house and ran into Charlotte
coming from the other direction.
Maggie clasped
her throat. “Charlotte!”
Upon seeing
Maggie, Charlotte stood frozen to the ground.
Danny, not
remembering the decades-old feud, ran to Charlotte and grabbed her in a bear
hug. “Aunt Charlotte!” he said, burying his head in her shoulder.
Stiffening at
the hug, Charlotte regained her senses and acknowledged my aunt with a
perfunctory nod. “Maggie.”
Maggie stepped
up and planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you here, Charlotte? The broom
factory close down?”
Charlotte
responded quickly, surprising me. “I guess your last order was too big.”
“Ladies!” Andre
cut in. “We are not here to settle old scores.”
After seeing the
tension between the mother I always wanted and the woman who was like a mother
to me, I began wondering if the Elvis Chapel in Vegas might be available in the
next twenty-four hours.
“Really, Betsy,”
Martha said. “You have to come see what we are working on here. You at least
promised that.”
“Betsy, do you
truly want to order flowers from … Stokes here?” Mr. Andre demanded.
“I don’t know,”
I squeaked out. “Mrs. Stokes asked me to come out, and well, she sounded like
they really needed the business.” I saw Lenny Stokes bristle.
“We don’t need
nothin’, and my wife needs to keep her meddling to her own affairs,” he said.
“Watch out for them good Christian women, they’ll get you every time.”
Martha stared at
the floor. Her husband hadn’t known she was out begging for business. From the
exhausted look of the house and farm, she had to be desperate.
The crowd turned
to me as I uttered something unintelligible. Mr. Andre chortled, and Lenny
Stokes stepped up.
“What you
laughing at, boy? I’ve heard about you and your prissy weddings. I’m not so
hard up I’ve got to do my business with the likes of you. Now get the hell off
my place.”
Mr. Andre, in
shock, stepped back from the porch. He raised his hand in the air and
stuttered, “In all of my experience I have never met anyone so … awful.” He
turned to me, the satin in his shirt sagging slightly. “It’s up to you to make
this decision, Betsy, but I advise highly against it!”
Aunt Maggie
stepped closer to me and took hold of my hand. “Whatever you decide will be
fine, darlin’.”
Charlotte
grabbed my other hand and nodded.
“Mr. Andre,” I
began, “you’ve given me good advice so far, so I’m going to trust your judgment
on this one.”
Martha crossed
her arms and shook her head. Lenny went back in the house with a slam of the
screen door.
“Good luck
trying to get in over there is all I have to say,” Martha said, following him.
Mr. Andre
crossed his arms and then waved off Lenny Stokes. “Then it’s a big fat ‘no’ to
Mr. Stokes,” he said. “Betsy, are there any other local tradesman I need to be
aware of? Any other Neanderthals you have hired for your most important day?”
I shifted from
one foot to the other.
“Think, girl –
food, flowers, pictures, venue, entertainment? That’s a wedding.”
Realizing I was
totally being talked down to, yet feeling like Mr. Andre knew best, I answered
his condescending tone. “The photographer. You’d better check him out.”
“Did you look at
my list of approved photographers?”
“Yes, but Zach
really liked this guy and wanted me to use him.”
“What ‘guy’ is
this, and who, pray tell, is Zach?”
“Zach is my
grandson,” Charlotte piped in before Maggie could claim her nephew.
“I see,” said
Andre, “And how much experience has he had with our photographer?”
“He’s had his
picture taken at least twice a year for the last five years,” I said.
“Really? Why
does your son need a portrait done twice a year?”
“Well,” Aunt
Maggie said, “there’s baseball, and then there’s soccer.
Danny cut in,
scratching his head in thought, “And then there was that one year when he did
the pee wee
coming from the other direction.
Maggie clasped
her throat. “Charlotte!”
Upon seeing
Maggie, Charlotte stood frozen to the ground.
Danny, not
remembering the decades-old feud, ran to Charlotte and grabbed her in a bear
hug. “Aunt Charlotte!” he said, burying his head in her shoulder.
Stiffening at
the hug, Charlotte regained her senses and acknowledged my aunt with a
perfunctory nod. “Maggie.”
Maggie stepped
up and planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you here, Charlotte? The broom
factory close down?”
Charlotte
responded quickly, surprising me. “I guess your last order was too big.”
“Ladies!” Andre
cut in. “We are not here to settle old scores.”
After seeing the
tension between the mother I always wanted and the woman who was like a mother
to me, I began wondering if the Elvis Chapel in Vegas might be available in the
next twenty-four hours.
“Really, Betsy,”
Martha said. “You have to come see what we are working on here. You at least
promised that.”
“Betsy, do you
truly want to order flowers from … Stokes here?” Mr. Andre demanded.
“I don’t know,”
I squeaked out. “Mrs. Stokes asked me to come out, and well, she sounded like
they really needed the business.” I saw Lenny Stokes bristle.
“We don’t need
nothin’, and my wife needs to keep her meddling to her own affairs,” he said.
“Watch out for them good Christian women, they’ll get you every time.”
Martha stared at
the floor. Her husband hadn’t known she was out begging for business. From the
exhausted look of the house and farm, she had to be desperate.
The crowd turned
to me as I uttered something unintelligible. Mr. Andre chortled, and Lenny
Stokes stepped up.
“What you
laughing at, boy? I’ve heard about you and your prissy weddings. I’m not so
hard up I’ve got to do my business with the likes of you. Now get the hell off
my place.”
Mr. Andre, in
shock, stepped back from the porch. He raised his hand in the air and
stuttered, “In all of my experience I have never met anyone so … awful.” He
turned to me, the satin in his shirt sagging slightly. “It’s up to you to make
this decision, Betsy, but I advise highly against it!”
Aunt Maggie
stepped closer to me and took hold of my hand. “Whatever you decide will be
fine, darlin’.”
Charlotte
grabbed my other hand and nodded.
“Mr. Andre,” I
began, “you’ve given me good advice so far, so I’m going to trust your judgment
on this one.”
Martha crossed
her arms and shook her head. Lenny went back in the house with a slam of the
screen door.
“Good luck
trying to get in over there is all I have to say,” Martha said, following him.
Mr. Andre
crossed his arms and then waved off Lenny Stokes. “Then it’s a big fat ‘no’ to
Mr. Stokes,” he said. “Betsy, are there any other local tradesman I need to be
aware of? Any other Neanderthals you have hired for your most important day?”
I shifted from
one foot to the other.
“Think, girl –
food, flowers, pictures, venue, entertainment? That’s a wedding.”
Realizing I was
totally being talked down to, yet feeling like Mr. Andre knew best, I answered
his condescending tone. “The photographer. You’d better check him out.”
“Did you look at
my list of approved photographers?”
“Yes, but Zach
really liked this guy and wanted me to use him.”
“What ‘guy’ is
this, and who, pray tell, is Zach?”
“Zach is my
grandson,” Charlotte piped in before Maggie could claim her nephew.
“I see,” said
Andre, “And how much experience has he had with our photographer?”
“He’s had his
picture taken at least twice a year for the last five years,” I said.
“Really? Why
does your son need a portrait done twice a year?”
“Well,” Aunt
Maggie said, “there’s baseball, and then there’s soccer.
Danny cut in,
scratching his head in thought, “And then there was that one year when he did
the pee wee
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