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“I love you guys. Go, mingle,” I told them after kissing Jolene’s cheek.
Andrea sidled up beside me to hand me a plastic champagne flute filled with frothy pink punch. “I think it’s safe. They wouldn’t put meat in here, would they?”
I sipped cautiously. “It appears not. How’s it going?” I asked, nodding toward Dick.
“Eh.” She gave the so-so hand sign. “He’s starting to pressure me, and I don’t appreciate it. Why do men always want the one thing they can’t have?”
“So you guys aren’t … ?”
“What, no, we’re at it like bunnies,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I won’t let him drink from me.”
“Dang it, I do not need those visuals in my head! And don’t think about it when you’re around me, I can tell. Why won’t you let him drink from you?”
“Because it’s too much like work,” she said.
“Kind of like a masseuse who doesn’t want to go home and give back rubs?” I asked.
“Yes, exactly like that Seinfeld episode.”
“I have a limited frame of reference,” I admitted as my cell phone rang from my dress pocket. The caller ID said it was my mother. Andrea was not the least bit offended when I answered it, since Dick had just approached with a tray of nibbles he’d managed to snag from the buffet line using his vampire wiles. I shook my head and giggled as I snapped open the phone. At this point, I was surprised that Dick wasn’t feeding them to her.
“I just wanted to see whether you’d called your sister yet,” Mama said, again dispensing with a greeting.
“No, but I have done an extensive inventory of the household contents at River Oaks and found an alarming number of items missing. The next time you’re over at Jenny’s, could you look for Depression glass, a silver coffee service, and some lace fans? I need to know what to put on the search warrant.”
Mama sighed on the other end of the line. “You aren’t really considering going to the police, are you? Jane, that would be so embarrassing to the family.”
I sighed. “I’m not going to call the cops, Mama. But Jenny and Grandma should consider whatever they’ve taken over the years to be their inheritance. That’s their share of the Early legacy. I don’t want to hear anything more about it. If Jenny wants to keep the lawsuit going, she can go ahead. I can afford a much better lawyer now.”
“Won’t you please—”
“No, I will not,” I said firmly as I stepped away from the circle of light and love and family. Because clearly, that was not the place for this conversation. Also, Mama was not aware that Zeb’s wedding was that night, and I could only imagine the tear storm that would ensue if she found out she hadn’t been invited. “Now, speaking of Grandma, have you heard from her in the last twenty-four hours, or should we assume that Wilbur has married and buried another wife?”
“Actually, Grandma Ruthie has canceled the wedding.”
“Because of something I said?”
“Oh, no, of course not.” Mama laughed. “But when you started talking about how many wives Wilbur had, it just turned her stomach. Then she realized that she’d been married almost as many times as he has.”
“So, she realized her reign of matrimonial terror must end?” I asked as Gabriel approached with Solo cups full of what might have been Boone’s Farm’s version of champagne.
Mama snorted. “Something like that.”
“Does this mean I should contact the authorities about Wilbur?” I asked. “Did he take the break-up well?”
“Oh, no, she didn’t break it off with him. She says she still wants to date him,” Mama said.
“Ew!” I cried. “He’s a dead guy.”
A hurt look flashed across Gabriel’s features. I mouthed, “Not you,” then pointed to the phone and added, “Wilbur.”
“You’re dead,” Mama pointed out.
“I’m a different kind of dead. I’m a cool kind of dead. Wilbur is all graveyard smells and feeding on the bottom rung of the food chain.”
“Jane, just let it go. Your grandma’s a grown woman. If she wants to date a dead man, she can date a dead man.”
“That’s not what you said when I started dating a dead man,” I grumbled.
