Parker’s good-friend attributes came on full display that night the moment the doorbell rang and he jumped up from the couch to let in Martha and Nancy Bates. Since Daddy hated to leave the house but still liked people, I invited dinner guests over at least once a week. It gave him something to look forward to, and usually those were his best days.
Martha had been married to Daddy’s friend, Jack Bates. Nancy was Martha’s forty-year-old daughter who had also been Daddy’s secretary. He’d hired her after Jack died—which was right around the time everyone realized Jack had squandered every dime he’d made by investing in a real estate scheme that went bust, leaving Martha penniless. The fact that Nancy talked nonstop and had never had a job that didn’t involve rescuing animals didn’t matter to Daddy. She worked for him until he retired, but since then she hadn’t kept a job for more than a couple of weeks at a time. I suspect she didn’t actually do much for Daddy either, but he’d kept her on the payroll to help where he could.
Parker let them both in and led them down the hall, with Nancy jabbering the whole way about the sweater she wore despite the summer heat.
“Dad bought it for me on my twenty-fifth birthday. He knew I’d like it because of the Scottie dog button.” She pointed it out to Parker, who showed the proper amount of admiration for it before leading her to the table.
“You look so pretty,” Nancy said to me when she saw me in the kitchen. “Of course, you always look pretty. I didn’t mean to imply you don’t look pretty every time I see you. You’re such a pretty girl it would be hard for you to not look pretty, but that dress makes you look especially pretty. Don’t you think so, Parker?” She turned to him, blinking rapidly while her shoulder twitched.
“I completely agree, Nancy. Eliza is a very pretty girl, especially in that dress.” He lowered his head in a slow nod that made his words seem less like a compliment than another teasing jab. Plus, he’d called me a girl. I was twenty-four, not twelve.
“Thank you both,” I said politely and brushed past them to set plates on the table.
“You see, Eliza?” Daddy said, hugging Martha and then Nancy. “I’m not the only one who thinks you’re beautiful, so you can stop accusing me of being biased.” He took his seat at the head of the table, and the rest of us sat down. I’d suffer through a thousand dinners with Martha and Nancy if it meant seeing Daddy so much more like himself.
Nancy prattled on through dinner, cutting her mother’s meat while telling us about each and every dog in the shelter where she’d recently found a job. I forced myself not to look at Parker, who, while he would never say anything mean, did give me one or two looks that nearly made me burst out laughing.
“And Jami emailed me just last night to say she’s coming for a visit. I’ll read you the whole thing.” Nancy looked around for her phone, and I prayed she’d never find it. The last thing I wanted was an email-by-email account of Jami Fairfax’s life.
“Oh, it’s in my purse. Parker, do you remember where I put my purse? Could you get my phone for me? And my glasses? I can’t see anything without my glasses anymore; my eyes are so bad . . .”
Nancy kept talking while Parker found her purse, phone, and glasses in the entryway closet. By the time he got back with them, she’d told Daddy and me everything Jami had said in her email. That didn’t stop her from reading it to us anyway.
“She says, Hi, Grandma and Aunt Nanc . . .” She paused to put on her reading glasses. “She always calls me Nanc; she has ever since she was a little girl. I’m taking some time off before going to grad school and would love to come visit you . . .”
I noticed a spot on the table runner and made a mental note to include it in the load scheduled for the dry cleaners on Tuesday. Then I got distracted by how pretty the little pots of succulents looked as centerpieces. Then I started thinking about the wedding I’d been hired to do and how I could incorporate succulents in the bride’s bouquet and the groomsmen’s boutonnieres.
By the time Nancy stopped talking, I’d planned out every flower arrangement for my client.
“I’m sure Eliza would love to show Jami around while she’s here, won’t you, sweetie?” Daddy asked, and I nodded before realizing what I’d agreed to do.
I hadn’t seen Jami in almost fifteen years. Her parents divorced when she was four, and she’d spent a lot of time at her Grandma Martha’s house when she visited her dad for the next several years. Since we were the same age, Daddy and Martha had thrown us together a lot.
Then Jami’s dad—who’d always been out of control—was killed driving drunk. Jami’s stepdad had adopted her, and her mom, who’d never liked Martha, made sure Jami didn’t visit anymore. A few years ago, Jami had reconnected with her grandma and aunt through Facebook but hadn’t been to visit them. Now, every dinner with Martha and Nancy meant more news about Jami than any one person could ever want.
“When does she get here?” I asked Nancy, sure I would have known if I hadn’t spaced off ten minutes before.
“She’ll be here for Thanksgiving, and if she gets a job, she’ll stay for Christmas,” Nancy answered. “She could be here until she goes to grad school!” Nancy’s shoulder twitched as though to add special emphasis to her excitement.
“When is she going to grad school?” I asked, cutting my meat and trying out the European way of eating by not switching my fork to my right hand. I’d learned that once in an etiquette class.
“Well, um . . .” Nancy clutched her silverware and then glanced at Parker.
“She has to work for a few years to earn the money for it,” he answered for her. “Maybe you missed it when Nancy said it. Twice.”
“Oh! Of course, I heard you,” I lied. “I don’t know where my head is.” I knew exactly where it was. Back in etiquette class. Because even that was more exciting than talking about Jami Fairfax.
“There’s a coffee shop right next door to my store.” I smiled and forced myself to reengage in the conversation. “Maybe she can apply there. I’d be happy to put in a good word for her.” I put on my brightest smile for Nancy, and when she looked down to smooth her napkin, I shot a withering look at Parker.
“I don’t think she drinks coffee,” Nancy said slowly.
“Maybe you also missed the part where Nancy said Jami is at a Mormon university where they can’t drink anything with caffeine in it,” Parker answered again. Parker liked to be helpful. Sometimes too helpful.
“I think it’s just coffee and tea they can’t have,” Nancy piped in, going into a lot more detail than I cared to know about the Mormon health code before switching gears back to Jami. “I wish we could do more for her so she didn’t have to work. I doubt her mother would be happy about it. She’s not happy at all that Jami’s coming here, but Jami thinks she’ll be able to earn more money here than she did while she was in school in Idaho. And she wants to get out of the cold.” Nancy looked at me, expectation written on her face more clearly than a dry-clean label on silk. “So, if nothing else, maybe a few months on the beach will cheer her up.”
“I’m sure it will. A good day on the waves cures anything,” I said brightly.
“Does she surf?” Parker asked. “There probably weren’t a lot of opportunities to learn, growing up in Utah.”
I sent Parker another look. I knew Jami had moved to Utah after her dad died. I’d just forgotten for a minute.
“Hanging out on the sand is a legit remedy too.” I took a bite of my steak so I wouldn’t have to say anything else. By a massive stroke of good luck, a knock at the door saved me.
I could tell by its knock, knock, knock-knock-knock rhythm it was Taylor.
“I’ll get it!” I yelled and jumped up before anyone else had time to move. I had no idea why Taylor would be at my house when she was supposed to be out with Weston, but I didn’t care. Listening to her cry hysterically if they’d broken up would be a hundred times better than Parker outing me one more time for ignoring Nancy’s boring email from Jami.
The front door flew open before I reached it, and Taylor barged in.
“I’m engaged!” she squealed as soon as she saw me.
“What?”
“I’m engaged!” she squealed again before throwing her arms around me. She squeezed me tight while Weston stood behind her, grinning ear to ear.
She let me go and stuck out her hand to show me the ring. I grabbed her fingers, and we jumped up and down, yelling, “You’re engaged” and “I’m engaged” until Parker came down the hall.
“What is going on?” he asked as he turned the corner. “Your dad’s worried there’s a mob out here ready to storm the house. He’s ten seconds away from calling 911.”
“Taylor is engaged.” I hugged her and then turned to Parker. “Another successful match to add to my list.” I curtsied then pulled back my shoulders and dared him to make fun of me.
“You have a matchmaking list?” he asked as he passed me and pulled Taylor into a congratulatory hug.
“Preston and Caroline and now Taylor and Weston.” I did a showcase model hand motion to introduce Weston. “I met Weston when he came in to buy his mom a flower arrangement for Mother’s Day and knew he’d be perfect for Taylor, so I set them up.”
“It’s true. I owe all my happiness to her.” Taylor beamed at Parker then wrapped her arms around Weston’s waist.
“Humph,” Parker scoffed. “Well, congratulations to both of you, no matter who the credit for your approaching nuptials goes to.”
“You know it’s me.” I twisted back and forth in front of him, making my dress twirl like a six-year-old. “Do you know how one percent you sound when you say, ‘approaching nuptials’?” I added because he deserved to be roasted.
“Says the girl with a trust fund.” He raised his eyebrows, challenging me to try again.
“Fine. Then you sound like a Harvard professor wannabe.” I turned my back to him and faced Taylor. “Daddy will want to congratulate you.”
I grabbed her hand—the one with the giant ring on it—and ignored the panic dueling with my excitement. This was the outcome I’d wanted from the moment I introduced her to Weston. Now that it was here, though, all the implications I’d been pushing aside for months took center stage. Taylor would always be my best friend, but I wouldn’t be hers anymore. She’d have someone else to talk to and lean on and spend time with. Weston would be her right-hand man.
I pulled Taylor into the dining room, parked her in front of Daddy, and said, “Guess who’s engaged.”
He frowned and focused on me. “You haven’t been dating someone I’m not aware of, have you?”
“Daddy! No, of course not.” I wagged my head toward Taylor. “It’s Taylor.”
She held her ring hand up as proof, and Weston took his place beside her.
“Oh yes, that does make more sense.” Daddy stood up, his joints working at the speed of a sloth, while Nancy clapped with excitement and Martha continued to say nothing.
“That is such happy news! I’m so glad Mother and I could be here to hear it.” Nancy stood and rushed to Taylor, beating Daddy there. “I love weddings! There’s nothing more fun than dancing and eating cake. What kind of cake will you have? I hope it’s chocolate. I’ve had lemon before at weddings, but it’s never very good. Except at one wedding I had a piece of white cake with raspberry in the middle. I liked that kind. The cakes I like best are the ones with all the layers, and each layer is a different flavor. I always do a taste test with a piece from each one . . .”
Taylor and I had been inseparable since we were ten, so of course she knew the Bateses. They’d been a part of our lives even longer than she had. She didn’t, however, really know them well enough that they would have made the wedding guest list, but obviously they would have to now. She shot me a plea for help as Nancy rambled on and squeezed Taylor’s hand, fingering the ring on it.
“Do you remember whose weddings those were?” I gently guided Nancy away so Daddy could hug Taylor. “I’d love to ask them who did their cakes.”
“Yes!” Nancy looked so excited, I wished I’d found another diversionary tactic. “You can give them to Taylor. Of course, it’s been a long time; before Dad died, I think.” I sat her down in her seat, and she kept right on talking. “I’m sure I can find the names. I’ve saved the invitations somewhere. Maybe Jami can help me find them while she’s here . . .”
I loaded her plate with more food, despite her protests. Back in the day, she’d been a debutante. She’d never talk with her mouth full or leave a plate with more than a bite of food on it. I added another spoonful of roasted potatoes to make sure she’d be occupied at least long enough for Taylor to get through her story of how Weston proposed.
Weston watched Taylor as she spoke, his eyes swimming with love. The more animated she got, the more he lit up, until finally when she finished he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like they were the only two people in the room.
My eyes accidentally met Parker’s, but we both pretended they hadn’t. After that, I kept them glued to Taylor and Weston. They were so cute and happy together, it almost made me want to get married.
Almost, but not quite.