Chaos at Coconuts Page 21

  “Those are rad songs,” Priscilla said. “I’m impressed.”

  “’Rad?’ Have you been listening to Gwen Stefani?” Suzy asked.

  Priscilla shrugged. “Maybe. Surprised?”

  “Nothing surprises me anymore.” Suzy’s phone rang again but she ignored it. “Let me see. I know you want black roses. Did you go to Artistic Blooms?”

  “Yes, the owner, Marc, was great. When he spotted my forked tongue, he said it was so cool that he’d throw in the blood red ribbons.”

  “And that’s why I use Artistic Blooms for all of my weddings. Marc does a fabulous job, plus he’s very nice and always reliable. I’ll check flowers off my list.” Suzy scanned her notes. “We’re almost done. Food is always one of the highest priced items in a wedding budget. If you don’t want to have a full meal, I’d suggest just the wedding cake. Also, red punch and possibly candy in jars.”

  Priscilla’s brows furrowed. “Candy?”

  “I know you have a small budget and candy is inexpensive. Instead of appetizers or a meal, you can buy big glass jars or vases at The Dollar Store. Print out labels on your computer that say ‘Poison,’ ‘Eat If You Dare,’ or whatever you want in a large, Transylvania-like font. Then fill them with candy corn, black gummy worms, and red hots. Candy is cheap, yet fun for guests, and will go with your theme.”

  Priscilla clapped her hands together.” You’re so creative. I love that idea. I’ll get the containers, candy, and make the labels. You’re the best wedding planner in the world.”

  Suzy smiled. “After your ceremony, I’d love it if you wrote a nice review on my website and Facebook page.”

  “No problem. This will be the coolest wedding ever. Are we done?” Priscilla asked. “I can’t imagine what’s left.”

  “We’ve got most of it covered. Your guests will need plates. Since it’s a park, I’d suggest black paper plates. Maybe the square ones will look classier. You can find them at any party store.”

  Priscilla pulled out a tiny pad and wrote black paper plates.

  Suzy made a note to bring her a bigger piece of paper. It was if she were writing everything on the back of a matchbook. “And don’t forget napkins. I’d recommend either black or red.”

  “Black,” Priscilla said.

  “If you want a touch of glamour, you could add gold or silver spiders as napkin rings. I saw some online.”

  Rodney chuckled. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we aren’t the glamorous type.”

  Suzy winked. “I thought that might be over the top.”

  Rodney frowned. Priscilla turned to him. “What’s wrong? You hate everything, don’t you?”

  His shoulders slumped. “What about the coffin? I was excited about that. We were going to use it for food, remember? But we can’t afford actual food.”

  Suzy rubbed her temple. “I’ve got it.”

  “What?” Priscilla and Rodney said in unison.

  “We’ll use the coffin to hold the gifts. I’m sure some of your friends will bring gifts. We can set it near the skeleton.”

  Priscilla clapped her hands. “That’s perfect.”

  Rodney nodded. “You’re a damn good planner.”

  She chuckled. “Thanks, but a casket at a wedding is a first for me. Do you know anyone who has a coffin handy?”

  Rodney puffed out his chest. “Got it covered. My friend’s dad owns a funeral company. He said he’ll deliver it for free if I’ll mow his yard a few times this summer.”

  Priscilla put her hand on Rodney’s leg. “I love you.”

  Suzy scanned her notes. “Fantastic. We’re almost done. How about a few black candles to place along the aisle and the cake table?”

  The bride clapped her hands together. “I want lots of candles—all different sizes. We can probably get those at the Dollar Store too.”

  Suzy studied her list. “Did you finalize the invitations?”

  Priscilla wrinkled her nose. “We went to that stationery store you told us about but most were cheesy with ghosts or black cats. There was one decent invitation with a creepy spider and cobweb. She’s trying to get the price down for us. I’m also going to check Etsy and Zazzle. Someone told me I can get a template from an Etsy shop and find a cheap printer in town. I think I’ll make my own or just send a text. Our friends won’t care.”

  “Whatever you decide, list the date, time, venue, address, and the fact that you want your guests to come in costume.”

  Priscilla nodded. “Will do. Thank you for the great ideas.”

  Suzy shut off her iPad. “It’s my job. I’m glad I can help make your dreams come true.”

  Suzy noticed Priscilla and Rodney were holding hands and was reminded she hadn’t talked to her husband all day. As if on cue, her phone buzzed. It was Ken. Again.

  “I think we’re finished unless you have any questions. We should meet one more time before the big day.” Suzy reached for the lunch ticket. “Email or text with any questions. Let me know what you find, don’t find, and if I need to pick anything up. I’ll take care of setting up the venue on your big day.”

  The couple stood. “You’ve gone above and beyond.” Priscilla awkwardly hugged Suzy while Rodney reached into his pocket. “At least let me get the tip.”

  Suzy nearly teared up at his gesture. She waved her hand. “Spend it on the cake, candles, jars, and plates. Now, get on it, kids. I don’t like last-minute hiccups.” She winked. “I’m teasing. It’ll be perfect.”

  As the couple left the restaurant, Suzy shouted at their backs, “Don’t forget about the skeleton and coffin.”

  Several restaurant patrons who had already been staring at the unusual couple swiveled agog in Suzy’s direction. She chuckled, dialed Ken’s number, and held the phone to her ear as she signed the restaurant bill. “Hi, hon.”

  “Where have you been? I feel like I’m single again.”

  Suzy didn’t like Ken’s tone. He was never in a bad mood unless they were fighting about Izzy. “I run a business remember? I’ve been with clients all afternoon.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I remember. You don’t have to do that, you know. I make enough—”

  “I want to do it. I built Weddings by Suzanne from the ground up and I love my career. What’s up?”

  “I know you love your job and you’re very good at it but don’t forget about me. I miss you.”

  Suzy smiled into the phone. “Nice save. I’m on my way.”

  Chapter 63

  Hope went outside to hang a colorful, spring wreath of daisies, red birds, and greenery on the front door. It was a sale purchase from Michael’s. After seeing Cheri’s gorgeous home, she wanted to spruce up her house. As she adjusted the floral arrangement, music blared from a passerby.

  She bopped her head to the beat and sang as the familiar sixties song “Mellow Yellow” reverberated. The music reminded her of her parents. Turning toward the sound, her mouth fell open when she spotted Larry perched in the passenger seat of Willow’s newly restored Volkswagen Microbus.

  At school Willow had mentioned she and Larry had searched junk yards in Missouri and Arkansas every weekend and after school. Eventually, they found all of the necessary parts and had managed to piece together the retro vehicle using car bumpers, windows, doors, and tires from three ancient VW’s. Willow had explained the interior was in decent condition but the exterior was rusted out and needed a paint job and serious body work. She said she bought the makeshift automobile after her neighbor agreed to repaint the exterior in exchange for a hundred dollars, meals, and yardwork.

  The sight of the yellow VW bus brought back painful memories but Hope was glad Willow and Larry were happy. Fleetingly, she wondered if the VW bus would help restore Larry’s recollections. All smiles, the couple pulled into Hope’s driveway, still obviously with zero
clue as to her connection to Larry.

  Hope gave the wreath a final tweak before walking toward them. “Hi, guys. This looks great.” She patted the door, peered from side to side, and gave them two thumbs-up.

  Admiring the vehicle, Hope said, “Your neighbor did a factory-like paint job.” It’s just missing the Daisy decals and peace signs or it would be a dead ringer for the now-obliterated VW Microbus, Ol’ Betsy, not that Larry remembers.

  Larry strummed on the dash to the beat of the song as Hope peeked inside. She spotted clothes in a hanging garment bag as well as a small toiletry bag.

  “Going away for the weekend?”

  “Yup,” Larry said.

  “Where?” Hope asked.

  He winked. “Wherever we end up.”

  Some things never change. Hope sniffed the air. “What do I smell?”

  “Dinner.” Willow beamed. “Hungry?”

  “Did you say dinner?” Hope glanced back inside the van. “Do you have a crock pot in there?”

  “Nope.” Willow leaned out the window. We’re cooking a roast right on Buttercup’s manifold.”

  Hope’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean you’re cooking a roast? How does that work?” She walked around the vehicle and poked her head inside. “I’ve got to see this.”

  “No problemo. Hand me the key, Willow.” Larry opened his creaky side door, stepped to the back of the vehicle, and opened the rear engine hatch. The aroma of the cooking meat got stronger as he lifted the hinged lid.

  The savory scent made Hope’s mouth water. Her eyes bulged when she spotted a roast wrapped in aluminum foil and tied to the exhaust manifold using metal baling wire. “That’s unbelievable.” She raced toward her house while yelling over her shoulder, “Don’t leave. Let me get my phone. My students will never believe this.”

  Larry chuckled. “Take your time. We ain’t in no hurry.”

  Hope ran inside and returned with her Smart phone. She zoomed in to get a close-up and took several photos from every angle. “Willow, I bet your art students would love to see these pictures.”

  Willow threw her arms in the air. Her brightly colored bangle bracelets clanged together. “They already think I’m nuts.”

  “I think it’s cool. I wish Suzy and Alex could see this. How does the meat cook?”

  “Easy.” Larry demonstrated with his hands. “The heat from the engine browns and cooks the roast. Willow even put a fancy rub on top. We might try a pork loin tomorrow.” He wiped his drooling mouth with the back of his hand. “Smellin’ this is makin’ me hungry.”

  Willow appeared at the back of the vehicle and reached for Larry’s hand. “Thanks, sweetie. I hope you like it.”

  Sweetie? Hope didn’t realize they were that close. Obviously, Willow and Larry were getting along famously. The aromatic smell invaded her nostrils and she unconsciously rubbed her belly. “I’m hungry now. Is it done?”

  Willow beamed. “It needs another hour or so. It does smell good if I say so myself. I can’t believe you’ve never heard of this. Didn’t your mom ever—”

  Hope cut her off. “No. God rest her soul.” She glanced at Larry to see if he had any recognition but he didn’t react. She changed the subject. “I can’t wait to tell Alex. She’d rub a gallon of antibacterial on her hands just thinking about all the germs.”

  “Germs?” Larry and Willow both asked.

  “You’d have to know Alex to understand.” Hope shifted from foot to foot, feeling awkward about her dad’s blossoming relationship with her colleague. She hoped they didn’t plan to camp in her driveway. “Maybe you can find a KOA Campground and have dinner on a picnic table.”

  “Great idea. We can build a fire, roast marshmallows, and spend the night at the campground.” Larry grinned at Willow. “I even brought some red wine.”

  Wine? He always drank beer. Hope studied Willow’s reaction but she had a poker face. Willow had become more than a Hilltop colleague. She was now a friend who was dating and likely sleeping with her presumed-dead hippie father. I’m not sure how I feel about this. I definitely don’t want details.

  Larry double-checked the security of the meat balancing on the manifold and closed the panel.

  Hope studied Larry as he climbed inside. He was in dire need of about twenty pounds but he appeared much happier than he had in the old days when he stretched out on her couch, drank beer, and aimlessly flipped through television channels without a job nor a care in the world.

  Willow turned the ignition on and put the VW bus into gear. “Great seeing you, Hope. Gotta run.”

  Hope waved. “I’m glad you stopped by. Enjoy the roast.”

  “Honky Tonk Woman” by The Rolling Stones blared as Willow and Larry drove off. Both stuck their hands out the window and waved. Hope’s mind raced as she watched Willow’s long, gray braid flap in the wind.

  Chapter 64

  Suzy chopped garlic and toasted a loaf of sourdough bread. She drizzled it with olive oil and sprinkled the bread with parmesan cheese, parsley, and garlic. As she finished, Izzy marched into the kitchen without a hello.

  Wrinkling her nose, Izzy said, “I hate garlic.”

  “It’s delicious, plus it’s good for you.” Suzy grabbed broccoli from the refrigerator.

  “Eww. Broccoli, too? I’ll just eat Cheerios for supper.”

  Ken entered the kitchen and obviously overheard the conversation. “Now, Izzy. Suzy is a great cook. You’ll love her baked spaghetti. If you don’t want broccoli, I’m sure she’ll make another vegetable for you.”

  Suzy shot Ken a look. “I don’t want to get in the habit of being a short-order cook.”

  Izzy ignored Suzy, as usual. “Daddy, is it all right if Nelly and Paige spend the night? They came home with me after school. Can they eat dinner with us too?”

  “That would explain the music I heard blaring from your room.” Ken laughed. “Sure, hon, the more the merrier.”

  Suzy’s shoulders tightened. Her son, Jon, would have never done such a thing. He knew to ask before he brought friends over. Jon also never would have complained about food. But Suzy decided to grin and bear it. She could discuss Izzy’s manners, or lack thereof, with Ken later.

  Paige and Nelly soon emerged from Izzy’s always-messy purple and teal bedroom. Suzy still couldn’t get over the fact that her beloved, beautifully appointed Weddings by Suzanne office had been turned into a trashy teen cave. A very loud Taylor Swift pop song filled the house. Suzy frowned. Normally, Ken preferred quiet time after work, but when Izzy was around, he turned into a puddle.

  Suzy shouted, “Girls, turn the music down. I can’t hear myself think.”

  They ignored her. If anything, the song got louder. Meanwhile, Ken appeared to be as happy as a toddler making mud pies. He grabbed a beer, patted Suzy on the butt, walked into the den, and turned on a basketball game. Suzy poured herself a second glass of merlot. Wine was her best friend every time Izzy was around. Without wine, I’d lose my mind.

  She donned hot pads, pulled the spaghetti from the oven, and placed hot bread in baskets. After she drained the broccoli and took a green salad out of the refrigerator, Suzy said, “Girls, it’s ready. Ken, time to eat.”

  Izzy and her friends trudged to the table like they had cement in their shoes. Izzy’s arms were crossed defiantly and her friends’ faces were buried in their cell phones. One was so absorbed she nearly walked into the kitchen wall.

  Izzy eyed the spread and made a face. “Daddy, can we order a pizza? None of us likes broccoli or garlic. Yuck.”

  Avoiding Suzy’s eyes, Ken reached for his wallet. “Sure, honey. Here’s my credit card. Order whatever you want.”

  Suzy gulped the rest of her wine. This was going to be a three-glass night. She refused to look into Izzy’s eyes, which were most likely dancin
g since the teen had won this battle.

  After the girls disappeared into the bedroom, Ken stroked Suzy’s arm. “Dinner smells great, sweetie, as usual.”

  “Glad you think so.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Seriously? I worked hard to make this. It’s rude of Izzy to turn up her nose at dinner. My parents never would have allowed such behavior.”

  “They’re kids. Teens love pizza. Give them some freedom. We were young once.”

  Suzy reached across the table to refill her wine.

  “Let me do that.” Ken massaged Suzy’s shoulders, nuzzled her neck, and whispered, “I know Izzy can be a handful but I don’t see her often. I hate to scold her every time she’s here. She won’t want to visit if there’s always an argument.”

  For a fleeting moment, Suzy selfishly liked that idea, but when she stared into Ken’s moist eyes, she realized he loved having his daughter around. “You’re right, babe. Let’s enjoy our time.” She sighed. “I’ll let the girls be girls. Maybe we can watch a movie later.”

  Ken caressed her cheek. “I love you. A movie sounds great.”

  They ate in silence. As usual, Ken complimented Suzy on her cooking. “Where have you been all my life?”

  Suzy grinned. “Waiting for you.”

  As they rinsed the dinner plates, the doorbell rang.

  Neither bothered to go to the door since the girls had Ken’s credit card. Suzy overheard them giggling about the pizza delivery guy and heard bits and pieces of their conversation.

  “He’s cute.”

  “He’s hot.”

  “Did you hear what he said?”

  Suzy strained to hear more of the exchange but couldn’t make it out. Soon the girls clattered in the kitchen with plates and glasses.