on the other side of the table. “Weddings are very often pastels.”

Gussie nodded. “Of course they are, but I don’t wear light blue or mint green. I never do.” She stopped and looked at the Widows/wedding planners. “I have an idea. Because the wedding is close to the Fourth of July, we could use red, white, and blue. Something patriotic.”

She never should have said that. She should have realized the wedding planners wouldn’t realize she’d joke about the serious matter of
the wedding
. All four stared at her, eyes wide and mouths open.

“I’m sorry,” Gussie apologized quickly before one of the women had a stroke. “That’s not a good idea at all.” She paused and allowed the Widows to recover. “Perhaps we could negotiate?”

“Negotiate?” Apprehension filled Winnie’s voice.

“We don’t do much negotiating,” Miss Birdie added.

“We want to work with you. Of course we do,” Mercedes said. “It is your wedding.”

“I do like pink,” Blossom whispered through her little pink mouth.

“Give it up, Blossom. She’s not going with pink,” Miss Birdie stated.

“Now, Bird, don’t be so grumpy,” Mercedes said.

The pillar glared at her but didn’t say a word.

“I would not be opposed to a pale gold,” Gussie stated objectively.

“Pale gold would be light yellow,” stated Blossom, the one the other three looked to for color information, manners, and everything concerning entertaining,

“No, yellow has more green in it. I want a touch of brown.”

“Brown?” Winnie frowned. “You want a brown wedding?”

“No, no,” Blossom said. “Like this.” She reached for a paint color chart on another table.

Why Blossom had a paint color chart handy, Gussie did not know. Did they plan to repaint the sanctuary to fit the theme? Oh, certainly not, but she didn’t ask. Adam and the property committee could handle that.

Blossom flipped the chips open to the gold section and pointed at one.

“Too light,” Gussie said. After searching through the colors together, Gussie pointed. “How ’bout that? Coral.”

“Peach,” Blossom said.

“Peach?” Gussie took the chip and headed toward the window to study it in natural light. “It’s coral.”

When Blossom nodded and smiled, Gussie gave in. “I can go with that. It’s pastel enough for you and not too pastel for me.”

“Wonderful,” Blossom cooed. “We have a color. What about the theme? Peach baskets? Summer fruit?”

“Let’s just have ‘wedding’ for the theme,” Gussie suggested, but it was a suggestion made with a hard, uncompromising edge to her voice. She refused to have peaches tossed around or to carry a basket instead of a bouquet. “Coral flowers and coral dresses for the bridesmaids, and that’s it.”