Buzzkill (Pecan Bayou Series) (5 page)

“Really, dear?
That would be wonderful,” Martha said. “Having an ‘in’ with a wedding planner
might be just the kind of networking we need for our business. To be perfectly
honest with you, yours was the only order we had for February. Other times of
the year, our business keeps us quite busy with the wildflower season and all
of the summer brides. In these winter months, though, money can get pretty
thin. Your order was not enormous, but every little bit helps, you know.”

I felt guilty
for even considering any other florists. It’s one thing to compare businesses
and what they offer but quite another to consider the human element. Martha Stokes
really needed my wedding to pay her bills.

She continued.
“Things have been a little difficult for us. My husband can be … disagreeable
at times. And then there’s this issue with bees, you know.”

“What about the
bees?”

“They’re dying.
We have fewer bees than ever before. We keep a beehive on the property to
pollinate the flowers and to sell wildflower honey. Lately our bee population
has become smaller and smaller. Mr. Stokes had to order more bees to replenish
our little workers. We wish we could understand what’s happening to them, but
again, it hurts what little we make at the farm.”

So basically she
was telling me that without our wedding, they would be in the food line down at
the shelter.

“I really do
love seeing your beautiful wildflowers every spring, and they were why I wanted
to have flowers native to Texas,” I said.

“Oh dear, I know
what you mean!” she agreed. “The bluebonnets, the butterfly weed and the little
white puffs of prairie larkspur popping up in the bouquets of color are all
some of the best parts of springtime in Texas. They pop up in the ugly fields
of winter, renewing our souls each year.”

“Listen,” I
said, “maybe we can all come out to your place next week. I think that once Mr.
Andre sees the beautiful flowers you and your husband produce, he will want you
for more and more weddings.”

Martha Stokes
brought her hands together at her bosom, issuing a quiet clap, her bag swinging
on her arm. “Oh, do you think so? That would really help us out if we had a
steady source of business.”

“Well, I can’t
make any promises. Mr. Andre can be a bit of a tyrant.”

She grasped my
arm. “You can do it dear, I have faith in you.”

Other shoppers
were guiding their baskets around us trying to access the produce we were
standing in front of when Zach pulled at my sleeve.

“Mom, can we go
to the cereal section now?” He was positioned on the side of the basket, his
feet inserted into the tray on the bottom, ready for a supermarket wind-sailing
experience.

“Sure,” I told
him and turned back to Mrs. Stokes. “I’ll be in touch, soon … Martha.”

A few days after
my meeting with Martha, I stopped by the Pecan Bayou Gazette to check on the
engagement announcement and to pick up my paycheck.

“Have to say,
there Betsy, that’s a beauty of a picture,” Rocky said as we looked at the
announcement in the online version of the newspaper. Leo and I were in the
classic engaged embrace under the “Happenings” column of the Pecan Bayou
Gazette. Our picture, however, was dwarfed by the much larger photo above it of
Prissy Olin and Theodore Obermeyer. My eyes met Rocky’s.

“Okay, okay.
Prissy’s engagement picture is bigger,” he said, “but for goodness’ sake, they
made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“How much did
they pay you for that?” I asked.

“As a reporter
you should know I can never reveal my sources,” Rocky said.

“That has to do
with information sources, not money,” I replied.

“You don’t say.”

Rocky was an old
mid-Texas newsman and had been a part of the Gazette for the last forty years.
The Gazette had entered the twenty-first century with a website that had been
well received by the community.

“Well, even if
they did slip me a little cash, you’re still the more beautiful bride,” Rocky
said, now tapping the screen with his pencil. “That’s gotta just kill ol’
Prissy, and with the advent of the Internet, now people can see your much more
attractive face from coast to coast.”

True to form,
Rocky had turned one of his bad deeds into something that was acceptable by his
standards. Rocky had at times been a friend and at others a little too
motivated to sell papers. Last year, he hadn’t worried at all about splashing
my father’s picture on the front page when he was accused of planting evidence
at a crime. His explanation? News was news, even if it involved old friends. It
burned me up, but my father was much more gracious than I could ever have been.

“We’ve been
building our email list, and I’m proud to say we have over two thousand
subscribers around the country,” said Rocky.

“I didn’t even
know two thousand people had been in Pecan Bayou long enough to want to
subscribe to the newspaper.”

“Some have
passed through, some want to move here some day, some are just weird,” Rocky
assured me. I thought of my mother. Could she be on this list? Was she reading
the stories of football games, parades, chili cook offs? Did she even miss
Pecan Bayou while living in beautiful California?

“Could I ask you
a favor?” I said.

“Sure.”

“Could I check
for a name on your mailing list?”

“Looking for an
old boyfriend? I can tell you already your ex-husband isn’t getting it.”

“In more ways
than one,” I replied.

Rocky pulled the
wireless keyboard toward him and typed until he brought up a mailing list.
“There you go.”

Leaning over his
gray plaid shoulder I could smell Aqua Velva. I didn’t even know they still
sold that stuff. “Rocky, these are all email addresses.”

“Sure, that’s
generally what email lists are made of, Betsy.”

“Do you have any
names with these?”

“Some, but
sometimes people just give a first name or no name at all,” he said. “Who were
you lookin’ for, anyway?”

I debated
telling him about inviting my mother. After all, I hadn’t told anyone else. If
my father knew, he would probably hit the roof.

Biting my lower
lip, I confessed. “Do you know if my mother is on your email list?”

Rocky’s eyebrows
arched. “Your mother – as in Charlotte?”

“That’s the only
one I’ve got, or should I say, had.”

Rocky turned
back to the computer. “Let me see if I can do a name search.”

He typed in her
name and within seconds announced, “Bingo. I have a Charlotte with the email
handle Char07. Do you think that could be her?”

“Do you have a
last name?”

“Let me see …
Rogers? Was that her name?”

“Yes, it was.”

The door to the
street behind us opened. “Well, if it isn’t my daughter and my favorite
repeating reporter.” My dad, Judd Kelsey, walked in wearing his navy blue
patrolman’s uniform. He took off his Stetson and pulled up one of Rocky’s
rolling desk chairs. “What are you two up to today? Working out the kinks of
the latest column on stain removal?”

The email
listing was still up. Could my dad see it from where he was sitting? Rocky had
no idea I would want to keep this from my dad.

“Listen, copper,
I’ve got the First Amendment behind me,” Rocky said as he minimized the
computer screen and winked at me.

Dad smiled at
his old fishing buddy. These two men had seen each other through two divorces,
and even if they were politically and professionally at odds most of the time,
their friendship remained.

“So Betsy, how’s
the monster wedding preparation going? Is Mr. Andre earning his
lavender-scented paycheck?” my dad asked.

“Yes, he’s
really a task master,” I said, “but I think I’m keeping up with all of his
lists.”

“I received your
beautiful invitation in the mail yesterday.”

I wondered if he
noticed Charlotte’s name wasn’t next to his. According to etiquette I should
have included it, but I just couldn’t.

“Glad you
spelled Judd right,” he continued. “Just hate it when people try to put in an
‘e’.”

“You old coot.
It’s not about you, it’s about our beautiful bride here,” said Rocky. Just for
a minute I wondered if there was a tear in the jaded newsman’s eye. Probably
allergies.

“So how many did
you end up inviting after all?” Judd said.

“Um, we started
out thinking about fifty invitations, but somehow the number ballooned up to
right around one hundred.”

“That’s what
weddings do, darlin’. They grow and grow and grow, and the next thing you know,
you wished you’d eloped.”

“Ah, yes. My
second marriage. What was her name?” Rocky said, leaning back in his chair
remembering.

“Well, if all
one hundred households show up, we could be in trouble,” I said. “Leo invited
people from Dallas and Galveston, too, so if they come, they’ll need a place to
stay.”

“Better let
Edith know over at the Nutty Pines Motel and Wilhelm’s B&B,” my dad
advised.

“I’ve talked to
Edith, and she said she booked up in four hours after the invitations went
out,” said. “I forgot about Wilhelm’s. I’ll have to call them.”

“Then your
guests might have to stay at the chain motel on the highway.”

Pecan Bayou was
such a small town that attracting any large hotel was nearly impossible.
Hopefully people could find lodging in some of the other small towns around us,
but I would probably have at least one relative sleeping on the floor.

“Are we getting
many from out of state?” Judd asked.

I paused for
moment – did he know I had invited my mother? Was he testing the waters to see
if I would tell him?

“A few,” I said.
“Not too many, I hope. Most of our people are right here in Texas and Leo’s mom
from Galveston.”

Dad nodded.
“Good, just as long as you don’t tell me you invited your mother. Now that
would be a mistake.”

I didn’t answer,
but instead noticed my cuticles needed pushing back.

“Betsy? Did you
invite your mother?”

I raised my
eyebrows and smiled my most innocent smile. “Of course not, Dad.”

He reached over
and patted me on the back. “Glad to hear it, darlin’. It’s hard enough to give
away my baby girl, but having that woman around would have really been bad.”

Panic rushed
through me. If she decided to renew our mother/daughter relationship after so
many years, it just might wreck my father/daughter relationship. The
invitations had gone out days ago, so there was no way to stop what might
happen. All I could do was hope that she’d stack it up with all of the other
invitations she never responded to. What kind of mother doesn’t at least
acknowledge her daughter’s life events? My mother, obviously.

The next morning
I hit the alarm clock nearly off the nightstand. The night before, I couldn’t
get all of the little wedding details from dancing around in circles above my
head. I didn’t think I could deal with one more thing. I stumbled out of bed
and knocked on Zach’s door.

“Time to get up,
Zach.”

I also spent
half the night wondering if Leo and I would ever be able to make a fair
decision about where to live. We both had something invested in the place we
were already living. Zach thought Dallas was a great idea – Tyler was already
living there, and Leo’s job was there. It all sounded great, but I had always
imagined having all the people I loved residing in the same town with me, not
four hours away.

I went into
Zach’s room to see that he had not moved from beneath the covers. “Zach? Come
on baby, out of bed.”

Zach pulled the
covers over his head.

“Zach,” I
repeated.

“Okay, okay,” he
moaned from under the comforter.

I went back to
the kitchen and put on the coffee and pulled out a box of artificially colored
and flavored sugarcoated cereal for Zach. I knew he should have been eating
something healthier, like wholesome oatmeal, and normally I would have pushed
for that. Today, though, we were both tired, and rather than risk an argument I
went straight for the junk.

As the coffee
percolated I looked out at the sun rising through my white cotton curtains.
Streaks of pink light backlit the bare tree branches and then warmed the Texas
winter sky. It was beautiful, but the same sun was shining through Leo’s window
in Dallas. I could be looking through these curtains in a different kitchen in
a few months. Would I be happy there?

Would Zach still
want to live there once the novelty of the situation wore off? I knew how much
he would miss Danny, Dad and Maggie, even if he didn’t. How long would it be
until he and Tyler switched from being friends to siblings and to all of the
fights that went with that? After all, Leo and I met while tearing the two boys
apart. Tyler was bigger and stronger than Zach. Since we first met, he had
slimmed down a bit, but still his shoulders had already started to broaden out.
Tyler struggled with school, and Zach excelled in math. There were plenty of
things between the boys that could turn into problems. I didn’t relish becoming
the parent of two teenagers hitting puberty at about the same time. Thank
goodness Leo would be there too. For the next few days Leo would be at a
meteorological conference, which would give me time to think about everything.

I poured a cup
of coffee and sat down at the table, waiting for Zach to come out of the
bathroom. Even though the subject was still spinning around in my brain, I knew
he wasn’t the one to talk to about it. I took a sip of the delicious brown
liquid and felt my world coming into focus. When the whole wedding thing was
over, the decisions were made and we settled down into real life, everything
would be better.