“You take care of Diane?”
“Yes, she won’t be giving us any more trouble.” Greer took the ring out of his pocket, showing it to Tate before tucking it back into his pocket.
“You hope?”
“I know. What you’ve been working on?”
“I was stacking the chairs I borrowed from Lucky for the wedding.”
“That’s one more thing I can check off my list then. I caught King while he was still reading his morning paper to work out a deal for the catering.”
“Do I want to know what you promised him?” Tate’s nose started wrinkling.
“Probably not. Asshole drove a hard bargain, but I managed to get him down. You know how much a fucking steak costs? I told him chicken is fine. You think Holly will be upset we aren’t having steak?”
“No.” Tate started walking toward his truck.
“What’s your hurry?” Greer hurried up to match his quick strides.
“Those dead chickens are already stinking up the yard. I told you to get rid of them.”
“Where do you suggest I dump eighteen dead chickens? Anyone catches me with them will say I’m a mass murderer.”
“Take them to the dump.”
“I have plans for them.”
“What plans?” Tate asked, swinging into his truck.
“You don’t want to know.” Greer caught Tate’s truck door before he could swing it closed. “Before you leave, do you have any idea what a fucking hors d’oeuvre is?” Greer racked his brain to make it sound the same way King had pronounced it.
“How in the hell am I supposed to know that?” From Tate’s expression, he didn’t know any more than Greer had.
“Okay.” He opened his mouth to ask him another question then realized it would be a waste of time.
“What’d you start to ask?” Tate asked, curious despite the foul smell that was wafting into his truck.
“Never mind. If you don’t know what a ‘whore dee’overs’ are, you sure as shit ain’t gonna know why ‘Pete’s fours’ are so expensive.”
24
Sharpshooter: You missing me tonight?
Kentuckygirl: No. I’m finishing our wedding invitations. I’m worried some of the people I invited won’t be able to come by the time they receive their invitations.
Sharpshooter: Don’t mail them. Most of the ones you’re inviting go to church with you. Give the invites after church.
Kentuckygirl: I can’t do that. I don’t want anyone I don’t invite feeling left out.
Sharpshooter: Fuck them.
Kentuckygirl: Did you hear that? That’s the sound of me taking my ring off.
Sharpshooter: I don’t like it when you do that. If you keep doing it, I might need to super glue it to your finger.
Chatroom closed.
Sharpshooter: I’ll deliver the invitations myself on Monday. Will that make you happy?
Kentuckygirl: Will you be nice?
Chatroom closed
Kentuckygirl: Greer!
Kentuckygirl: Greer!!
Sharpshooter: That ring back on your finger?
Kentuckygirl: Yes.
Sharpshooter: Then I’ll be nice.
Kentuckygirl: Thank you!
Sharpshooter: Just don’t expect me to make a habit out of it.
Kentuckygirl: You being nice all the time? I don’t believe in miracles.
Sharpshooter: Believe it. I’m going to marry you, ain’t I?
Kentuckygirl12: You marrying me isn’t a miracle.
Sharpshooter: What is it then?
Kentuckygirl: Dumb luck.
“Getting nervous about the wedding tomorrow?” Sutton asked, clearing her dressing table.
Holly set her makeup case down on the cleared surface. “A little. Where can I hang my dress?”
Sutton went to her closet, opening the door. “You can hang it here. I won’t open it until you get here tomorrow to get dressed.”
“Thanks, Sutton. I appreciate you lending me your spare bedroom to get ready tomorrow.”
“No problem. I only use it as a makeup room. Tate fusses if I spend too much time in the bathroom, so it’s easier to get dressed in here.” Sutton sat down on the bed, watching her as she spread out her brushes and curling iron.
“What time did the men get home last night?”
Sutton laughed. “Greer told me to tell you one, but Tate didn’t get here until four.
“He say what they did last night?”
“No, but I’m making an apple pie for desserts. Tate will talk after he gets a couple of slices in him.”
“They can be bought with food.” Holly closed the case. “I’ve never seen men make anything of more importance than food.”
Sutton’s smile went sad. “That’s because they didn’t have that much when they were growing up. Their father didn’t have a regular job. What money they had came from their father growing weed and making moonshine. If their mom hadn’t cleaned houses, they would have probably starved.”
Holly sat down on the vanity chair. “Why didn’t their father get a regular job?”
“The only jobs available were the mines back then. Tate told me that their father finally got his union card and got a job in the mine. He went to work one day, came home, and said he’d never go back again.”
“He could have found other jobs if he had wanted to.” The Porters always talked about their parents lovingly, but Holly had heard many tales about how hard their father had been on them.