Dr. Horatio vs. the Six-Toed Cat (10 page)

Order cake – Alison

Call JW (photographer) – Millie

Guest list –Millie and Alison

Menu – Millie and Shirley

Wedding night arrangements – Nicholas

Polish silver – Albert

Chapter Eight

W
hen everyone was seated around the breakfast table the next morning, Millie produced her list. She'd stayed up late making copies so everyone would have their own.

Circling the table, she set one on every place mat and then returned to the stove.

Nicholas picked his up. “What's this?”

“A to-do list.” She pressed a paper towel against the bacon to soak up the excess grease before setting the platter on the table. “It'll expand over the next few days, but it's a place to start.”

Alison scanned Nick's copy over his shoulder. “We don't need flowers, Mom. And I can't see paying a lot of money for a big wedding cake when we're only going to have five guests.”

“That's why you order the cake from the grocery store bakery. It doesn't have to be tiered. A regular layer cake will do just as well.” She cracked another egg into her skillet. “And you're going to have at least twelve guests, which is another reason the courthouse won't be suitable.”

“Twelve?” Alison looked at Nick. “I told you she'd do this.”

Millie turned, spatula in hand. “You mean you don't want to invite your brothers and their wives to your wedding?”

“Oh.” She looked away, chagrined. “I forgot about them.”

“Plus, we'll have to invite Violet because I want her to make those little chicken salad tarts.”

“Who's Violet?” asked Nicholas.

“Mom's best friend.” Alison caught sight of another item on the list. “Who is JW?”

“Junior Watson.”

“Oh, Mother, really?” Alison rolled her eyes. “I am not inviting Junior Watson to my wedding. He'll wear those ripped overalls he always has on, and besides, I barely know the man.”

“He's become quite a hand at amateur photography.” Millie expertly flipped an egg. “You'll be sorry someday if you don't have pictures of your wedding. You won't find a real photographer at this late date. Besides, he'll probably do it for twenty-five dollars.”

“And why are you and Nick's mom planning the menu? Don't I get to help plan my own wedding meal?” Her lower lip protruded just like when she was a little girl.

Millie's heart twisted, and she pushed back a thousand memories to focus on the moment. “Of course you can, dear. I was just trying to save you from some of the work.”

“Wait a minute.” Albert looked up from the list, displeasure heavy on his features. “You know I hate polishing silver. The smell of that stuff gets stuck in my nose, and it'll haunt me for days.”

She slid two eggs, over easy, onto a plate and set it in front of him. “You have to help out some way. You can't expect us to do everything.”

“I certainly can. In fact, I do. What's wrong with their original plan? They run down to the courthouse, say their vows, the boy signs his life away, and the whole thing's over without a fuss.”

Nicholas stared at him with a touch of alarm. “Sign my life away?”

Albert laid a hand on the young man's shoulders and spoke as though delivering sage advice. “When a man gets married, his life is never his own again. Trust me on this.”

“Oh, Daddy, stop it. You'll scare him.” Alison wrapped her arms around her beau from behind and gave him a quick hug before returning to the counter to butter the toast. “He's joking, Nick.”

Millie turned with another plate of eggs in time to see Albert catch
Nicholas's eye and wink. She pursed her lips and delivered an unspoken warning.
Be nice.
Though truth be told, her heart warmed to see Albert joking with the young man as he would one of their own sons.

“If you really don't want to polish the silver,” she told her husband, “you don't have to. You have another duty—a far more important one.”

“That's true.” He straightened in his chair and cast a fond glance toward Alison. “I get to walk my daughter down the aisle.”

“That's not what I'm talking about.” Millie slid the final egg onto her own plate and carried it to the table. “You get to pay for everything.”

Having rendered her husband momentarily speechless, she took her seat and bowed her head. It was her turn to pray.

Epilogue

M
illie waited on the grass outside the church, Albert at her side. Across the sidewalk, Shirley and Three, as the family called Nicholas's father, stood arm in arm. They made quite a group, the twenty-three people who had gathered to see Alison and Nicholas exchange their vows. Not only her sons, Doug and David, and her daughters-in-law, but Albert's niece had driven down from Cincinnati and brought her three children. Seven-year-old Tori had served as an impromptu flower girl, spreading petals hurriedly plucked from the wilting mums in the flowerpots along Main Street.

“It was a beautiful wedding, wasn't it?” she asked Albert.

He squeezed her arm. “It was. You did a great job.”

“Thank you. And you looked very nice walking Alison down the aisle.” When they passed the front pew where Millie stood, she'd caught the sparkle of tears in his eyes. But to mention that would embarrass him, so she tucked the memory away in her heart.

Tori, standing on the church steps to peer inside, whirled with a grin and shouted, “Here they come!”

Moments later, Alison and Nicholas appeared in the doorway. They paused while Alison gathered the skirts of the elegant white prom dress she and Millie found on the rack at a department store in Lexington. No wedding dress could be more beautiful, nor any bride either. Alison positively radiated joy when she looked into the handsome face of her husband, resplendent in his military dress uniform.

Then the pair disappeared behind a blur of Millie's tears.

They ran down the stairs amid a shower of birdseed thrown by their guests. Laughing and crying at the same time, Millie waved at the couple as they ran to the waiting car. Nicholas sprinted forward and opened the door for his bride, who turned and called to her guests, “We'll see y'all at the house!”

“She already sounds like him,” Albert muttered. “Did you hear that Southern drawl?”

Millie laughed. “Imagine what she'll sound like when they come back from Italy.”

When the newlyweds' car sped away, everyone else headed for their own vehicles. Albert started to leave, but Millie held him back with a pressure on his arm. He turned to her with an unspoken question.

“I just…need a moment.” Again, her vision blurred, and she lowered her head lest anyone see.

Albert pressed her hand and told their sons to go ahead. When they stood alone on the church lawn, he placed an arm around her waist.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Swallowing, Millie nodded.

He pulled her close, and she rested her head against his shoulder, breathing in the unique blend of his aftershave, soap, and hair tonic. They were alone now. Truly alone. The last of their little birds had left the nest.

“Our house will never be the same.” Her words were muffled against his suit coat.

“What are you talking about, Mildred Richardson?” She heard a teasing tenderness in his voice. “We've been alone for four years, ever since she went to college.”

She shook her head. “It's not the same. She was just away temporarily. But we're really alone now. She won't be coming home.” A sob threatened to choke her, and she pressed her face harder against the stiff fabric.