Christmas Bliss (23 page)

I trailed behind him down the long carpeted hallway. He stopped before a narrow door marked “Hotel Staff.”

*   *   *

“Wow. The maids in this hotel must all have been Munchkins,” I said, edging into the room behind Daniel. “Not that I’m complaining,” I added hastily. “I’m just grateful to have a room and a bed.”

The bed, a double, was tucked under the sharply sloped ceiling and took up most of the windowless room. There was a nightstand on one side of the bed, and a battered painted dresser that held a seventies-era television. Daniel opened a narrow door. “There’s a bathroom,” he reported. “Kinda.”

I looked over his shoulder and saw an old-fashioned cast-iron claw-foot tub, a high-backed commode, and a sink smaller than the one in Daniel’s apartment.

“A tub,” I said wearily. “An honest-to-God tub.”

He reached into the jacket of his pocket and handed me a small zippered bag. “The desk clerk gave me this when he saw that we were stranded. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, shampoo. A razor for me.”

“Excuse me,” I said, inching the door shut. “I think I have an appointment with this tub.”

*   *   *

The water was hot and the soap was some lovely scented stuff, and I laid back in the tub and soaked and felt the day’s tensions ebbing from my bones.

The bathroom door opened. Daniel stood there, wearing nothing but a smile.

“Got room for me?”

Chapter 27

At some point I became aware of a persistent ringing from somewhere close by. I sat up in bed, totally disoriented. The room was pitch black. The ringing seemed to be coming from the other side of the bed.

I lunged across my sleeping fiancée and scrabbled around in the dark for the phone. It kept ringing, but I couldn’t find it. I finally climbed over Daniel, turned on the lamp, and saw that my cell phone had fallen on the floor.

“Hello?” I was out of breath.

“Weezie!”

Crap. It was Mama.

“Where are you?” she demanded. “I have been frantic with worry. They’re saying it’s the biggest blizzard of the decade up there in New York, and that the airports are all snowed in. That can’t be right, can it?”

I climbed back off Daniel’s back. He was motionless in the bed. I looked around the room, but there was no clock, and with no window, I had no idea whether it was day or night. “What time is it?” I asked.

“It’s seven o’clock in the morning. I would have called earlier, but your daddy said you’d be fine and to stop worrying.”

“I am fine. Daddy’s right. Stop worrying.”

“So you’re at the airport right now?”

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “To tell you the truth, I was asleep.”

“How can you sleep at a time like this?” Mama wailed.

“I was tired.” There was no way I was going to share with her that Daniel and I were stranded at the Plaza with no luggage—and no way to leave.

“Well, what time are you heading to the airport?” she asked. “I thought you were supposed to be home by noon today. There’s still so much to do for the wedding, I’m just frantic with worry.”

I yawned widely. “Last night they were saying all of today’s flights would probably be delayed. I was sound asleep when you called. I’ll call the airline and then I’ll call you back.”

After I’d disconnected the phone, Daniel rolled onto his side and kissed my nose.

“That was nice last night,” he said softly.

“Very nice. We should get stranded in a blizzard more often.”

“Just as long as it’s at the Plaza, with room service,” he agreed.

“I’ve gotta call the airline and see about getting home,” I said regretfully. “Otherwise, Mama is totally going to fall to pieces. You won’t really have to work today, right? You can try to come home on the same flight as me?”

“If there are any flights leaving LaGuardia, yes, I’ll try to fly home with you,” he agreed. “Can’t have Marian falling all to pieces this close to Christmas.”

He sat up in bed, grabbed the remote, and switched on the television, flipping channels until we found the
Today
show, with Al Roker standing in front of an enormous snowdrift and dressed in a fur-lined parka that made him look like Nanook of the North.

Al was holding a yardstick stuck in the drift, and only a couple inches of the stick protruded. “Record snows for New York City and surrounding areas,” he said, sounding absolutely delighted at the news. “Although the snow ceased around one this morning, officials at LaGuardia, JFK, and Newark airports have said flights can’t resume until plows get all the runways cleared.”

*   *   *

Daniel went downstairs to check on traffic conditions while I got dressed. He came back to the room with two cups of coffee, two toasted whole wheat bagels, and some moderately good news.

“The doorman says most of the streets have been cleared and we should be able to get a cab. I called Carlotta and told her I was going to try and fly home with you this morning, and she agreed that makes sense.”

He paused and then sat down on the bed beside me. “I also told her I won’t be coming back.”

My eyes widened and I put my coffee down on the nightstand. “You did?”

“Yeah. It’s a great opportunity, I know, and maybe I’m crazy to turn it down, but this week made me realize I’ll never really be happy working for somebody else again. I miss Guale. I miss driving my own damn truck and going where I want, when I want. New York’s fun. It’s exciting and I learned a hell of a lot working for Carlotta, but this isn’t the life I want for us.”

“It’s not?”

“Not unless you do,” he said. “Do you?”

“No.” I took a sip of the coffee. They had great coffee at the Plaza.

“Savannah’s home. I guess it always will be. I’m like you. I’ll never be happy working for somebody else after running my own shop. My family’s there. Your family’s there. BeBe and Harry are there, and I can’t wait for their baby to get born. And Mama? She’s a major pain in my butt, but she needs me, Daniel. She’s not gonna be able to deal with Daddy and his … issues by herself.”

“I get that,” he said. He pulled me to my feet.

“C’mon, Weezie Foley, let’s get on home and get ourselves hitched.”

Chapter 28

BeBe

Saturday morning, I unlocked the door of the Breeze Inn unit we’d been using as storage for all the furniture destined for the new house. I’d spent the previous night alone, secretly glad when Harry called to ask how I felt about him staying out overnight with his charter client. I still wasn’t getting a lot of rest, and there was no sense in both of us having a sleepless night. Besides, I had plans for today, plans he probably wouldn’t endorse.

“If the fish are biting, you should stay out there fishing,” I’d assured him. “I’m fine. The checkup with Michael was good, nothing exciting to report, except he was bitching at me to take it easy. Which I did. The boys and I had pizza for dinner, then sat by the fireplace and totally vegged out last night.”

It wasn’t really a lie, not telling him about my elevated blood pressure—more like a tiny little sin of omission. No need for him to worry.

“The boys?” Harry sounded confused.

“Jeeves and Jethro. They’re best friends now. Jeeves stays on what’s left of my lap; Jethro has commandeered the spot under the coffee table. All I ask is that you call me when you’re on the way home tomorrow. Don’t forget, we’ve got Weezie’s wedding tomorrow, and I’m sure she’ll have a bunch of errands she needs me to run.”

“I’ll be home before dark,” Harry promised. “Take care of yourself—and do what Michael says. Just take it easy, BeBe. I know you’re antsy to get the nursery set up, but I can start moving furniture over to the house tomorrow morning, no problem.”

I really did mean to take it easy and follow the doctor’s orders. But I’d been obsessing about the nursery for days now. Every time the baby kicked, it was a reminder that time was running out. Hadn’t Michael warned me first babies come when they want?

What was the harm in moving a few light items over to the nursery? I could hang some pictures, put down the rug, no heavy lifting necessary. Now I eyed the white Jenny Lind crib longingly, running my fingers over the satin finish on the headboard, but I knew that even if I managed to get it out of the room, there was no way I could lug it up the stairs by myself.

Just then I heard a loud banging and chugging noise coming from the construction site. I knew that racket. It was Benny the tile guy, driving up in his rattletrap 1970s Vista Cruiser station wagon. Benny was scrawny-looking, but looks could be deceiving. All week I’d watched him effortlessly toting fifty-pound sacks of mortar mix and heavy boxes of tile up and down the stairs of the new house.

I met him out in the parking lot. “Good morning, Benny,” I said, treating him to my most Madonna-and-child smile.”Is that the replacement penny tile for the guest bath?”

“Yes ma’am.” He blushed and looked away. “I feel pretty bad about that mistake.”

“No need for more apologies. But if you wanted to make it up to me, I could use one little favor before you get started with the tiling…”

*   *   *

By lunchtime, we’d gotten all the furniture in place in the nursery. And when I say we, I mean, he. As in Benny. The crib was set up, the dresser and bookshelf were in place, the antique toy box Weezie had found at an estate sale was in a corner, and the wicker rocking chair and hassock that had been another gift from her was placed near the window.

I’d even managed to sweet-talk Benny into hanging my curtain rods and toting over all the cartons of children’s books and toys I’d been hoarding.

“Is that all?” Benny whined. “I really need to get to my tiling. I promised my old lady, I mean, my wife, I’d be back this afternoon to put up our Christmas tree.”

“That is absolutely all. For now.” I thanked him and shooed him back to his tile chores. I sat in the rocker and admired our handiwork. It would all be perfect—if I just had those drapes hung. And the bedding for the crib. I knew Marian Foley had finished sewing weeks ago and handed everything off to Weezie.

My cell phone rang. Providence was with me again. It was Weezie.

“Hey. How’s the snow?” I asked. “I saw about the storm on the news last night. Are you guys going to make it home in time?”

“The snow was … epic, to say the least. Everything was delayed, but my flight should leave in a couple hours or so,” Weezie reported. “And hopefully, the Atlanta layover won’t take too long. Not sure about Daniel’s. You know he wasn’t supposed to fly home until late tonight, but he’s on standby for an earlier flight. It’s pretty crazy up here. How are things down there?”

“Weather-wise, we’re good. I can’t believe it’s nearly Christmas. Harry stayed out fishing with a charter client last night, the weather is so calm.”

Weezie lowered her voice. “Any news about Richard? Did you manage to track him down?”

“Actually, yes. He’s dead, Weezie. He died not long after he got out of prison.”

“So … that makes you a widow, right? Not a bigamist?”

“Exactly.”

She giggled a little, and then stopped herself. “I’m sorry. I know he was your husband. I guess I should have a little more respect for the dead.”

“Not on my account,” I assured her.

“How exactly did you figure this out?”

“Long story. I’ll fill you in when you get home. Your uncle James was a big help. By the way, Harry knows about everything. And he doesn’t care. About any of it. Huge relief.”

“So glad,” Weezie said. “What about little Squirt? Any news on that front?”

“Squirt’s good, although Michael Garbutt says the li’l bugger might be here earlier than anticipated. Which is fine by me. I am fed up with being pregnant.”

“Early?” She yelped. “How early? Not, like, tomorrow early, right?”

“Relax. Maybe in a couple of weeks, he said. Or not even.”

“Thank God for that. Listen, BeBe. Can you do me a huge favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you run into town and check on the wedding preparations? Maybe drop by the house and see if Cookie and Manny have everything under control, then see what Mama needs help with? She’s got herself worked into a state about all this wedding stuff. She’s been calling me every hour on the hour. I swear, her nervous breakdown is giving me a nervous breakdown.”

“I was going to call you anyway. I ambushed the tile guy and made him move all the furniture into the nursery, and I’m about to bust a gut to get the curtains hung and the crib made up with all the bedding your mama made. It’s all at your house, right?”

“You can’t be hanging curtains in your condition,” Weezie said. “Just wait till I get home, and we’ll get it all put together.”

“You’re getting married tomorrow, remember? Anyway, I’m not gonna hang the curtains. Benny is. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

*   *   *

“Uh-oh.” I glanced over at Jethro, who was sitting in the front seat of my car. I wasn’t taking any more chances leaving him home alone with Jeeves. The street in front of Weezie’s row house was lined with delivery trucks, caterer’s trucks, even—yes, I had to blink to be sure, a landscaper’s truck with a pair of ten-foot blooming dogwood trees lashed in the truck bed.

I backed up and drove down the lane, double-parking in back of the sedate silver Buick I recognized as Marian Foley’s.

Using my key, I let myself in Weezie’s kitchen door. Where I found Marian Foley perched on top of a kitchen chair, ransacking the upper kitchen cabinets. Lined up against the wall were cases and cases of wine, champagne, and liquor. Every countertop held wooden crates of rental glassware and gold-rimmed dishes. The counters were lined with gleaming pieces of newly polished silver serving pieces.

“BeBe! Thank goodness. Do you know where Weezie keeps her cake plates? I know she has her meemaw’s plate, which I gave her, but I can’t find anything in this kitchen of hers.”

Hearing Marian’s voice, Jethro slunk quietly under the kitchen table.

“Hi, Marian. I think she keeps cake plates in the Welsh cupboard in the dining room. I’ll get it for you, if you like.”

By the time she clambered down from the ladder, Marian’s face was pink with aggravation, excitement, or stress—or maybe a combination of all three. The shade of her complexion matched the tidy rows of hot pink rollers in her hair, which clashed somewhat with her blue-and-white Frosty the Snowman Christmas cardigan.