Kathleen Creighton: Eve’s Wedding Knight

As if she wouldn’t! Just because she was opinionated didn’t mean she was unreasonable.

And Jimmy Joe did have a point about Las Vegas, which was where Eve had met the man she was about to marry, while filming a documentary on the Strip’s new megacasinos, one of which Sonny Cisneros happened to own. Mirabella wouldn’t have thought it possible for anyone to sweep Eve Waskowitz off her feet, but apparently Sonny had managed it, and in short order. In fact, if Eve had gone along with the quickie Vegas ceremony Sonny had wanted, she’d have been married months ago. But before that could happen, Evie had come to Savannah with her production crew to film the arrival of Hurricane Angela and had fallen in love with that city’s beautiful squares and historic old churches. Then and there she’d decided, in typical Evie fashion, that nothing else would do; she had to get married in one of them, with all the traditional bells and whistles. According to Evie, Sonny hadn’t been at all happy about having to wait for an opening in the church’s wedding calendar.

But then, Eve had always had a knack for getting things her way, and with such charm that few even noticed or would have minded if they had. It was just…Evie’s way.

Mirabella sighed inwardly and reached up to free her sister’s shoulder-length veil where it had snagged on the gown’s pearl-and-lace-encrusted bodice. “I mean it,” she said gruffly. “You look mah-velous.” And couldn’t resist adding with a sniff, “You ought to-I imagine the cost of this dress would make a sizable dent in the GNP of some Third World countries.”

Deep inside where it didn’t show, Eve winced. That was just so typically Mirabella. Why did it never seem to occur to people, even those closest to her, that when they said things like that to her it might actually hurt?

Though why should it occur to them, when she went to great lengths to make sure they didn’t know?

Now, for example, all she said as she pirouetted back to the mirror for one final check, was, “If it makes you feel any better, all this lace-and-pearl handiwork was probably done in some Third World country sweatshop, so I’m contributing to their economy in my own little way.” She glanced at the place on her left wrist that was customarily occupied by an ugly but practical sports-style watch. “What time is it? Do you know?”

“Quarter after,” Mirabella said without having to check. “Still got forty-five minutes, so you might as well relax.”

“Relax? I can’t even sit down in this dress.” She drew in a breath for which the dress’s tight waist left little room, then abruptly exhaled and asked with a frown, “Where’s Summer?”

“Downstairs in the choir room with the kids. Helen was threatening mutiny over her shoes-something about wearing Marvin the Martian sneakers with her flower girl outfit, I believe.”

“God love her,” Eve murmured in absentminded sympathy. “And Mom and Dad?”

“Probably still at the hotel. Dad’s had some sort of bug, and Mom was going to make him take a nap so he’d be up for the reception. They’ll be here, but at the last minute, if I know them. Troy and Charly are bringing them. Charly’s resting, too.”

“Ah.” Yes… Charly she’d met at Bella’s wedding. The maid of honor. She was the friend from Alabama, married now to Jimmy Joe’s older brother, Troy. Also pregnant, about a month ahead of Bella, which would make her… seven months, or thereabouts.

It was getting hard to keep track of all the babies. The thought made her suddenly feel warm and shivery inside.

Sonny had promised her they’d start a family-soon. After they’d had some time together, just the two of them, getting to know one another, he’d said. She knew he was right. All the books said so. But at her age it was hard to be patient. When had she gotten to be forty-three? Had she left it until too late? She couldn’t be too old…not yet. Not yet.

As always, when her thoughts wandered into those particular paths, her insides had gone warm and mushy, with pulses pumping in all her feminine places. Hormones, she thought, churned up, ready and eager to make a baby, just lacking one vital ingredient-a little guy with a tail and one missing chromosome…

Not surprisingly, perhaps, she felt a sudden desire to see the man whose chromosomes she’d chosen to merge with hers. Of course, whether that would quiet her raging hormones or only stir them to greater excitement, she didn’t know. Or care. When Evie wanted something, she generally wasted little time wondering about consequences. And right now what she wanted was Sonny-her man…

A small, secretive smile played about her lips as she waltzed in her delicate satin pumps and rustling skirts to the dressing room’s one small sofa and retrieved from the untidy pile of clothing, plastic garment bags and makeup and hair supplies the soft-sided portable drink cooler she’d brought with her from her River Street hotel. She was unzipping it when Mirabella came to peek around her arm.

“What’s that? What-” Her sister interrupted herself with a small gasp, part scandalized, part envious. “Oh my God-is that what I think it is?”

Eve nodded. For a few moments there was silence as the sisters gazed at the champagne bottle she cradled reverently in her hands. Not just any champagne bottle. This one bore a legendary label and was worth approximately its weight in gold. Eve hefted it and made a smacking noise with her lips. “Bought it at a charity auction. I was saving it for my wedding night, but…” Her lips curved. “I don’t feel like waiting that long.”

One thing about Bella, she always had been quick on the uptake. It took her about half a second to figure out it wasn’t just the champagne her renegade sister didn’t plan on waiting until the wedding night for. She choked and clapped a hand over her mouth and finally came out with “Evie, you can’t.”

Eve, rooting purposefully around in the pile on the sofa, glanced over her shoulder long enough to inquire, “Why not?”

“Why? Why? Because… you, you-”

But Eve had found what she was looking for and turned with a smile of triumph. “Ah-here we are. Now I’m all set.” A small silver object hit the floor with a thunk and spun and wobbled to the toe of Mirabella’s shoe. “Oops! Would you get that for me? I don’t think I can bend over in this dress.”

Her sister bent to retrieve the cork puller and handed it over. Her cheeks were flushed, but whether with exertion, embarrassment or anger Eve couldn’t begin to guess. With Bella it was sometimes hard to tell the difference. “Are you out of your mind?” Mirabella said in a hoarse, scandalized whisper. “Tradition aside-do you know how long it took me to button you into that dress? And now you want to go and take it off again?” Her voice ended in a squeak of pure outrage.

“Who said anything about taking it off?” Eve said blithely, waving the glasses. Then something occurred to her and she thrust them at her sister. “Here, hold these for me, will you?”

“What are you-you’re not going to open that here?”

Already wielding the cork puller with practiced ease, Eve looked at her in surprise. “Better here, don’t you think, than wait until it’s gotten all shook up?” She murmured a soft “Ah…” as the cork gave with an expensive-sounding pop. She held the bottle up to her nose, closed her eyes and inhaled a fragrance that instantly filled her mind with visions of Parisian cafés and the hot, dusty vineyards of Provence.

“There now-I’m all set.” She turned, brandishing the champagne bottle by its foil-wrapped neck in one hand, the two wineglasses by their stems in the other. “Now, all I need’s mah man. Where is he, dahling, do you know?”