Between Sisters Part 26

"So, who is he?"

"You'll love him, Mama. He's a nice Texas boy."

"Boy? I thought that was your sister's way."

Claire actually laughed. "He's a man, Mama. Thirty-seven years old."

"How much money does he make?"

"That isn't important to me."

"Broke, huh? Well, I'll give you my best advice, honey. It's easier to marry the rich ones, but what the h.e.l.l. Congratulations. When's the wedding?"

"Sat.u.r.day the twenty-third."

"Of June? You mean this comin' Sat.u.r.day?"

"That's what I mean. You would have had plenty of notice if you'd called me back."

"I was doing Shakespeare in the park. With Charlie Sheen, I might add."

"All night?"

"Now, honey. You know know I have to take care of my fans. They're my life's blood. Did you see my picture in I have to take care of my fans. They're my life's blood. Did you see my picture in People People, by the way? Just me and Jules Asner, sharin' a little girl talk."

"I missed that. Sorry."

"I gave gave you a subscription. What do y'all do, just let it sit around?" you a subscription. What do y'all do, just let it sit around?"

"I've been busy with the wedding plans."

"Oh. Right. Well, Sat.u.r.day's difficult for me, honey. How about the first weekend in August?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "As interested as I am in your schedule, Mama, the invitations have already gone out. Meg's busy planning the big day. It's too late to change the date."

Mama laughed. "Meg is planning your wedding? Honey, that's like asking the pope to plan a bar mitzvah." is planning your wedding? Honey, that's like asking the pope to plan a bar mitzvah."

"The wedding is Sat.u.r.day. I hope you'll be able to attend." There she was, getting stiff and formal again, her usual reaction to stress.

Meghann handed her an aspirin.

Claire couldn't help smiling.

"She gives me me a migraine every time," Meg said. "Is she still babbling?" a migraine every time," Meg said. "Is she still babbling?"

Claire nodded, whispered, "I think I heard the name Anna Nicole Smith."

Meg grinned. "Another nice Southern girl with intimacy issues."

"Claire?" Mama said sharply. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course, Mama. Every word is a pearl."

"What time on Sat.u.r.day? I asked you twice."

"The wedding is at seven P P.M. Reception to follow."

Mama sighed. "Sat.u.r.day. I've been waitin' three months for my hair appointment with Jose. Maybe he can take me early."

Claire couldn't take any more. "I've got to run, Mama. I'll be at the Hayden Episcopal Church at seven this Sat.u.r.day. I hope you can make it, but I'll certainly understand if you're too busy."

"I am am busy. But how often does a woman's daughter get married?" busy. But how often does a woman's daughter get married?"

"In our family, not often."

"Tell me straight up, honey. D'you think this one'll last? I'd hate to give up my hair appointment for-"

"I've got to go, Mama. Bye."

"Okay, honey. Me, too. And congratulations. I couldn't be happier for you."

"Thanks, Mama. Bye."

Claire tried to smile as she looked up at Meghann. "Sat.u.r.day's a bad day for her."

"What? An audition for the $25,000 Pyramid $25,000 Pyramid?"

"A hair appointment with Jose."

"We should have sent her the invite after it was over."

"I don't know why I keep expecting something different from her."

Meg shook her head. "Yeah, I know. Even a mother alligator sticks around the eggs."

"Mama would make herself an omelette."

They actually laughed at that.

Claire looked out the window. Sunlight streamed onto her yard, made the flowers glow. She took peace from that view; it reminded her of all that was right with her world. It was best to forget about Mama. "Let's talk about the wedding plans," she said at last.

"Perfect. Maybe we could go over the menu."

Claire straightened. "Of course. I was thinking about those foot-long submarine sandwiches. They really feed a lot of people, and the men love them. Gina's potato salad is a perfect side dish."

Meghann was staring at her. "Potato salad and submarine sandwiches. That would be . . ." She paused. "Delicious."

"You paused."

"Did I? I think I took a breath."

"I know that pause. It's judgment talking."

"No. No. I had just talked to a girlfriend of mine. Carla. She's a struggling chef-just graduated-and she's broke. Can't pay her rent. She offered to do up some hors d'oeuvres for cost plus a tiny amount. She needs the word of mouth; you know how it is. But don't worry. I'll be happy to go to Safeway for the food, if that's what you'd rather do."

Claire frowned. "Would it really help your friend out? Catering the reception?"

"It would, but that's not what matters. What I care about is that you get the wedding you you want." want."

"How much would it cost?"

"The same as submarine sandwiches and potato salad."

"No kidding. Well. I guess that would be okay. As long as we include those little hot dogs wrapped in the popover dough. Bobby loves loves those." those."

"Pigs in blankets. Of course course. I'm sure I would have thought of that."

Claire thought her sister paused again, but she couldn't be sure.

Meg smiled. It was only a little forced. "Now, oddly enough, I also know an out-of-work baker who could make a four-layer cake with fresh flowers. She recommends violets, but of course, it's up to you."

"You know, Meg, you're a complete pain in the a.s.s."

"I know. Judgmental and unforgiving."

"Absolutely. But you take charge well."

Meghann's smile faded. Claire knew her sister was thinking of that summer, so many years ago, when Meg had taken charge and changed all their lives.

"I didn't mean anything bad by that," Claire said softly. "It's such a d.a.m.n minefield between us."

"I know."

"Now, about the cake . . ."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"I'VE GOTTEN THE PERMIT FOR THE PARK, AND THE TENT IS reserved from the party rental store. I'll go over the final details of setup with them tomorrow on my way to Costco." Roy sat back with a flourish. "That's it." reserved from the party rental store. I'll go over the final details of setup with them tomorrow on my way to Costco." Roy sat back with a flourish. "That's it."

"And the lights?" Meghann asked, checking off the tent from her list.

"Ten thousand white Christmas lights, forty-two Chinese lanterns, and twenty hanging lights. Check."

Meghann marked her list accordingly. That was it. Everything on her list had been taken care of. In the past two days, she'd worked her a.s.s off, checking and rechecking each detail. She'd arranged for every single thing that Roy had wanted. It was going to be, he declared at least three times a day, the best wedding ever to take place in Hayden.

Meghann didn't think that was much of a standard, but she was learning to keep her cynical thoughts to herself. She'd even been working so hard that she slept at night. The only problem now was her dreams.

They all seemed to be about Joe. When she closed her eyes, she remembered everything about that night. The blue eyes that were so sad . . . the way he'd whispered something-a name, maybe-while they were making love.

Making love.

She'd never thought of it that way, not with anyone.

"Meghann? You're getting that mushy look again. Are you thinking about the hors d'oeuvres?"

She smiled at Roy. "You should have seen Carla's face when I told her she'd have to do up a tray of pigs in blankets."

"I hate to admit it, but . . . they are tasty, you know. Dipped in ketchup. Even better dragged in baked beans. They'll probably disappear long before the Brie and pate."

"I didn't let her do pate." Meghann consulted her list again. It was a habit, checking and rechecking everything.

Roy touched her arm. "Sweetheart, you're done. All you have to do is show up at the rehearsal tonight and then get a good night's sleep."

"Thanks, Roy. I don't know what I would have done without you on all of this."

"Believe me, it has been an unexpected pleasure to work on this wedding. My next event is a potluck keggar in the Clausens' cow field to celebrate little Todd's acceptance to community college."

After the meeting, she headed back toward her car. She'd walked several blocks before she realized she was going in the wrong direction. She was just about to turn around when she saw the garage. There, tucked back in a thicket of trees and runaway salal, was Joe's cabin.

She had a sudden urge to walk up to the door, say, Hey, Joe Hey, Joe, and follow him to the bedroom. The s.e.x had been great. h.e.l.l, it had been better than great. So good that she'd sneaked off in the middle of the night. She'd always been better at good-bye than good morning.

The light in his kitchen went on. She saw a shadow cross the window, a flash of silvery hair.

She almost went to him.

Almost.

The one thing she knew for certain-had learned from hard-won experience-was that anonymous s.e.x was all she could handle.

She turned and walked back to her car.

Joe stood at the kitchen sink, listening to the water running. It gargled down the rusty pipes. He was supposed to be washing his lunch dishes-that's why he'd come over here, after all-but he couldn't make his hands work.

She was standing across the street, looking at his house.

Meghann. Friends call me Meg. Friends call me Meg.

She stood perfectly still, her arms crossed, her pointy chin held up just the slightest bit. Beside her, a huge hanging pot of flowers sent a red trailer of blossoms along her upper arm. She didn't seem to notice. Probably didn't notice their scent, either. She didn't strike him as a romantic woman.

"Meghann." He said her name softly, surprised by the unexpected rush of longing that came with it. He'd thought about her too often in the hours since their meeting.