Steps to the Altar Read Online Free PDF Page B

more minute, I’m going to puke.”
    “You and me both,” Elvia said, rolling her black eyes.
    “Ladies,” Emory said, his smile not losing one kilowatt. “Why can’t you just let a man be happy? Y’all complain if we’re sad and complain if we’re happy. What is it y’all want?”
    Elvia and I both laughed.
    “That, my dear boy,” I said, reaching over and patting his hand, “is a secret women are sworn to keep from the minute they learn it at their mama’s knee.” I looked over at Elvia. “Right, mi amiga ?”
    Elvia just laughed again, kissed Emory quickly, and headed back upstairs. “Your tux is ready,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ll need to go pick it up tonight.”
    He watched her walk up the stairs, lovesick amazement on his face.
    When he could no longer see her, he turned back to me. “Well, sweetcakes, how are things going on the move?”
    “Slow but sure. We’re moving some of our clothes over tonight. It’s nice having a few extra weeks to do it in.”
    “I’ll bet. I want to find a house as soon as we get back from our honeymoon. Both our condos are full to bursting. I’ve had a real estate agent out scouting. There’s a real nice Victorian down on the corner of Second and Heron Streets I think Elvia might love.”
    “That gray-and-white one? With the pink petunias in front?”
    “Yes, ma’ am.”
    “It’s only two blocks from me and Gabe!”
    He grinned. “Yes, ma’ am.”
    I leaned over and hugged him. “Oh, cousin, that would be so perfect. You and me living so close. Did you ever think when we were eleven and twelve something like this would happen?”
    That summer, back in 1970, when he’d come from Arkansas to stay at our ranch because his mother had just died and his father had gone quietly crazy for three months, had started our deep, lifelong friendship. Since I’d lost my mother when I was six, I understood what he was going through, and in long afternoons down by the creek or up in the airy lofts of our haybarn, we discussed life, death, and the odd world of grown-ups, confiding in each other all the scary things kids feel about those subjects, but never told the adults in their lives. He went home in September, but we’d kept up a correspondence that cemented our new friendship. He was my best friend and the only person in the world related to me on both sides of my family—his grandfather and my dad’s grandfather were first cousins by marriage and his father, Boone Littleton, married my mother’s third cousin, Ervalean.
    “I’m happy as a new tick on a fat dog,” he said, heaving a big sigh.
    “Gee, I couldn’t tell,” I said, grabbing his cup of latte and taking a sip. “How are the plans for the bachelor blowout going? I’d better warn you, we’ve got spies. There’d better not be any naked ladies.”
    “No chance on that,” he said, leaning back in the old wooden library chair. “I’m not about to do anything that would cause Elvia to back out. No, it’s going to be a classy event down at the Jamestown Tavern. I’ve rented the upper room and we’re going to have a bourbon tasting, play low-stakes poker, eat high-fat appetizers, smoke illegal Cuban cigars, and watch crazy police chase videos that your hubby is providing.”
    “When?”
    “Next Wednesday night. This Saturday’s out because of the Mardi Gras parade and costume ball at Constance Sinclair’s. And we don’t want to do it too close to the wedding because I want everyone hangover-free, including myself.”
    “That’s the night of Dove’s shower! Maybe we’ll run into each other. Well, just be careful driving home.”
    “Already taken care of, my dear worrisome girl. I’ve hired a passel of college students to drive the inebriated safely home.”
    “Remember, alcohol kills brain cells.”
    “Ha, health advice from a woman who eats banana Moonpies for breakfast and calls them a serving of fruit.”
    “Untrue!” I slapped his hand. “For lunch maybe . .