Inside is some packing material around something pointy and a letter.
“What’s it say?” Crosby asks. He stands behind me with his arms around my waist while I read the letter.
“Dear Ridley,
You never got your big day, and I never got the chance to tell you how proud I am of you.
After you left prom early, the prom committee sent this to me to give to you.
Feel free to wear it on my big day because this reception is going to be about you as well as Neil and me. Please wear it tomorrow and steal all of the thunder, sweetheart.”
I unfold the packing paper and into my lap falls something that is even better up close than it ever was in the hall of fame trophy case at school.
* * *
We arrive arm in arm at the reception for my Mother and Neil. Crosby wears a Stargate tee-shirt under a formal vest with summer linen pants, and I have to admit it looks pretty damn sexy.
I, of course, wear my massive prom queen tiara with pride, pairing it with my mother’s off-the-shoulder, knee-length ivory lace wedding dress handed down to me from the day she married my dad.
Not to be outdone, my Mother wears a tasteful silk rose gold shift and matching jacket. It’s understated, but of course she has the biggest, craziest fascinator hat I’ve ever seen. I think I see a peacock in there somewhere, mixed in with all the other doodads and dangly things. And the highest heels known to mankind, just so that when I walk her down the aisle, my tiara won’t tower over her.
She enlists my help to do her makeup and hair, a rare thing for me. Four of Sassy’s seven progeny, whom Mother has miraculously agreed to adopt and allowed inside the house, scamper around, playing with leaves, petals, and sequins that have fallen to the floor from our bouquets and dresses.
“How come you didn’t enlist the usual small army you use for your photo shoots?” I ask, reminding her to close her eyes so I can apply setting spray to her makeup.
She grins. “I just wanted to have a moment with you before I walk down the aisle.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
Mother laughs. “This question, coming from my nineteen year old daughter who made the same mistake I did when I was her age.”
I pout. “It wasn’t a mistake,” I say.
She sighs and reaches up to touch the tiara. “No. You’re right. You married for love, and not for a business transaction.”
I bite my lip because I’m not going to cry as I say, “I meant you and Daddy. That wasn’t a mistake either. I wouldn’t want anybody else to be my parents.”
Mother exhales shakily. “Did you bring tissues? If you didn’t bring tissues, we’re going to have to do this face all over again.”
“Here.” I hold the tissues under her eyes before the drips can even fall on her cheek. After her eye makeup is squared away, Mother pulls me to her and takes a long look at us together in the full length mirror.
“I haven’t said it enough, but I’m proud of you.”
Hot Off The Press
Two stranded coworkers. One bed. Coming soon!
By Abby Knox
Chapter 1
Beast
Where is she?
It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday night, and our new fancy pants reporter was supposed to be on the horn gathering quotes from the high school football coaches by now.
I skim over this morning’s email memo from Perry, our publisher, who wrote that this new hire would be here by 9 p.m. so I could give her the run down of all the high school game stats we need to compile before deadline. At this point, I’ll be lucky to give her copy a decent read through before press time.