Chapter 4

“Ann Stevens MacIntosh, you take that back right now!” Paula mock-screeched. “My mashed potatoes are not lumpy.”

“Almost as lumpy as your gravy,” Ann teased.

“You know, you used to be my favorite daugh… Step-daughter,” Paula said.

“I’m your only step-daughter,” Ann laughed.

“And thank goodness for that,” Paula said.

Bramley called Ann’s cell phone that evening just as Ann was pulling into the driveway of her step-mother’s home. The home had been Ann’s childhood home; they’d moved in just after Ann had started the second grade. When Ann was in the fourth grade, Charlotte MacIntosh, Ann’s mother announced that she and Richard were getting a divorce. Charlotte promised, as soon as she and Douglas got settled, she’d come back for Ann.

“Must have never got settled,” Ann thought as she watched Paula’s face appear in the kitchen window.

“Hey, butt heads back in,” Bramley enthused. “And he’s making stuffed chicken breasts; you coming over?”

“I, I’m at my mother, my step-mother’s house,” Ann said.

“Oh,” Bramley sounded crushed.

“Bramley, I, I haven’t seen her in like forever,” Ann defended, hating the sound of Bramley’s disappointment.

“No, no, I get it,” Bramley agreed.

The living room furniture was the same as it had been six years ago when Paula and Richard married. Ann knew her room also looked the same as it had a few months ago when she’d moved out into her very own apartment. The place even smelled the same; it smelled like home.

“Hey! Oh, oh my God, you, you’re not eating!” Paula accused, hugging her step-daughter.

“What? God, I’m eating like a pig,” Ann denied.

They caught up on each other’s jobs. Paula filled Ann in on the latest gossip around the neighborhood. Ann was not surprised that Mrs. Cosgrove was again causing problems for the Abelmanns on the corner. In Mrs. Cosgrove’s eyes it was bad enough that the Abelmanns were Jewish, but the fact that Isaiah Abelmann was black and his wife was white was just inexcusable.

“Some people,” Ann shook her head as she finished her dinner.

“I’m fixing you a Tupperware,” Paula told Ann.

Paula’s idea of a ‘Tupperware’ was an old Cool-Whip container filled to overflowing with that night’s dinner. Ann slapped her forehead; she had a few of Paula’s containers at her apartment.

“So, what’s going on?” Paula said, serving them some cherry Jello mixed with an overabundance of Cool-Whip.

“I, I’ve been seeing someone,” Ann said.

“Oh? It serious?” Paula asked.

“It, I, they, they, it is pretty serious. I mean, they asked me to marry them,” Ann said. “Even bought me a ring.”

“Ann, ‘they?’ ‘Them?’ This sounds, Ann Stevens MacIntosh, what are you not telling me?” Paula asked, fixing Ann with a hard stare.

“It’s, Bramley, Bramley’s a girl,” Ann admitted.

“So, you’re not pregnant?” Paula deduced.

“God! No, all right? No, I am not pregnant,” Ann said, scraping the last of her dessert into her mouth.

“So…” Paula said after several long moments of silence. “You, you’re gay?”

“No, I, I yeah, I guess I am,” Ann admitted. “I mean, I, I’m in love with her and…”

“So, when is the wedding?” Paula asked, taking their two dessert bowls to the dishwasher.

“Pretty soon; it has to be before her twenty first birthday,” Ann mumbled, unable to comprehend her step-mother’s acceptance of her homosexuality.

“Well, I plan to come,” Paula said, bending over the dining room chair and hugging Ann from behind.

“Well, you have to come,” Ann said. “You’re the mother of the bride.”

“The step…” Paula teased, sitting down again.

“No Pau… Mom. You’re the mother of the bride,” Ann insisted, feeling some tears beginning to form. “My own mother just ran off and left me. Then when my dad died, you, you still took your job as my mom seriously.”

“Because I love you,” Paula stated simply. “I loved your dad and you, you are a big part of your dad.”

“I love you,” Ann sobbed out, hugging Paula tightly.

In the car, her lunch for the next day sitting on the passenger seat, Ann sent a simple ‘Yes’ to Bramley’s phone. A nanosecond later, ‘Crazy’ began to play.

“Yes what?” Bramley cheerfully demanded.

“Yes, I will marry you,” Ann said, then was deafened by Bramley’s scream.

“Oh my God, oh, okay, remember, we need to go to Ms. Dumont’s office; what time you get off?” Bramley babbled. “You still at your step-mom; you coming over?”

At work the next day, a hose worked loose and thoroughly doused Ann and three of her coworkers. As the incident occurred at twelve minutes after four in the afternoon and there was a slew of paperwork, a myriad of questions, Ann did not have time to go home and change. She walked into the office of Elizabeth Dumont, reeking of soured milk, clothes still soggy.

“Surprise, it’s a girl,” Ann quipped to the Asian woman that sat, staring at her as she entered the bland, colorless waiting room of the law office.

“Huh? Oh, oh, I…” Mrs. Isabella Applewhite stammered, flaming red.

“Grandmother, I told you,” Bramley accused, moving to hug Ann. “Good God, you, why do you smell like that?”

“Industrial accident,” Ann said, holding Bramley at arm’s length. “Don’t hug me, don’t kiss me.”

Grandmother’s reaction was a genuine one; she’d assumed Bramley was simply making a joke when she said she was marrying an apple. Elizabeth’s reaction was also genuine; she was outraged by an apple being Ann MacIntosh.

“Let me check this,” Elizabeth spat, reading Marilyn Applewhite’s documentation again. “I am sure there is something in here forbidding this sort of union.”

“I will not hug you,” Isabella smiled, clutching Ann’s hand. “But I will tell you I welcome you to our family.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Apple…” Ann smiled, relieved.

“No, no, you, you call me Grandmother,” Grandmother insisted.

Unable to find anything in Marilyn’s documentation that forbade a same-sex union, Elizabeth pinched her face into a scowl but did print up all the legal documentation. Then she and Bramley and Ann signed document after Document.

“Define infidelity,” Ann insisted when Elizabeth read the pre-nuptial agreement between the two women.

“Really? Do I really have to define what infidelity means?” Elizabeth snapped, glaring angrily at Ann.

“Bramley has a male roommate,” Ann disclosed.

“Oh good God,” Elizabeth exploded in a fit of anger as both Bramley and Ann dictated what constituted infidelity.

Sarah Nice, Elizabeth’s paralegal glanced at her boss as she waited to notarize the documents. She then shot Ann and Bramley a sympathetic look as Elizabeth scribbled the notes then slid the papers to Sarah.

“I’ll have these ready in just a minute, Sarah smiled, getting to her feet.

“So, how you two meet?” Grandmother asked Ann.

“Bramley and Haralson invited me over for a Sunday brunch…” Ann started.

“Why you don’t invite ME for brunch?” Grandmother asked, lightly slapping Bramley in the back of her head.

“Maybe because you’re abusive?” Bramley suggested, rubbing the back of her head.

Returning a moment later with the modified pre-nuptial agreement, Sarah handed the papers to Elizabeth. Elizabeth read the document out loud and everyone signed. Sarah then stamped the documents and gathered everything together.

“Now, we have a wedding to plan,” Grandmother said.

“Vegas, Baby!” Bramley declared.

“What?” Ann asked, pretty face wrinkled.

“Yeah! Elvis!” Bramley enthused. “We’ll get married by Elvis.”

“Elvis?” Ann laughed.

“Pink Cadillac; the whole works,” Bramley stated.

“Okay, but I’m wearing a white wedding gown,” Ann declared.

“After I get my brunch,” Grandmother insisted.

“Oh, good grief, okay Grandmother, I’ll tell Haralson,” Bramley said.

As the door shut behind the three women, Sarah turned and looked at the pinched features of a very uncomfortable Elizabeth Dumont. Elizabeth looked up at her paralegal; an extremely efficient young woman.

“Don’t worry; you’re getting overtime for this,” Elizabeth snapped.

“Ms. Dumont,” Sarah said. “I’m bisexual. And apparently, you have a real problem with that sort of lifestyle. So, I’m putting in my two weeks’ notice as of right now. I’ll have my letter on your desk tomorrow morning. It’s been a real learning experience working for you.”

With that, Sarah grabbed her purse and left a shocked Elizabeth Dumont sitting in her seat. Elizabeth was still sitting, staring at the closed outer door for a full two minutes after it had clicked shut.

“Vegas? Las Vegas? This weekend?” Paula MacIntosh verified when Ann called her from her car.

“Yes,” Ann smiled as Grandmother gave a bleat of her horn before turning onto a side street.

“Doesn’t give us much time, does it?” Paula stated. “Okay; I’ve got a few PTO days coming to me.”

“What? We fly there Friday afternoon; come back on Sunday,” Ann said.

“Oh bull crap too,” Paula said. “You think I’m going to Las Vegas and not hitting some slots? Oh! Oh, and blackjack! No, Sweetheart, Mommy’s got some life insurance money to blow!”

“Hey! That, that’s my inheritance you’re playing with,” Ann laughed.

“Sweetheart, the house is yours,” Paula said seriously. “This house is yours; it’s fully paid off.”

Ann could not wait to get into a hot shower. Getting out, she saw she had missed several text messages from Bramley. She responded to each message; they were mostly just declarations of undying love. At nine thirty, Ann declared she needed to sleep. Bramley sent a pouty face emoji and Ann sent a tongue out emoji.

“Really? I’ll be right there!” Bramley threatened.

“I love you,” Ann texted, looking at her ring.

Before clocking in the following morning, Ann made her way to the main office. Mr. Skelton made her very nervous, even though the man had always been very warm and friendly to her. Luckily, Paula Emerson, Mr. Skelton’s personal assistant was already at her desk.

“Miss Paula?” Ann started but Paula had already seen the engagement ring.

Before Ann could say anything else, Mr. Skelton was in the outer office, offering Ann a sincere congratulations on her engagement. When Ann disclosed that the wedding was in less than forty eight hours; she was there to ask for a few hours off on Friday afternoon, Paula immediately asked if Ann was pregnant.

“Ms. Emerson, you know we’re not supposed to ask that,” Garland smiled tightly.

“I’m not,” Ann assured them both. “But my fiancé needs to get married before she turns twenty one.”

Ann saw two sets of eyebrows shoot up. She flamed bright red when she realized she’d just disclosed that she was marrying a woman. Then she set her jaw firmly; she really should not be ashamed of being in love with Bramley Applewhite.

“Listen; stop by this afternoon; oh, you, you’re taking tomorrow off,” Garland declared. “And, no, it won’t come out of your PTO; you’re taking tomorrow off, hmm, we’ll call it a paid wedding day.”

“Las Vegas! I, I’ve never been to Las Vegas,” Paula said.

“That’s what all the billboards say,” Garland teased his PA. “Welcome to Las Vegas; don’t worry. Paula’s not here.”

“You are a horrible man,” Paula declared with a huff.

“Seriously, Ann, if you work half as hard at this marriage as you do for Garland Dairy? I know your marriage will be a wonderful, happy one,” Garland assured the red head.

“Thank you, Mr. Skelton,” Ann mumbled, blushing under his praise.

Just before clocking out, Ann remembered that Mr. Skelton had said she was to come to the office that afternoon. Paula smiled warmly and handed Ann a one thousand dollar gift card for Brichelle’s Boutique. Ann sat down hard in the chair in front of Miss Paula’s desk. Finally, she thanked Paula, hugging the woman.

On the way home, she called her step-mother. Paula MacIntosh agreed immediately to meet Ann at Brichelle’s. After all, she needed a ‘Mother of the Bride’ dress.

Bramley pouted when Ann said ‘No! She could not come; it was bad luck to see the bride’s dress before the wedding.’ She was slightly mollified when Ann let her know that she’d been given the Friday off; they could take an earlier flight if they wished.

The salesgirl at Brichelle’s Boutique looked extremely hung over when Ann and Paula MacIntosh entered the Bridal area of the store. Paula repeated, again, how very generous her boss was as they looked at the bridal selections.

“This your first marriage?” the girl asked.

“What? What an odd question,” Ann said, offended. “Jesus, I’m not even twenty yet.”

“Oh, sorry; I thought she was the bride,” the girl mumbled, chastened.

“Nope. Mother of the bride,” Paula admitted, putting an affectionate arm around Ann’s waist.

“Sorry,” the girl said again.

Being very slim, Ann’s selections were fairly limited. Finding one stunning antique white dress with a price tag of nine hundred and ninety eight dollars, Ann held her breath as she checked the size.

“OhmyGod,” Ann whispered as she saw that the gown was in her size. “Pau…Mom, Mom, look!”

“Oh!” Paula agreed. “Oh Ann, that, is you.”

“Ma’am, where, where can I try this on?” Ann excitedly asked and the girl woodenly dragged her carcass off of the plush stool and opened the fitting room.

“Holy cow; I, I look gorgeous!” Ann whooped a moment later.

“Because you ARE gorgeous,” Paula assured Ann, nodding with approval as Ann modeled the lacy dress.

“You know what? That, that really does look good,” the salesgirl agreed.

Ann also found a baby blue bustier with matching thong panties in her size. She and Paula wondered what color stockings to get and finally agreed on nude stockings with sandalfoot.

“Now, go sit down, out of the way while I find just the right dress,” Paula teased.

“Out of… Did you just tell me…” Ann screeched and Paula laughed happily.

On a clearance rack, Paula found a smart looking gray dress. She also got a bustier with matching thong panties in a pale pink color. She grabbed a pair of smoky stockings with the line up the back.

In the morning, Paula, Grandmother, Haralson and Bramley and Ann met up at the Full -Moon Diner. Three times during the breakfast, Bramley ordered Haralson to shut up; she did not care that he could have made everything on their plates and could have made it better.

Paula and Grandmother were fast friends. And both Paula and Ann were slightly amused, slightly mystified by Haralson’s apparent interest in Paula MacIntosh.

“He does know I’m old enough to be his mother, right?” Paula whispered to Ann.

“Maybe he wants you to be his Mommy,” Ann teased.

Paula whispered to Grandmother what Ann was suggesting and Grandmother squealed in delight. The two older women whispered back and forth, making one another squeal and giggle.

“Ready, Sweetheart?” Bramley smiled at Ann.

“Mm hmm,” Haralson agreed, sipping the last sip of his overpriced tomato juice.

“Uh, I uh, Haralson, I kind of meant Ann,” Bramley said, voice low.

“Oh. Oh! I uh, oh! I, I used to be ‘Sweetheart,'” Haralson said, large brown eyes threatening tears.