up.”
“It was pretty
gruesome.” I agreed. “I wonder how Martha Stokes is doing. Maybe I should try
to pay her a visit.”
“Yes, and if you
get a chance, just slyly slip in that we need our deposit back.”
“Leo! That’s
awful. The woman is in mourning.”
“Sorry, but
that’s the way we’re going to be once we get Mr. Andre’s final set of bills,”
he replied.
“You know, when
Elena was taking all those pictures, I noticed Lenny using a jar of that calamine
lotion that was a part of the church batch when we were out there.”
“And why would
that matter?” Leo asked.
“This is crazy,
but could something draw those bees to Lenny?”
“You’ve lost
me.”
“It’s nothing,”
I said.
“And you’re
thinking …”
“It’s silly. I’ve
used that stuff on Zach and never had a problem.”
“No.” Leo pulled
back. “You think your homemade anti-bug soup did the old guy in?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“No. Definitely not. I think.”
“What’s in it?”
“Baking soda,
kaolin clay, uh … zinc oxide. What could be in that?”
“Well some
people do have an allergic reaction to kaolin,” he said. “I had a cousin once
who swelled up from the stuff, but I’ve never heard of a bee problem. I don’t
know, but maybe it’s not a good idea to share your theory with anyone else. You
know, I’ve probably been to thirty weddings and thought it all looked pretty
straightforward and simple. You get the church, you get a pastor, a nice white
dress and you say ‘I do.’ I no longer have such an innocent view of the world.
Now that it’s our turn to plan, we start out the day with a dead florist. What
else could possibly happen?”
“Famous last
words of Leo Fitzpatrick.” I hiccupped and giggled at my own joke as he lowered
his lips to mine. My worries from earlier were fading further and further away.
How could I not marry this man?
******
The next
morning, after a leisurely breakfast of blueberry pancakes and syrup, we
promised the boys we would take them to the batting cages at the ballpark.
Amazingly it wasn’t raining, so we decided to try it. The bayou road ran along
the back of the fields with the bayou glittering on the other side. I had spent
several springs drifting into warm early summers watching Zach play ball at
this place. Where would he play baseball if we moved to Dallas?
I loved our old
ballpark with its two fields and dark green snack bar in the middle. Families
met there every spring and cheered on their kids who seemed to jump up a couple
of inches in height each year. Dad, Aunt Maggie and Danny had always been there
for Zach and would do the same for Tyler. Nothing like hitting a grounder and
having four people in the stands cheer you as if it were a home run. That’s
what family is all about. Now that my family was growing, I knew change was
inevitable.
We brought along
Butch, our Weimaraner, and let him run the expanse of the park. I threw out a
tennis ball for him, and he ran across the ball fields, tail wagging. The boys
each grabbed a batting cage and started pounding balls into the mat. It had
warmed up a little with the promise of spring whispering around us. Spring in
this part of Texas usually started mid-February with tiny buds forming on the
tree branches. Today, though, it was still a little dreary, with different
shades of gray outlining the clouds.
“Choke up on the
bat, Tyler,” Leo yelled across to the cages. I opened my notebook for the
millionth time since we started planning this circus called a wedding. As I
went through the lists Mr. Andre and I made, my head began to spin. What color
are the groomsmen’s ties? What are the colors you want in the flowers? Do they
connect with the total design aesthetic of the overall look of the blah, blah,
blah?
I shut the book
and put my chin in my hands. This wasn’t my first wedding, and then again it
was. When I married Barry, he insisted that we have a “living room” wedding
with just
“It was pretty
gruesome.” I agreed. “I wonder how Martha Stokes is doing. Maybe I should try
to pay her a visit.”
“Yes, and if you
get a chance, just slyly slip in that we need our deposit back.”
“Leo! That’s
awful. The woman is in mourning.”
“Sorry, but
that’s the way we’re going to be once we get Mr. Andre’s final set of bills,”
he replied.
“You know, when
Elena was taking all those pictures, I noticed Lenny using a jar of that calamine
lotion that was a part of the church batch when we were out there.”
“And why would
that matter?” Leo asked.
“This is crazy,
but could something draw those bees to Lenny?”
“You’ve lost
me.”
“It’s nothing,”
I said.
“And you’re
thinking …”
“It’s silly. I’ve
used that stuff on Zach and never had a problem.”
“No.” Leo pulled
back. “You think your homemade anti-bug soup did the old guy in?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“No. Definitely not. I think.”
“What’s in it?”
“Baking soda,
kaolin clay, uh … zinc oxide. What could be in that?”
“Well some
people do have an allergic reaction to kaolin,” he said. “I had a cousin once
who swelled up from the stuff, but I’ve never heard of a bee problem. I don’t
know, but maybe it’s not a good idea to share your theory with anyone else. You
know, I’ve probably been to thirty weddings and thought it all looked pretty
straightforward and simple. You get the church, you get a pastor, a nice white
dress and you say ‘I do.’ I no longer have such an innocent view of the world.
Now that it’s our turn to plan, we start out the day with a dead florist. What
else could possibly happen?”
“Famous last
words of Leo Fitzpatrick.” I hiccupped and giggled at my own joke as he lowered
his lips to mine. My worries from earlier were fading further and further away.
How could I not marry this man?
******
The next
morning, after a leisurely breakfast of blueberry pancakes and syrup, we
promised the boys we would take them to the batting cages at the ballpark.
Amazingly it wasn’t raining, so we decided to try it. The bayou road ran along
the back of the fields with the bayou glittering on the other side. I had spent
several springs drifting into warm early summers watching Zach play ball at
this place. Where would he play baseball if we moved to Dallas?
I loved our old
ballpark with its two fields and dark green snack bar in the middle. Families
met there every spring and cheered on their kids who seemed to jump up a couple
of inches in height each year. Dad, Aunt Maggie and Danny had always been there
for Zach and would do the same for Tyler. Nothing like hitting a grounder and
having four people in the stands cheer you as if it were a home run. That’s
what family is all about. Now that my family was growing, I knew change was
inevitable.
We brought along
Butch, our Weimaraner, and let him run the expanse of the park. I threw out a
tennis ball for him, and he ran across the ball fields, tail wagging. The boys
each grabbed a batting cage and started pounding balls into the mat. It had
warmed up a little with the promise of spring whispering around us. Spring in
this part of Texas usually started mid-February with tiny buds forming on the
tree branches. Today, though, it was still a little dreary, with different
shades of gray outlining the clouds.
“Choke up on the
bat, Tyler,” Leo yelled across to the cages. I opened my notebook for the
millionth time since we started planning this circus called a wedding. As I
went through the lists Mr. Andre and I made, my head began to spin. What color
are the groomsmen’s ties? What are the colors you want in the flowers? Do they
connect with the total design aesthetic of the overall look of the blah, blah,
blah?
I shut the book
and put my chin in my hands. This wasn’t my first wedding, and then again it
was. When I married Barry, he insisted that we have a “living room” wedding
with just
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