Christmas Bliss (8 page)

“That’s the sickest thing I’ve ever heard of,” I whispered back.

“Go!” Merijoy ordered. Immediately the room erupted in a chorus of shrieks and giggles.

I reluctantly unfastened the tapes of my diaper and gazed down at the contents, which appeared to be some kind of brown lump encrusted with peanuts.

“Snicker,” Weezie whispered. I rolled my eyes but dutifully wrote it down. As soon as I’d finished, Weezie handed me a diaper that had been handed to her. I glanced, shrugged, and scribbled something illegible. Another diaper, then another and another were handed around. Each time I passed it along without looking. Fortunately, the other women were so immersed in the hilarity of the game nobody noticed my lack of participation.

“Stop!” Merijoy called, and she was greeted with groans and more giggles. When the notes were tallied, it was no surprise that Mary Elizabeth was the big winner—correctly guessing twelve different kinds of mashed-up or melted candies.

Merijoy’s next game was just as sick and twisted as her first. She quickly produced another large cardboard box—full of baby bottles.

“Y’all are gonna love this one,” she exclaimed. “Everybody gets a bottle, okay? They’re all filled with something different.” She nodded in my direction. “Don’t worry, BeBe, I’ll make sure yours doesn’t have anything alcoholic in it.”

“Yippee,” I said weakly.

“When I holler go, everybody has to suck their bottle down. All of it! Whoever finishes first, wins. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“I don’t think I’ll participate in this one, dear,” Grandmama said when Merijoy handed her one of the bottles.

“I’m going to opt out too,” I whispered. “I’m just the slightest bit queasy right now. In fact, I’m just going to run along to the bathroom.”

“Oh, pooh! You’re no fun,” Merijoy said, but she went all around the circle, passing out bottles.

Weezie sniffed hers. “Cranberry juice. And vodka, I think.”

“Make sure you don’t drink all that,” I said, getting to my feet. “You’re driving us home—and I’ve got a baby on board, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“As if,” she said.

*   *   *

“Go, Bizzy, go,” the women were chanting as I waddled out of the powder room and into the living room. My aunt Bizzy, the same serene former president of the Charleston Junior League, was leaned backwards in her chair, sucking so hard on her baby bottle that it looked like she’d turn her cheeks inside out.

“Go, go, go,” my cousins chanted, their own bottles forgotten. The other women in the circle were still delicately sipping and sucking on their own concoctions.

Finally Bizzy held her empty bottle up for inspection. “Done,” she called breathlessly.

“What was it?” Jeanne Marie asked. “Mine was apple juice.”

“Not sure,” Bizzy said, her voice thick and a little woozy. “Something chocolatey.”

“Ooh, you got the Baileys Irish Cream,” Merijoy exclaimed. “You win!”

*   *   *

Next, Merijoy went around the circle handing out balls of string and pairs of children’s blunt-tipped scissors.

I glanced uneasily at Weezie, who seemed to be a font of knowledge when it came to disturbing trends in baby shower games. “I’m afraid to ask,” I whispered.

“Uh-oh,” she said, shaking her head and laughing. “You’re for sure not gonna like this one.”

Merijoy stopped when she got to me. “Come on, BeBe, I need you to stand up,” she ordered. I just barely managed to squeeze my feet back into my shoes before she gave me her hand, and with effort, managed to haul me out of the armchair.

“Stand here in front of the fireplace,” she instructed. I did as I was told. Merijoy Rucker somehow has that effect on people. Even me. She rarely raises her voice, but she always gets her way.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

I did a slow spin, my cheeks burning.

“Good. You can sit down now.”

“Now, girls. You’ve all got your string and your scissors. I want you to figure out the distance around BeBe’s waist, and cut your string to that length.” She waggled her finger at my cousins. “And no fair measuring your own waist or anybody else’s. You’re just supposed to eyeball BeBe. Got it?”

I smiled brightly. This was fun, right? Fun, fun, fun. So why was I so miserable?

I turned to Weezie, but she wasn’t there. She was walking rapidly in the direction of the dining room, her cell phone pressed to her ear.

I felt a hand on my elbow and turned to see that Grandmama had taken Weezie’s vacated chair.

“It’s just a game, sugar,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “I know you don’t like the way you look right now, but no woman really feels attractive when she’s as far along as you are. Why, when I was pregnant with your daddy, the last month, I refused to leave the house.”

She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. Her skin was cool and dry to the touch, and I could feel the ropy outline of her veins under my own fingertips, and it made me miss my own mother so keenly it nearly took my breath away.

“I wouldn’t even sleep in the same room with your granddaddy, because I didn’t want him to see me in my nightgown,” she continued.

“Really?” My voice was wobbly. Damned hormones.

“Really. And for what it’s worth, I think you look lovely. You might not think so, but pregnancy suits you. Your skin and hair are so soft and shiny, you’re just beautiful.”

“That’s what Harry keeps telling me,” I whispered.

“I like that Harry,” she said, smiling. “I do wish you would marry him, but I promised your granddaddy I wasn’t going to pester you about this today. So I won’t. I’ll just say we’re very, very happy to see you so happy these days.”

I leaned over and kissed her papery cheek, then took my finger and rubbed at the lipstick smudge I’d left.

*   *   *

Somehow I managed to get through the rest of the fun and games. I opened what seemed like an endless array of gifts, smiling and exclaiming at the usefulness of everything.

“It’s all so sweet,” I said when Merijoy’s rug was covered in what seemed like a foot of crumpled paper and ribbon. Weezie was busily loading my gifts into a gleaming European stroller, and Merijoy was bundling the rest of them into an antique wicker cradle that had been her gift to me.

“Thank you, everybody,” I said, gazing around at the circle of women. These were my people—friends and near friends, relatives and neighbors. An imperfect circle, but mine nonetheless. And it struck me that Weezie was right. These women were here because they were happy for me and wanted to celebrate the birth of my baby. Maybe it was the hormones, or maybe it was the shadow of Richard looming large in my subconscious, but suddenly I was feeling all weepy and grateful, maybe even just a tad gracious.

Chapter 8

After we’d finally managed to wedge all my loot into the backseat and trunk of my car, I was only too happy to accept Weezie’s offer to drive me home. My lower back was aching and I was exhausted. I laid my head back and closed my eyes for what seemed like a matter of seconds, but before I knew it, we were parked in front of the Breeze Inn, and Weezie was gently shaking me awake.

“Home sweet home,” she said, pointing at the blinking neon “No Vacancy” sign. I yawned widely.

“Are you all right?” she asked, peering over to check my face in the fading light. “You look kind of pale.”

“Just tired,” I said, stifling another yawn. I glanced around the parking lot, hoping to see Harry’s truck, but it wasn’t there.

“Is Harry coming back from his fishing trip tonight?” Weezie asked, realizing what I was looking for.

“Don’t know. He took one of his rich snowbird clients early this morning, and he wasn’t sure how far south they’d go before they started catching fish. He usually calls around six to touch base with me.”

She got out of the car and hurried around to open the trunk and start unloading my gifts. It took us three trips to get it all into the apartment, where Jeeves immediately busied himself circling the packages, sniffing expectantly.

“Sorry, pal, no dog biscuits or bones in there,” Weezie said, scooping the dog up into her arms and allowing him to lick her face.

“Sit down,” she said, pointing at the armchair Jeeves had only recently vacated. “I’m going to fix you some hot tea. What about dinner? Are you hungry?”

“Tea would be nice, but no dinner. I think I ate my weight in those damn Christmas cookies.”

“It was a really lovely party, I thought,” Weezie called from the kitchen. “Except for those stupid, horrible games.”

“Who even thinks that stuff up?” I demanded. “Making people chug from baby bottles? And did you see how long my cousin Mary Elizabeth’s string was? She obviously thinks I’m the size of a cruise ship. Or maybe an aircraft carrier. I swear, that string was at least three yards long.”

“Mary Elizabeth might want to take a peek in her own mirror before she goes thinking about how big you are,” Weezie said tartly. “Cuz there’s enough room on that back porch of hers to hang a swing and a glider!”

“I noticed you were on the phone for a pretty long time right about then,” I said. “Or was that just a ruse so you didn’t have to participate in the fun and games?”

She came into the living room and sat down on the chair across from mine. “I was talking to Daniel. He sounded so unhappy. So lonely. He’s got an awful cold, and he finally admitted he’s not sleeping, and there’s no real food in the apartment they’re putting him up in. I’m thinking … I’m really sorta wondering if maybe I should go up there and take care of him.”

“Of course you should!” I cried. “That’s what I’ve been telling you! You’re unhappy, he’s lonely. It makes no sense for you not to go.”

She shook her head. “This is crazy. Buying a plane ticket so late like this—and it being the holidays? I probably can’t even get a flight—and if I could, it’d probably be way too expensive. I hate to spend the money when we’re going to Paris in the spring.”

But I was already out of my chair, retrieving my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I found the number I wanted, and touched the icon.

“What are you doing? BeBe—no! I’m not letting you do this.”

I waved away her objections while I was on hold with the airline. “You can’t stop me. I’ve got enough Delta frequent-flier miles to fly around the world. Twice. I’m not buying you a ticket, I’m just loaning you my miles.”

The operator came on in a surprisingly short amount of time. I made the reservation, gave the operator Weezie’s phone number and email address, and clicked off.

“This is nuts,” Weezie started.

“Hush! Listen. You’re on a direct flight to LaGuardia. You better go home right now and pack, because your plane leaves at six forty in the morning. I’ve got you returning at eight forty p.m. next Friday. Now. Clothes. You don’t actually own a real winter coat, do you?”

“Just a sort of vintage car coat I bought at an estate sale. It’s black cashmere with dolman sleeves…”

“Cashmere is not going to cut it in New York in December. Especially vintage cashmere, which probably has vintage moth holes to match. Am I right?”

“Maybe a few. Just around the hem…”

I sighed and handed her a room key. “You’ll have to go unlock unit six—the little studio efficiency? I’m using that as a closet until they finish with the new house. Take my long black camel-hair coat. There are some wool scarves on a hook near the door. My slacks will all be too short on you, but help yourself to some of my sweaters.”

“I can’t just take off and fly to New York like this,” BeBe said. “You don’t understand. This is our busiest time at the shop…”

“Which is why you’re going to call Courtney and tell her she can have all the extra hours she wants this week. You did say she was looking to make some extra money over the holidays, right? And what about those SCAD kids who’ve been working part-time? Why couldn’t they come in to help Courtney?”

“Ellie and Alex did say they aren’t going home for Christmas this year,” I admitted. “But what about the wedding? Mama will want to do one more fitting for my dress, and I’m still not sure about the cake. I baked some more layers this morning, but I can’t decide on the frosting. I don’t even have a cake topper yet!”

“Weezie! Stop with the excuses. You told me earlier your mama fitted the dress on you yesterday. She’s been sewing for you her whole life. The dress will be fine. And as for the cake, I don’t get why you have to bake your own cake when Daniel has an amazing pastry chef at Guale. You can pick up a cake topper in New York. They have stores there, in case you haven’t heard.”

“I don’t know,” she repeated. “I want to go. I’m
dying
to go. But it’s so … irresponsible to just drop everything and take off at the last minute like this.” She gave me a long, searching look. “What about this thing with Richard? Plus I wouldn’t feel right, taking off so close to your due date. What if the baby comes early?”

“I’ll call your uncle James first thing tomorrow. As for the baby, it might
never
come,” I said. “You know I want you right here when the time comes, don’t you?”

“I’ll be right there, with a big ol’ thermos of frozen daiquiris, the minute that baby is safely delivered,” Weezie pledged.

“Well, my time for sure isn’t going to come in the next five days.” I splayed my fingertips over my belly. “I swear it feels like I’ve got a bowling ball pressing down on my bladder.”

“Call the airline and cancel that reservation,” Weezie said. “I mean it. What with Daddy acting all squirrelly and all the wedding stuff on my mind, I’ve got no business even considering a trip to New York.”

“You are going,” I insisted. “I have weeks and weeks to go before Squirt gets here. You’ve got good help at the shop, and if you’re worried about the wedding stuff, just turn it all over to Cookie and Manny. Your daddy? Well, if he has dementia or Alzheimer’s or whatever, your mama is eventually going to have to deal with the reality of that.”

She sighed. “I’m so conflicted.”

“Go. Your uncle James is only five minutes away if something comes up with your daddy. I can help out in the shop if the girls need an extra hand. So why are you hanging around here when you’ve got so much to do before morning?”