Leave a Trail (Signal Bend #7)(110)
“You and your beautiful dress in that musty old place.” Shannon shook her head. “The guys better be on their best behavior.”
“They’re not going to start a brawl at our wedding reception, Shannon.”
Shannon’s only answer was a look of indulgent disbelief.
She finished mashing the potatoes in their humungous pot and turned to Cory, who was checking on the cranberry sauce. “Is there room on the stove to put this back and keep it warm?”
Cory shifted some things around. “Yep. In the back.”
Shannon hefted the pot and set it on the burner. “I’m going to check on the kiddos. Lilli, do you need anything else?”
From the far corner, where she was taking hard rolls off a cookie sheet she’d just pulled from one of the two wall ovens, Lilli answered, “Yeah—uh, Adrienne, check the turkey, would you?”
Cory stepped to the side so that Adrienne could comply. “It says one-sixty degrees.”
Lilli nodded. “That’s close, then. I’ll make sure the girls have the table set, and I’ll round up the troops.”
She went out into the Hall.
“I heard you and Shannon talking. I think it’s nice that you’re getting married in the church. It’s a nice thing to do for everybody. You’re a sweet girl, Adrienne. Badge’s lucky. We all are.”
Adrienne stepped back to stand next to Cory, sensing an opportunity in what she had said. “Thank you.
Um…can I ask you something?”
Cory gave her a smile. “Sure.”
“I don’t really want organ music for the wedding. It’s so heavy and…just not me. Not us. Would you play during the ceremony? There’s a song I really like. Just an acoustic guitar.”
The smile faded. “Oh, hon. I’m sorry. I don’t play anymore.”
Adrienne knew that. Badger had told her not to ask, because Cory had stopped playing her guitar when Havoc died, and a wedding seemed to him the wrong reason to ask her to start again. But it felt to her like more than just a thing she wanted in her wedding. It felt important in a bigger way than that. She couldn’t push Cory any harder than simply asking, though. It seemed cruel to do more than ask.
“Okay. I understand. I just thought I’d ask.”
Cory considered her for a long time, then shook her head. “I appreciate the honor, Adrienne. It’s very sweet. I just can’t.”
Adrienne lifted up a bit on her toes and kissed Cory’s cheek. “I understand. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“You didn’t. I’m touched.” Cory squeezed her arm. “Let’s get all the food into serving dishes and have ourselves a feast.
oOo
Portable buffet tables, stretched end to end over the full length of the Hall, had been covered in white twill—and then overlaid with butcher paper, because they were not feeding a civilized gathering of diners.
They were feeding a horde of Horde and farmers. For the same reason, the plates were melamine, and the napkins were paper.
Although the tables were cheap and efficiently dressed, and the chairs were metal and folding, the women—led by Lilli and Shannon, as always—had made a pretty setting. And there was food everywhere.
Three of the biggest turkeys Adrienne had ever seen. Two hams. A big meatloaf. Bowls and baskets and trays of side dishes—vegetables, casseroles, potatoes, breads, everything. The tables literally sagged slightly under the weight of the dishes spread over them. And the bar was covered in pies, cakes, trifles, and cookies.
People packed the Hall, and room resounded with good cheer. The jovial vibe of the festivities—people talking and laughing, children playing, couples arm in arm or hand in hand, made Adrienne feel a deep ache of homesickness, one she hadn’t felt so strongly since the day her father drove a U-Haul to the B&B
and dumped the dregs of her old life on her head. Their family holidays had been civilized affairs, lovely but not remotely like this chaotic revelry in the Hall, but still she felt a pull of loss. With a determined shake of her head, she cleared that pain away. No. She had made her choice. Her ex-father had made his—and she was finished thinking about him. Never would she believe that what he had done was even a misguided gesture of love. It had been a gesture of control, and he had lost.
She still spoke online with her brothers, but, as they had recently been forbidden to stay connected with her, their contact was dwindling. Now, they had to sneak. They were more than willing to do so, but it made her feel wretched.
Leaving those unhappy thoughts behind, Adrienne surveyed the scene of the family she had. Distinct from the family she’d lost in every conceivable way. As full and crazy as it was, there was room for her here, room to be the person she was—and room to change her mind about who she was.
A kids’ table was set up not far from the main table, and it seemed to be nearly as long. Not only the club kids would eat there. Many town families with children had come—even some families who were fairly new to Signal Bend and had been suspicious and fearful of the Horde’s influence. Badger had told Adrienne of their troubles a year ago, and she’d seen it a little when she’d first come to town. But after the fire, when she’d gone back out into the world a little, things had seemed much as they’d always been.
Lilli and Cory got the kids seated and fed first. Then Isaac cupped his hands over his mouth and called people to the table, and the room settled quickly. Badger caught Adrienne’s hand and pulled her to sit with him near the head, where the Horde family was grouping.