Every Girl Gets Confused (11 page)

Oh, wait. I did once have that goal to get a proposal from Casey before I won the wedding dress contest. I hadn't exactly met that goal, but I thanked my lucky stars for that.

Brady was still talking as he moved toward me. Something about basketball. I did my best to focus. He pulled me into his arms and sighed. “I can tell I've lost you, Katie.”

“You'll never lose me.”

He gave me a little kiss on the cheek. “Promise? 'Cause I'd hate to lose my career and you too.”

I admit, it stung a little that he said “you too” instead of “the girl I love” or something to that effect. But I let it roll off me. Mostly. “You haven't lost your career. That's what I was
saying before about seasons. This is a long one, yes, but it will pass. Springtime is coming.”

“Last time I checked it was November. But I can tell you listened to that sermon online.”

“Yeah, it was great. And I got the message loud and clear. It was very fitting. You're facing the death of a dream, but I promise God has new things. Don't give up on your dreams, Brady James. I've never known you to do that and you're not going to start now.”

“Listen to the girl.” Stan's voice sounded from outside the door.

I laughed. Oh, great. Now Stan was agreeing with me? He'd always considered me a distraction in Brady's life.

The door inched open and Stan stuck his head inside. “Just wanted you to know I've got a meeting with the Mavericks owner in an hour, Brady. No need for you to come. We're just going to talk about . . .” His words drifted off.

“I know. My contract release.” Brady shrugged. “Whatever happens, Stan, just remember it's not your fault.”

“It's not yours either,” I said, giving him a little kiss on the cheek. “You're a team player, Brady. Right now you're just on our team, at Cosmopolitan Bridal.”

“Right.” His response didn't have much enthusiasm behind it. But I didn't have time to think about that for long because Madge pushed her way into the room and started scolding Stan for bringing food into the shop.

“It's not food,” he argued. “It's pizza.”

“That's food. And you know better.” On and on she went, talking to him like a youngster. Instead of his usual bantering, Stan gave me a little wink and said, “I love it when she talks to me like this.”

Okay then. Maybe we weren't all on opposing teams.

Of course, the Sanders and Dennison families kind of were.

And Stan and Eduardo kind of were.

And Dahlia and Dewey kind of were.

Hmm. Maybe this whole teams thing was more than it was cracked up to be.

What she [Doris Day] possessed, beyond her beauty, physical grace, and natural acting ability, was a resplendent voice that conveyed enormous warmth and feeling.

Nellie McKay

O
n Friday night, the 13th, I drove Alva back to Fairfield for Queenie's lingerie shower, which took place at Bessie May's house. When I picked her up later that night, she was all giggles and smiles and couldn't stop talking about all the nighties Queenie had received.

“I'm just not sure you would believe me if I told you what a
couple of them looked like, Katie.” My aunt shook her head. “Shocking, really. I don't think Ophelia's eyesight is what it used to be. Surely she wouldn't buy that shade of pink on purpose.”

On and on she went, talking about negligees and such, but I didn't want to think about it. I needed to focus on tomorrow's shower, which would take place in the fellowship hall at the Baptist church.

We spent the night at my parents' place again. They were due to return from their latest cruise tomorrow morning, just in time for the shower. I hoped.

I awoke early on Saturday morning, my mind in a whirl. A couple of phone calls came through from Joni and Lori-Lou, who were both on their way to the church. I hurried Alva up and we hit the road, the back of my SUV loaded with supplies.

I happened to pass by the hardware store on my way and smiled when I saw the window display that Crystal and Jasper had come up with. The boxes stacked to look like a tree had been a marvelous idea. I spent so much time looking at it that I must not have noticed the light turning green. The car behind me honked and I moved on my way, anxious to get to the church to help Lori-Lou. We arrived in record time and had the room looking festive and bright in less than an hour. Thanks to Joni, the tables were filled with all sorts of yummy-looking finger foods, not a chicken strip in the mix. By the time the ladies started arriving a few minutes before ten, we were more than ready for them.

Now, I'd been to a lot of bridal showers over the years, but never one that boasted so many elderly women. From what I could gather from the hushed conversations and red faces, last night's lingerie shower was still front and center in everyone's mind. Thank goodness I'd been left off the invitation list.

Right now I didn't have time to think about nighties. I was far too busy playing hostess alongside Lori-Lou, greeting our guests and pointing them toward the food table. The finger foods were being snagged up in record time. No problem, though. Joni refilled the trays, humming a merry tune while she worked.

I couldn't get over the little cake Ophelia had baked. Darling! It boasted four tiny tiers—a wedding cake in miniature. With Prissy Moyer's help, she'd even made some adorable little cookies that looked like wedding dresses. Perfect!

Not everyone was in the best of spirits, though. Mama arrived late with a nasty-looking sunburn. Everything was beet-red except for big round circles around her eyes, where she'd apparently worn sunglasses while on her cruise.

“Don't say it, Katie Sue. I know, I know.” She dropped her purse on a chair and turned around. “Could you scratch the middle of my back? I'm peeling.”

I couldn't recall ever hearing my mom use those words before, but how could I not scratch her back? The woman had given birth to me, after all.

“I hope I can sit down.” She eased her way onto a chair. “The backs of my thighs are crisp. You just haven't known pain until you've had a sunburn in November. All that cold air blowing on your hot skin. So painful.”

Hopefully I'd never know.

“Well, you made it back from the cruise just fine.”

“Haven't even been home yet. Your father dropped me off. He's headed to the house to unload our bags. The man must've been nuts to think we could handle a cruise to Mexico on the heels of our trip to the Galápagos.”

“At least you're seeing the world.” I smiled. “That's a good thing.”

“I suppose. But I'm missing out here.” She gestured to the other ladies, who were all eating little sandwiches. “Anything exciting happen without me?”

“Oh, we just got the ball rolling with the food. In a few minutes we'll cut the cake and then play a couple of games. Then Queenie will open her presents.”

“I'd better go say hello to everyone.” Mama tried to stand, but apparently her thighs wouldn't cooperate. “Or not.” She waved at Queenie, who rose and walked toward us.

“Glad to have you back, Marie.” Queenie opened her arms as if ready to give Mama a big hug, but my mother flinched.

“I wish I could hug you, Queenie, but I just can't.” My mother squirmed in her seat. “I do wonder if I'll ever be able to hug anyone again.”

“How was your trip?” Queenie asked. “Did that son of mine behave himself?”

“If you call eating ten meals a day behaving himself, then yes,” Mama said.

Bessie May joined us. She gave a little whistle when she saw Mama's sunburn. “My goodness, Marie. You're crispier than the chicken up at Sam's. Where does one have to go to get a burn like that?”

“Cozumel.”

“I thought you were in the Galápagos.”

“That was the week before,” Mama said, then whispered to me, “Katie Sue, please scratch my back.”

“So you decided to do the Cozumel private beach excursion like I suggested?” Bessie May nodded. “Good choice.”

“That whole Cozumel experience is a story for another day,” Mama said. “But let's just leave it at this: if you ever meet a fellow named Juan Carlos who tries to tell you that he's selling you a Rolex watch, don't fall for it.”

“Other than that?” I asked as I gently scratched her back.

“It was nice. But as you can see, I got a bad burn. Did you know that Cozumel is actually closer to the equator than Fairfield?” She wriggled in her seat again. “Apparently it has to do with the effect of the gamma rays . . . or something like that.”

Lori-Lou joined us, her eyes growing wide when she saw Mama's burn. “Oh, Aunt Marie. That looks so painful. Can I bring you anything?”

“I bought stock in aloe vera,” Mama responded. “So I'm good.”

“Would you like some food?” Ophelia appeared from behind Lori-Lou.

“Food. Ugh.” Mama groaned, putting her hand on her stomach. “If I never eat again, it'll be fine with me.” She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Your father said he wanted to get his money's worth, so he pretty much ate all day every day.”

“Oh my.”

“Tell me about it. We started in the Windjammer Café in the mornings, gravitated to the grill on the top deck for lunch, and then had a glorious dinner each night in the main dining room. You've never seen so much food—appetizers, main courses, desserts—anything you like, and as much of it as you'd like.”

At this point, every woman in the room was clustered around us, all listening to Mama's story. So much for thinking this would be a shower for Queenie.

“The whole thing sounds wonderful,” Lori-Lou said. “Except for the sunburn part. Still, I can't imagine going on a cruise without any of the kids along.” She sighed. “For that matter, I can't imagine going anywhere without the kids along.”

“Oh?” Mama looked around. “Are they with you today?”

Lori-Lou nodded. “Sort of. Josh is watching them at Dairy
Queen. After that they're going to the park. If it's not too cold, I mean. It's getting chilly out there.”

“Well, when you get the chance, take a cruise. But don't eat all day like Herb did. It was terrifying to watch.” She faced me again. “I'm pretty sure your father put on ten pounds. I put on five myself. But we had a wonderful time. Mostly. One of these days I'll tell you about the family we met in the dining hall. We had to share a table with them.” She shivered, but I couldn't tell if it was from the sunburn or the conversation.

“Back to the party, folks.” Ophelia clapped her hands. “We've got a cake to cut.”

“And cookies to eat,” Prissy said.

“And presents to open!” Lori-Lou added.

“Oh, but first tell me how the lingerie shower went last night, Queenie,” Mama said.

At this, my grandmother had to sit down. Several of the other ladies started giggling. In fact, Prissy nearly lost it. Her face turned as red as the buttons on her blouse.

Terrific. And here I'd thought we might get away with not mentioning it.

“We'll tell you everything,” Bessie May said. “What do you want to hear first?”

“For pity's sake.” Queenie shook her head. “You missed a fiasco. These crazy old women just wanted to shame me.”

“Or raise your blood pressure,” Ophelia said.

“Trust me, Paul Bradford's blood pressure is surely going to be elevated when he sees her in a couple of those getups we gave her.” Prissy slapped her knee. “It's gonna be a humdinger of a honeymoon, we'll just leave it at that!”

If one could judge from the expression on my grandmother's face, she was clearly disgusted with this conversation. “What a ridiculous waste of money,” she muttered. “Seriously.”

“Now, I thought that white lace nightie was lovely, Queenie,” Bessie May said. “Nothing wrong with that one.”

“The fabric is thin. I can't abide thin fabric. Give me a good flannel nightgown any day.”

“Flannel?” Lori-Lou groaned. “Tell me you're not wearing flannel on your honeymoon, Queenie.”

“What I'm wearing—or not wearing—on my honeymoon is nobody's business.” My grandmother's face flushed. “Now, let's change the subject, please and thank you. I think we have more important things to discuss than my nightgowns. Didn't someone say there was a cake to be cut? I'd love a slice.”

“A small slice, Queenie,” Ophelia said. “You don't want to pack on the pounds before you have to wear that hot pink nightie I bought you.”

This garnered a groan from Queenie. Or maybe the groan had more to do with the fact that she was attempting to stand. Her knee appeared to give out on her, but Lori-Lou and I caught her before she went down.

“There you go.” Queenie released a sigh. “If the nightie doesn't win him over, my slick moves will.”

Everyone laughed.

Minutes later Ophelia cut the cake. She and Lori-Lou served up slices while I organized the women into two groups to play our first game.

“Choose one woman from each group to be the bride,” I instructed.

The first group chose Prissy Moyer. The second group chose, of all people, Joni. She argued that she wasn't technically a guest at this party, but that argument did her no good.

“Okay, now take the rolls of toilet paper, and when I say go, begin to wrap your bride, making the toilet paper into her wedding gown.”

“Toilet paper brides?” Queenie shook her head. “What will they think of next?”

“Ready, set . . . go!” I stood back and watched as the groups dressed their respective brides. I couldn't fathom how they did it, but Joni's group had her looking very bride-like at the end of the challenge. Prissy, on the other hand, looked like a mummy.

Mama pulled out her phone and snapped pictures. “Oh, this'll be perfect to post on Facebook. I can't wait.”

“If you dare post a picture of me dressed in toilet paper, I'll sue you, Marie Fisher!” Prissy hollered.

That didn't stop Mama. She continued to take pictures. My favorite was the one with Joni covered in white and holding a toilet paper bouquet. Maybe Levi would take the hint.

Afterward we played another, calmer game. This one was a fill-in-the-blank story that turned out to be a lot of fun. Lori-Lou won the game—hardly fair, since she was a hostess, not a guest. But she gave her prize to the bride-to-be, which balanced things out.

Finally the moment arrived.

“Presents!” Ophelia squealed.

“Sure hope they're not as embarrassing as the ones last night,” Queenie said.

“You'll never believe what I went through to get that black negligee.” Bessie May shook her head. “I bought it online from some site I'd never been to before. And ever since, I've been plagued with spam. Horrible stuff.”

“Oh, Spam
is
horrible stuff,” Ophelia agreed. “I've never liked it, though my husband—God rest his soul—ate it once a week.”

“Not
that
kind of spam, Ophelia.” Bessie May rolled her eyes. “Anyway, ever since I ordered the negligee from that site, I get the weirdest pop-ups.”

“I had a pop-up for breakfast,” Prissy said. “One of those Toaster Strudel things. Still not sure why they call 'em pop-ups. They don't pop up when you bake them.”

“My experience on the internet has changed since I placed the order,” Bessie May said. “And not in a good way. You would be stunned at the pictures I've seen. I truly didn't know the human body could get into some of those positions.”

“Oh my.” Mama fanned herself. “Is it getting hot in here?”

“You're sunburned, Marie,” Queenie said. “But it is getting warm.”

“I wish I could get those pictures to go away.” Bessie May shrugged. “I might have to throw my computer out the window and buy a new one. I can't imagine looking at such things every time I want to check my email. Such terrible photos.”

The women continued to gab as I passed gifts to Queenie, expressions of glee sounding as she opened one gift after another, and none of them risqué at all. When she got to mine, Queenie gasped and turned my way. “Oh, Katie, it's beautiful.” She held up a glittering tiara.

“I know you didn't want a veil, but you're the matriarch of the family. You're our Queenie. So you need a crown.”

“Do you think?” A lovely smile lit her face as she examined it.

“It's perfect!” I clasped my hands together, thrilled with her reaction.