Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12) - Dorothea Benton Frank Page 0,122

Ted said, as he came back into the kitchen for the peppermill. “I’ve got a golden named Stubble.”

“Stubble?” I said. “That’s a funny name!”

“Well, his snout always looks like it needs a shave. That’s why.” He went back to the porch.

“I love goldens,” I said to the room.

Ted stuck his head back in and gave me a wink. He had a golden, we had a song, and it was all good.

We made it to the table, which everyone complimented, and sat down to eat. I had plated the steaks and potatoes in the kitchen and brought the salad bowl to the table. Everything smelled delicious and it was. There wasn’t a lot of chitchat because we were all busy eating, but as Suzanne finished her steak she said, “I’d like to propose a toast to the Queen Bee.”

She stood and raised her glass and walked around the table to Momma’s side. She placed her glass on the table and reached into her pocket, producing a small velvet sack.

“I bought champagne for a very special reason,” she said and sort of dropped to one knee with a small grunt, hanging on to the arm of Momma’s chair. “This will make it official.” Out came a beautiful diamond ring, and she put it on Momma’s finger. “Katherine Jensen, will you make me the happiest person alive and say yes?”

Momma’s eyes filled with tears and she blurted her response.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Momma got up, helped Suzanne up, and they hugged. We all clapped and cheered. Archie and Ted got up and shook Suzanne’s hand and kissed Momma’s cheek.

“I’ll get the champagne!” I said and hurried to the kitchen.

Ted followed me. I reached in the refrigerator, took out the bottle, and handed it to him.

“I’ll definitely break something with an exploding cork.”

“I’ve got it.” He easily removed the cork with the smallest pop. “Isn’t that something? Your Momma and—was it Sue?”

“Suzanne,” I said.

“Well, whatever. Still. There’s nothing like love.”

“Yeah, I think I just found that out. I mean, really found it out. Sort of.”

“You are the one, you know,” he said.

It was a reference to the lyrics of “Night and Day,” or so I thought.

“I love Cole Porter, too, and Ella? Wow, what a voice!”

“No, I mean you and me. This is it.”

“Oh, that! Oh, yeah, I know that. But they’re waiting for champagne.”

“Don’t steal your momma’s night. But soon?”

“Yeah, sure, big shot. We’ll see,” I said and hoped he meant it.

We stole a quick kiss, then went back to the dining room and poured champagne. I put on George Gershwin’s Great Hits and the first song to play was “Love Is Here to Stay.”

There was more toasting and lots of good wishes. The rest of the evening was spent, as it should have been, in a beautiful and prolonged dream about love and happiness.

Finally, Leslie said, “I’m going to walk Archie home.”

We all knew what that meant.

“Thank you for a wonderful night,” Archie said. “And congratulations.”

“You’re welcome,” Momma said, grinning like an eighteen-year-old blushing bride. “I’m going to help my fiancé clean the kitchen.”

“I’ll be along in a minute,” I said, with the intention of walking Ted to his car.

“Good night, y’all!” he said. “Thanks for a great night!”

One of those star-filled skies was waiting for us outside, the kind you only see in a magazine with the pictures taken by super powerful telescopes.

“Look at that, would you?” he said. “It’s hard to believe it’s real.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sometimes I like to come out and look at the stars and just lose myself in them.”

“We should do that,” he said. “You know, take a blanket down to the dark end of the island on a clear night, lie there, and just get lost in the stars.”

I looked at him and a thousand things raced through my mind. The main one was I knew that if we did that, I wouldn’t honestly be wearing white on my wedding day. Now that I had waited so long, I wasn’t budging.

“After we’re married,” I said. “I’m not that kind of girl. Sorry.”

“Oh, God! Of course! Only after we’re married!”

“Make it soon, okay?” I said. “Good night.”

“Where do you think you’re going so fast?”

All I can tell you is that it took Ted Meyers, chief of police, about two minutes to leave me breathless, weak in the knees, with an unfamiliar clench in an area I did not know could clench involuntarily. I felt like my bones had turned to jelly.

“Well, I just learned something.”

“What’s that?”

“Why people lie

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