Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, it’s at the end of your arm. As you get older, remember you have another hand: The first is to help yourself, the second is to help others.
Audrey Hepburn
Stan looked as if he might pass out, if such a thing could be judged from his pale face and shaky hands.
“You okay over there, Stan?” Brady called out. “Should we call 9-1-1?”
“No. Please don’t. I’ll be fine.” He tugged at his shirt collar. “In a few minutes, anyway.” His gaze shifted around the room until he focused on Madge, who stood behind the cash register, her usual place of refuge. “Could you come over here for a minute, Madge?”
“Sure.” She looked terrified to be put on the spot, but who could blame her? Seconds later she stood in the middle of the room, hand tightly clutched in his. “What are we doing?”
“You’re about to find out.” Stan’s words came out a bit shaky. He faced the crowd and cleared his throat. “Now, I know this is Eduardo and Alva’s big day, and I don’t want to steal anyone’s thunder. But I couldn’t think of a better time or place to do this, since we’re all together.”
Then the strangest thing happened. I’d seen Stan in a variety of situations—irritated, worried, sarcastic—but I’d never seen him with tears in his eyes before. He stood before us now, a man with eyes brimming and voice quivering.
“Most of you know me pretty well by now,” he said. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet some of you know me even better than I know myself.” He cast a hopeful glance at Madge, who offered a winsome smile. “The sports agent world is cutthroat and all about scoring the best possible deals—for our players and ourselves.”
“You’re the best, Stan,” Brady said.
“Stan the Man!” several of us hollered at once.
Perhaps buoyed by our kind words, Stan grinned. “Now that you mention it, I’ve had a good run of it, and I’m mighty proud of the players I’ve represented. But there comes a time in every man’s life—”
“Aw, get on with it, Stan.” Madge tapped her foot. “Are you going to spend all day talking about sports?”
“No, woman, I’m not.” Stan crossed his arms. “As a matter of fact, this little speech has nothing to do with sports whatsoever.”
“Coulda fooled me!” Alva called out.
“This is something entirely different.” Stan cleared his throat. “There comes a time in every man’s life—well, nearly every man, anyway—when he has to admit that his work isn’t enough. Oh, it’ll keep him busy. It’ll fill the hours. But if he’s honest with himself . . .” He gazed at Madge with great tenderness. “If he’s truly honest with himself, he has to admit that only the love of a good woman will fill the void in his heart.”
“For pity’s sake.” Alva fanned herself with her napkin. “This is better than that radio show we listen to, Katie Sue. Much more romantic.”
Indeed.
And the story grew more romantic still as Stan dropped to one knee and presented Madge with a ring.
“Yes!” Madge said. “Yes, yes, yes! For the love of all that’s holy, yes! I’ll marry you, Stan. I’ll probably drive you out of your ever-lovin’ mind, but if you love me as much as I think you do, you’ll forgive me.”
At this point—even before the gorgeous diamond was slipped onto her finger—the whole room came alive with cheers and applause. Dahlia, Twiggy, and Crystal let out squeals and rushed Madge, nearly knocking her out of Stan’s arms.
I moved toward Brady, dumbfounded. “Did you know about this?” I whispered.
He chuckled. “You don’t think Stan picked out a ring that great without a little assistance, do you? And who do you think coached him on his big speech?” Brady paused. “Of course, he did deviate somewhat, but I blame that on nerves.”
“Did Eduardo know?”
“Yep. And he heartily approved. Said he’d interrupted our engagement party with personal news, so it only made sense to return the favor to Stan.”
“I can tell from the look on Madge’s face that she was completely clueless.”
“Which is how it should be. No groom wants his bride to know what’s coming.” Brady slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Remember how I proposed to you?”
“Duh. As if I could ever forget. Best day of my life.”
“Okay then. Now hopefully Madge can say the same thing.”
“I’m sure she will.”
I watched as Stan and Madge walked over to my aunt and uncle. “Sorry to steal the attention, Alva,” Stan said. “I hope you don’t mind that I proposed right here and now.”
“Are you kidding?” Alva clasped her hands together. “It’s perfect!”
“Well, thank you for being so understanding.” Stan gazed lovingly at Madge. “It’s just that all of her friends are here, especially Nadia, her best friend. You folks at Cosmopolitan are Madge’s family, and I just knew she’d want to share this moment with family.”
“And you, Stan?” I flashed a warm smile.
“You folks are my family too, I guess.” He shrugged. “At least, you are now. Whether you want me or not. I guess I’ll just have to be the crazy old uncle everyone talks about during the holiday season.”
“We’ll only have great things to say about you, especially after a speech like the one you gave. You and Madge are going to be so happy together, Stan. Just promise you won’t steal her away from the Dallas area.”
“No way. My roots are planted deep here. I’m not going anywhere and neither is she. Tearing her away from the bridal shop would be impossible. You’re stuck with us. Both of us.”
“Happy to be stuck.” Nadia’s eyes brimmed with tears.
Just about the time I thought she might erupt in tears, Bessie May, Prissy, and Ophelia approached. Bessie May tapped Nadia on the arm. “Pardon me for interrupting, but you’re that designer, aren’t you?” She stuck out her hand to Nadia. “The one I’ve heard so much about?”
“Yes, I design vintage wedding gowns.”
“I’m a bit of a designer myself.” Bessie May squared her shoulders. “See this here outfit I’m wearing?”
Nadia’s gaze shifted to the matching floral cotton blouse and homemade slacks Bessie May had on. Her brow wrinkled. No doubt she was trying to come up with something kind to say, but what could be said about a style that went out in the eighties?
“I make my own patterns,” Bessie May added. “So I guess it could be said that I’m a designer too, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of course.”
“Bessie May, don’t be ridiculous.” Prissy slapped her on the arm. “If you were a designer you’d be making outfits for others. And no offense, but I don’t know anyone else—even in a small town like Fairfield—who would wear the things you show up in.”
“Well, I never!” Bessie May put her hands on her hips. “How dare you humiliate me, Prissy, and in front of a total stranger, no less.”
“Oh, I’m no stranger,” Nadia said. “I’m about to be family. Once Brady and Katie get married, I mean. And Prissy, I must disagree with what you’ve said to Bessie May here. I was sewing clothes for myself long before I sold my first gown to someone else. During those formative years I just had to keep reminding myself that my creativity—my patterns—were a special gift from God. He had called me to create, and if no one ever bought one of my dresses, I’d still be a designer.”
“Humph.” Prissy pursed her lips. “I stick to what I said before. I don’t think anyone would wear the crazy things she comes up with. I mean, I wouldn’t.”
“Ladies, ladies . . .” I slipped my arm through Prissy’s. “Just a few minutes ago I told Nadia that we’re all one big happy family in Fairfield. Right?”
“A poorly dressed family, apparently,” Prissy said. “But while we’re talking about things we disagree on, I might as well state my opinion on Ophelia’s new hairdo.”
Ophelia looked shocked. “What about my hairdo?”
“Friend, I have to speak it plain.” Prissy wagged an arthritic finger in Ophelia’s direction. “No one in their right mind would honestly believe that crazy shade of orange is your real color. You’ve got to go back to your natural shade of gray.”
“That’s the rudest thing you’ve ever said to me. You could learn a thing from our guest here.” Ophelia pointed to Nadia, who flinched.
“Learn . . . from me?” my future mother-in-law asked.
“Sure. That platinum ’do you’re sportin’ ain’t your natural color, right?” Ophelia gave her a knowing look. “I’m guessing underneath it all you’re as gray as I am, but there you go, coloring it up with a shade that no one in our neck of the woods would’ve chosen.”
Ohh noo.
Nadia paled. “Well, I, um . . .”
“I think it’s a nice color.” Bessie May gave her a thoughtful look, then reached out and touched it. “Not exactly real-looking—meaning, not a color God would’ve created—but nice all the same.”
“I . . . well, I . . .” Nadia reached for a cookie and pressed it into her mouth.
“Ladies, let’s fess up. We’re all the same, whether we live in a city or a small town. We all color our roots and we all have our own taste in clothes.” Ophelia slapped her thigh. “We don’t all do things the same way, but what does it matter? Doesn’t make us different. Just makes us sisters.”
I had a feeling Nadia wanted to run as fast and far from this sisterhood as she could right about now. Instead, she reached for another cookie, snapped it in half, and gave one piece to Bessie May and the other to Prissy.
“If we’re all sisters, then we all agree on one thing: chocolate is the cure for anything that ails you. And right now”—she glanced my way and sighed—“I have a hankerin’ for some chocolate.”
“I baked those cookies.” Ophelia squared her shoulders, clearly proud of her work. “They’re my own secret recipe.”
“Don’t let that stop you from trying them,” Bessie May said. “We’ve all been eating them for years and none of us have kicked the bucket.”
“Yet.” Prissy quirked a brow and then took a nibble.
“Well, there’s a glowing endorsement.” Nadia reached for another cookie and stared at it. As soon as the other ladies began to squabble, she put the cookie back on the tray and glanced at me again, eyes wide.
“Told you they were just like family, Nadia. What else can I say? But just wait—when it comes to planning for my big day, they’ll all come together in one accord. It’s what they do.”
“Mm-hmm.” My future mother-in-law looked back and forth between Bessie May and Ophelia, who continued to bicker. “I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it, Katie.”
“Take her word for what, Mom?” Brady stepped behind me and slipped his arms around my waist.
“That folks in Fairfield all come together in one accord when it comes to the things that matter—like weddings.”
“Oh, they do,” Brady said. “I’ve witnessed it firsthand. So don’t you worry about a thing. In just a few short weeks we’ll all be gathered at the Baptist church in Fairfield with half the town looking on. We’ll say our ‘I dos’ and then have the party of the century. Just you wait and see.”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Prissy arguing with Bessie May. Before long Ophelia joined in and things got a little heated. Queenie threw herself into the middle of it, and Pap-Paul ended up intervening to calm the waters.
Yep. Just like I’d said: one big happy family.