The dress wasn’t worth struggling over. She gazed into the full-length mirror, the one that used to give her much better news than this, and resigned herself to the inevitability of the peach dress wrapped around her extra twenty pounds. By moving the wedding date and choosing this color for her matron of honor, Melody had guaranteed that she’d be the most beautiful Winston daughter in the room come Saturday’s wedding. And that was as it should be on a woman’s wedding day.
Feeling noble and virtuous, Annie unzipped the dress and stepped out of it. ‘‘Great job, Mom,’’ she said. ‘‘Thanks for letting it out.’’
‘‘No problem.’’ Joy took the dress and hung it on a padded hanger. ‘‘And now I have to run. No telling what sort of mess Cecily made of the receipts yesterday while I was gone.’’
‘‘We need to take off, too,’’ Melody said. ‘‘Since Gwen offered to open early for us, I promised we’d stop by the Hob Knob to pick up cinnamon rolls and coffee before going over.’’
‘‘Gwen?’’ Annie pulled on stretch jeans that were too tight. No cinnamon rolls for her this morning. ‘‘You mean Gwen Dubois?’’ Gwen had been one of Annie’s closest friends in school, but over the years they’d lost touch.
‘‘Yep, that’s her,’’ Melody said.
‘‘I take it she’s helping her folks run the flower shop.’’
‘‘Actually, she’s running it by herself,’’ Melody said. ‘‘A couple of years ago Elaine and Andre moved to a double-wide in Yuma because of Elaine’s arthritis. They left Gwen the business. She’s done well, too. Seems to have a green thumb.’’
‘‘Huh. I somehow thought she’d be traveling the world by now.’’ Annie remembered how Gwen used to say she was going to France someday to trace her ancestors. But maybe worries about her mother’s health and the pressure of taking over the business had kept that from happening. ‘‘Is she married?’’
Melody shook her head. ‘‘I don’t even think she’s dating anyone.’’
Their mother switched off the light over her sewing table. ‘‘What happened with Jeremy? Weren’t they going out?’’
‘‘Oh, God, that was a disaster.’’ Melody rolled her eyes. ‘‘Jeremy’s parents and her parents were into this
Fiddler on the Roof
thing, hoping to match them up because the ’rents were friends and they thought Jeremy and Gwen were so much alike. Well, they are, which resulted in zero chemistry.’’
Annie thought of yesterday’s awkward conversation with Jeremy and wondered whether gender issues had been the real problem. But she had no intention of broaching the subject.
‘‘That’s too bad,’’ Joy said. ‘‘And in a town this small, I wonder if either of them will be lucky enough to find someone.’’
Annie thought Gwen had a fighting chance, but if she was right about Jeremy, he didn’t have a prayer of finding a significant other in the conservative confines of Big Knob, Indiana.
From the minute Jeremy climbed out of bed in the morning, he had the nagging feeling that something significant had changed. For one thing, he was naked, and he usually slept in pajama bottoms. For another thing, he was awake before Megabyte, who was snoring away on the braided rug next to his bed.
As he pulled on the clothes he’d left on a chair in the bedroom, she lifted her head and gazed at him as if he’d gone crazy. Maybe he had. The birds weren’t even chirping yet, for chrissake.
‘‘Come on, Meg. If I’m up, you might as well get up, too.’’ His utilitarian apartment was located above the café, so in order to let Meg out to do her business he had to walk downstairs. Making doggy protest noises, she lumbered after him.
‘‘I don’t get it, either,’’ he said. ‘‘I haven’t been up this early since I was a kid.’’
He halfway expected to see something out of place when he walked through the café, but everything there looked perfectly normal. Meg headed reluctantly out the back door into the chilly morning air, peed quickly and headed back up the stairs to the apartment. Jeremy followed, all the while looking for clues as to why he’d bounced out of bed like the Energizer Bunny.
Standing in his tiny kitchen, he fed Meg and remembered he’d forgotten to start the coffee downstairs. He never forgot to start the coffee. He always required caffeine, and plenty of it, to feel human in the morning.
Something was going on, but he couldn’t figure out what. He prowled the apartment and gazed out the windows, expecting to find some evidence of change. His building was located on the east side of Second where it intersected with Fifth, and he had windows in the front and side of his apartment. From the side window he could see the old house that had become the headquarters of the Big Knob Historical Society, his mother’s pet project.
The front windows looked across the intersection toward the town square. At this hour, when the sun huddled below the hills east of town, the square was empty except for the life-sized statue of Isadora Mather standing in front of the gazebo. His mother, Lucy, had spearheaded the fund-raiser to erect the statue honoring the wife of the town’s founder, Ebenezer Mather.
Lucy Dunstan loved nothing better than digging into old attics looking for local history, and the residents had given her carte blanche to do that. On one of her excavations she’d unearthed an old journal describing how Isadora’s herbal remedies had saved many Big Knobians during a smallpox epidemic in the early 1800s.
According to the journal, Isadora had also inspired the layout of the town’s five main streets. Her husband, Ebenezer, had created a five-pointed star and proclaimed it a tribute to Isadora, his shining star. Consequently the town square was actually a pentagon, but everyone called it a square because that’s what people expected to find in the middle of a small midwestern town.
As Jeremy gazed at the statue, it slowly took on an eerie glow, as if lit from within. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Still glowing. The hills continued to block the rising sun, and besides, sunlight wouldn’t create that effect.
When the sun finally did come up, the glow gradually faded. Had the town installed a type of dusk-to-dawn device inside the statue? He could easily have missed that innovation because he was never awake this early unless he set an alarm.
But a light inside the statue wouldn’t explain what he’d seen. Nothing would show through bronze. He’d just have to ask his mother about it. She was the authority on that statue.
Suddenly he was eager to start the day, and yet he hadn’t put a single drop of coffee into his system. Peeling off his clothes, he headed for the bathroom to shave and shower. He was into his second chorus of ‘‘Eye of the Tiger’’ before he realized he was singing.
Singing.
Jesus. No wonder Meg was standing in the doorway staring. What was wrong with him?
By rights he should be hungover after spending the evening with Dorcas and Ambrose. Those two sure could put away the booze. After the second Irish coffee he’d lost track of how many he’d had, and most likely they’d kept up with him.
He’d also lost track of the magic lesson. Maybe they’d all decided to party, instead, because he had no memory of learning hat tricks or how to manipulate a deck of cards. But he did have a vague recollection of Ambrose dancing a dorky cha-cha to Frankie Avalon’s ‘‘Venus.’’ And there had been something strange going on with the black cat, too. . . .
He turned to his dog. ‘‘I’m swearing off Irish coffee, Meg. It makes me see weird things, like that black cat dancing the cha-cha with Ambrose. I’ll bet you didn’t see anything like that.’’
Meg whined and wagged her tail.
‘‘Don’t say you did just to make me feel better. I’d rather not have a dancing cat in town, thank you very much. Or a glowing statue, for that matter. I like Big Knob the way it is. Quiet. Predictable. That suits me fine.’’
But it doesn’t suit Annie, does it?
The thought sent out sparks as it blazed through his hyperactive brain. Annie had left town for the same reason he’d stuck around, which meant that lusting after her was an exercise in futility. Just as well that he recognized that, because apparently he hadn’t learned any magic last night.
Even so, he didn’t want to leave her with the impression that he was gay. The part he did remember from his time with the Lowells was their suggestion that he ask Annie out.
Come to think of it, hadn’t they sent him home with a bottle of wine from their private collection, in case the wine would come in handy? Still holding his razor, he walked into the small kitchen and glanced around. Sure enough, a bottle sat on the counter.
He leaned down and read the label. Mystic Hills Winery, bottled in Sedona, Arizona. Although he was no wine expert, he’d never heard of winemaking in Sedona. But Dorcas and Ambrose seemed far more educated in those things than he was, so he’d take a chance the wine was decent.
In order to share it with Annie, though, he had to make a date with her. No time like the present. Setting down the razor, he went to his land-line phone in the living room and thumbed through Big Knob’s slender phone book.
Belatedly he realized how early it was. He was all set to apologize, but nobody answered at the Winston house. The old Jeremy would have left a message and let it go at that, but the old Jeremy seemed to have left the building. The new Jeremy intended to track Annie down, talk to her directly and get a commitment for tonight.
He called the Knob Bobbin.
‘‘My, you’re up early this morning, Jeremy,’’ Joy said.
‘‘Tell me about it. By the way, you don’t happen to know anything about a new lighting effect on the statue, do you?’’ With only one statue in town, he didn’t have to be more specific.
‘‘Lighting effect?’’
‘‘It glows.’’
‘‘I haven’t heard anything about that, but I can’t imagine how you could make a bronze statue glow.’’
‘‘I guess you’re right.’’ Jeremy felt ridiculous for bringing it up. He really would save the question for his mother. ‘‘Anyway, I was wondering if you could help me find Annie. I tried your house, but no one answered.’’
‘‘We’ve been up since before dawn and we’re all running around like chickens. Is it something about the wedding?’’
‘‘Yes.’’ The answer came to him instantly. No hemming or hawing. No searching for the right thing to say, which would have been his normal behavior. Just a clear and confident
yes
. He couldn’t go through all the festivities as best man with the matron of honor thinking he was gay. Simple as that.
Life had never been that simple for him before, but this morning his thoughts were clear on the subject of Annie. She might never be interested in him because he lived in a place she found boring. Now that he hadn’t learned any magic last night, he didn’t have that to intrigue her, either. But he had other attributes, damn it, and he wanted her to know exactly what she was missing by rejecting him.
‘‘You could try Beaucoup Bouquets,’’ Joy said. ‘‘Annie and Melody went over there to finalize the flower order. They’re probably still there.’’
‘‘Thanks.’’ As Jeremy said his good-byes and disconnected, he wondered whether his name would come up over at Beaucoup Bouquets. What if Annie mentioned her suspicion that he was gay? What would Gwen say to that? She couldn’t disprove it, that was for sure.
He’d tried to work up some passion when he’d kissed her, but he’d felt almost nothing. He liked Gwen and he was completely heterosexual, contrary to what Annie thought. He probably could have taken Gwen to bed purely for the release, but that wouldn’t have been fair to either of them.
Back in his college days he hadn’t been so principled. He’d had a couple of relationships that had very little emotional commitment. To admit that he’d never been able to care about anyone the way he cared about Annie sounded juvenile, so he didn’t admit it. But he was secretly afraid that was the truth of the matter.
Gwen answered the phone. He hadn’t talked to her on the phone since they’d agreed to stop dating. They’d left some things unsaid, and now that didn’t seem right.
‘‘Hi, Gwen. It’s Jeremy.’’
She laughed. ‘‘I know who it is. We dated for months.’’
‘‘Yeah, and I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I’m also sorry that I never told you how great you are. We’re not right for each other, but I hope some guy comes along who is right for you, because you deserve someone special and he’d be a lucky son of a bitch to have you.’’
‘‘Wow. That’s quite a speech, especially for a quiet guy like you at this hour of the morning. Either you stayed up all night and are wired, or you’ve had way too much coffee since you climbed out of bed.’’
‘‘Neither.’’
She hesitated. ‘‘You’re not taking something, are you?’’
‘‘Taking something?’’
‘‘You know—one of those antianxiety drugs. I would hate to think that you—’’
‘‘Good God, no.’’ But what she’d said gave him an uneasy feeling. What if Dorcas and Ambrose had slipped something into his Irish coffee? That would explain why he felt like king of the hill this morning.
‘‘Well, okay, then. So is that all you called about? To wish me a nice life?’’
‘‘No, although I do. Is Annie there?’’
‘‘As a matter of fact, she is. Let me get her.’’
‘‘Thanks.’’ At the prospect of speaking with Annie, his adrenaline level spiked, but he didn’t feel nervous. Damn, he hoped this confidence wasn’t the result of Irish coffee spiked with Prozac. That would suck.
‘‘Hi, Jeremy.’’
He would recognize her voice anywhere. Nobody else had that husky undertone that had been so distinctive on WGN that he’d have known it was her with his eyes closed. Her voice made him—and most likely the male population in general—think of sex.
For one wild moment he considered growling playfully into the phone. That would be waaay out of character. ‘‘Hi, Annie. Your mom said I might find you there.’’
‘‘We’re finalizing the flower arrangements. If you want to weigh in on the boutonnieres, now’s your big chance. Melody’s leaning toward a rose instead of a carnation, and Bruce is in a meeting, so I guess that leaves you as the decision maker.’’