Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [99]
Ida Mae slapped plates down in front of each of them. “Better eat fast,” she advised sourly.
Cici picked up her fork and added casually, “Speaking of which, you never told me—how is Sergio?”
Lori smiled at her mother. “That was the sweetest thing ever, Mom. Thank you. Sergio thanks you, too. And we’ll keep in touch. I really like him. But...” She examined her plate thoughtfully before cutting into her turkey. “Sergio is a fantasy, you know. And since I’ve been home I’ve come to realize that even that kind of fantasy has a hard time competing with my real life.” She grinned and waved her fork to indicate the room beyond. “Besides,” she added, “I invited Mark to the wedding tomorrow.”
“Mark?” Lindsay asked.
“He’s the boy who ran her down,” Cici explained with an approving smile toward her daughter.
Lindsay raised her palm for a high five. “You go, girl.”
Lori slapped Lindsay’s hand, and Bridget tasted her turkey. “This is delicious,” she said, looking surprised.
“Told you,” Noah said.
Bridget took another bite. “Those people are Philistines.”
Richard pushed open the door. “So, this is where the help comes to eat,” he said. Lori, with her mouth full, pointed happily to the chair across from her, and he took it. Cici avoided his eyes. “If there’s coffee,” he said, “I’d serve it if I were you. The bride’s mother just called the groom’s mother pretentious and tasteless, and the bride refused to drink to the toast her future brother-in-law just made.”
Cici swallowed quickly and wiped her lips with her napkin, getting to her feet. “Make out your bill,” she instructed Bridget.
“But we haven’t even cleared the table!”
“We’re clearing it now.” She caught Lindsay’s arm. “Serving dessert. And no one is leaving this house until the bill is paid.”
“So,” Richard observed, pulling Cici’s unfinished plate in front of him and taking up her fork, “this is what you girls do for fun?”
The table was cleared, the dishwashers were running, and the bill was paid—surprisingly, without comment. The last bit of drama had come when Traci had refused to get into the car with the groom, or with her mother, or with the bridesmaids who had delivered her. “I can’t even look at your ugly face right now,” she told her betrothed. And she expanded her vitriol to include everyone who was gathered in the spill of porch lights upon the gravel drive in front of the house where Noah had lined up their cars. “I can’t look at any of you! You’re ruining my wedding! My one day, and you’re ruining it!”
“Ah, come on, honey,” the groom offered weakly, perhaps beginning to realize he had gone too far. “We’ll go back to the hotel, have a few drinks ...”
“And if you,” she declared, pointing a furious finger at him, “have one more drink I’m not marrying you. You’re going to be all hungover for the wedding pictures!”
“Well, maybe there just won’t be any wedding pictures!” he told her.
“Maybe there won’t! Maybe there won’t even—”
And that was when Bridget stepped forward, touched Traci’s arm gently, and said, “You know, it’s really bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony anyway, so why doesn’t Traci just stay here tonight?”
Of course Traci’s mother objected to that, and the maid of honor complained that it would mean they would all have to get up early to have their hair and makeup done, and Traci, apparently pleased with the amount of inconvenience she was causing everyone, declared that she was, in fact, spending the night at Ladybug Farm—and this despite the fact that Lindsay and Cici practically tied their eyebrows in knots trying to signal Bridget to retract the invitation. Finally the groom drove off with a spray of gravel and the bride screaming after him, “You’d better be here at eleven thirty in the morning for pictures if you know what’s good for you!” and Traci stomped up the stairs to her room.
Now, however, it was blissfully quiet. Richard sat with Lori on the porch, where a surprisingly brisk breeze had blown up to cut the humidity. Paul and Noah finished putting away the bar supplies and carrying the cases of wine for