Chapter Six - Shana

Ten hours earlier~

“Come stay out at the farm with me,” Kimbra says as the limousine we all rode in from the rehearsal dinner stops in front of my hotel.

“I’m all checked in to the hotel. Really…” I give her a kiss on the cheek. “…sweetie, I’m exhausted. I will be a better maid of honor tomorrow if I sleep well tonight.”

“Oh!” her grandma Helen says, the funniest little old lady who always seems to have more energy than I can muster. “We’re not sleeping right away out at Judy and Oscar’s. Nope! This is my first time in a limousine and I’m feeling lucky.” She elbows my side and gives me a not-so-subtle wink. “Not that kind of lucky.” She shakes her head. “The kind of lucky that will make me as rich as Kimberly Ann’s man. I’m so confident, I’ll spot you five dollars, and we’ll all play poker. Five-card stud. Texas Hold ‘em.” She pouts her lips. “I’d win more if we could get Duncan to stay with us. Silly traditions. It’s not like the man hasn’t seen every part of you, Kimberly Ann. Tasted the milk, if you know what I mean.” She grins at me. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. I mean, as long as you both like the milk.

“Me,” Grandma goes on. “I’ve been a big fan of milk. No lactose intolerance here!”

“Grandma!” Kimberly says with a shake of her head.

“Come on, Kimberly Ann, you should let your grandma have some fun. That man loses his shirt every time.”

“Grandma,” Kimbra replies as we all giggle at Grandma Helen’s lack of filter, “he loses because you won’t let him quit when he’s ahead.”

“Five dollars?” I say with a grin, hoping to get Kimbra off the hook. “That must mean it’s not strip poker.”

“Oh heavens,” Grandma Helen says, “not with the people staying at Judy’s. Besides, I’m too old for strip poker. I’d have to leave on my bra.” She wiggles about as she pulls at her blouse. “And let me tell you, that baby is coming off first thing. My girls are tired of being locked up. Heck, I might not even wait until we get home.”

The door to the limousine opens, and I give Kimbra another kiss. “The rehearsal was perfect. The dinner was fantastic. You and Duncan will be so happy. I’m going straight to my room and getting a good night’s sleep.” I tilt my head toward Kimbra’s grandma. “I’ll pass on the poker.”

My best friend laughs. “With Duncan staying at my brother and sister-in-law’s, I’m betting it’s not a long game.”

“Judy,” Grandma Helen says to her daughter, Kimbra’s mother, “I know. We can call the Peabodys down the way. Jeremiah is always good for ten dollars.” She turns to Kimbra. “After your grandpa passed, he offered me some milk...”

Kimbra laughs as she steps out of the car with me. “Maybe I should stay here with you. The last thing I want to hear about is my grandma’s dairy intake.”

I smile wider. “She is a hoot! And you know, you’re welcome to stay here.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’d better keep an eye on them and make sure the game doesn’t end up with Grandma’s bra in the pot or more discussion on what could have been!”

We both snicker.

“Text me when you’re settled,” she says. “I wish you’d reconsider coming out to my parents’ so we can stay together tonight.”

“At your parents’ house, in your childhood canopy bed? No way. I’ve heard stories!”

Kimbra gives me a hug. “Thanks for making it back for the wedding.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Cool air greets me as I enter the hotel’s lobby and take a deep breath. Summers in Indiana are much warmer than in London. Then again, I grew up in Illinois, so this isn’t much different. Somehow, your body forgets how 95 percent humidity feels. It’s not just that, but also the transition to the cooled air as I step inside. My arms erupt with tiny goose bumps. Shivering, I ride the escalators up to the main level while taking in the entry. Marble floors reflect the large chandeliers as I pass the desks and make my way toward the lifts—okay, I really like that word for elevators. It’s lovely. As I get closer, the ring of piano music fills my ears. Beyond the bank of elevators is an entrance to a small hotel bar, the sign in the hallway boasting the best jazz music in all of Indy.

My tired mind tries to decide if that’s really a compliment. All of New Orleans…All of Louisiana, yes, but all of Indy as in Indianapolis? I’m not sure if the competition is that tough. Nevertheless, the longer I stand there waiting for the elevator, the more inviting the melody becomes.

Making a deal with myself, I decide I’ll have one more glass of wine—strictly for medicinal purposes to help me sleep—and then up to my room.

The bar is dark and chic with colored lights shining on the walls. One bar surrounds the piano, all the seats filled with couples laughing along with the pianist and singing slightly off-key. Instead of vying for a seat there, I make my way over to the sparsely occupied long bar near the side of the room. Its surface is shiny, reflecting the mood lighting. Easing onto a stool, I order a glass of cabernet. As I pay, a warm summer breeze skirts over my exposed skin, and I turn toward an opening door to what appears to be a patio.

“Is it warmer out there?” I ask the bartender.

“Yeah,” he says. “Not too warm. The fire pits aren’t on tonight. They’re really nice on a cool night.”

“I think I’ll take my wine out there. I’m a bit chilled.”

Outside is quieter but warmer, the night air heavy and filled with distant sounds of the city. Even though the fire pits aren’t lit, there’s a soft red glow coming from the glass embers, giving the illusion of fire without the heat. With my wine in hand, I sit by myself and relax for the first time since my trip began.

I’m finally here. I made it to the rehearsal. The wedding is tomorrow. Everything is good.

It’s a mental pep talk, and after the last exhausting thirty-six hours, I’m beginning to believe every word.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice interrupts my thoughts. “Is anyone sitting there?”