“Hey, you.” A broad smile lit his face. “Long time no see.”
“I know, right?” I didn’t even try to hide a smile as I stared into his twinkling eyes. “You never call, you never write, you never bake me cookies . . .”
He laughed. “Well, I’m here now. Speaking of which, this room looks great.”
“Thanks. It took a village, but we got it done.”
He gestured toward the tables, all decked out with teapots and teacups. “I get it now. It all makes sense. The cookies, the cupcakes, all of it. This is themed from A to Z.”
“From T to T.” I laughed. “Do you really like it?”
He smiled. “Well, I’ve never actually been to a tea party before, but if I had to go to one, I guess this would be it.” A playful laugh followed.
Apparently Sienna noticed our interaction. If looks could kill, she would’ve taken me down with her hateful glare. I did my best to ignore her. Still, as Derrick launched into a jovial conversation about all the fun we’d had baking together, she and the other girls hung on his every word. I could see Cassie glance my way as if to ask, “Really? You baked with this guy?” I would explain later. Right now, we needed to get back to work before the guests started arriving.
Derrick hung around long enough to hand out the tickets, not just to Sienna but to all of us. Then he headed out, giving me his best Cub Scout salute, which I returned. Actually, I think I returned it with a Girl Scout salute, but I couldn’t be sure. I’d only lasted in the scouts one year.
As soon as he left, the girls swarmed me, asking question after question. I did my best to answer them as we finished decorating and setting out the sandwiches. Sienna kept her distance, but the penetrating glare continued.
My sister arrived at eleven forty-five. She ooh’d and ah’d when she saw what we’d done, and she greeted the guests with great enthusiasm as they came into the room, but the strained smile I saw as she hugged her friends told me something wasn’t right. I did my best to push any concerns aside and focus on the task at hand. I had a party to host, after all. Clearly, Sienna didn’t plan to take charge. She’d disappeared into the kitchen to make a call. Go figure. So, as the guests arrived, ready for an afternoon of tea-party delight, I dove in, playing the role of hostess. And I didn’t mind a bit. My sister was definitely worth it.
The shower—Thank you, Lord!—came off without a hitch. Even the ladies of Grace Chapel declared it the most glorious tea party they had ever attended. And boy, did Crystal ever rake in the goods. I’d never seen so many shower gifts. Still, as we loaded her car later, I could tell she wasn’t herself.
I pressed the last gift box into the backseat and shut the door, then turned to face her. “Did you enjoy the shower?” I felt a little sad that I had to ask, but the somber expression on her face made me wonder.
“It was beautiful, Mari. You did an amazing job.” She climbed into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition, but never looked my way. Very strange.
I had no choice but to press the issue. “Crystal? What’s going on?”
She shook her head, then started the engine and pulled on her seat belt.
I know my sister pretty well. Something was very, very wrong here. “Crystal?”
“You were amazing, Mari. I mean that. You always are. But the gifts?” She gestured to her backseat. “It’s pointless to load them in my car. Pointless to take them home. They all have to be returned.”
“I’m sorry . . . what?”
“They have to be returned.”
“Are you saying you already have all these things? These are duplicates? If so, I had no idea. I—”
“No. I’m saying that I’ve changed my mind.”
My stomach felt like my heart had dropped straight into it. “Changed your mind about what? The things you registered for?”
“No. The wedding. I’ve changed my mind about the wedding.” A lone tear trickled down her cheek.
“W-what?” Surely I’d misunderstood. “Are you saying you’re not getting married?”
She looked over at me, her eyes brimming. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m just saying that I’ve had what Mama calls a ‘Come to Jesus’ meeting.”
“With who? Phillip?”
“No.” She sniffled. “With myself.”
“You had a ‘Come to Jesus’ meeting with yourself?”
“Yes. About what I want, I mean.”
“In a husband?”
“No, not that.” Crystal brought her hand down on the steering wheel with a thud. “I know what I want in a husband. I adore Phillip. It’s just . . . the wedding.”
“What about it?”
“It’s not what I want. I mean, I don’t want a big fancy wedding reception at a country club. I don’t want a thousand-dollar, five-tiered Crème de la Crème cake. I don’t want Dad to spend his life’s savings paying fifty-five dollars a head for guests to eat some chicken dish they won’t even remember the next day.”
“Um, sixty-five.”