It was hot, without a hint of a breeze. Mid-October and it felt like the dog days of August. The wedding guests wandered beneath the sweet gums and pecan trees that shaded Camilla Tillyâs backyard, faces shining with sweat, sipping cold drinks in which the ice melted too soon.
Joleen Tilly, Camillaâs oldest daughter and sister to the bride, stood at the cake table from which sheâd just shooed away three frosting-licking children. Joleen felt as if she was melting in her ankle-length rose-colored satin and lace bridesmaidâs gown.
And she couldnât help suspecting that the cake was melting, too. The icing looked thinner, didnât it, in a couple of places? The cake had five layers, each bordered with icing swags and accented with butter-cream roses. Hadnât the top four layers slid sideways the tiniest bit, wasnât the whole thing leaning to the right, just a little?
Joleen shook her headâat the cake, at her own discomfort, at the whole situation. She had tried to convince her sister to rent a hall, but DeDe dug in her heels and announced that sheâd always dreamed of getting married in Mamaâs backyard. There was no budging DeDe once she dug in her heels.
So here they all were. Melting.
And way behind schedule. The ceremony was supposed to have started an hour ago. But Dekker Smith, the closest thing the Tilly sisters had to a big brother and the one who had promised to give DeDe away, had yet to arrive.
As Joleen stewed about the missing Dekker, about the cake, about the sweltering heat, her uncle Hubert Tilly wandered over, beer in hand. He stood beside her, leaned her way and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. âItâs about time we got this thing started, donât you think?â
âYes. And we will, Uncle Hubert. Real soon.â
âGood.â Her uncle lifted his beer to her in a toast. âHereâs to you, Joly. We all know itâs bound to be your turn next.â He threw back his big head and drank.
Joleen, who sometimes got a little tired of hearing how it would be âher turn next,â smiled resolutely and watched uncle Hubertâs Adamâs apple bounce up and down as he drained the can.
âWell, what do you know?â Uncle Hubert said when he was through guzzling. âItâs empty.â The can made groaning, cracking sounds as he crushed it in his beefy fist. âBetter get anotherâ¦â He headed off toward the coolers lined up against the garden shed. Joleen watched him go, hoping he wouldnât get too drunk before the day was over.
She turned her attention to the cake again and decided that it should not sit out here in this heat for one minute longer. Her motherâs Colonial Revival house had been built in 1923. But thirty years ago, when her father bought it, one of the first things heâd done to it was to put in central heat and air.
She grabbed herself a couple of big, strong cousinsâa Tilly, from her fatherâs side and a DuFrayne, from her motherâs. âPick up that cake table,â she told them. âAnd do it carefully.â
The cousins lifted the table.
âOkay, good. This wayâ¦â Joleen backed toward the kitchen door slowly, patting the air with outstretched hands and speaking to her cousins in soothing tones. âWatch itâ¦carefulâ¦thatâs rightâ¦.â She opened the door for them and ushered them into the coolness of her motherâs kitchen. âWatch that step. Easy. Good.â
Once sheâd closed the door behind them, she led them to the little section of wall on the far side of the breakfast nook. âRight here, out of the way. Just set it down easy.â The cousins put the table down.
Joleen let out a long, relieved sigh. âPerfect. Thank you, boys.â
âNo problem,â said Burly, the DuFrayne cousin. His full name was Wilbur, but everyone had always called him Burly. âWhenâs this thing getting started, anyway?â
âSoon, real soon,â Joleen promised, thinking about Dekker again with a tightening in her tummy that was a little bit from irritation and a lot from worry.
Dekker had called yesterday afternoon and left a message on the machine at Joleenâs house. He said he wouldnât make it for the rehearsal, after all, but that heâd be there in plenty of time for the wedding. Joleen wished sheâd been home when he called. She would have gotten some specifics out of himâlike a flight number and an arrival time, for starters.