“It’s just perfect, y’all,” I said. “Are y’all mentally prepared for this?”
“My mother is still making me a total wreck,” Shelby said. “Daddy said to just ignore her and remember that it’s our day, Frederick’s and mine, that is.”
“Your father is a very smart man,” I said.
Susan Kennedy Cambria was a head case.
I walked around the huge empty room and thought for the hundredth time, Wow, my only child’s grown and getting married. Maybe someday, when Susan was finally committed to an insane asylum and Alejandro found the right woman, Shelby and Fred would open an accounting firm in Charleston. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Who was I going to dance with at my son’s wedding? My brother? Oh, Lord. The thought was too depressing to explore.
The next morning, I was up at six thirty, showered and dressed by seven, and in the dining room, enjoying two poached free-range eggs, two patties of sausage, and roasted potatoes with an English muffin for sixteen dollars. Somehow, with a glass of juice, a cup of coffee, tax, and tip, the bill came to over thirty dollars. Floyd was going to have a stroke. So was Virnell. I had to find a place like Page’s Okra Grill in Mount Pleasant for them.
After breakfast I went back to my room to call Floyd, turned on the news, and put it on mute. The local meteorologist was standing next to a map that showed snowflakes over Chicago. I didn’t think too much of it. I mean, this part of the country got snow all the time.
Floyd answered on the first ring.
“Lady Di! How are things in the tundra?”
“Colder than my ex-husband’s heart. Pack like you’re going to Antarctica. No lie.”
“I can already feel it. God, I hate winter weather.”
“Yeah, so listen, the kids need a favor. How big is your rental car?”
“Biggest thing on four wheels. Why?”
I told him what they wanted and he thought it was a terrific idea.
“That’s hilarious. Tell them Uncle Floyd has their back. Consider it done.”
“Great! When are you leaving?”
“Eight o’clock tonight. The drive’s a little less than fourteen hours. I’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow morning. Stephanie, Ann, and Sophie all arrive tomorrow at different times. Our mother is a little nervous about the trip.”
“Why?”
“She’s afraid I won’t stop for her to use a ladies’ room or get snacks. Apparently, the last time she made a road trip was with Pop to go to New Orleans for some convention Pop wanted to attend. Anyway, he made her wait until he needed to fill up with gas, I guess.”
“Well then, Floyd?”
“Yeah?”
“Just don’t go all macho on her. Be sweet. She’s a little old lady.”
“Right. The classic iron fist in a velvet glove! Anyway, I’m outnumbered because I’ve got Kathy too. She’s gonna help with the driving if I get tired.”
“Y’all just get here in one piece, okay? Looks like we might get a little snow.”
I called Fred, and he and Shelby came to pick me up. First, we went to the grocery store.
“How many people are y’all expecting tomorrow night?” I asked, putting eight lemons and limes into a plastic bag.
“Thirty tops,” Fred said. “We decided to invite some friends.”
“Why not?” I said.
“I’ll get a cart and get soft drinks and mixers?” Shelby said.
“Good idea! And get peanuts or something for the bar. Is there a Party City nearby?”
“Sure! We can go there from here,” Fred said.
Soon we had filled two baskets with everything we needed, including caraway seeds for the coleslaw.
“So, basically, we’ve emptied our apartment and put everything in storage in the basement. We kept our bed, TV, and enough lamps so that we’re not wandering around in the dark. And we rented high-top cocktail tables, buffet tables, and some stools. We can use the breakfast bar as the bar. Self-service. But Bill . . . remember Bill Evans? He’s my best man. He said he’d keep an eye on the bar, you know, ice and that kind of thing.”
“Absolutely. You don’t need to hire a bartender for just thirty people. What are y’all doing for flowers?”
“Ashley’s arranging them. Remember Ashley Hargrove, my maid of honor?”
“Oh, of course. The pretty blonde.”
“Her aunt has a wholesale flower business. She’s getting tons of sunflowers to put in mason jars. And votive candles in those little glass cups.”
“Great!” I said. “So I’m thinking red-and-white-check tablecloths and disposable red or navy plates, napkins, and flatware. How does that sound?”
“Everybody will love it except my mother,” Shelby said. “She’s such a snob.”
“Not really,” I said, because I felt that defending her mother seemed like the parental thing to do. “She’s just used to a fancier life, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with glitz and glamour either.”
“Maybe. But I’m going to hear about this for a long time,” Shelby said.
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. In my experience? Something always happens, and whatever I was worried about the world chewing on becomes yesterday’s news in a heartbeat.”
“Screw it, Shelby. Uncle Floyd probably already has Molly in the truck.”
Yes. Molly the chicken was coming to Chicago to lend an air of authenticity to our Lowcountry hoedown. She would pose for selfies and be the general entertainment. And Fred had a playlist of bluegrass music on his iPhone that would last for hours, blasting through his tiny Bose speakers.
“I’ve even got Steve Martin’s band on it,” he said. “The Steep Canyon Rangers.”
“Cool,” I said. I secretly loved Steve Martin. Another unrequited love. Ah, well.
It started snowing around four o’clock in the morning, so by the time I woke up on Friday, there were about two inches on the ground. I made a cup of coffee and stood by my window watching it fall. Actually, it was beautiful in its quiet yet slippery, frightening way. The skies were all different shades of gray, depending where you looked, from the wispy color of Spanish moss to the deepened hues of tarnished silver. I had never seen skies like this. Chicago was hushed under a thick blanket of pure white snow that continued falling.
My message light was flashing. I had a call from the salon. They would do my hair at ten the next morning and they could cut it if I’d like. I called back, leaving another message to confirm. One less thing to stress over. Do you think Susan offered to help me with hair? Did she say, Oh, would you like to get your hair blown out? No. She obviously didn’t really care about any of us.
Floyd, Kathy, and my mother had rolled into town around seven thirty and dropped Molly off at Fred’s. Plus, the bales of hay, the beer, the mason jars, the cooler that was as big as a casket, and the vodka.
Floyd called me.
“You up? What’s all this white stuff falling out of the sky?”
“A great big pain in the neck, that’s what. You hungry?”
“Of course I’m hungry. We’re checked in and ready to go seize the day.”
“Room’s okay?”
“Rooms are more than okay.”
“Great! I’ll meet y’all in the lobby in two minutes. Let’s eat and go back to Fred’s. I still have to hard-boil the eggs. I cut up all the cabbage yesterday. He’s probably in a dither.”
“Yeah, when I handed Molly’s crate over to him he seemed a little uncertain.”
“I’ll bet! Be careful what you wish for! I’m on my way.”
I put on my boots and coat, stuffed my hair inside a knitted cap, found my gloves, wound my long scarf around my neck twice, put my cell phone in my bag, and left the room.
“I look like I’m trekking to the South Pole!” I said and gave everyone a hug.
“It’s snowing, Diane!” Mom said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Hey, Mom! It’s beautiful, but I just hope it stops soon. It could mess up the airports and just g
etting around.”
“Let’s hope not. Hey, Diane? The hotel restaurant is upstairs,” Kathy said.
“Yeah, and it’s super expensive. I found us a coffee shop that’s way more reasonable.”
“Let’s go get our coats,” Floyd said.
Minutes later, when they returned to the lobby I had to laugh. I’d never seen us dressed this way.
“Floyd, hang on to Mom. I got Kathy.”
Once outside, we walked arm in arm in the snow toward the Sunny Side Up & Coffee Shoppe, just a short distance from the hotel.
“Keep going! There are pancakes in our future!” I said. Then I whispered to Kathy, “How was the drive?”
“Long but good. Look, you know I love your brother, but he’s got some peculiar taste in music.”
“He’s got peculiar taste in a lot of things.”
“I love the snow!” my mother called out. “Isn’t it beautiful? I believe I’d like French toast.”
“Why not?” I said. “This is a special occasion.”
It didn’t take long for all of us to have breakfast, and the bill was only slightly higher for four of us than it had been for just me yesterday. Floyd called the bellman for the car, and by the time we walked back it was there, running and warm inside. And it was huge. The bellman had a little stool he put by the rear passenger door to help Mom climb in.
“Thank you,” I said and used it too.
“I can’t wait for tonight,” Kathy said. “People are going to be so surprised.”
“Molly looks good up on the breakfast bar, smiling so pretty,” Floyd said. “She’s such a pretty girl.”
“She’s a chicken, Floyd.”
“Among her kind, she’s a beauty queen,” Floyd said. “Where’s your sense of fun?”
“My sense of fun is just fine, thank you. The tables were getting delivered this morning,” I said. “I hope the snow didn’t get in the way of that.”
It did not.
We spent the balance of the morning laying out the party, which was easy to do, given we only had two rooms to work with and neither one was exactly as big as a basketball court. I cooled two dozen hard-boiled eggs while the barbecue came to room temperature. Fred and Floyd broke up a bale of hay and covered the living room floor with it. Some hay went in and under Molly’s crate, so in case some bodily fluid escaped, heaven forbid, it wouldn’t go running down the wall. Kathy and Mom set up the buffet. I filled the egg whites with the yolk mixture and sprinkled them all with cayenne pepper. I put them in a foil deep dish with a cover.
“Think I can put these on the terrace to stay cool?” I asked Shelby.
“They’ll stay cool all right!” she said with a laugh.
The coleslaw went into a giant, heavy, clear disposable plastic bowl. The corn bread was baking and smelled divine and would go into two large sweetgrass baskets Floyd brought. I cooked two large pots of grits while Mom and Floyd peeled ten pounds of shrimp.
The snow continued to fall, unabated. Shelby’s phone rang. It was Susan.
“Mom! Slow down! I’m putting you on speaker!”
It was as if Susan was in the room.
“I said, the club has canceled your rehearsal. It’s this ridiculous snowstorm. Judge Joiner is stuck out in Winnetka in the snow. The club’s event planner, Wendy Wellin, said we shouldn’t worry, that she would tell everyone where to stand during the ceremony. All we have to do is meet her fifteen minutes before the wedding.”
“I don’t think it’s such a big deal,” Fred said.
I said, “I think we’ve all been to enough weddings that we understand what to do.”
“Diane,” Susan said, “I agree. Oh, and welcome to Chicago. How was your dinner last night?”
She was letting me know that I had not called her to thank her.
“Very nice, thank you. I hope you’re feeling better.”
“What? Oh! Oh, I’m fine. I’m just fine. See you tonight?”
She had not been ill.
“Absolutely. We are all looking forward to it.”
Snow was on the ground and, but there was a meaningful frost hanging between me and Susan.
“Shelby, dear?” Susan said. “Can you take me off speaker now so I might have a private word with you?”
Shelby rolled her eyes at Fred and said, “Of course!”
“What do you think, Mom?”
“I think we’d better make sure we get the shrimp shells out of here before the party or this place will reek to high heaven by tomorrow,” Mom said.
“She’s right,” I said to Floyd.
“I love it when I’m right,” she said.
Alejandro’s wine arrived, and they stacked the cases from floor to ceiling in the bedroom. All the beer was chilling in an old tin washtub Floyd brought from home. There was a bottle opener tied to the handle with thick twine. Shelby’s friend Ashley filled her mason jars with sunflowers and sword fern and placed them all around. They were just the perfect touch.
“Look what I found,” she said and held up packages of disposable hand towels covered in sunflowers. “How presh is this?”
“Very presh!” Shelby said.
There were at least six inches of snow on their little terrace.
“Maybe we should turn on the television and watch the weather report?” I said.
Fred picked up the remote, looked outside, and clicked on the local news.
“. . . up to eighteen inches of snow possible in the city, eighteen to twenty-four in the suburbs. Many flights are being canceled, so call your carrier before you try to go to the airport. The governor has asked that all nonessential government personnel be allowed to go home now, and people are being asked to stay off the roads. If you don’t have to be on the road, don’t venture out . . .”
“Holy shit,” Fred muttered in disbelief. “Our wedding could be screwed.”
Everyone fell silent. Then Shelby walked over to Fred and put her arms around his neck.
“Oh, no, it won’t be!” Shelby said. “I don’t care what happens, we’re getting married tomorrow!”
We all applauded and everyone had a comment.
“I like Shelby more every day!” Mom said.
“Come hell or high water!” Floyd said.
“That’s the spirit!” Kathy said.
“We’ll call for dog sleds!” Ashley said, and for a moment her enthusiasm made me think she knew where to get dog sleds.
But the terrible truth was that if the weather continued this way, the airports would close. I didn’t know how many people Susan and Alejandro had coming by plane, but I was guessing a snowstorm the size of what was predicted could shut down Chicago and cause a significant reduction in the number of guests. A mere two inches of snow in South Carolina called out the National Guard and shut down all the schools, bridges, and major highways for a week.
“I’ll bet Susan’s having a total meltdown,” I said to Kathy as we lit all the votive candles.
“I’m just so glad she couldn’t stick you with dinner for two hundred people.”
“Me too.”
By six, Fred and Shelby’s apartment looked like the inside of a barn. It was so cute and festive, I dared anyone to disagree. Ann, Stephanie, and Sophie were on the last flights to land before the airport was closed for the night. Each one of them had called and was on the way to the hotel on the express train. Hundreds of flights were canceled and thousands of people were stranded. The wind began to howl. I went out on the balcony to see what was going on below us. Because the wind was so powerful—Floyd guesstimated that it was in the forty-mile-per-hour range—it seemed pointless for the sanitation department to try to clean up. I watched them plow the street, and the wind would blow the plowed snow all over the place.
“How long can this go on?” I said to Fred.
“Well, if the National Weather Service didn’t know it was coming, they probably don’t know when it’s going.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
The doorb
ell began to ring.
Chapter 21
Party On!
“Smile!” Fred said.
“Squawk!” Molly squawked.
Bill Evans, Fred’s best man, was the first to arrive. His hair was covered in snow. He tried to brush it off in the hallway.
“You made it!” Fred said.
“You kidding me? Best man’s got an important job to do!” Bill man-hugged Fred and turned to Shelby. “Hey, Shelby!”
“We’re so glad you’re here! Give me your coat.”
“I’ll take it,” I said. “You go get a bath mat.”
“Hey, Ms. S. Thanks!”
I hung his coat on the rolling rack we’d borrowed from the superintendent, a smart last-minute decision. Everyone who managed to get to our party would be covered in snow.
“I love what you’ve done with this place! What do you call it? Hayloft modern? Jesus! Is that chicken alive?”
“That’s Molly,” Fred said. “She wants to take a picture with you. Let’s get you a beer!”
The doorbell rang again. Shelby answered it.
Susan and Alejandro had arrived. Shelby took their coats and gave them a hug.
“What in the world? Why? What have you done?” Susan said, looking all around. “Oh, my God! It’s that wretched chicken again!”
Obviously pleased with himself, Floyd laughed and said, “Molly missed you so bad. I found her hiding in the back of my SUV when I got here. Hello, Alejandro. Good to see y’all again.”
“Are you saying the chicken, this Molly, was a stowaway?” Alejandro said.
“Not really, but she does like a good party,” Floyd said. “And I brought you some hooch from my friend back home and regulation vodka for the bar.”
“Do you mean that honey-infused moonshine vodka?” Susan’s eyes lit up as though a night of mischief was in the cards for her. “You are too kind.”
Suddenly the queen of Chicago was no longer offended by Molly.
“My generosity is well known,” Floyd said. “It’s in the freezer. Can I give you a snort?”
“I’d like that very much,” Susan said.
“It could be worse,” Mom said, passing by with the tray of deviled eggs. “He could’ve brought Isabella, our infernal cow. Would you like one?”