Every Bride Needs a Groom Read Free Page B

get this train back on track. “Pop, I mentioned Diane Keaton because she wears her hair just like this.” I pointed to Mama’s new do. “And she’s gorgeous, just like Mama.”
    â€œHumph.” My father’s nose wrinkled, and I could almost read his mind: It’s not your mother’s usual style.
    And heaven forbid anything should change. Consistency was key in his life, after all. To my father, staying regular had less to do with the bottle of fiber on the kitchen counter and more to do with the day-to-day routine of everyday life.
    â€œI think it’s kind of nice to try something new.” Mama looked at her reflection once more and giggled. “Would you believe that stylist tried to talk me into going blonde?”
    â€œB-blonde?” My father’s eyes widened. “Glad you didn’t bow to the pressure.”
    â€œHey, what’s wrong with blondes?” I pointed to my long mane. “It’s worked for me.”
    â€œAnd for your mama, back in the day.” Daddy slipped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “Your mother was quite a looker.” He kissed her forehead.
    â€œBack in the day?” My mother shrugged off his arm. “ Was quite a looker? For those remarks, I might just have to go platinum to spite you.” Her gaze narrowed and I thought for a minute she might throw her purse at him. Wouldn’t be the first time she’d used the oversized bag as a weapon.
    â€œWell, if you ever did I’d love you anyway. You were beautifulthen, but you’re even lovelier now, Marie. Or should I call you Ms. Keaton?” My father pulled her into his arms and planted kisses on her cheeks.
    My mother’s expression softened like a chocolate bar left sitting out in the sun. “Call me whatever you like,” she said, her face now lighting into a smile. “Just call me.”
    Mama gave him a playful wink, and before I could look the other way, she kissed him square on the mouth. In front of God and everyone. Well, not that anyone happened to be looking. Our early arrival at Sam’s always put us here ahead of the dinner crowd. This to help Queenie, who struggled to get around on her cane.
    Queenie.
    Strange that she hadn’t arrived yet. I glanced around, curious. “Have either of you heard from Queenie?”
    â€œNow that you mention it, no.” Mama turned to look at the handicapped parking spaces, which were all empty. “Odd. She always beats us here.”
    â€œOh, she probably stopped off at Brookshire Brothers on the way.” Pop waved his hand as if to dismiss any concerns. “It’s double coupon day. You know how careful she is with her money.”
    Mama didn’t look convinced. “Maybe, but I’m still concerned. If she doesn’t show up in a few minutes I’ll call her.”
    Pop laughed and led the way toward the door of the restaurant. “You’ll be wasting your time. She’s having the hardest time getting used to that newfangled smartphone of hers. Says it’s smarter than she is.”
    â€œNothing is smarter than she is,” I countered.
    â€œTrue.” Both of my parents nodded. Queenie wasn’t just smart by the world’s standards, she had the wisdom of the ages wrapped up in that eighty-one-year-old brain of hers.
    Just as we got to the door, my brothers rolled up in Jasper’s new Dodge Ram. His tires squealed as he whipped into the parking lot from the feeder road. I knew Mama would give him what for the minute he joined us.
    â€œJasper Fisher!” She hit him on the arm with her overloaded purse as soon as he was within reach. “What if there had been a small child or elderly person in your path?”
    â€œMama, really.” He pulled his baseball cap off and raked his fingers through his messy blond hair. “Ain’t never run over anyone yet.” He slipped his arm over her shoulder and gave her