Chapter Twenty-Three
In nothing does the present time more greatly differ from the close of the last century, than in the unreserved frankness of young women and men towards each other.
Dora fluttered about her sisters like a mother hen, giving orders, creating new to-do lists.
It seemed to Atticus that she’d found a new calling as a wedding planner.
And speaking of wedding planners, they’d called the wedding planner, Ashley Rhodes, and, after assuring her that, no, they had not lost their minds, filled her in on their plan to swap wedding venues.
“I’m a professional and managed countless weddings, but I have to tell you, this is one for the books.” Ashley released a muffled laugh over the wire, one tinged with resignation. “But, okay, if it’s what you want to do. My duty is to make my brides happy.”
Mamaw and Granny James were not so amenable.
“But you can’t!” Granny James exclaimed. “I planned every detail. My guests are arriving from Europe!”
“Exactly,” Mamaw told her in no uncertain tone. “You planned everything. Your guests are arriving. What about Harper? It’s her wedding, after all.”
“And you didn’t plan Carson’s wedding?” Granny James fired back.
“I absolutely did. Every detail.” Mamaw turned to Carson. “Though why in merciful heaven didn’t you tell me what you wanted sooner?”
Carson shrugged sheepishly. “The same reason Harper didn’t. You were having such a good time, and I felt I owed it to you to plan the wedding. And I was living under the delusion that it didn’t matter where I got married. But I was wrong. It does.”
“Blake can’t be happy about this,” Mamaw said with import. “His family has been married at the Legare Waring plantation for generations.”
“Oh, he’s happy about it.” Carson grinned. “He loves the beach as much as I do. It’s where we fell in love.”
Mamaw harrumphed. “Well, his mother won’t be happy, that’s for true and certain.”
“But you, Mamaw?” Carson asked with trepidation. “Are you okay with it?”
Mamaw stepped forward and captured Carson’s face in her hands and kissed her soundly. “I just want you to be happy.” Mamaw dropped her hands and repeated the gesture with Harper. “And you.” She turned to look at Granny James. “Imogene and I will move mountains to make it happen. Won’t we?”
Imogene didn’t smile but she lifted her hands in surrender. “I’ll agree on one condition. Taylor must agree.”
“He will,” Harper said readily.
“And, in the future, when we look back on this weekend as the wedding debacle, you will both admit you were wrong.”
Mamaw laughed lightly. “Oh, that is easy to agree to because I’m never wrong.”
Granny James threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, sod it. I agree.”
“Oh, Granny, thank you!” Harper exclaimed, homing in to her grandmother’s arms to kiss her cheek.
Granny James accepted her kiss and put up a good front of refusing to be mollified. “Though I can’t imagine what I’m going to tell the guests.”
“We’ve thought of that already.” Harper hurried to her desk to grab her omnipresent clipboard. “Everyone is gathering here tomorrow night for the rehearsal dinner. We simply hand out new printed programs informing each of them of the change in venues. It will all be clear as day.”
“Printed? On that copier with the cheap paper?” Granny James asked, horrified. “But we already have the most beautiful programs. With gilt edging.” It was more a whine of regret than a serious complaint.
“They won’t care if the printout doesn’t have gilt,” Harper said gently. “And after we make the announcement, they’ll just be happy to know where to show up.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it is. It’s done, Granny. You simply have to accept it, and the rest comes easily.
If it hadn’t been for Atticus making us realize how we truly felt, this farce would have continued, and neither Carson nor I would have looked back on our wedding day with the complete and utter joy that it was everything we both wanted.
And now we will.” Harper looked at Atticus. “We owe a lot to him.”
“So you’re the instigator of this conspiracy?” Granny James skewered Atticus with a look where he was lounging on a chair, happy as a clam.
Atticus grinned. “Guilty as charged.”
Granny James narrowed her eyes. “Of course. You’re a Muir, too, I understand.”
Carson went over to put her hand on his shoulder. “He’s our brother.”
Granny James sniffed and said archly, “It figures.” But her eyes held mirth.
Mamaw clapped her hands. “Ladies! We have plenty of time to rehash all this later. Right now we’ve more work to do than I can shake a stick at. Let’s get back to business, shall we?”
In the flurry of activity, Mamaw drew Atticus aside. “I’m so happy it’s all out in the open. At last. I was such a ninny to suggest it in the first place. Now I can shout out to the world that you’re my grandson. I’m so very proud of you.”
He smiled warmly. “The truth will set you free.” He noted with some concern that she appeared tired and drawn. Her eyes didn’t shine with their usual brightness. “Are you feeling all right? Are you truly okay about all this?”
“Me, oh, I’m just tired.” Mamaw sighed. “But one is only as happy as her least happy child.” She looked toward the door. “Dora’s left. She just got a text from Devlin. He’s not coming to the dinner tomorrow night. I don’t think he’s coming to the weddings, either.”
“The hell he isn’t.” Atticus bent to kiss her cheek. “Hold down the fort, I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her hands.
Atticus hurried from the room, unnoticed by all save Mamaw. This late in the afternoon most of the worker bees had left to return tomorrow morning. The house was quiet as he rushed through the rooms.
“Powwow over?” Taylor asked as Atticus came upon him in the kitchen. He was standing at the counter, making himself a sandwich.
“Yes, for now. Hey, you okay with the wedding switch?”
“What wedding switch?”
“Ah,” Atticus said, quickly backpedaling. “You might want to check in with your fiancée. There’s news afoot.”
“What now?” Taylor asked warily.
“How do you feel about a plantation wedding instead of a beach wedding?”
Taylor snorted. “You had me going there for a minute. As long as I don’t switch brides.
” His laugh quieted and he said sincerely, “I fell in love with Harper the moment I saw her. Hit me like a thunderbolt. There’s no one else for me.
Harper just has to tell me where to show up and at what time and I’m there.
I’m marrying her, and whether it’s at a beach or under some tree, what the hell do I care?
And for the record, I’m betting Blake feels the same about Carson. ”
“Good man.” Atticus tapped the doorframe. “You seen Dora?”
“Yeah. She just grabbed her purse and headed out.”
Cursing under his breath, Atticus picked up his pace as he ran out the front door, in time to see Dora’s car slowly backing out. He darted down the stairs and rounded her car to stand in front and slap his palm down on the hood.
Dora braked with a jerk. “What the heck are you doing?” she called out, shocked. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”
Atticus hurried to her door and opened it. “Come on out, Dora. You’re not going anywhere until we sort things through.”
She sat looking out the windshield. “You and I have nothing to sort out.”
“But you and Devlin do.”
She shot him a guarded glance. “What do you know about me and Devlin?”
“I know that you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life.” Her eyes flashed but he pressed on. “Dora, let’s talk. Just for a minute.”
Dora slid her hands from the steering wheel and nodded. “Okay,” she said reluctantly.
Atticus noticed her SEA brEEZE brIDES shirt, stained now with dirt from the plants. “Nice T-shirt.”
She tugged at the hem of the blue shirt. “You’re the only one that thinks so. I’m the only one wearing it.”
“Everyone got caught short today. Your sisters will wear the shirts tomorrow.”
“You mean our sisters, don’t you?”
He smiled. “Our sisters,” he corrected himself, feeling the impact of the moment. “By the way, it was nice seeing you be the older sister up there. You have a lot of strength.”
She seemed surprised by the compliment. “Thanks. Lucille once called me the rock. I forget that sometimes.”
“I wish I could have known her.”
“You would have loved her. We all did.”
There followed an awkward silence. Dora lifted her hands to the steering wheel. Her fingers tapped it; she was clearly nervous.
Atticus got right to the point. “So tell me why Devlin isn’t coming to the weddings.”
Dora didn’t question how he’d heard the news. “He says he can’t.”
“Can’t why?”
“He says he can’t pretend anymore. He can’t pretend he’s part of the family when I won’t let him be.”
“Because you won’t marry him.”
She nodded. “Right.”
“Dora, why won’t you marry him? I’m new here and even I can tell you two should be married.”
“I’m not ready. I have to feel settled first. Find a new place to live. Sell the house in Summerville—”
“That sounds like a to-do list, not reasons not to get married,” Atticus interrupted. “You demanded honesty from your sisters a little while ago. And honesty from me. So I’m going to demand that same honesty from you now. Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to marry him?”
“Yes—someday.”
“There is no someday, Dora. There’s now, or I’m guessing never.”
Her lips tightened and she looked down at her hands.
“You want to know what I hear? I hear you give a lot of reasons why you can’t get married. I hear you being cautious and practical . . . and selfish.”
“Selfish?”
“Yes, selfish. While you’re compiling that long list of things you want to get done before you get married, have you ever stopped to ask yourself what Devlin might want? What he might be feeling?”
Dora didn’t answer, but she had a haunted expression.
“Devlin’s a good man. Ask yourself—honestly—if any of your reasons are worth losing him. And if your answer is what I think it will be, stop procrastinating and go after him.”
“Go after him?”
“You love him. You want to marry him—then just do it!”