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When Micki and I walk to the back room, the gang has assembled. Maman chatters away with Mrs. Press about whether Triscuits are the perfect cracker. Really, I think they’re mostly bragging about children. Cress and Kath lean toward each other with serious faces as they look at Cress’ phone. Probably deciding on their songs.
Max, Clay, and Mr. Press have a variety of forks, knives, and spoons laid out. The terms tight-head prop and scrum-half clue me in Max is explaining rugby. I notice Micki’s father’s attention is wandering. Then he catches sight of us. “They’re here,” he calls out and waves his arms above his head.
Everyone crowds around us, hugging, backslapping, and air-kissing. You’d think we hadn’t seen them in years rather than less than twenty-four hours ago. Fourth of July weekend has been a full calendar of breakfast and neighborhood parades, the Windy City Smoke Out,followed by fireworks at Navy Pier on Friday, a barbecue on Saturday at Micki’s parents’ newly remodeled house, and today’s events.
Platters of fried pickles, chicken, and ribs are already on the table. Michelle’s dad and Clay collect the drinks. I take a breath. My life is so full of joy I can hardly sit still as I listen to Maman mixing French and English with abandon.
I gulp down my shot and walk over to Clay. A shoulder punch captures his attention. “You arranged everything, right?”
A rare smile spreads over his face. “All taken care of. The guys will make sure we have seats right in front. Here is the lineup.” He hands me a sheet with the singers and their numbers. Micki’s parents are leading off with “This Magic Moment,” followed by Clay and Kath with “It Had to Be You.” Not surprisingly, Max and Cress are singing The Proclaimers “I Wanna Be.” Ever since Max’s big apology to her last Christmas, that’s their song. I’m penultimate unless Micki sings. The finale will be Maman, with “La Vie en Rose.”
After I hand back the list, Clay says, “This room will be ours until closing.” He leans back and takes a sip of bourbon. “Your mother seems okay. Does she like her apartment?”
“What’s not to like? It’s bigger than her house, fully furnished, and up-to-date. And the daycare is just the thing she needs. All the bébés, she’s in heaven.”
I swallow down my shot. “No more interference in my love life. Micki’s help with all the immigration application papers made a big difference in her outlook.” I glance over at Maman, who is hugging Micki for some reason. “And finding out what a little schemer and thief Angélique turned out to be. The disappointment didn’t last as long as I expected.”
“What about Angélique’s sons?”
“With their mother standing trial, the grandparents have custody. The father has visitation rights. I feel sorry for them. Such nice boys.”
The band is warming up so Max herds us all toward the stage area. They arranged a group of chairs just to the side. The owner ambles over and gestures to the seating. “Calling your name, I think,” he says. Then he takes Maman’s arm and leads her through the rapidly increasing crowd.
Micki shoots me a quizzical look.
“Clay told me he was going to arrange something so my mother would be comfortable and away from the crowd.” We file in after her.
Her blue eyes soften. “So thoughtful.”
The microphone crackles and the emcee starts his spiel. Once he’s introduced the band, he motions Micki’s parents up to the stage. “Our first performers are Desmond and Alice Press.” As they start bopping to the swinging beat, Micki grabs my collar and pulls me close. “That’s their song.”
“Their song?”
“Ye-e-e-s. It was the first dance at their wedding.”
The audience is entranced when they hear “forever ’til the end of time.” It’s a great start.
Kath and Clay push through the throng as the emcee announces them. Another oldie but they sell it well.
Instead of announcing Max and Cress, the band just starts the opening of the Proclaimers’ popular song. Feet stamp as Max, pushing his highland burr, starts. His resemblance to David Tennant doesn’t hurt, and Cress harmonizes nicely.
After they go back to their seats, the emcee announces, “JL Martin with “Truly, Madly, Deeply,” by Savage Garden.”
I clear my throat, take the mic, and turn my gaze to Micki. “This is for mon amour,” I say, to awws and ahhhs from the assembled karaoke lovers. A glance at Maman shows me her eyes glitter with unshed moisture. I twirl the mic by the cord a couple of time. The crowd quiets as I put every bit of emotion I feel into the lyrics. At the end, I hold out my hand and motion her forward. “Please say yes.”
The atmosphere is hushed with expectation, longing, and hope. My limbs shake like branches in a high wind. What if she turns me down?
Micki’s eyes are unnaturally bright as she comes forward. Instead of taking my hand and answering, she motions to the emcee, whispers something I can’t make out. He nods and goes over to the band. “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now,” blares from the amps as Micki climbs up onto the stage and belts out the lyrics. Everyone in the place joins in with her resounding yes.
I’m on my knees and as she finishes, I pull her down beside me and slip the ring on her finger to the sound of “La Vie en Rose.”
* * *
For more ofthe GSU gang, check outAt First SightandAt the Crossroads, available in e-book, paperback, and audio. Look for Jarvis and Elizabeth’s story,At the Breach, in 2024. And please consider leaving a review. Not only do they help the author, but other readers appreciate them when deciding on what book to read next.
Turnthe page for Chapter One ofAt First Sight
At First Sight
