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Everybody turned at looked at her.
“I know this is wedding nerves,” Agnes said to Maria. “I know you’re a good sweet girl and you’ve had a terrible week, I know you love your mother, I know this isn’t you, but you just crossed the line.”
“Oh, please,” Maria said, looking put upon.
Agnes looked at the bridesmaids. “You should go get dressed.
Now.” When they hesitated, she added, “Go!” and Maria nodded, and they went. Agnes took a step closer to Maria. “Now listen, you. Taylor died last night with a fork through his throat. I know in the excitement of getting married you probably forgot that-” Maria flushed. “No, but-”
“-but he died in pain and terror choking on his own blood, so the fact that you’re going to have to wear a pink dress sewn in one night by a woman who makes a fraction of what you’re going to be spending on lunch once you marry this very nice boy who loves you-a woman, I might add, who stayed up all night to fix a dress that you dyed pink to play a joke on the mother of that boy-well, I just can’t get too worked up over your tragedy, Maria. You’re nineteen, you’re marrying a man who adores you, you’re going to be filthy rich, and, oh yeah, you’re going to have everything your mother never had because she worked her ass off to make sure you got it, and now your fucking grandmother just took all of it and her future from her, which is something you don’t seem to have much sympathy for. So while you’re screaming and moaning, you might want to look around and notice that you’re the luckiest person in this damn place and the rest of us have zero sympathy for you. Now go get those dumb curlers out of your hair and put on your pink dress and don’t give me any more tragedy about how you’re not sure Palmer loves you. If he’s been putting up with this drama princess act and he still wants to spend the rest of his life with you, he loves you.”
Maria looked at her, outraged, and then looked at her mother for support.
Lisa Livia shrugged. “Hello, how are you, beautiful day for a wedding.”
“Oh, well that’s just fine,” Maria said, and flounced off, but there was a wavering edge to her voice that gave Agnes hope.
Lisa Livia looked back at the dress. “Brenda did that.”
Agnes said, “Yep, and if she was nuts enough to do that, then she’s going to do some more stupid things today and get herself caught.”
She heard a door slam below and this time it sounded like a van, but when she looked out, she saw only Joey and Frankie getting out of Carpenter’s van.
“No,” she said, her blood going cold, and ran for the stairs.
Shane was surveying the backyard when he felt somebody sack him from behind, her arms going around him so tightly, his air went out with an oomph. He turned around, not easy as tightly as Agnes was clinging to him, and said, “Hey,” as his arms went around her. She said into his chest, “I thought you were dead, I didn’t see you come back with Joey and Frankie,” and he said, “Nah, I told you, I’ll always come back.” Then she lifted her face, and he saw how terrified she’d been and he kissed her hard, and she held him a little longer than he’d intended, and the longer she held on and kissed him, the more the ugliness of the past receded, and all the good that was Agnes and Two Rivers washed over him.
When she broke the kiss, she said, “I want you to quit that damn job,” and he nodded. “Okay, then,” she said, and kissed him again, and then he let her go and realized she was wearing something very un-Agnes, a low-cut, tight pink dress that made her look like Jessica Rabbit.
“Nice dress,” he said, trying not to laugh, and more of the ugliness went away. It was never all going to go away-there was too much of it, and some of it still had to be dealt with-but Agnes was a pretty good antidote for right now.
“Lisa Livia picked it out,” Agnes said, starting to grin, too, which was good; he hated it when she was worried. Another reason to stop killing people for a living.
“Well, it looks great,” he said, because it did. Kind of.
“She bought one for Evie, too,” Agnes said. “I don’t believe Evie’s going to wear it, but it was kind of a mother-of-the-bride thing. Or something. Sometimes I don’t follow Lisa Livia’s thought processes.”
“I don’t follow Carpenter’s either sometimes, but it’s always good,”
Shane said, holding her away from him to look at the dress again. “It’s not the kind of dress yon could run in.”
“That’s very practical of you, dear,” Agnes said, and turned to go back to the house, which was when Shane saw that it was really tight through the rear and had no back at all.
“I really like that dress,” he said, and her laugher floated back to him.
Shane gri
It would have been so much worse never having found each other.
Agnes stopped at the porch door and looked back at him again in her Jessica Rabbit dress, so much love in her smile, so grateful he was back, and he gri
Because everything was just fine at the house.
Agnes walked into the kitchen, trying not to beam, but it was hard. He was going to quit. Maria was mad but she was going to marry Palmer. If Butch would just show up with his van and pick up Cerise and Hot Pink, and Frankie would cough up the money, and she could get her column done-
“Uncle Michael isn’t here,” Maria said, her hands on hips, splendid in her pink wedding dress.
Agnes blinked at her. “What?”
“Uncle Michael. The Don.” Maria folded her arms. “The guy who was giving me away. He’s not here.”
“He ain’t go
“Oh, God,” Agnes said. “What happened to the Don?”
“I’m giving you away, Maria,” Frankie said, offering Maria his arm.
Maria blinked at him. “Doyle?”
“I’m your grandpa Frankie, honey,” Frankie said.
Maria looked at Lisa Livia.
“This is my daddy,” Lisa Livia said. “Frankie Fortunato. Your grandmother tried to kill him twenty-five years ago, so he swam the Blood River and got away from her, but now he’s come back and he’s going to walk you down the aisle.”
Maria sat down on of the kitchen chairs.
“Want a drink?” Agnes said. “‘Cause I’m thinking I’m going to need one after the next question.” She looked at Frankie. “Where’s the Don, Frankie?”
“He’s sleeping with those he did wrong to,” Frankie said.
“Oh.” Agnes got out the bourbon. “Did Shane kill him?”
“Nope,” Frankie said while Agnes poured herself a shot. “Don’t ask no more questions, Agnes,” he added with affection.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Frankie,” Agnes said, and knocked back her drink. “Maria?” she said, offering her the bottle.
“No, I’m good,” Maria said. “So. Grandpa. You’re going to walk me down the aisle. Okay.” She looked at Agnes. “You find out who ruined my dress yet?”
“Oh, that was Brenda,” Agnes said.
Maria’s nodded. “So when she sees me coming down the aisle in her dress with Grandpa Frankie…”
“Could be a coronary,” Agnes said. Maria stood up. “Hello, Grandpa.”
“Wonderful,” Agnes said. “And you really do look beautiful, Maria.” When Maria didn’t look at her again, she thought, Well, I have to earn that, and started for the door, almost toppling over as her knees met the hem of her pencil skirt, a problem she’d been having all morning. Small steps, she told herself, and tried again.