“What do you think?” Butch asked.
The mess was gone. The broken glassware and food had been cleaned up and carted away. Someone had replaced the sliced cord on the back of the refrigerator. It was plugged in and humming away in an otherwise almost empty kitchen. The walls and ceiling had been scrubbed down, although shadows of mustard and stains of hot sauce remained visible. Those wouldn’t disappear until after a coat or two of paint. The cupboard doors and drawer fronts were mostly missing, and the broken shelves were still broken. The rest of the house was in much the same condition. With the better part of the furniture hauled away, the place had a strange, unoccupied echo to it as Joanna and Butch walked from room to room. Only Jenny’s room remained the same as it had been before.
“Amazing,” Joanna murmured. “How did you do all this?”
“I had good help,” Butch replied. “I still can’t believe how hard people slaved away. I was afraid Jim Bob was going to work himself into a coronary. No matter what I said, he wouldn’t stop or even slow down. Jeff Daniels and your brother were the same way, and my father was no slouch, either. Marianne was here with Ruth for a while, but with all the broken glass lying around, we decided it was best for her to go back home. Besides, the woman’s eight and a half months pregnant and in no condition to be hauling broken furniture outside to a Dumpster. The stuff that isn’t broken we packed in boxes, but I’m afraid there isn’t much of that.”
Joanna nodded. “Thank goodness all the photo albums Mom gave us—the ones she kept nagging us about and the ones Jenny and I have been working on a little at a time—were in the top of the closet in Jenny’s room, which means they weren’t touched. If we’d lost them, they would have been irreplaceable. Everything else is replaceable.”
“Still,” Butch said gently, putting his arm around her shoulders. “It’s a hell of a loss.”
“It would have been a lot worse if I’d had to face the job of cleaning up on my own,” Joanna told him. “Thank you, Butch. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, I do,” he said.
For obvious reasons the pre-rehearsal-dinner dinner, which had originally been slated for High Lonesome Ranch, had been moved to a different venue. The party ended up being held at George and Eleanor Winfield’s house on Campbell Avenue, but the menu remained the same—an all-you-can-eat pizza feast from Bisbee’s Pizza Palace. The dinner guests, most of them exhausted from a day of heavy physical labor, arrived tired, hungry, and thirsty but ready to switch gears from clean-up crew to wedding-festivity attendees.
The four women who had been dispatched to Tucson earlier in the day didn’t pull into the carport until after the pizza had been delivered. They, too, seemed tired but happy. “We shopped till we dropped,” Eva Lou announced, massaging her feet.
“We could have done more,” Eleanor put in, “but Butch said not to. Take a look at what we brought, Joanna. Tell us what you think.”
One at a time Joanna rummaged through the bags. There were several new sets of underwear—none of it quite as racy as the ones Joanna had been given during Sunday afternoon’s shower, but it was still all very nice. There were two dresses that, with the addition of a blazer, would be fine for work. There were two lovely blouses, two pairs of slacks, and three pairs of shoes—including a replacement of the wedding shoes to match the dress that was scheduled to arrive the following afternoon. There was enough new clothing in the shopping bags to see Joanna through several days, but not much beyond that. On thinking about it, Joanna decided that was fine. Nice as these selections were, she much preferred doing her own shopping.
“Don’t you want to try these things on?” Eleanor suggested.
Joanna looked around at a roomful of expectant people and begged off. “Please, Mom,” she said. “They’re wonderful, and all the sizes look perfect, but I’m worn out. Couldn’t we pass on the fashion show for tonight?”
“I’m sure that will be just fine, won’t it, Ellie,” George Winfield said before his wife could answer. “Besides, the food is here and getting cold. Time to eat.”
“I suppose,” Eleanor agreed, although Joanna could see she wasn’t thrilled about it.
Marianne Maculyea and Jeff Daniels arrived shortly thereafter. Marianne’s eyes were red, as was her nose. “You look awful,” Joanna said, after Jeff took Ruth out to the kitchen to fill a plate. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve spent the afternoon crying.”
“I have.”
“What’s wrong?”
“After Ruth and I got home from the ranch, I put her down for a nap. I was just starting to pick up the house when the doorbell rang. There was a strange woman standing on the front porch, someone I had never seen before. She gave me this.”