Dreaming in Technicolor (37 page)

The tea was a smashing success.

Karen used her drama-teacher and community-theater connections to find period-style costumes, and Mom, Ashley, Elizabeth, Lexie, and I all dressed up to look like characters from
Sense and
Sensibility
.

We tried in vain to talk Jordy—who ran the bookstore side with a little help from Redmond that day—into wearing a Hugh Grant pair of breeches, coat, and cravat. But quiet Redmond surprised us all by showing up in full costume, looking for all the world like romantic Willoughby from
Sense and Sensibility
.

“My mom sews pretty well,” he told us bashfully, “and I'm kind of interested in that period in literature.”

All the rest of that afternoon, I noticed Ashley sneaking looks at him.
Maybe Jesse has a little competition.

We served dainty cucumber sandwiches, chicken-and-almond salad on miniature croissants, and small wedges of my mother's homemade Quiche Lorraine on the bottom level of the three-tiered silver racks at each table.

On the middle tiers we arranged slices of assorted tea breads alongside our best re-creation of the plump Fat Rascal scones from the Yorkshire Betty's, with cut-glass bowls of mock Devonshire cream and strawberry jam on the side.

And the top tiers proudly boasted lemon squares, Amy's famous shortbread, and plump strawberries dipped in chocolate, all nestled on snowy paper doilies.

“Mmm, this is scrumptious.” Mary Jo, who had donned her Brown's tea outfit for the occasion, leaned back at the table she was sharing with Gordon and sighed as she finished her scone. “You've all done yourselves proud. I feel like I'm back in England again.”

“Yeah, the only thing missing is Ian,” I whispered as I refilled her cup.

“Shh,” she hissed, cheeks flaming.

Mom and I had talked a reluctant Gordon into attending our tearoom debut. “But tea's not a guy thing,” the crusty newspaper editor had protested.

“It is in England.” I'd batted my eyelashes at him.

We'd assured him that he wouldn't be the only man.

And he wasn't. Our pastor from Holy Communion also showed up with his wife, and Sylvia Ann had also coerced Bruce into escorting her.

At the end of the day, when we closed the doors and propped up our aching feet, my brother counted out the day's take—nearly double that of Books 'n' Brew's normal daily receipts.

Jordy grabbed me and whirled me around the store. “Pheebert, you rock!”

[chapter twenty-one]

Life in the Man-Free Zone

i
still can't believe you're running a coffeehouse!”

“It's a bookstore, Lins.” I corrected her. “Read a Latte.”

“Right. Sorry. But who'd have ever thought that
you'd
be a business owner! Little Miss Math-Impaired. In your wildest dreams, did you ever imagine it?”

“No, not really.” I chuckled. “But things are going great. Jordy's handling all the financial stuff. And Karen and Jordy are loving the fact that they get to spend more time together—as are the kids. And of course Mom's totally in her baking element.”

“But what about you, Pheebs?”

“I'm great. Hey, I'm thirty-two years old—well, almost—and my own boss, a partner in my own thriving business. Doesn't get much better than that.”

“You don't have to sell me—I'm hoping to do the same thing someday with my beaded jewelry.” She paused. “But what about your writing?”

“I'm still writing. I'm doing my monthly online column, which I absolutely love.” Opening the fridge, I pulled out the last can of Diet A&W cream soda and popped it open. “In fact, I just turned one in yesterday about the joys of getting weighed in a doctor's office. In
Cheers
everybody may have known your name, but in the doctor's office, everybody knows your weight.”

Lindsey guffawed. “I hear ya on that. I just love your column—so do all the Lone Ranger girls, especially since you started writing about single women's issues. It's hilarious. In fact, I think it's the best thing you've ever done.”

“What about my movie reviews?” I bristled.

“Now, don't go getting all mad. I loved your movie reviews, but I love this new stuff even more.” She paused, and I could hear her swallowing—her favorite, Diet Dr Pepper, probably. “Not everyone's into old movies, you know. But every unmarried twenty-, thirty-, even forty-something woman can relate to your column—especially that last one on kissing and lust. Even Susan loved it.”

“You're kidding!” I nearly dropped the phone. “Super-WOG Susan? The same Susan who started up Lone Rangers
and operates on a higher spiritual plane than the rest of us?”

“The one and only.” Lindsey giggled. “She told me to tell you that the next time we talked. In fact, I think she's planning to e-mail you herself. She said, and I quote, ‘It's real, it's funny, and it's honest. And it's nice to have someone telling it like it is for women whose lives haven't turned out the way they told us it would in Sunday school—the whole happily-ever-after, white-knight bit.'”

“Except for yours, Lins,” I said dryly.

“Well, yeah, but until Phil came along, I was in that same single place—as you more than anyone knows. And even though I'm getting married, I can still relate.” She sighed. “Been there, done that. I only wish your column came out more often.”

“Not me.” I took another swig of soda. “I wouldn't have the time to write it. The bookstore, the column, and these teas pretty much keep me hopping.”

“Do you ever miss being a reporter?” Lins asked. “I'm sure those emus really miss
you
.”

“Uh-huh. And the goats and the pigs and the cows. And don't forget the Miss Udderly Delicious pageant contestants.”

“They're pretty hard to forget.” We giggled together. “But seriously, Pheebs,” Lindsey said, “what about the writing? Don't you miss doing it full-time?”

Do I?
I'd been so busy with the store, I hadn't even had time to think about that.

“Um, well . . . a little, I guess.”

“You could have had a full-time writing job, but you turned it down.” She sighed. “And with it, untold riches and glory. But never mind. Who am I to say anything? Just your best friend, that's all,” she murmured sotto voce. “And what do I care if you spit in my husband-to-be's face? Just shaming him in front of all his employees?” More sotto voce.

“Have you been watching reruns of
Everybody Loves Raymond
again
?
” I stretched out on the couch. “You've got the martyr-mother thing down cold.”

“That's 'cause I just got off the phone with
my
mother.”

“So, how's she doing with your decision to scale back the wedding and move up the date?”

“You mean after she threatened to throw herself off the balcony?” Lindsey sighed. “She's disappointed, of course, but she'll live. And speaking of my mother, I apologize for turning into her and trying to guilt you into taking the PR job. I'm glad you didn't listen to me. You'd have been miserable writing about stocks and bonds and investment portfolios.”

“And Phillie would have been miserable when I put a decimal point in the wrong place and cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

We laughed in happy agreement, and I felt almost like dancing. It felt so good to have my best friend back—and not either manic or mad at me.

Shouldn't have been surprised. Lindsey and I always manage to sort
things out. It's a little weird, though, doing it long-distance.

“Pheebs, I have a confession to make,” Lindsey said, growing serious. “I was really jealous of your going to Europe, and then the whole time you were gone, I was kicking myself for not jumping at the chance when you offered it to me. That's why I was such a total . . . well, you know.”

“I'll say.”

“You're not supposed to agree with me. Couldn't you protest even just a little?”

“Not in this lifetime.” I stretched out on the couch.

“Okay. I get the message.” She laughed. “So give me the whole 411 now. Was England unbelievably wonderful? And did you absolutely love it?”

“Quite,” I said in my poshest, plummiest accent—definitely
not
Hyacinth Bucket. “The theater, the galleries, the stores, the countryside, the churches . . . all brilliant.” I paused and went back to my normal voice. “It wasn't just the country, though, it was the whole experience.” I thought again of St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey and St. Mary's in Fairford with the glorious stained glass . . .

“. . . are you feeling about Alex these days?” Lindsey's voice brought me back. “Because if it will make you uncomfortable, Phil and I agreed that we wouldn't have him in the wedding. You're our nearest and dearest friend in the whole world, and even though he's Phil's buddy, he's not at the same level on the friends-meter. We don't have a problem telling him that if it would be too hard for you to see him in the wedding party,” she continued.

“No, don't do that.” I shifted on the couch. “I'm actually fine about the whole Alex thing now.”

I tested my words. Were they really true? Or was I just saying them for Phil and Lindsey's sake?

Repeating them in my mind, I waited to see what happened.
Nothing. I really meant them.
Emboldened, I continued. “Really, Lins. It just wasn't meant to be. And God taught me a lot through the experience—showed me how I have a tendency to get too romantic too quickly and live in my fantasies a lot of the time.”

I waited. She didn't contradict me. So I chuckled. “Of course, you caught me on a good day. Don't know how I'll feel tomorrow.”

“Just keep me posted, okay?”

“Will do.”

“And Pheebs?”

“Yeah?”

“We're cool now. Right?”

“We're cool. Except for one little thing.”

“What's that?”

“If you're not going to nix the bouquet-throwing torture, then I at least get a sit-out waiver.”

Hanging up from Lins, I decided to check my e-mail and found the most wonderful surprise. Jeff and Amy wrote to say they loved Oregon and their new church, but what had them most delighted was that they were expecting a child.

In a baby frame of mind after that exciting news, I decided to pop by Karen and Jordy's and spend a little time with my namesake niece, Gloria Phoebe. I knocked on the back door, but nobody answered, so I poked my head into the kitchen. “Hello, where is everybody?”

An answering roar met my ears, and my nephew came rushing at me full-tilt in his knight's helmet, brandishing a red plastic baseball bat as his sword. “You bad witch, you can't have the princess and lock her away in a tower. I'll protect her 'cause I'm Sir Jacob.”

Before I had a chance to react, Lexie came scampering in behind her brother, wearing a pink nightgown and her Princess Di tiara. “My hewo. You saveded me fwom da wicked witch.” She offered a grubby fist of sticky M&M's to Jacob. “Heaw's youw tweazhur.”

“Where's the princess Lexie and her trusty Sir Jacob?” Jordy came charging in, a tinfoil crown askew on his messy head and a stuffed lion under his arm. “King Aslan says it's time for a nap.” He led my compliant niece and nephew away as his wife entered the kitchen, baby on her hip.

“Well, that's a nice sight, I must say—seeing Jordy playing with the kids again.”

“I know. They're in heaven having him around more, and so am I.” She gave me a quizzical look. “So what brings you by?”

I stretched out my arms for little Gloria. “Just needed a little baby fix. Gimme, gimme.” Sitting down at the table with the chubby bundle in my arms, I
nestled my face into my sweet niece's cheeks. “Mmm, there's nothing like that sweet baby smell.”

And nothing like that not-so-sweet baby smell.
I stood and held her at arm's length.

“Sorry. I just fed her a little while ago, and she always has really stinky diapers after that.” Karen scooped her up just as Jordy returned. “I'll go change her.”

My brother sat down across from me at the table and reached for the bowl of salted-in-the-shell peanuts. “Hey Pheebert, I'm glad you stopped by,” he said, cracking one of the nuts in his hand. “Been wanting to talk to you about something.”

The “something” turned out to be a guy—a guy he wanted to set me up with. Tim was a jock friend of his from Lodi whom I'd met and talked to a couple times.

“Nice guy,” I said. “And kind of cute too. But he doesn't even know who Spencer Tracy was.”

“So?” Jordy said. “I'll bet you don't know who Roberto Clemente was.”

“What movie was he in?”

My brother groaned. “He wasn't in a movie. That's the point. He was the greatest right fielder ever to play the game of baseball. The guy won four National League batting titles!” He sighed and shook his head. “Pheebert, you don't have to have
everything
in common to date someone. Haven't you ever heard of opposites attracting?” He gave Karen, who'd just rejoined us, a sexy smile.