Bet Your Bones Read Online Free PDF Page B

overjoyed that you two ladies made it out of the quicksand, real or metaphorical.”
    The waiter breezed by and took their drink order. Claude Ann wanted a champagne cocktail. Dinah ordered a dirty gin martini.
    Xander shot her an amused look and asked for the same. When the waiter had gone, he said, “Claude Ann and I are having our first fight. She thinks of you as a sister, Dinah. Will you please help me persuade her that I can’t possibly write my own vows?”
    “The first duty of the maid of honor is to support the bride, Xander. Whatever Claude Ann wants, I’m on her side. But why do you feel you can’t write your own vows?”
    “I’m not a poet. And the examples Claude Ann has shown me of other people’s vows are so high-sounding and sappy.”
    “That just means you’ll have to come up with something better,” said Claude Ann.
    Dinah smiled. A man who could say it was torture being away from his lover for a few extra hours had a finely nuanced concept of sappy.
    He raked his hair off his forehead. “Thirty years ago, my wife and I wanted a no-frills civil ceremony, but she was Hawaiian and her family traditional to the nth degree. They insisted on the whole nine yards of Hawaiiana and the show they put on was like something from another century. Somebody blew a conch shell to call forth the gods. There was lots of chanting and hula and some godawful potion that was supposed to be sacred to Pele that we had to drink. My wife and I exchanged maile leis and promised to make the Aloha eternal. It was the ceremony that seemed eternal. It lasted until dawn.” He nuzzled Claude Ann’s cheek. “You know that I love you, darling, but I want to keep it simple this time. I see no reason to gild the plumerias.”
    Claude Ann laughed. “The last time I married, all I had was a handful of puny, no-smell roses Mama bought at the Piggly-Wiggly Market. It was a rainy Februrary day and cold as blue flujins. The groom was dressed like an undertaker and he had to bum the weddin’ band off of my daddy’s finger. This time it’s gonna be a sunny June day with a beautiful ring and everybody lookin’ like a million bucks. I want to wallow in plumerias and have everything be perfect.”
    Xander lifted her hand and kissed it. “It will be, Claude Ann. You have my word.”
    Claude Ann rhapsodized about the absolutely divine Vera Wang gown she’d ordered and the reception she’d arranged at Xander’s house on the Big Island—caviar, Dom Pérignon and “the whole cotton-pickin’ works.” Xander appeared to take a genuine delight in her enthusiasm.
    Dinah said, “It sounds lovely, Claude Ann. I’m thrilled for you.”
    “There’s one thing you may not be so thrilled about.” She bit her lip and looked sheepish. “I invited Phoebe Marshall. I know she used to say stuff that rubbed you wrong.”
    Dinah hadn’t thought of Phoebe in years. She’d been another of Claude Ann’s broken-winged birds, a beneficiary not just of Claude Ann’s kindness, but also of her clout. With Claude Ann as her champion, she’d been elected editor of the Needmore Nuggets Newspaper and fancied herself the Boswell of the class. Some of the nuggets she’d printed, especially about Dinah and the goings-on in her family, had been less than complimentary, but it was the maid of honor’s duty to back the bride. She said, “It’ll be fun to see Phoebe again.”
    Their drinks arrived.
    Claude Ann touched her glass to Dinah’s and Xander’s. “Here’s to happy days.”
    “Happy days,” they said in unison.
    Xander held Claude Ann’s eyes in a way that made Dinah feel like an intruder. She was about to excuse herself and leave them to their trance when Xander snapped out of it.
    “I’m about to retire from the U.S. Geological Survey, Dinah. I’ve bought and sold several parcels of land over the years, but nothing as big as the deal I’m working on now. The contract has been signed and it’s scheduled to close the day after the