Page 14 of The Secret to a Southern Wedding

Imani cocked her head to the side. “Halle! I’m serious.”

“I am, too. Your mom was hurt after your dad. Hurt and angry. No one blames her for that, but do you really want her to be hurt and angry for the rest of her life? To never find someone to make her happy?”

Maybe she did sound like she didn’t want her mom to move on, but no one had seen how hurt her mom was after what happened. In public Linda held her head up high; she was strong, and only expressed gratitude for surviving and finding out who he really was. Imani heard her cry out at night from the nightmares of reliving the event. Imani noticed the way her mom stiffened whenever a man so much as said hello to her. Imani had to sit through her mother’s lectures about the dangers of falling for a man you couldn’t trust.

Imani rubbed her temple. “I just don’t want her to rush into anything. I don’t want her to get hurt again.”

“Your mom is smart and one of the shrewdest women I know. It took Mr. Preston a long time to crack through her defenses, but he did.”

Imani pointed and shook her head. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t know if he really broke her defenses or my dad writing from the sunny beaches of Puerto Rico about marrying some thirty-year-old bartender did it.”

Halle straightened. “Your dad did what?”

Imani rolled her eyes. “Yes. I don’t even have the whole story, but can you believe it? Even after all these years he’s trying to control and manipulate her.”

Halle put her coffee mug down then placed a hand on her hip. “I’m going to need this entire story.”

Shania shuffled into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and wearing red pajama bottoms with a Peachtree Cove Middle School Panthers T-shirt. “What story? I like stories.”

Imani ran a finger over her mouth for Halle to zip it before smiling at her young cousin. “Hey, Shania.”

Shania dropped her hand from her eyes and looked at Imani. A second later she beamed and hurried over. “Imani, what are you doing here?”

Imani stood and gave Shania a hug. “Oh my God, you’ve grown so much.”

The last time she’d seen Shania was a year ago. She’d been at least four inches shorter, thin as a rail with a shy smile. Now she was nearly Imani’s height, thick with the beginnings of curves and muscle developed from playing sports. She smiled and met Imani’s gaze with a confidence that hadn’t been there before.

“That’s because you don’t come home enough,” Shania said pulling back. “Not that I blame you. As soon as I graduate high school, I’m out.”

Halle snapped a finger. “Hey, I’ve got you for five more years. Don’t talk about leaving until then.”

Shania went over and hugged her mom. “Sure, Halle.”

Halle slapped her daughter’s behind. “Girl, call me by my first name again.”

“Sure, Mommy,” Shania said in an exaggerated kid’s voice. She pulled away quickly to avoid Halle’s second swat at her butt and went to the fridge. “Why are you here so early?”

Halle answered first. “Imani had to come over here and have grown folks’ conversation.”

Shania pulled out apple juice with one hand. “I’ll be thirteen in three months. That’s almost grown.”

Halle rolled her eyes. “Nowhere near all the way grown. Get dressed, we’re going out for breakfast.”

Shania grinned. “Eggs and Griddle?”

Imani frowned. “What’s eggs and griddle?”

“A new restaurant downtown. At this time on a Saturday...if we hurry we might avoid the rush.” Halle looked at Imani. “I’m assuming you’re coming with us. Your stomach has been growling since you got here.”

Imani pressed a hand to her stomach. “You know it.”

Halle put her coffee mug in the sink. “And for waking me up—you’re also paying.”

seven

Linda texted Imani while she was at breakfast with Halle to say they were meeting at the wedding venue later that day and that Imani better be there or else. Imani had no idea what punishment her mom could really dish out to her thirty-six-year-old daughter, but instead of trying to call her bluff she’d just texted back for the address and time.

She pulled into the side parking lot of The Fresh Place Inn thirty minutes before the scheduled time. A huge grin spread across her face as she took in the yellow two-story colonial-style home. She remembered the place as the Shubert House, where old Mr. Shubert used to live. Some people in town viewed Mr. Shubert as a mean old man, but he always paid well and fair whenever Imani, Halle and their best friend, Tracey, worked in his peach orchard over the summer. He also didn’t get mad when Tracey set up a peach stand on the end of his property to sell some of the peaches she’d siphoned off the top. For whatever reason, the old man liked Tracey. As she walked around to the front of the house that was now a bed-and-breakfast, she realized he must have really liked Tracey.

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