Julia 03 - Miss Julia Throws a Wedding (5 page)

“Oh, Lillian,” I said, laying down my pen. “You’re not going to be back here in the kitchen. You know Coleman’ll want you as a guest, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. This is going to be a catered event. Although we’ll still need somebody to oversee the table, be sure the trays’re replenished and so on.” I stopped with a sudden happy thought. “I know. I’ll ask Emmett what’s-his-name, you know, Mr. Howard Connard’s man and James, who works for Sam. You wouldn’t mind them in your kitchen, would you?”

“I guess I wouldn’t,” she said, turning her head so I wouldn’t see how pleased she was at the thought of being a wedding guest instead of a wedding server.

“Good. Let’s get you a new dress for the happy occasion, too. Now, where’s the phone book? I need to get a caterer lined up.”

Lillian handed me the thin book, and as I thumbed through to the yellow pages, she said, “I hope you don’t get Miz Dolan, she not hardly able to make them party sam’iches no more. I don’ know she can fix for no big bunch of people.”

“I know she can’t. But, Lord, Lillian, Sarah Dolan’s made sandwiches for every party, reception, tea and coffee held in this town for thirty years. To tell the truth, I’m about tired of the same thing everywhere I go.” I ran my finger down the listing, short though it was. “No, I’m looking for that woman who moved here from Atlanta and started a catering business. LuAnne said she does some lovely things. What’s her name? Katie, Kate, something . . . oh, this must be it. Katie’s Kuisine.” I twisted my mouth, thinking it over. “I don’t know if I should engage somebody who either can’t spell or thinks such spelling is cute.”

“All you in’erested in is, can she cook. If she can and she know how to set a pretty table, I wouldn’t worry ’bout no spellin’. What we gonna have, anyway? ’Cause I need to know how much of them silver serving pieces to start polishin’.”

“We’ll all help get it polished. I’ll have to look at what this Katie person offers before deciding, but certainly we need a tray of party sandwiches. Finger-size, of course, with some pinwheels and open-faced and different shapes and sizes. Something cheese, either a spread or cheese straws, or both. And, I think, since there’ll be men, we should have a standing rib roast with rolls and condiments to go with it. Oh, let me put this down; we’ll need someone to slice it at the table as people go around. Now, what else?”

“You need a fruit tray with some a that poppy-seed dressin’ for dippin’, an’ that big glass bowl filled with shrimps on ice. An’ some of them little tarts that make two bites for the ladies and one for the menfolk,” she said, as I nodded, writing fast to keep up with her. “An’ something hot in yo’ silver chafin’ dish, meatballs of some kind. Better put down toothpicks ’cause you ain’t got but twenny-four of yo’ good silver forks, which I know won’t be enough.”

“We’ll get out Mr. Springer’s mother’s silver. And her china, too. I don’t like the pattern of either one, but they come in handy for a big do. And that’s another thing, Lillian, we’ve got to decide how many people we can accommodate and let Binkie know so she can make her list. She wanted a small wedding, and I’m afraid that’s what she’s going to get.”

“I don’t know why you talkin’ like that. There been a hundred people in this house before.”

“Yes, I know, but those were coffees and teas when we could stagger the guest list. These people’ll be here all at one time, and they’ll have to be seated. It’s going to get crowded.”

“We could always put the ceremony on the TV and set up out in the yard and the porch and the garage, like Billy Graham do.”

I gasped in sudden dismay.
“Lillian!”

“
What!
Law, what is it?”

“Music! I just thought of it. What’re we going to do for
music? I don’t have an organ or a piano and, goodness knows, I couldn’t play either, if I did. What in the world are we going to do?”

“Why, just rent one.”

“Can you do that?”

“I don’ see why not. You can rent everythin’ else.”

“What about somebody to play the thing? With all those weddings scheduled at the church, I expect the organist and the pianist and the choir director have already been taken.”

“You can ast ’em, see if they know somebody else and, if they don’, Miss Mattie Mae Morgan at the Harvest House AME Zion church could do it for you. She a good piano player, I don’ know how she do with no organ, though. ’Course you might not want a ebony person playin’ in yo’ house.”

“Don’t be silly, Lillian,” I said, waving my hand. “If she can play any kind of instrument, I want her. Just no accordions.”

I bent over my pad, jotting down the various ideas as they came to us. I always say that if you want things done right, you have to get yourself organized.

I lifted my head with a sudden thought.
“Lillian!”

“What!”
She jerked upright from the counter where she’d been leaning. “Law, what is it?”

“I just thought of something else. What kind of beverage should we serve?”

“Why, tea and coffee, same as always. And maybe some punch, lemonade or somethin’, in yo’ silver punch bowl, an’ I wisht you’d stop scarin’ me to death, yellin’ like that.”

“Punch,” I said, tapping my teeth with the pen. “I know what some people’ll expect at a wedding, at least for the toasts. And I do want something festive, but they’re going to have to be disappointed if they expect anything stronger in my house. Wesley Lloyd would turn over in his grave.” Not that I gave two cents for any disturbance of his eternal rest.

“Why don’ we serve some kinda punch that go with Miss
Binkie’s color scheme? That what you us’lly do, anyway. You got recipes for pink, green and orange for when you have them Ladies of the Church meetin’s. And red for Christmas.”

“Yes, and I’m sick of them. None of them are special enough for a wedding, much less this one which has been so long in coming. Think about it, Lillian, they’re all made with ginger ale. For the pink, you put in strawberries; the green is made with limeade and food coloring; the orange is just ginger ale poured over orange sherbet until it’s a mushy mess. I mean, they’re the kind of things you serve to children and old ladies. I want something different and, well, special.”

Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. “I didn’t know you were back, Miss Julia,” Hazel Marie said. “What can I do to help?”

“Have a seat, and help me decide what to serve to drink at the wedding.”

Hazel Marie started smiling, then she said, “Well, I know what Binkie’d want.”

“What?”

“Beer. She loves that stuff.”

“Think of something else,” I said, knowing when I was being teased. “Your hands washed, Little Lloyd? Lillian’s ready to put supper on the table.”

“Yessum, I just washed them.” But who could tell the way he was working that Game Boy thing, both thumbs flying?

“I know what you can serve, Miss Julia,” Hazel Marie said. “What about that sparkling grape juice they have in the grocery store? It looks like champagne and tastes real good. Miss Mildred Allen served some at her Christmas tea, remember?”

“You mean that wasn’t champagne? And here I’ve been thinking bad thoughts about her ever since.”

“No’m, it’s nonalcoholic, but I expect a lot of people wouldn’t know the difference if you wrapped the bottles in a towel.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do, if you’re sure we won’t be leading some poor soul astray. Far be it from me to be the cause of anybody’s downfall.”

I wrote down sparkling grape juice and hoped nobody’d make the mistake I’d made at Mildred Allen’s Christmas tea and think the worst of me.

Chapter 5

“Car turnin’ in,” Lillian said, as Hazel Marie and I straggled in for breakfast the next morning. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and looked out the window. “I better put on some more eggs; it’s Coleman in that deputy car of his.”

“Wonder what he’s doing here so early?” I asked, making sure my bathrobe was presentable. “Although I’m always glad to see him. In fact, it’d suit me to see a little more of him around here.”

Hazel Marie tried to hide her smile behind her coffee cup, but I knew what she was thinking. Coleman was supposed to be living right upstairs in the room and sleeping porch he rented from me, but rarely used. Sam had been worried about me being alone after the terminal departure of Wesley Lloyd. So, since Coleman Bates had just moved back to Abbotsville after getting his law enforcement training on the streets of Atlanta, Sam had talked me into taking him in as a boarder. Coleman was pretty much alone in the world, a fact that had reassured me about having his family and friends in and out of my house. Even so, I’d had my doubts about taking in a boarder, but it’d worked out fine until Coleman’d met Binkie Enloe, and from then on, we hardly ever saw him. Oh, he showed up now and then to have one of Lillian’s meals, and occasionally he’d spend the night to justify, I guessed, the rent he kept on paying. I try not to think about where he spent the other nights, although I am on record as strongly
disapproving. But far be it from me to pass judgment on what other people do.

I didn’t have to worry about that any longer though, since, thank goodness, they’d be safely married, come Saturday afternoon.

“Morning, folks,” Coleman said, as he came in the back door looking shined and polished in his dark navy deputy’s uniform with official badges and insignia on his shirt and leather-creaking law enforcement equipment dangling from his belt. “Lillian, you look good enough to eat.”

She laughed and ducked her head. He was her favorite, except for Little Lloyd. “I’m fixin’ yo’ breakfast, so get yo’self set down and ready for it.”

I cleared a place at the table while Hazel Marie set out a place mat and silverware for him.

“How are you, Coleman?” I asked, and received a beaming smile in answer. My goodness, his uniform certainly set off his trim physique. I’m not too old to appreciate a fine broad-shouldered young man, especially one with blond hair and deep blue eyes and good manners. And one whose happiness glowed on his face. That’s the way a bridegroom should look, I thought.

Still smiling, Coleman held out his hand for Little Lloyd to shake. “How you doing, bud?”

“Real good,” Little Lloyd said, hero worship glowing on his face. As the boy shook Coleman’s hand, it did my heart good to see how he’d picked up on so many of Coleman’s manly virtues. Although I needed to speak to the child about offering such a limp hand.

Then Coleman took a chair and held his cup for me to pour coffee. While he waited for Lillian to fix his plate, I brought him up to date with the wedding plans. “Be ready for some serious dinner table discussion tonight. You and Binkie
come on along about seven. Hazel Marie, be sure and tell Mr. Pickens we’re expecting him, too.”

“You heard from him lately?” Coleman asked Hazel Marie. When she shook her head, Coleman went on. “Binkie’s keeping him busy, I expect. She’s hired him to investigate some case she’s just taken.”

“Well, I’m glad somebody knows what he’s doing,” Hazel Marie said, a little sharply, too. “I haven’t heard a word from him.”

I wanted to tell her that, given Mr. Pickens’s type, she’d better get used to his independent ways.

“I saw him this morning for a minute at Binkie’s office,” Coleman said, as I passed the cream pitcher to him.

“They’re working on Saturday?” Hazel Marie asked, obviously disappointed. “I thought sure he’d be off.”

“Yeah, well, Binkie’s got a bee in her bonnet about that case. Anyway, I said something about dinner tonight. Was that all right, Miss Julia?”

“Of course. Is he coming?”

“He said if that slave driver I’m about to marry will let him, he will.” Coleman shook his head, smiling. “That girl’s a pistol.”

“I can’t wait to see him,” Hazel Marie said, brightening considerably.

“Y’all heard the news?” Coleman asked, as he set to work on the plate of bacon, eggs and grits that Lillian set before him.

“What news?” Lillian asked, standing over him to see if he wanted anything else. “I don’t never turn on the radio or the TV till Miss Julia outta the kitchen.”

Coleman grinned and said, “That little spot of trouble we had at the jail yesterday was an escaped prisoner.”

“Oh, no!” Hazel Marie said, while Lillian turned her face to the ceiling and said, “He’p us, Lord.”