Okay, I’ve spent two weeks hiding behind my desk, trying to concentrate on patent schematics and squeeze in a little time with Kevin, and mostly dreading the reappearance of Emily, this time with Elaine in tow, next week. So I’ve made a list.
REASONS MY FUTURE MOTHER-IN-LAW WILL LOVE ME
1. I am smart. Sometimes. I was valedictorian. That counts, right?
2. I am Botox-free at thirty-two and counting! No botulism brain here! (Although that may be a negative in this family.)
3. I let her daughter coordinate my wedding! (Sort of. And before I knew about the mental condition.)
4. I’m not going to make her purchase my home. (Will fight it tooth and nail actually, but think of the $$$ saved.)
5. I can make spaghetti, and I do not need a cook to help me! (Emeril would be proud. Bam! A little garlic to kick it up a notch!)
“There.” I show Rhett my list. “This is to bolster my confidence scale. Remember my ‘I am a confident woman’ list?”
The dog whines and sets his chin on my lap. My legs are folded up in yoga position when the doorbell rings. “We’ve got company, Rhett.”
I jump up to answer the door, thinking perhaps my book order has arrived, or maybe a wedding gift! But it’s Saturday, and my hopes quickly fade with the thought of a door-to-door cult evangelist.
Opening the door, I see a short man, nearly bald, with Santa Claus sideburns and puffy, ruddy cheeks. A nondescript woman is standing next to him. “Hello.” He clears his throat. “I’m Simon Jameston, and this is my wife, Ruth.”
A thousand thoughts rush into my mind. This is the man who ‘ruined Kay’s life,’ according to her. But this man doesn’t look like he could ruin a kitten’s life. He’s stocky and genuine looking. His wife is mousy and smiles when she speaks. They look like they just stepped off the Bible bus.
“Please excuse us for interrupting you, but my husband and I need to see Kay Harding. Perhaps she doesn’t want to see us, but it’s important she does. We love her and want to tell her again.”
This is a couple who looks like they’re running the church flea market. There’s nothing in them that says I should be fearful, and I feel the Holy Spirit around them. Something tells me they’re just good people, but I know Kay is not the hysterical type. That title would be reserved for me. My hackles raise as I think about Kay’s struggle to create a perfect life for herself. And these people, no matter how they seem, are at the root of that issue.
“I’m sorry to be rude, but Kay doesn’t want to see you. I think it’s important we respect her wishes. And I really have no power to make her do otherwise.” I start to close the door, even though I’m dying to know the truth. I no longer think Kay could have had some torrid affair with this guy. He’s like your grandpa. And ewww.
“Please,” Ruth pleads, and I’ll admit I’m an easy mark. “We won’t take up much of her time.”
“She isn’t here.”
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“I really don’t. I’ll be happy to give her a message.” Now run along.
They both nod and turn toward their Buick parked out front. Not a nice Buick, an old dilapidated model with ripped seats from the extensive sun in the back window. No garage, I think to myself. There’s dog slime all over the inside of the windows, and a small black dog rising and falling in the passenger window with a chirpy bark every time he appears.
I feel like dirt turning them away, but I do shut the door slowly and watch them walk down the front path. Sometimes being a friend is a hard business. Besides not wanting to see these people, we’d have to deal with the distinct fact that they showed up without an appointment. A genuine no-no for Kay, who likes everything just so when guests arrive. She always has gourmet snacks and refreshing drinks at the ready. Sometimes when I think how hard others are on her, I know it’s nothing next to her own demons. She’s her own worst critic.
Rhett’s at my side, and it’s at this moment that I realize he never barked once while the strangers were at the door. “Some watchdog you are.”
Now he barks.
I crumple up the list of why my future MIL will love me. She’ll hate me. I’m not a debutante. I’m not a Confederate. I’m not even capable of throwing a quaint dinner party. Well, not without Kay cooking for it, anyway.
The doorbell rings again, and I huff. These people do not take no for an answer! I walk to the door and get ready to let the nice little couple in the Buick have it, when I see it’s Matt. What is this: “I’ve wronged Kay” day? It’s a national holiday or something. I know she has no decorative tchotchkes for this occasion.
“Emily went back to Atlanta,” I tell him without greeting, and Rhett growls fiercely. Good dog.
“I’m here to see Kay.”
“Get in line. She’s not here. And you don’t have a cell phone? What’s with the personal visit? Kay hates that.”
“I didn’t think she’d take my call.”
“And you’d probably be right. You should try your luck on Jeopardy with that kind of extrasensory perception.”
“Look, I know I am not your favorite person, but that’s not of the utmost important to me. Kay and I really clicked. I’d like to speak with her again, and since you’re not her keeper—”
“Even if you knew my future sister-in-law was coming back into town next week? Would you still want to see Kay?”
He pauses. For too long, quite frankly.
“I’d still want to see Kay. How about if we let her make up her own mind about me?”
How about if we don’t and say we did?
“I’d like to take her out for her birthday.”
Shoot. “It’s her birthday?” Good one, narcissistic Ashley; you forgot your roommate’s birthday.
“Just tell her, will you?”
I shrug. “No skin off my nose. I’ll leave her a message,” I say as I slam the door. Sheesh, and I thought I was only going to get your run-of-the-mill cult salesman. Now I have to shop and get a present. Not just any present, a perfect present for my roommate who thrives on perfection.
I walk into my bedroom with Rhett on my heels and take out my bridal book. I look at all the items on the to-do list to see if there’s anything I can do while out shopping for Kay. I’m disgusted with myself that I haven’t planned nearly what I should have by now. According to the checklist, I should be reserving rooms for out-of-town guests. I don’t even know who those guests are, and if I don’t get a move on, they’ll be camping out under my dad’s beer bottle collection on the family futon.
The doorbell rings again, and this time, I am ready to give the Kay brigade a piece of my mind. I stomp up the hardwood floor hallway and open the door to—Kevin. With a bouquet of peach-hued roses.
“Kevin!” I fall into his arms, rather too swiftly, and nearly topple us both. I thought he was on his way to Philly. My hand traces his jaw to make sure he’s real.
“I have a present for you before I catch my flight,” he says.
“More than the diamonds?” I narrow my eyes, teasing. “I thought you said the courting was over.” I’m refusing to let him go, clutching him like Miles clutches his baby Gloworm. Kevin is like the sweetest apparition come to glorious life. “I have my present,” I say as I squeeze him tighter.
“No, this is better.”
I take the flowers from him. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s been Grand Central Station here all day. I’ll put these in water.” I look around to his other hand. “Did you get me See’s truffles too?”
“No, greedy, I didn’t.”
“It was worth a try. So what’s my surprise?”
“What do you want more than anything in this world?”
“The Vera Wang gown I picked out originally?”
“I’m not Houdini, Ashley. You sure don’t make this easy on a guy.”
“I want to marry the man I love,” I gush.
“In . . .” he trails off.
“Stanford Memorial Chapel.”
“Ta-da!” He hands me a card. It’s engraved, and it has our wedding date on it!
“What’s this?” Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!
“It’s our reservation for the church.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did. The chief of surgery attends services there and agreed to vouch for us. We’re in, Ashley.”
“Oh, Kevin!” I squeeze him again.
“Now will you trust me that I’m coming back from Philly in time to spare you from a whole week with my family, and unless you say so, we’re not moving?”
“I trust you.” And I really do.
“So now that you trust me, who was that guy leaving your house?”
I blank for a moment. “Oh, that was Matt. Your sister’s psuedo-date while she was here. I guess her absence has sparked a rekindled interest in Kay.”
“Good. I know Kay can handle herself. I’m not sure about Emily.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure about that, Kevin. You know, last week she told me this old pastor had ruined her life. Today, the man and his wife came here, and it’s not that I don’t think pastors are capable of sin and all that; but the guy looked like Santa Claus, and his wife was a dead ringer for Mrs. Cunningham without makeup.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“I know that. I’m with you, aren’t I? But something tells me Kay has a lot of anger that needs to go. These people seem to want to bury it.”
“Kay?”
“I wouldn’t think so either, but the whole thing just smells of mystery.” I pose with a fake gun pointed, my arms straight out in aim. “You won’t be sorry I’m on the case, Charlie.”
“Good work, Angel. They’d have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!” We break into laughter, and I realize that inside this gorgeous creature is a true inner geek. Just like me. Isn’t God good?