Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [710]
With the agreement of Andy’s sister, Portia, and her groom, Andy and Halleigh had postponed the wedding until late October. But I’d heard Miss Caroline was not recovering as her grandchildren had hoped, and it seemed unlikely she ever would be back to her former self.
Halleigh, her cheeks flushed, was struggling with the ribbon around a heavy box. I handed her a pair of scissors. There was some tradition about not cutting the ribbon, a tradition that somehow tied into predicting the number of children the bridal couple would produce, but I was willing to bet that Halleigh was ready for a quick solution. She snipped the ribbon on the side closest to her so no one would notice her callous disregard for custom. She flashed me a grateful look. We were all in our party best, of course, and Halleigh looked very cute and young in her light blue pantsuit with pink roses splashed on the jacket. She was wearing a corsage, of course, as the honoree.
I felt like I was observing an interesting tribe in another country, a tribe that just happened to speak my language. I’m a barmaid, several rungs below Halleigh on the social ladder, and I’m a telepath, though people tended to forget about it since it is hard to believe, my outside being so normal. But I’d been on the guest list, so I’d made a big effort to fit in sartorially. I was pretty sure I’d succeeded. I was wearing a sleeveless tailored white blouse, yellow slacks, and orange-and-yellow sandals, and my hair was down and flowing smoothly past my shoulder blades. Yellow earrings and a little gold chain tied me all together. It might be late September, but it was hot as the six shades of hell. All the ladies were still dressed in their hot-weather finery, though a few brave souls had donned fall colors.
I knew everyone at the shower, of course. Bon Temps is not a big place, and my family has lived in it for almost two hundred years. Knowing who people are is not the same as being comfortable with them, and I’d been glad to be given the job of recording the gifts. Marcia Albanese was sharper than I’d given her credit for being.
I was certainly learning a lot. Though I was trying hard not to listen in, and my little task helped in that, I was getting a lot of mental overflow.
Halleigh was in hog heaven. She was getting presents, she was the center of attention, and she was getting married to a great guy. I didn’t think she really knew her groom that well, but I was certainly willing to believe that there were wonderful sides to Andy Bellefleur that I’d never seen or heard. Andy had more imagination than the average middle-class man in Bon Temps; I knew that. And Andy had fears and desires he’d buried deeply; I knew that, too.
Halleigh’s mother had come from Mandeville to attend the shower, of course, and she was doing her smiling best to support her daughter. I thought I was the only one who realized that Halleigh’s mother hated crowds, even crowds this small. Every moment she sat in Marcia’s living room was very uncomfortable for Linette Robinson. At this very moment, while she was laughing at another little sally by Elmer Claire, she was wishing passionately that she was home with a good book and a glass of iced tea.
I started to whisper to her that it would all be over in (I cast a glance at my watch) another hour, hour-fifteen at the outside—but I remembered in time that I’d just freak her out worse than she already was. I jotted down “Selah Pumphrey—dish towels,” and sat poised to record the next gift. Selah Pumphrey had expected me to give her a Big Reaction when she’d sailed in the door, since for weeks Selah had been dating that vampire I’d abjured. Selah was always imagining I’d jump on her and whack her in the head. Selah had a low opinion of me, not that she knew me