Julia 03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding (3 page)

“It got to be next week?” Lillian asked.

“Yes, because the following Monday and Tuesday’re the only time we can get a long weekend together,” Binkie told her. “I can’t take off any longer, with all the cases I have pending. But that’s honeymoon enough for now.”

“Oh, my word,” I said, leaning my head on my hand. “Coleman, you’ve got to do better than that. You’re both going about this the wrong way. You ought to be making some memories that’ll carry you through the years and the bad times. Not that I think you’ll have any bad times, but you never know. And if you have a lovely wedding to look back on, it’ll certainly help.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Miss Julia,” Binkie said. “But we either do it next weekend or it’ll have to wait until fall. And neither of us wants to do that. And as far as even a small church wedding is concerned, with my schedule, I just don’t have the time to make all those arrangements.”

Lillian said, “Miss Julia got the time.”

No one said anything for a minute, as the grinding of the gears of another loaded truck pulling up across the street and two dozen voices shouting directions made us all cringe. When Lillian’s words had a chance to sink in, a smile spread across my face. I jumped up from my chair, marveling that I hadn’t thought of it myself.

“Why, of course! That’s what we’ll do! Binkie, Coleman, you’ve got to let me do it. Why, it’d be no trouble at all, would it, Lillian? It’s the perfect solution!”

“Oh, say yes,” Hazel Marie said, looking as excited as I felt. “Miss Julia is so good at organizing things, and I’ll help her. I’d love to help; it’ll be so much fun, and you wouldn’t have to do anything but show up.”

“She’s right, Binkie.” I pushed my case hard, wanting so much for this young couple to get a good start in life. Even though they’d pretty much already started. “I’ll make all the arrangements, if you don’t mind having it at our church. I know everybody over there and I can get things done. Oh.” I stopped, remembering that Pastor Ledbetter was out traipsing around the Wailing Wall or the Dead Sea or some such thing on a tour of the Holy Land. Wouldn’t you know he’d be gone right when I could’ve used him. “Well, our senior pastor’s halfway around the world and won’t be back in time. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t matter a hill of beans to me where he was, but this is certainly an inconvenience.”

“Pastor Petree is here,” Hazel Marie reminded me. “He may be an associate, but I think he’s a full-fledged minister in spite of it.”

“Well, I guess he’ll have to do. Now, Binkie, just say the word and we’ll get you married in style. You won’t have to do a thing but pick out your dress.”

“Well,” Binkie said, looking up at Coleman. “What do you think?”

“Up to you, honey,” he said.

“Oh, please,” Hazel Marie said. “Let us do it.”

“Well, if it won’t be too much trouble. . . .” Binkie was trying not to smile, but I could tell that she was pleased. And why not? Every young woman wants a wedding to remember, so I determined in my heart to do the best I could with what I had to work with. Although who ever heard of putting on a memorable wedding in a week’s time?

“Wonderful!” I said, pacing now in front of them as one plan after another went through my head. “Binkie, I declare, if you could possibly give us two weeks. All right, all right, we can do it in one. It won’t be much, but it’ll be something. Now, I know young people these days like to do everything together, you know, pick out their invitations, their china pattern and such, but there’s no time for that. You’ll just have to let me have a free hand. Oh, my, invitations should go out at least four weeks before the wedding, and they should be engraved. Well, it can’t be helped. Start your list, Binkie, and you, too, Coleman. We’ll invite by phone. It may not be the correct thing, but it’ll have to do. Besides, we’re not inviting Amy Vanderbilt, so our etiquette doesn’t have to be perfect.” I stopped in mid-pace, thinking of the wedding I could’ve put on if they’d given me enough time.

“Binkie,” I started up again, “you’ll need to pick out your china pattern. And your silver and crystal.”

“I’ve got all of mother’s. She wanted me to have them when they moved to Florida.”

“Good. She has lovely taste, and that’s a few less things to worry about. But you need to go out to Belk’s and get on their bridal list, and anywhere else that you want people to shop for you. If they’re going to spend the money, they might as well get what you want.”

“Hold on a minute, Miss Julia,” Coleman said. “This is sounding pretty complicated.”

I gave Binkie a long look, trying to read her feelings, and what I saw was a rosy flush on her pale face and a sparkle in her eyes. I knew I was right to push this, because every bride deserves all the attendant festivities at least once in her life, although I knew a few who’d done it more than once. I’d even heard of one twice-divorced woman who’d gone down the aisle in full white regalia with four bridesmaids behind her. An example of the worst possible taste.

“Coleman,” I said, “here’s the first lesson for you. Pick out your groomsmen, order your tuxedo—although you really ought to own one—and the flowers for your bride, pay the preacher, plan the honeymoon, and leave the rest to us. Oh, and show up on time. That’s all the groom has to do.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, then pulled Binkie closer to him. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know how you’re going to do it,” Binkie said to me. “But, I guess it could be fun. At least, let’s make it fun. Not something dreary and formal, with all that traditional rigmarole. I don’t want us to get carried away with trying to do everything by the book. Something small and simple and happy will suit us fine. But, I warn you, Miss Julia, I can’t be much help; my schedule next week is so full I get tired just thinking about it.”

She was telling the truth, for I noticed as she was speaking that she’d begun to look a little green around the gills. Lord, there was nothing worse than a bride getting sick right before the wedding.

“You ought to be gettin’ some rest,” Lillian said, frowning at her. “You an’ Coleman, neither one, don’t get enough rest, an’ you don’t eat right, neither.”

“You ought to listen to Lillian,” I said, nodding in agreement. “And I want you to put everything out of your mind, and leave it all to us. We’ll get it done, and done right. Oh, I wish there was enough time for me to give you a party, a tea
or something, and I know your friends would like to give you a shower. Although, I’ll tell you something your mother’d tell you if she could. Don’t encourage showers; suggest a luncheon instead. People’ll give you nicer wedding gifts if they don’t have to buy half-a-dozen shower gifts beforehand. See, this is the kind of thing I can help you with.”

“There’s just one thing,” Coleman said, and he pointed his finger at Little Lloyd. “
You
have to be in it, bud.”

If the child had smiled any wider, his face would’ve split wide open. He nodded, too overcome to speak.

“Thank you for wanting to do it, Miss Julia,” Binkie said, leaning her head against Coleman. “But please don’t put yourself out; I just want to get it done.”

That was Binkie all over. She’d always had a mind of her own, and it was usually different from what you’d expect from a girl raised as well as she’d been. Why, she’d even refused to make her debut at the Governor’s Ball in Raleigh when she’d been the only girl in Abbotsville to’ve been asked. It’d nearly killed her mother. But Binkie had me to reckon with now.

“It’s settled then,” I said. “So don’t give it another thought.”

“Uh-oh,” Coleman said, as he fiddled with some little attachment on his law enforcement belt. “Use your phone, Miss Julia?”

“Of course. You know where it is. Now, Hazel Marie,” I said, as Coleman headed for the kitchen phone. “You’re just going to have to make the sacrifice and put off your move until this wedding’s over. I’m going to need you, and Little Lloyd, too. In fact, I’m not sure I can do it in this short amount of time if you’re not here to help me.”

“Wel-l-l,” she said, her eyes darting around. “I guess I could. I mean, it’s only a week, so maybe J.D. won’t mind.”

I could’ve cared less whether Mr. Pickens minded or not. This wedding was having added benefits, as far as I was concerned.

As Coleman came back into the room, he said, “Binkie, Miss Julia, sorry to break this up, but I have to go. They’re calling everybody back on duty—a little problem at the jail. Come on, sweetheart, I’ll drop you off and get on down there.”

“Wait, wait,” I said, as Binkie got up from the sofa and followed him to the door. “We have to discuss, oh, I don’t know what all, a million things. Come to dinner tomorrow night, and we’ll get it all done then. And bring your invitation lists and, Binkie, both of you need to ask somebody to stand up with you. That’s the law, you know; you have to have two witnesses.”

They were on the porch by that time, but Coleman turned back. “Lord, Miss Julia,” he said with a teasing smile, “if the two of us don’t know the law, I don’t know who does.”

Chapter 3

“A week!” I turned back to Lillian and Hazel Marie and threw up my hands. “Have you ever heard of such a thing? Well, let’s get started; every minute counts. Hazel Marie, when you talk to Mr. Pickens, invite him for tomorrow night. Now, let’s get a pad and pencil and start making a list.”

“What kind of list?”

But my mind had already run ahead. “I’d better get over to the church before that associate pastor goes home. Lance Petree, have you ever heard of such a name? What was his mother thinking of, I ask you. Lillian, you help Hazel Marie think of all we need to do, and I’ll go over and reserve the chapel for Friday night. Oh, I know, let’s do it Saturday afternoon. An afternoon wedding would be nice, don’t you think? Yes, I like that, and Binkie could get a good night’s rest beforehand. And people could wear tea-length, the women, I mean. Oh, Lillian, we’ve got to think about the reception. Where’ll we have that?”

“We could have it here,” Hazel Marie said, without giving one thought to the jumble of construction across the street that our guests would be subjected to.

“I wish we could,” I said. “But the Inn in the Pines would be easier on us, and it doesn’t have an eyesore to deal with. Well, I’m going to run on over and get this wedding on Pastor Petree’s dance card.”

As I crossed the street, I fumed at Pastor Ledbetter for
being off in a foreign land, leaving a beginner in his place. Untried ministers of the Gospel didn’t generally worry me since I was always willing to give them a chance, but this one was hardly to my taste. Too young, for one thing. And too pious, for another. I couldn’t say much for his sermons, either, since they sounded like academic papers he’d gotten A’s on in seminary. He’d stand up there behind the pulpit and read them off to us, word by word. And if he ever looked out at the congregation, his pale complexion turned red from the neck up and he’d quickly look down at his paper again, losing his place in the process.

Well, I thought, as I walked down the sidewalk past that soon-to-be-permanent eyesore, one preacher’s as good as another for my present purpose. I paid little mind to the workmen crowding the sidewalk, wiping dirt and sweat from their faces and preparing to leave for the day. With the noise level of the construction work easing off, the pigeons that roosted in the steeple were circling the church overhead. I could hear the flutter of their wings as they came in for a landing and congregated on the roof before slipping through the louvers on the steeple for the night. Something needed to be done about the unholy mess they made up there.

Putting pigeons out of my mind, I entered the church through the back door of the Fellowship Hall, and headed for the pastor’s office at the far end.

And there was Norma Cantrell, the pastor’s secretary, her teased hair frosted to within an inch of its life, sitting at her desk, guarding access to the preacher. Even though he wasn’t there. The woman could stop anybody less determined dead in their tracks, but I knew how to deal with her.

“Why, Miss Julia,” she said, giving me a smirk that tried to pass for a smile. She was paid to be nice to the church members, but she didn’t keep that fact uppermost in her mind most of the time. “What brings you out this late in the day?
You know I can’t do anything about the noise those men are making; that’s all part of building a building. I guess we’ll just have to put up with it, won’t we?”

“I’m not here to complain about that, Norma, although a few well-placed complaints would not be uncalled for. But, no, I’ve come to see Pastor Petree.”