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I grabbed my purse and headed out the front door to my car, waving to Arthur, the gardener and Vivi’s longtime friend. He waved back with a smile. Arthur had lived with Vivi’s family on the planation since Vivi was a child. They’d always been close, but now that her father had passed away and her mother was living out at Splendor Acres retirement home, Arthur was the closest thing Vivi had to family out at the plantation. Over the summer, Arthur had been building a barbecue business on the side property, getting it ready for the Alabama Crimson Tide kickoff game on the first of September. That would be here before we knew it.
I drove down the gravel drive to the plantation gates and headed to my grandmother Meridee’s house, thinking all the while about Miss Myra Jean’s comments.
Heaven help us, they just couldn’t be true. Sure, Lewis did have a reputation as a ladies’ man. After all, he was tall and masculine, with wavy dark hair and adorable dimples, and his blue eyes were just too gorgeous to belong to a man. Women love his confidence and flirty personality, but it was clear to all of us that he really loved Vivi.
But between managing the wedding planning and an emotionally high-strung pregnant bride, I was beginning to feel like a ringmaster overseeing a three-ring circus gone wild. And now, because of Vivi’s meltdown, I was probably going to be late to meet with the event planning dream team.
Coco and Jean-Pierre, who we’d hired to plan the wedding and shower, were meeting with me at Meridee’s about Vivi’s upcoming bridal-baby-bash. They owned an event planning and catering business called A Fru Fru Affair, and their choice of a company name pretty much summed up their fun flamboyant personalities.
In high school, they were known as Craig and John-Paul, but in the process of launching their business, they decided they needed something with a little more style. Now almost no one called them by their given names except for my grandmother Meridee and my mother, Kitty, who had both known the boys since they were children.
Coco and Jean-Pierre always disagreed about taste and style, but somehow, in the end, they would pull off the most amazing events. Some of their ideas were totally off the wall. Like the time they wanted the groom to skydive into the ceremony...but his aim was a tad off and he ended up in the Warrior River. Another time they threw a Tarzan-themed wedding and the bride was supposed to swing in on a vine. She hit the minister by mistake. Vivi’s dream was much simpler—and a whole lot safer. She only wanted to be a princess, and it was my job to make sure they didn’t have her ride down the aisle bareback.
A pregnant woman should not be on a horse.
Yet even with this meeting to keep me occupied, I had to admit, I couldn’t stop thinking about this other woman the psychic mentioned. I had known Miss Myra Jean most of my life and, strange as it may seem, she was usually right...in her own special way.
Well, I told myself for the hundredth time, Vivi is getting her wedding license in just a few hours and then the other woman, whoever she is, won’t matter. I kept repeating that, but somehow I wasn’t totally convinced.
2
I arrived before Coco and Jean-Pierre, entering the kitchen where Meridee was standing in her apron at the stove, humming “Summertime.” I felt that instant sedative that always kicks in the second I enter Meridee’s house and see her busy making something delicious to eat. Being here always settled my nerves, no matter what was going on.
“Hey, Nanny.” (Hey is the way we greet each other down South. I can’t remember anybody ever saying Hi. And hey is almost always followed by a hug, unless you’re a man.) I leaned in and hugged her hello. She smiled and kissed my cheek just as the Fru Frus rang the doorbell.
“Hey, baby girl,” Coco called, then shot me an air kiss as he stepped inside. He took in my red pencil skirt, sleeveless navy blouse and white pearls. “You are rockin’ the patriotic look big-time today.”
He hugged me, then stepped back. “Are you wearing MAC Red Ruby Woo lipstick?”
Stunned, I nodded my head.
“I knew it. That is the best 1940s red I have ever seen.”
Jean-Pierre walked in right behind Coco. “Oh, precious, that red, white and blue outfit is so summer, so July, so America, so...future senator’s wife.”
Cringing a bit, I hugged Jean-Pierre, too. Harry’s run for senator was exactly the reason we’d kept our separation a secret. Despite our differences, I still wanted to support Harry through this major turning point in his career. And I knew how difficult it would be for him to present himself as Senate material with nasty divorce gossip spreading all over town. We’d decided not to announce anything about our split until after the election. And that meant suffering quietly through awkward moments like this one.
He inhaled deeply. “Miss Dior perfume. Heavenly,” he said all singsongy.
He hugged Meridee next. “Oh, my, and you are wearing Charles of the Ritz. I am inspired by you already.”
They were a sight for sure, both of them tall and skinny and immaculately dressed. Coco had long sandy hair and beautiful ocean-blue eyes. He had an angular jaw and a wide, warm megawatt smile. He was so tan. He loved wearing bright-colored skinny jeans and striped short-sleeved shirts. He usually wore a long knotted scarf around his neck and a beret on his head. He just loved his namesake, Coco Chanel. And French was his style in a nutshell.
Jean-Pierre was a little more understated. He had long spiky dark hair and green eyes. His clothes were usually less flashy, but still fashionable. Today he wore skinny black jeans and a dark dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his arms full of books and planning agendas. He looked more studious in his black thick-rimmed glasses. He was sarcastic and dry, while Coco was more quick and funny and much louder.
Coco scanned the room, looking beyond the doorway, as well. “Is this the venue for the big double event? We can work with this, sugar! So much space.”
“We can even use the big yard outside,” Jean-Pierre said.
My grandmother laughed. “Oh, gosh, honey, not outside unless you want big ol’ mosquito bites all over our momma-bride. That yard is a feeding ground this time of year!”
“She sure would be a sight,” Coco said. “I hear welts are the new black.”
Jean-Pierre smiled. “Very funny. Indoors it is. What are we talking about for space?”
“Mostly the living room, kitchen and dining room,” I said. “Meridee has given us the go-ahead to decorate anything we want. We should talk about the shower theme, though. I want it to be really fun.”
“Honey, there’s no way it won’t be a blast,” Coco reassured me. “I’ve already come up with an invitation idea. Picture this...” He gestured as if reading from a theater marquee. “The Bride We Are Lovin’ Has a Bun in the Oven. Don’t y’all just love that?” Coco was so proud of himself.
Meridee stood in the living room doorway, her eyes bugging out of her head.
“Oh, my, we’ll have to talk about that a bit later,” I said, trying to be nice. “That theme might need a few revisions.”
“Can we run down and see the basement?” Jean-Pierre said. “We wanna party all over this house.”
We all headed downstairs. This had been my playground every rainy day of my childhood, back when the Ouija board was at the height of its popularity. It was a tad musty down there, but it still had the old pool table, TV set and a big octagon-shaped wooden card table. Bookcases lined the wall to the left as you entered the main room. The basement held a lot of memories for me, but I don’t think the boys were too impressed.
“Oh, dear, that smell might be an issue,” Jean-Pierre said, his nose crinkled with distaste.
“Sometimes it gets damp down here,” I explained.
“Well, since the theme isn’t Mildew Madness, I think we need to stay upstairs,” Jean-Pierre said, shaking his head and leading the way back to the main floor.
Meridee directed us into the kitchen. She had fixed coffee and iced tea and put out some mini coffee cakes she’d just pulled out of the oven. “Watch out. These are hot. Have a seat and help yourself. Don’t be shy.”
“Oh, Miss Meridee, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble,” Jean-Pierre said, taking a seat next to Coco at the yellow laminate table. “But, honey, I am so glad you did.”
“My word, everything sure does smell delish.” Coco took a bite of the coffee cake. “Mmm, wonderful. Thanks for letting us use your lovely home for this very unique event.”
“My pleasure, y’all. Miss Vivi is like a granddaughter to me. She grew up in this house almost as much as did my Blake. I will do whatever y’all need.” Meridee poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and walked over to the sink to wash the coffee cake pans.
“Okay, down to business,” I said. “I want this event to feel extra special to Vivi, like she is a princess for the day.”
Jean-Pierre grabbed his notebook. “Okay, a princess bride and baby momma combo. Got it. We can have a lot of fun with all the games and activities this way.” He jotted down a few notes, then peered over his glasses. “Anything else you want to throw into the mix?”
Meridee spoke up from the sink. “I thought y’all were goin’ down to see Miss Myra Jean for Vivi’s shower.”
“Oh, Nanny, I haven’t had a chance to tell them about the psychic yet.” I would have used a little more tact, seeing as they were the ones planning the shower.
“A psychic?” Jean-Pierre asked slowly.
I cringed. They were a classy company. They even had swans planned for the wedding. Swans! I wasn’t sure where a psychic would fit in with an affair planned by guys who considered swans and string quartets essential to an event’s success.
“Yes,” Meridee went on. “My dear old friend Myra Jean does readings and talks to spirits. We’re gonna take all the girls down to see her. Isn’t that gonna be fun?”
“Seriously?” Jean-Pierre was already frazzled. He stood up and walked around the table. “Does this visit to the tarot card lady or whatever she is really need to be part of the shower? I just don’t know if it will fit in with—”
“It surely does,” Meridee insisted. “And Myra Jean only uses tarot cards sometimes. Besides, Vivi is the one who decided it would be fun for everyone at her shower to have a reading. She believes in Miss Myra’s gifts.”
Yes, Vivi did believe what Myra said, and I just hoped that her shower day predictions didn’t trigger a homicide attempt on the hubby/daddy-to-be.
Jean-Pierre glanced at me, a bit exasperated. “Can’t you do anything to stop this?”
“Not likely,” I said. “The readings are her wedding gift from me.”
His mouth dropped open in horror, as if I’d shattered his former belief in my exquisite taste.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I protested. “Vivi asked for this and I just want my best friend to be happy. That is my job, after all. I am her matron of honor.”
“Okay, then,” Jean-Pierre said, throwing up his hands. “We’ll put group mystic reading on the list. The day is all about Vivi, after all.”
“Oh, I just love the whole idea!” Coco stood up and began moving around excitedly. “I always wanted to have a reading myself. It sounds like a teetotal hoot and a half.” He leaned over to a grumpy Jean-Pierre and linked one arm with his. “Hand me my ruby slippers, honey, we’re off to see the wizard!”
I smiled at his enthusiasm, relieved to have at least one of them on board with the idea. I was just hoping the “other woman” the psychic spoke of didn’t turn out to be the Wicked Witch of the West.
3
That afternoon I met Vivi at the courthouse, and Lewis was waiting there on the sidewalk with his soon-to-be bride.
“I am so excited I can’t even think,” she said. “Can you believe Lewis and I are going to get our marriage license?” She was exuberant.
“Hey, Blake, thanks for coming and being a witness to history,” Lewis said as he gave me a hug.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I said, smiling at them.
“Hey, baby,” Vivi said, turning to face Lewis. “Did you know that the psychic this morning said there was another woman in this little domestic portrait we’re painting?” Vivi threw it out there just like that. Completely out of nowhere, without giving either of us a warning. I should’ve expected something like this. She’d been so upset this morning, and she was probably stewing on it all day long while I was with the planners. Looking at her now, I could tell she couldn’t take the worrying anymore. She needed to get this out of the way as soon as possible. Of course, Lewis was stunned.
“What?” he said, confused at the sudden turn in the conversation. “Another woman? Hell, ain’t nobody but you, Red. Nobody for me but you.” He gave her a reassuring smile.
“Aww, sugar.” The relief in Vivi’s face was obvious. “I love you. But that psychic did give me a scare. She’s usually right about the things she sees, but I couldn’t believe it when she suggested you’d been cheatin’. Blake says she’s probably picking up vibes from the baby. She’s the other woman,” Vivi said as she patted her stomach. She gazed up at Lewis and smiled. “I mean, I just know it’s a she.”
“I’m sure that’s it. And besides, I’ve already told you I’ve never trusted those psychics. They just make things up to keep you comin’ back for more.” Lewis helped Vivi up the courthouse steps and into the lobby of the beautiful old building.
“Here I go. Oh, Blake, I can’t stand it, I’m so excited, I’m gonna burst.”
“Honey, let’s hope not.” If this was how she felt picking up the license, we’d likely need to give her medication on her wedding day. We went inside and followed the signs down to the marriage license office.
As we walked through the door, Lewis stopped and held Vivi in front of him. “I love you, Red. Today’s our day,” he said with a grin. “We’re gonna be official. I am so happy, baby.” He leaned down and planted quite a kiss on her.
She blushed right up to her red-haired roots, then smoothed her dress over her five-month baby bump and laughed. “I’m so nervous. I changed clothes six times.”
“Well, you look gorgeous. Let’s do this.” Lewis was just as excited as she was.
We approached the lady at the counter. She looked to be around fifty-five, with straight brown hair cut in a severe bob. She scanned Vivi’s burgeoning belly. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry, you must have the wrong room. This is the office to apply for a wedding license.”
“And what the hell makes you think I’m in the wrong room?” Vivi snapped, but her eyes were smiling. She loved toying with people.
The lady looked down at Vivi’s tummy. “Well, I just, um...”
“Yes, I am pregnant and I am wearin’ white at the wedding, too.” Vivi was loving this. “Now can I apply for my marriage license, please?”
“To each his own. You can work out those details with your minister,” the woman said with disinterest. “Y’all got your information ready to go?”
“It’s all right here.” Vivi handed over her paperwork.
“And how about you, sir?”
Lewis was grinning like I had never seen him before. His face was flushed with joy as he lay down his documents. “Never been more ready than I am today.”
The lady studied the information and typed all the appropriate answers into the computer on the counter. After a few moments of awkward silence, she frowned at the screen and then cleared her throat.
“Well, sir, I’m not so sure about that. I think you may have been a little more ready about thirteen years ago,” the woman said, clicking a few more keys. She looked up at him. “The great state of Alabama frowns on bigamy, and you, sir, are already married. By the way, aren’t you our play-by-play announcer? Roll Tide.” She smiled.
“Wait. Already what? Did you just say my fiancé is already married?” Vivi repeated in shock.
“There is no damn way!” Lewis was livid, his face turning a blotchy red.
“This is a mistake,” Vivi said, her voice rising. “I have known him for every one of those thirteen years and he has never been married!” She was about to pitch a full-out conniption fit right here in the courthouse.
“Ma’am, I have never been engaged, much less married,” Lewis insisted. “A person would know that, I think.”
“Well, sir. This is your birth certificate. This is your social security number. It matches all the information you just gave me, right down to the signature. This wedding certificate belongs to you, alrighty.” She printed out a copy and handed it over to let Vivi and Lewis read it for themselves. “As you can see, Mr. Lewis Heart married Miss Tressa Mae Hartman in April of 1999. I have no record of a dissolution of marriage.”
Vivi turned white as a ghost and leaned into me. I held her up and walked her over to the bench just outside the room. I was fanning her with some pamphlet I had picked up, and she looked about ready to faint.
Lewis followed us, holding the evidence in his hand, his mouth still dropped open. “There is just no way in this world, no way,” he said again. “This can’t be real. I know it can’t.”
“Get me some water, quick,” I said. “Vivi’s gonna pass out.”
“Where’s the water? Where?” Lewis went into panic mode.
Great, I thought. Now they’re both flippin’ out.
“Oh, I see it.” He ran down the little hallway in his slick dress shoes, heading for the watercooler, when he wiped out completely and landed on his back. I could hear the breath leaving his body from twenty feet away.
Vivi was crying and muttering, “No, no, no.” She didn’t even see him fall.
“Lewis, oh, my God, are you okay?” I asked.
“Fine,” he groaned, stumbling to his feet. “I’ll get that water now.” He made his way hurriedly toward the watercooler down the hall, his dress shoes still slipping on the newly waxed vinyl floor of the Tuscaloosa courthouse.
He grabbed some pointy paper cups, filled two of them and ran back to us, sloshing water all over his chest and slip-sliding as he came. He was a mess.
“Here you go, baby.” He gave Vivi one cup. She was still hyperventilating.
“Lewis Heart, please tell me this is a mistake,” she begged.
“I swear, I can explain.”
