By Invitation Only by Dorothea Benton Frank

Author:Dorothea Benton Frank
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Diane—On the Way

“What’s all that white stuff?” Floyd said.

“The S-word,” Diane said.

Back in December, in the moment when we opened our Christmas gifts from Fred and Shelby, we couldn’t imagine wearing suede boots lined in shearling. Or using the cashmere scarves and lined leather gloves they sent. They were beautiful, but it was hardly ever cold enough for any of those kinds of clothes. Maybe the scarf, but gloves? We had not worn gloves in ages, except for gardening. Nonetheless, I thanked them profusely and said they would come in handy in Chicago for the wedding. That’s why they had chosen those things for us. My son was so thoughtful, and Shelby was actually turning out to be a sweetheart.

“Floyd? Do you have a winter coat?”

“Somewhere,” he said. “Seems like I used to have one anyway.”

“I’ll help you look,” I said.

An hour of digging through closets and boxes yielded no fruit. But I did find a wedding gift with a card in a bag for Shelby and Fred from BJ and Floyd. I really needed to call her.

“Guess I’ll go on L.L.Bean’s Web site and see what they’ve got,” he said.

“If they have a sale, let me know. And we probably should get something for Mom too.”

Floyd had decided he was bringing the rehearsal dinner, which was to be held at Shelby and Fred’s small apartment. He was packing barbecue off the bone and shredded, and shrimp and grits, in his big cooler and he was driving. And he was bringing cases of some local craft beer from Palmetto Brewery. Needless to say, he was throwing in five cases of small mason jars to use in place of wineglasses. I would’ve asked him to bring jars of our peach jam for all the guests to take home, but I knew it wouldn’t fly with Susan. She’d see it as mutiny. However, I’d bet she wouldn’t mind us giving away caviar.

“Palmetto’s got one on draft now called Brassy Blonde. But I still like their amber ale.”

“I like the pilsner. Maybe you should rent a big SUV, Floyd. That truck of yours has seen better days.”

“Maybe,” he said, considering my suggestion. “I’ve got points on my Mastercard. I never use them.”

“Maybe now’s the time,” I said. “Who knows what the roads are like?”

“You’re probably right. Plus, my tires aren’t great.”

And he was bringing a case of Double Cross vodka, a very generous wedding gift for Fred and Shelby from his friends who owned the company.

Shelby was ordering a cake, and I was to arrive in Chicago a few days early to bake corn bread, find hamburger buns, and make enough coleslaw to feed all their guests. Maybe I’d make a few dozen deviled eggs too. Everyone always loved them. Fred did, anyway, and that was reason enough.

And by the way, when they were with us on Christmas night, Shelby slept in Fred’s room and Fred slept on the sofa. No monkey business in my house, thank you. I knew what went on in Chicago, but that was their business.

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