part0007

D espite the fact that my family had interrupted what had been a very promising afternoon, I worked up a tepid smile. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” my Aunt Sugar said, “we’ve been talking, and we think it’s time someone starts planning your wedding.”

“Someone?” I crossed my arms over my chest and jutted out my hip, readying myself for an argument. “You?”

“Yes, us,” my cousin Honey piped up. “We’ve been patiently waiting, but since Jax proposed, neither of you have said a darn thing about the wedding. Nothing would get done if we left things up to you.”

My gaze scanned the women, coming to rest on my cousin Amy. Normally, I could count on her to revolt against the expectations of a southern woman—or women in general. “You part of this too?”

She shrugged. “An unwilling victim.”

“Don’t be telling lies Amaryllis Jean.” Her mom, my aunt Charlotte, leveled a stern glare at her. “You said if we can convince her, you’d help.”

“Help.” She mirrored my stance, folding her arms across her torso. “But I never said anything about being excited about it.” With a wave in my direction, she added, “Maybe Jax and Poppy don’t want us to interfere in their wedding plans.”

Before I could shout my agreement, my grandma shuffled past my aunt, stopping in front of me. Her head tipped forward like a charging bull, her milky gray gaze locking with mine. At barely five feet tall, she was an intimidating woman. I swallowed hard. If she was here, throwing her hat in the ring with my aunts, I didn’t stand a chance in hell against them.

Her mouth turned down in a frown, pulling the wrinkles around her lips tight and smooth. “Is that true, Poppy?” Her gaze narrowed on me. “Do you want to deny your family the joys of planning your nuptials?”

If it had been anybody else but Grandma Bonnie, I would’ve been able to stand my ground. She had a way of making me feel ashamed of doing something I hadn’t even done. Though I’d never said it, I’d often thought she’d missed her calling as an interrogator for the CIA. No matter how tough the prisoner, once they were hit with her stern glare and slapped across the face with a large helping of guilt, they’d break.

I inhaled, partly to temper my anger, but mostly to keep from folding like a rag doll under the weight of her stare. I was an adult and I needed to learn to stand up to my family. “It’s not that, Grandma. It’s just that Jax and I haven’t even set a date yet. Until we do that, I don’t see any sense in wasting our time planning a wedding.”

“Nonsense.” She continued to glower at me, her nostrils flaring as if she sensed my rising panic.

“Bonnie’s right, Poppy. There’s lots of things we can do even though you don’t have a date,” Charlotte said.

Honey bobbed up and down, giving an excited clap. “Oh goodie, I just love planning weddings. They’re so romantic.”

Without my agreement, Grandma Bonnie pivoted and headed toward the front door of my apartment. I guess that was that. It looked like we were planning my wedding.

Voicing my thoughts, Aunt Sugar said, “Well, that’s settled then.” She tilted her head and gave me a satisfied smile that trumpeted their victory over my hesitance, then turned to Amy and gestured toward a large plastic tote. “Grab that and bring it upstairs.”

Sugar, Charlotte, and Honey followed Grandma Bonnie inside. My gaze tracked to my cousin Amy, and I shook my head. “So not fair. ”

“At some point, you knew this was going to happen.” She bent and hoisted the plastic tote onto her hip. “My suggestion is to go along with it.”

My brow pinched together in a scowl. “You mean give in?”

“Don’t think of it as giving in. Think of it as keeping the peace.”

I shook my head. “I can only imagine the layers of lace and frills they have planned for me.”

Much to my chagrin, we weren’t wrong. By the time we entered my apartment, the other women had my dining room table covered in invitation samples, fabric swatches, and brochures from every wedding shop from here to the West Coast. From my quick perusal, Amy had hit the nail on the head with her prediction of pink. Tulip Pink, Peach Perfection, Summer Glee, Spring Blush, Heaven’s Rose, it didn’t matter what they named it, it was all pink to me.

I inched toward the table and scanned the wedding paraphernalia. Lace, flowers, butterflies, so not me. Not that it mattered. Nobody had asked what I wanted before they gathered all the samples. If they had, I would’ve steered them down a much darker path. Maybe something with skulls and a lovely shade of slate gray. I was a grim reaper after all, not that they knew that.

Secretly, I wanted to embrace my alter ego, but when Honey flipped open a wedding magazine and sighed at the sight of a wedding dress that reminded me of a coconut cream pie, I knew I would not be embracing my inner Angel of Death.

Amy swung the tote around and slammed it into the middle of the table. Aunt Charlotte gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. “Really, Amaryllis Jean, behave.”

“This is the best part.” A wisp of reverence laced Sugar’s answer. She opened the latches and pulled off the lid. Instead of diving into the tote, she turned to Grandma Bonnie. “You should do the honors.”

Grandma was a woman of few words but numerous glares, glances, and quelling stares. Rarely did she succumb to emotional outbreaks or bouts of giddiness, but as she shuffled to the table and pulled back the tissue paper, her eyes brightened with delight. Her frown tilted upward into a smile, melting the years from her face, as gnarled fingers dug into the tote and slowly pulled out a length of white satin.

I quickly realized it was a wedding dress. Sugar lifted the center, helping unfold the yards of material. Charlotte grasped the end and gently draped the bottom of the train over her arm.

I stepped forward, my hand hovering over a small patch of beading at the waist. The delicate stitches had been handsewn, each perfect.

Suddenly, I felt unworthy to touch the dress, so I fisted my hands and tucked them into my armpits. “It’s gorgeous.” I glanced at my grandma. “Is this yours?”

“Yep.” Her eyes didn’t leave the dress. “I wore this sixty years ago when I married your grandpa.” Her smile widened. “Seems like only yesterday.” We all stood there admiring the dress for several seconds, before she squared her stooped shoulders and pinned me with one of her infamous stares. “I think it’ll fit you just fine.”

My brows lifted. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Yep. Been saving it for the right occasion.” She gave a single nod, her eyes locking with mine. I couldn’t tell if it was a challenge or if she was trying to silently send me a cryptic message. Something like, you’re my favorite or nobody else was worthy . “I’d like to see somebody wear it before I die.”

“Mmmkay.” So much for reveling in the sentimentality of being her favorite. I hadn’t gotten a full view of the dress yet, but from what I could see it was beautiful. Still, styles were a lot different sixty-years ago, and I didn’t want to commit without seeing the dress in its entirety. “I haven’t really thought about what kind of dress I’d like.”

My grandmother’s gaze constricted slightly, silence stretching between us.

“Well,” my Aunt Sugar chimed in. “Now you have Grandma Bonnie’s dress, so you don’t have to worry.” She gave a nervous laugh. “It’s a win-win situation.”

Was it? I glanced at Amy, but her only response was to cock an eyebrow at me. A lot of help she was. Knowing I wasn’t getting out of this gracefully, I said, “Let’s hang it up so we can see it better.”

Sugar and Charlotte hauled the dress to my bedroom door and hooked the hanger over the top. They fluffed and plucked at the material, dragging the train out. It spread across the floor for several yards, and if I was being honest, it was quite pretty.

I stepped back and assessed the dress. It was a little out of date—actually a lot—but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. The big bow on the back had to go. I didn’t want to walk down the aisle looking like an albatross had slammed into the back of me. I preferred a much simpler design. The neckline was cut in a shallow V, and the sleeves fit tight. Besides the patch of beating at the waist, there wasn’t much bling. It would work, but there would have to be a few alterations.

I turned to Grandma Bonnie. “I love it.” To my surprise, her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. “It would need to be altered. Would that be a problem?”

“Of course, it won’t be a problem,” Aunt Charlotte said. “We can—”

I stopped her detailed reimagining of the dress before she built up steam. “Not only for size, but I want to shorten the dress, take off the train and the bow.”

“Take off the bow?” Honey’s eyes widened. “But that’s the best part. ”

“Oh, I have to agree.” Sugar flipped the dress around and ran her hand over the giant white bow plastered to the back. “This just screams elegance.”

“Yeah,” Amy chimed in. “If this was 1982.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Sugar’s eyes rounded, her smile just a tad too wide to be convincing. “A nip here, and tucked there, and you’ll be the most beautiful bride in the county.”

Despite my aunt’s reassurance that the dress would be beautiful, this was my wedding. I turned back to grandma Bonnie. “I would love to wear the dress if I can make those changes. If you’re not okay with that, I totally understand. You can save it for Amy’s wedding.”

An unfeminine snort erupted from my cousin. “Like I’ll ever get married.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to protest, but grandma held up her hand, silencing her. Again, we stared at each other for several long seconds, and again I wasn’t sure if this was a challenge or if she was just pondering her reply.

Finally, she lowered her hand, resting it on her cane, and tipped her chin toward the ceiling in inch. “I’m giving you the dress. It’s up to you to do with it as you will. All I ask is that you don’t make it into something vulgar or dye it a different color. I’d like some trace of the dress I wore to remain.”

I nodded. “I can do that.”

A prickle of tears tingled along my nose and behind my eyes, but I blinked them back. I was so not an emotional person, but grandma giving me her wedding dress with her blessing touched a part of me I thought I’d come to terms with, not being a Shifter. It really hadn’t bothered me since finding out I was a grim reaper. At least, that’s what I told myself. But this simple gesture from my grandmother spoke volumes.

Though she hadn’t agreed with my mother’s choice as a husband, she didn’t blame me for the fact that my dad had been human. She quirked an eyebrow at me, and for the first time in my life I wondered if she knew that he’d also been a grim reaper.

“Well then,” Charlotte said, “that’s settled. Poppy, try on the dress, and we’ll figure out where it needs letting out and taking in.”

“No.” Amy stepped forward and unhooked the dress from the top of the door. “Have somebody who knows what they’re doing alter the dress.”

“I know what I’m doing.” Charlotte reached for the dress again, but Amy spun and ran to my bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. My aunt marched to the closed door. “Amaryllis Jean, open the door this instant.”

“No way, Mom.” Her voice sounded muffled from behind the barrier. My apartment building was old and solid. No way was anybody getting through the bathroom door if Amy didn’t allow them through. “I saw what you did to Sherry Doyle’s prom dress.”

“What are you talking about? That dress turned out beautifully.”

“That dress had more bows and netting on it than a fishing boat. It was ugly.”

Everybody but me gasped. I had to side with Amy. The dress had been butt-ugly to begin with, and my aunt’s alterations had upped it to hideous.

“Isn’t Mrs. Peebles a seamstress?” I asked.

The lock clicked, and Amy opened the bathroom door. “She is.” With the gown crushed against her chest in a death grip, she nodded. “Mrs. Peebles not only sewed but designed Florence Jean Castle’s wedding dress last year.”

“Ooooo,” Honey purred. “I loved that dress.” She nodded her agreement. “Mrs. Peebles should definitely work on Poppy’s gown.”

The noise Charlotte made was a cross between a scoff and hacking up a furball. Her eyes drifted to each of us, her grunts turning to huffs of indignation. Finally, she pinched her lips together and sniffed. Her head toggled right and left, and her nostrils flared as she struggled to maintain her dignity. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when she screws it up.”

Oh boy, the first feelings had been hurt, and we’d only been at this for about ten minutes. “This is better,” I said, trying to sooth my aunt’s bruised ego. “Now, you can focus on helping me with the bigger parts of the wedding. Food and choosing invitations.”

“Oh, and the invitation list,” Amy added—unhelpfully.

I glared at her. The guest list was the one thing I’d wanted control over. Though we hadn’t talked about it, I was almost certain Jax and I both wanted a small wedding. But when Charlotte straightened and nodded, all hope for an intimate ceremony vanished.

“Well,” Charlotte said, “the guest list is pretty important, what with the Jacksons knowing just about everybody in the damn county.”

“A bunch of know-it-alls, if you ask me,” grandma mumbled as she plopped onto a dining room chair.

Giving myself over to the racing freight train that was my wedding planning, I reached out to my aunts and grasped each of their hands. “I’m depending on both of you to help me navigate the minefield of seating charts and entrees.”

Simultaneously, they squeezed my hands. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Poppy.” Sugar gave Charlotte a knowing smile. “We’ve got this under control.”

“Sugar’s right.” Charlotte patted my hand. “Social gatherings are our forte.”

More aptly, manipulating people into doing what they wanted was their forte. They were masters of gossip, eavesdropping, and subtle suggestions. Oddly, knowing they had the tedious tasks of my wedding well in hand comforted me.

“Well then,” Sugar said, releasing me. “Let’s get started. I’ll put on the coffee.” She waved her hand at a pink box sitting on the table. “Honey, set out the sweets. We’re going to need our energy. ”

Empty carbs, now that was a plan I could get behind. My respect for my aunts ratcheted up a couple of notches. The women really were geniuses when it came to staying on task, and the cupcakes and tarts gave us the fuel we needed for a five-hour wedding planning frenzy. My aunts and Honey were like three dogs that had been chained up and were finally let off their leashes. They sprang from topic to topic, leaving me blinking and dazed.

Only Grandma Bonnie dared wander from the path Sugar and Charlotte set for us. After consuming more than her share of the desserts, grandma hunkered down in my comfy reading chair by the window and dozed off. I took a minute to appreciate her while she snoozed. The tough shell she showed everybody really did have a soft middle. Then she started snoring and drooling, and the spell was broken. So gross.

Around six o’clock, I lifted my arms above my head and arched against the chair, stretching my aching back. For the last hour, I’d been bent over an invitation sample book. Within the first ten minutes I’d seen a few designs I liked. During the next ten minutes, the invitations started to look the same, and forty-five minutes in, my vision blurred, and a low buzz hummed inside my head. At first, I thought I might have developed a brain tumor, but then I realized it was Honey droning on across the table from me.

“Amy, go wake your grandma and tell her we’re packing up.” Charlotte turned her attention to me, not waiting for or expecting any sass from her daughter. “I’ll call Mrs. Peebles tomorrow and set up a time for your fitting.”

“Sounds good. I’ll make myself available whenever she can fit me in.”

“She can probably fit you in anytime,” Sugar said. “The only thing the woman does is clean her house and do laundry on Saturdays.”

Mrs. Peebles was known for hogging the big washing machine at the laundromat. It didn’t matter that my aunts had washing machines at home, they still griped about not being able to use the big washer if the need ever arose.

“All right, we’ll check in tomorrow.” Charlotte eyed my dining room table which was still stacked with stuff. “Don’t forget to look at the rest of the invitation samples.”

“I won’t. Thank you for everything.” I hugged her, somewhat out of appreciation but mostly so I could herd her toward the door. “You’re the best. All of you are.”

I meant it. The women of my family had rallied and pulled together a not-so-painful wedding intervention. Instead of being a tortuous afternoon, I’d actually enjoyed myself. Not that I’d admit that to Amy. If I did, there would be no end to the blushing-bride jokes.

It took another five minutes to corral them out the door and down the stairs. As they pulled away, I stood on the sidewalk and waved, making sure they actually left. Then I hauled ass back to my apartment. I had an hour before Jax showed up for sexy times and I had some prepping to do.

Peeling off my shirt, I headed toward my bathroom. The wedding dress hung over my door, so I snagged it and gently hung it in my closet. Couldn’t chance any bad luck by having Jax see the gown before the wedding. The thinnest thread of doubt slid through me. Hopefully, he wasn’t having any regrets about us and our engagement.

I absently caressed the ring he’d given me. Small marquise and round diamonds created what looked like cat claws holding the bigger diamond in the center. I fisted my hand and pushed away my doubt. We were a match made in heaven, and I needed to stop worrying about the future and focus on the present. Sexy times.