*
Violet hummed as she scrolled through my photos with a flourish of her index finger. I pointed to updos and headpieces, to silk mermaid dresses and knee-length taffeta. We discussed skylines and sunsets, cities and mountains. I described San Francisco, Bozeman, and Miami. Violet chatted about Chance, and she swayed a little any time she mentioned Miles. She sat up a little straighter any time she mentioned Shay.
I showed Violet a few of Gretchen Halliday’s wedding photos that I’d kept on my tablet for this purpose, as well as blooper photos of just about every bride, all stored in a password-protected file. Violet studied the photos of Gretchen, the Oscar-nominated bombshell, and I wondered if Violet thought she wasn’t as pretty as the movie star. She was. After the first photo of a bride pulling at her gown, in, let’s say, an unladylike pose, Violet bellowed a deep, resonant, powerful laugh, and then covered her mouth. I laughed at the difference between her looks and her sound, and it encouraged us both to ride out our giggles. Violet’s crossed leg swung like a pendulum timed to her heartbeat.
“This is really fun, Teddi. And I don’t just mean because I’m a Gretchen groupie. Thank you.”
“No problem.” I meant it.
Everything about Violet was as smooth as her skin and as eager as her laugh, and all without pretense or malice. She was the kind of woman who glistened and didn’t sweat.
And who I started to like anyway.
Violet skittered around the table adjusting the silverware and plates, moving them a millimeter, stepping back to assure herself of the change, clasping her hands as if asking for approval. I wasn’t used to insecure brides. The privileged women who married at Hester properties had entourages and expectations. Violet got the giggles any time she mentioned anything remotely opulent, like cascading hydrangeas and the chocolate fountain. She looked at me straight on, but not as a challenge. With Violet, I felt welcome, a sweet and sad welcome.
“Can I come in?” It was Shay.
“Do I really have to wear these shoes? They hurt.”
“Nice try,” Violet said.
“I have an idea.” I glanced at Violet, not meaning to interfere but interfering all the same. “You could wear these shoes for the pictures and wear them down the aisle and then change into something else for the party. The best people are doing it,” I said. Violet turned to me and I nodded. “It’s true. We could even bedazzle a pair of flip-flops.”
Shay scrunched her face and pulled back her head. “Huh?”
“Glue sparkly things to them.”
Shay smiled. “Can we do that?”
“Of course,” Violet and I said together. Then I realized Shay hadn’t been talking to me.
Shay pulled out the chair next to me and sat. With Violet on one side and Shay on the other we studied more photos and went off on tangents about shoes and hair that had nothing to do with weddings. Shay doodled in a small notepad the whole time.
“What did you and Daddy talk about while we were gone?”
“Pictures.” I tapped the tablet. “And then Uncle Beck came.”
“What did the three of you talk about?”
“Nothing really, sweetie.”
“You didn’t talk about my mom?”
“Just wedding talk going on here, nothing else, Shay.” Violet’s voice was stern but kind, like she knew what Shay was talking about.
“Anything else you can think of, Shay?” I asked. “About the wedding? The pictures?”
“That seems like a lot,” she said. “Of pictures, I mean.”
“I usually take a few hundred pictures, because although you look good in every shot, Shay-Shay, that’s not true of everyone. I want your dad and Violet to have a lot of choices.”
Violet smiled.
“But if you’re taking that many pictures—during the party, I mean—how are you going to have a good time?”
“I love my work. I always have a good time at weddings. There’s music, beautiful clothes, and happy people. And you’ll be there. That will make it a wonderful day for me.”
“What table does Aunt Tee sit at, Vi?”
“Aunt Tee will be working, Shay.” Violet looked at me.
Maybe she wasn’t as nice as I’d thought.
At Hester Hotel weddings the chef always saved a perfect plate of food and had it waiting for me in the kitchen. A perk of being on staff. A perk of being thought of as Simon Hester’s girlfriend, even though I wasn’t officially anything. Not yet.
“I’ll eat in the kitchen and sit when I can. I promise. It’ll be fine. I do this all the time.”
“Well then you have to stay and eat with us tonight.”
“I can’t, sweetie, but thank you.”
“But Uncle Beck is here!” Exactly.
“Who’s talking about me?”
We three turned in tandem and saw Beck step into the dining room.
“I want Aunt Tee to stay for dinner, but she says she has to go.”
“Well, if Aunt Teddi wants to go, nobody can stop her.”
“Tell Aunt Tee you want her to stay, Dad.”
“I think Aunt Teddi is tired.”
Shay slumped and rolled her eyes.
“Shay, show me those shoes you just picked up,” Beck said. “And your newest drawings. Let these guys talk wedding.”
“Fine.”
Beck followed Shay out of the room and I heard them walk upstairs.
“I wish you’d stay,” Violet whispered. “Beck will ease up on you. He’s a sweetheart.”
“I think we’re good to go,” I said. “With the pictures, I mean.”
“Fabulous.”
Violet flitted around the table, as if she would be responsible for each place setting at the reception.
I gathered my tablet, my papers, pens, and bag, checked the time. That’s when I realized I had nothing to eat and no one to eat with. The idea of Josie’s book club was looking better by the moment.
“I guess I’ll be going…”
“Thank you so much for everything.”
“Let Miles drive you back to Nettie’s.”
“It’s okay, I’d like to walk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I like the alone time.” It’s what I’d grown accustomed to. “I’d like to say good-bye to Shay.”
“Of course,” Violet said.
I also wanted to say good-bye to Beck. Maybe he was different. Maybe I was different too. But different didn’t have to mean indifferent. Not anymore. I knew Beck when he was born, when Celia got the little brother I’d always wanted and said she’d share him with me. I’m not sure she meant it the way I eventually took it. No matter the hurt, Beck and I had known each other our whole lives—Before, During, and After Celia’s death. Well, not so much after. I had to say good-bye this time.
Even if he didn’t say it back.