THE DAY OF THE WEDDING DAWNED BRIGHT AND SUNNY. There was frost on the grass, but by nine o'clock it had warmed up to close to sixty-eight degrees. Lavonne and Eadie showed up a little early to help set up the buffet, but by twelve-thirty Nita was still running around the yard dressed in sweatpants with her hair done up in big rollers. The ceremony was set to begin at two o'clock, followed by a buffet and live music.

“Shouldn't you be getting dressed?” Lavonne said, when she saw her. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

“I should be doing a lot of things,” Nita said, looking like she might cry. “I told Jimmy Lee and the kids to get those lanterns strung and all the dog toys put up and they're just now getting around to it. I told them yesterday to get this yard cleaned up.”

Eadie put her arm around Nita. “Now calm down,” she said. “Everything's going to be fine. You should be enjoying this. I mean, this is the day you've looked forward to your whole life.”

Nita snapped, “Why does everyone keep saying that? How does every one know what I look forward to? For all y'all know I might have looked forward to being the president of the United States.”

Eadie raised one eyebrow and looked at Lavonne, who frowned and shook her head slightly. Nita dropped her face in her hands. “I'm sorry,” she said. “It's just nerves, is all.”

Nita's mother, Loretta, saw them and came over to say hello. “She's nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” she said, nodding at Nita. “She's making us all jumpy.” Loretta was an upright little woman who hailed originally from a little farming town just east of Ithaca. She had a sweet face and a bad temper, and around town she was known as a good person not to mess with. She and Nita were about as much alike as a pit bull and a poodle.

Lavonne grinned. “You got your hair done, Loretta.”

“My nails, too,” she said, holding up ten coral-colored fingers that matched her dress perfectly. “It ain't every day your only daughter gets married, and to the right man this time, too. Praise the Lord.”

“I'll drink to that,” Eadie said.

“Well, from the looks of you girls, I'd say you been doing just that. You look a little wet around the gills, if you know what I mean.”

“There's no fooling you, Loretta.”

Loretta grinned. Her blue-black hair shone in the sunlight. She put her arm around Nita and kissed her on the cheek. “Come on, baby doll,” she said. “Let's get you dressed for your wedding.”

“I'll be right in, Mama. I've got to check on a few things first.”

Loretta put her hand on her hip. Her coral dress fluttered in the breeze. “Check on what?”

“Check on whether or not Jimmy Lee got the rest of those lanterns hung.”

Loretta waved her hand and stuck her chin out. “I'll take care of all that,” she said. “You leave that to me.” She sailed off across the yard like a bantam rooster attempting flight, her coral dress fluttering about her shoulders and her blue-black hair glistening in the sunlight.

Nita sighed, watching her go. “Whatever you do,” she said to Lavonne and Eadie. “Don't tell her I invited Virginia to the wedding.”

Loretta had disliked Virginia for nearly forty years. She had tolerated her when Nita was married to Charles, but now that the divorce was final, she was under no further obligation to be nice.

“Don't worry, I won't,” Eadie said.

“We're not crazy,” Lavonne said.

“I'm hoping Virginia won't show,” Nita said despondently.

“There's no reason why she should.”

“She probably just wanted to hear you ask her,” Eadie said. “You know how she is. Everything's a game to Virginia.”

Nita sighed again but didn't say anything. They watched Loretta across the yard, giving directions to Nita's tall, stoop-shouldered daddy, Eustis, who followed her around with a box of lanterns in his arms. “I told her to get Jimmy Lee to hang the lanterns,” Nita said, frowning.

“How's your daddy doing?” Eadie asked.

“He's fine. Whatever he's got, it isn't Parkinson's but something a little milder. It doesn't slow him down much. Mama, of course, thinks it's all in his head. She begins every day with, ‘Are you going to shake today, Eustis? It's up to you. Just make up your mind.’”

“Loretta missed her calling,” Lavonne said. “She should have been a nurse.”

“The funny thing is, when she's around, Daddy doesn't shake much.”

“A nurse or maybe a hypnotist,” Lavonne said.

Eadie lifted one arm and pointed behind them. “Oh my God,” she said, “is that Whitney?”

She was crossing the yard, dressed in a long flowing skirt and a pair of high-heeled boots. Nita looked at her daughter and blushed with pleasure, nodding her head slightly.

“She's gotten so tall,” Eadie said. “She's gotten so lovely.”

“They grow up fast,” Lavonne said.

“Whitney,” Nita called. “Come say hello to Lavonne and Eadie.”

Whitney scowled at her, hesitating. She could ignore her mother easily, but ignoring other adults was a bit trickier. She put her head down and plodded toward them. Nita tried to put her arm around her daughter's shoulders but Whitney stepped aside with a smooth practiced movement. “Hello, Mrs. Boone,” she said, smiling. “Hello, Mrs. Zibolsky.”

“My God,” Eadie said, taking both Whitney's hands and looking her over from head to foot. “You look like a supermodel. Why are you wasting your time in this little backwoods place? You should be in New York.”

Whitney gave her mother an icy smile. “Funny you should say that,” she said.

No one spoke. Nita looked across the yard to where Loretta stood shouting orders like Napoleon on the eve of Waterloo. Otis had managed to crawl under the fence and escape, running around the yard and barking at Little Moses and Maureen as they tried to set the tables.

“Stupid dog,” Whitney said. “I'll put him in the house.”

They watched her walk away and Eadie said, “Did I say something wrong?”

Nita shook her head sadly. “Whitney was shopping with some friends in New York and some guy came up to her and gave her a card for some modeling agency. Ever since then she's been after me to let her move to New York and try to make it as a model.”

“Oh, right,” Lavonne said. “Like you're going to let a twelve-year-old move to New York.”

“That's just crazy,” Eadie said.

“So y'all are in agreement with me?” Nita said, her eyes shifting from one to the other. “You think I did the right thing saying no?”

Their response was thunderous and unanimous. Nita sighed, watching Whitney corral Otis and drag him by his collar toward the house. “She hates me for it.”

“She'll get over it,” Eadie said. Her own mother had never said no to her. She'd been like a big kid herself, forcing Eadie to act like the parent, a role she'd always resented and spent the second half of her life trying to forget. Eadie supposed it was one of the reasons she had decided not to have children herself.

“They go through these phases,” Lavonne said. “But they outgrow them. They go off to college and when they come home they've learned enough about life to know that you were right about a lot of things. They've learned that their parents aren't so stupid after all. They get a lot easier to talk to when they've learned that little lesson.”

Jimmy Lee had come out on the back porch to look for Nita. When he saw them standing there, he waved and shouted, “There's trouble waiting to happen.”

Eadie shouted back, “Well you should know what it looks like by now.”

He grinned as he walked toward them, dressed in a pair of khakis and a blue-striped dress shirt. Eadie thought how any bride alive would give her left nipple to stand beside Jimmy Lee at the altar. Lavonne thought how love was fleeting but financial stability was forever. She hoped Nita had made him sign a prenup.

Nita thought how life was unpredictable, and she hoped the happiness and love she and Jimmy Lee had shared over the past year and a half would sustain them through the treacherous waters of matrimony she knew lay just ahead.

SOMEWHERE AROUND ONE O'CLOCK THE YARD BEGAN TO LOOK like a place where a wedding might actually occur, and Nita went into the house to dress. Her mother insisted on helping her, although Nita would have preferred that she had not. Loretta's brisk, forthright manner, far from calming Nita's nerves, made her feel like she was being poked and prodded everywhere with hot needles. She waited until Loretta took a breath, and then Nita went down the guest list, reminding Loretta she expected her to be on her best behavior.

Loretta frowned, and raised her little chin in the air. She put one hand on her hip. “What's that supposed to mean?” she said. “My best behavior.”

“Well, Mama, it means I've invited some people you might not appreciate seeing but I still want you to be nice.”

“Juanita Sue,” Loretta said. “I am always nice.”

“People like Clarissa Derryberry,” Nita said. “And that poor little boy of hers.”

“Oh good Lord,” Loretta said.

Clarissa Swaney Derryberry was a wealthy young widow who was known around town as the Pest Control Heiress. She was the daughter of Curtis Swaney, who had had the foresight to look into the future and see the proliferation of DEET-resistant strains of ants, fleas, ticks, aphids, centipedes, palmetto bugs, and termites. He had started his pest control company, Bugs Be Gone, in the sixties, and forty years later it had grown into a profitable business employing ten full-time sprayers and a bookkeeper, all due in no small part to Curtis's secret and highly carcinogenic blend of various illegal pesticides. Curtis and his wife had produced only one sickly child, Clarissa, who married one of Curtis's senior sprayers, a rascally red- neck known around town as “that-fat-ass-Harry-Derryberry.” Harry and Clarissa had one child, a boy named Harry Junior who had Tourette's. Harry Junior was prone to nervous tics and episodes where he would fling one hand into the air like an SS officer giving a Nazi salute and yell “Whoop!” at periodic intervals.

“I volunteer down at the library with Clarissa and I want you to be nice to her,” Nita said, looking at her mother nervously in the mirror.

Loretta pushed the final pins into Nita's upswept hair. She put her fingers under Nita's chin and turned her head back and forth, appraising her handiwork. “I've got no problem with Clarissa as long as she doesn't make a spectacle of herself. After all, this is your wedding.”

That-fat-ass-Harry-Derryberry died soon after Harry Junior was born— of some rare but lethal form of leukemia—leaving Clarissa a wealthy young widow. She took her role as an heiress seriously. She had grown up watching Dynasty and assorted daytime soaps and she believed there was a certain dress code every young heiress should adhere to. No matter what the occasion, no matter what time of year it was, no matter how hot or humid it might be, Clarissa Derryberry went everywhere dressed in a blazer and a scarf. In addition to her eccentric dress, Clarissa was a hypochondriac with enough money to indulge a series of modern but obscure ailments. Over the years she had been treated for fibromyalgia, hormonal imbalance, chronic fatigue syndrome, chemical sensitivity, allergies, yeast overgrowth, and restless leg syndrome. Only recently she had discovered she had an extra bone in her foot and now went everywhere in a wheelchair pushed by Harry Junior, attired in her usual blazer and scarf.

Loretta helped Nita slide her wedding dress over her head and said, “As long as Clarissa keeps her medical complaints to herself, me and her'll get along fine.”

Loretta had had a double mastectomy some years back and she had little sympathy for other people's minor medical maladies. The news that she had “the cancer” had been delivered by a cheerful, fresh-faced young doctor who made Doogie Howser look like a retiree. “We can put you through six rounds of chemo and radiation, but I can't promise you much more than three to five years of survival, tops,” the young doctor had said cheerfully, checking his watch. He had a golf game scheduled for two o'clock. Fourteen years later he dropped dead of a massive coronary at the age of forty-eight. Loretta sat on the front row at his funeral and tried not to smirk.

Having survived cancer through sheer obstinacy and her own tenacious refusal to obey male authority figures, Loretta had little sympathy for whiners, slackers, hypochondriacs, and women who couldn't get through their stressful days of bridge, shopping, and lunches at the club without the help of Xanax or Prozac. Other than that, she was real supportive.

“I know Clarissa can be a little irritating,” Nita began. She thought, If Virginia Redmon shows up, Clarissa Derryberry will be the least of your worries. Nita could only hope that Virginia would have the good sense and moral restraint to stay home. “But she means well. I think she's just lonely is all.” Nita frowned, looking down at her dress and hoping it wasn't too plain. It was a cream-colored silk with a tight, V-neck bodice and narrow skirt that fell to her feet. It looked a little young, Nita realized now, like something a barefoot girl might wear to a May Day dance. Why hadn't she realized this before? Why hadn't anyone told her the dress looked too virginal and sweet for a forty-year-old woman to wear, much less be married in? Why hadn't … She looked up suddenly, realizing the silence in the room had grown heavy.

Her mother stood in the doorway, leaning against her father, who had tears in his eyes. Whitney stood just behind them, peeking around his shoulder. “Oh, Mommy,” she said. “You look so pretty.”

“Do I?” Nita said, in genuine surprise, turning to check her appearance in the mirror. She had worn her hair up, with a gardenia tucked behind one ear.

“Just like a princess,” Whitney said, coming into the room and looking less like a surly teenaged Lolita and more like the wide-eyed child who used to play in Nita's jewelry box. Nita leaned to kiss her, and Whitney put her arms around her and kissed her back.

“Just look at our little girl, Daddy,” Loretta said in a quavering voice. “All grown up and ready to go out into the big old world.”

“Mama, I've been out in the big old world for almost twenty years now,” Nita said. “I'm getting married, not moving to Alaska.”

“Well, he's a good man and you have my blessing,” Eustis said, trying his best to stand up straight and not shake.

“Who's a good man?” Jimmy Lee said, behind them. He saw Nita and stopped, staring like a man in the midst of a religious experience. “Damn,” he said finally.

“Okay, Whitney, let's go on outside and see if the guitar player's all set up to play the wedding march.” Loretta, all business again, motioned for her granddaughter to follow her outside.

Nita blushed at Jimmy Lee's expression. “I told you, Mama, there will be no wedding march,” she said. “He's singing ‘Till There Was You.’”

Loretta shrugged. “Whatever,” she said. “It's your wedding,” she said. “If you want to hippie it up, go right ahead. No one's stopping you.”

Jimmy Lee chuckled as he strolled into the room. He had put on a tie and a blue blazer that showed off his shoulders to full advantage. “Funny, I never took you for a hippie girl,” he said.

Nita put her hand against his chest to stop him. “It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the service,” she said.

“Oh, come on, honey. That's just an old wives' tale.” He reached out and pulled her roughly into his arms.

“I mean it,” she said.

“So what did you and the Way Crazies talk about out there in the yard?” It was his nickname for Lavonne and Eadie.

“Don't call them that.”

He leaned and kissed her neck. “Those girls are dangerous,” he said, ducking roguishly as she pretended to slap him.

Nita dropped her hand and smoothed his tie against his chest. “I could learn a lot from those girls. I wish I was more like them.”

“I'm glad you're not.” He kissed her and playfully bit the lobe of her ear. “You're perfect just the way you are.”

Nita kissed him and then grabbed his nonexistent love handles. She gave him a little shake. “You never know,” she said. “I just might surprise you one day.”

THE CEREMONY WAS SIMPLE AND SWEET, PRESIDED OVER BY THE Methodist minister from the church Nita's parents attended. They stood under a canopy that had been entwined with ivy and white lilies. Whitney and Logan served as bridesmaid and best man. Afterward, Jimmy Lee and some of his friends from high school entertained them with some garage band standards, including music from the Kinks, the Ramones, and the Beastie Boys.

Lavonne and Eadie sat at a table near the band sipping bottles of spring water. “How pathetic are we?” Eadie asked, raising her bottle.

“Look, we're getting too old to drink like we've been doing. My liver can't take it anymore.”

“Speak for yourself,” Eadie said.

Loretta and Eustis James shuffled by, two-stepping to “You Really Got Me.”

“Show them how it's done, Loretta,” Eadie hooted, holding her bottle high.

Loretta stopped to catch her breath. “Y'all need to get up off your asses and shake a hoof,” she said. “Ain't nothing better for a hangover than a little exercise.”

“I assume that's the voice of experience talking, Loretta.” Lavonne sipped her water. “Is she hard to keep up with, Eustis?”

“Naw,” he said. “Her bark's worse than her bite.”

Across the yard, Clarissa Derryberry had arrived and was being pushed across the lawn in her wheelchair by a whooping Harry Junior.

“There's that goddamned blazer again,” Eadie said.

“Someone said they saw her at Disneyworld in July,” Lavonne said, “being wheeled through the park in a blazer and a scarf.”

“Got more money than she's got sense,” Loretta said, motioning to Eustis that it was time to get back to dancing. “You girls need to get up on your feet and plow some new ground.”

Lavonne looked blank, but Eadie said, “You got any other words of wisdom for us, Loretta?”

“Never play leapfrog with a unicorn,” she said, as she and Eustis trundled off.

Sunlight fell from a bright blue sky. In the distance, the river glistened, moving slowly between banks of cedar and willow and pine. Lavonne stretched her legs and stood up. “I better go check on the buffet line,” she said. “Do you want me to bring you a plate?”

Eadie wrinkled her nose. “I can't think about eating right now,” she said. “But bring me a glass of red wine.”

“You're kidding.”

“Do I look like I'm kidding?”

Lavonne shrugged. “It's your liver,” she said.

AFTER A WHILE, JIMMY LEE LET ANOTHER FRIEND TAKE OVER ON the drums so he could dance with his bride. Anyone looking at them would have thought they were like any other happy young couple just starting out. No one would have guessed that Nita was thirteen years older than Jimmy Lee or that she had teenage children. She looked so young and pretty dancing in her husband's arms. The band was playing, “When a Man Loves a Woman,” and looking up into his handsome face, Nita felt like she might be living a dream. She remembered the dark days of her marriage to Charles Broadwell, shut up in his big old house in River Oaks, feeling like she was being slowly entombed and counting the days until her children would be grown and flown away to freedom.

Married to Charles, Nita had had every material comfort she could want, but she hadn't been able to imagine happiness. She hadn't been able to imagine a future with a man like Jimmy Lee Motes.

He kissed her gently. “I love you, Nita.”

“I love you, too.”

“And I'm sorry about not being able to afford a proper honeymoon.” The money in the bank was Nita's and Jimmy Lee wouldn't touch it. He had too much pride for that.

“You know I don't care about any of that stuff.”

He frowned, looking past her shoulder. “But, honey, I promise. Things are going to get better.” Lately, he'd been ordering tapes off the Internet on how to make a million dollars in real estate with no money down. He stayed up long after she'd gone to bed and drove off to work every morning with the tapes blaring in his truck. “I've got plans for our future,” he said.

“I don't care about any of that, Jimmy.” Every time a new tape arrived, Nita got a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach. Like someone had punched her or left her stranded at the top of a tall swaying ladder. She said, “I'm happy just the way we are.”

“I want to be able to give you things. I want to be able to provide for my family.”

Nita shivered. Somewhere off in the cold dark woods beyond the river, tragedy waited. She could smell it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to convince Jimmy Lee that she didn't need a big house and diamond jewelry and exotic vacations. She had had all that before and it hadn't meant a thing. All she needed was him.

The sun disappeared behind a bank of high-flying clouds. Nita was suddenly cold. Goose bumps rose on her arms. As if to confirm her premonition of disaster, a car turned slowly into the sandy drive.

Virginia Redmon had arrived.

“KATY BAR THE DOOR,” LORETTA SAID, APPEARING SUDDENLY AT Nita's elbow. “Look who just showed up.”

“Now, Mama,” Nita said.

“The nerve of that woman, showing up to crash your wedding.”

“She's not crashing my wedding.” Nita smoothed the bodice of her wedding gown. “I invited her.”

Loretta stared at her in disbelief. “Are you crazy?” she said finally. “Honey, have you lost your marbles?”

Nita walked away from her, across the lawn toward the big table where Eadie, Lavonne, and Grace Pearson sat nursing their drinks. Loretta trailed behind her like a sturgeon caught on a trotline, and Jimmy Lee brought up the rear. Nita was hoping that being around other people might keep her mother quiet, but the odds of that happening were, she knew, pretty slim.

Eadie, Lavonne, and Grace were talking about this year's Kudzu Ball. “That's just about the best fun I ever had,” Lavonne said. “If it was any more fun, it couldn't be legal.”

“Tell me about it,” Grace said.

“Y'all try not to rub it in because I missed it,” Eadie said.

The Kudzu Ball was held every year in the Wal-Mart parking lot. It was a parody of the high-browed Ithaca Cotillion Ball that was thrown every year by the cream of Ithaca society. Mothers worked behind the scenes for years to get their daughters presented at the Ithaca Cotillion, but Kudzu debutantes could present themselves. Anyone could be a debutante. The only prerequisite was that you had to be female (or look female—there was a growing contingency of female impersonators who showed up every year from places like Atlanta or Birmingham or Charlotte), you had to wear the tackiest ball gown you could find, and you had to wear some kind of headgear made from kudzu vine. Whether or not to use an alias was entirely up to the individual debutante. Lavonne had gone to the ball two years straight as Ima Badass, and Eadie had gone that first year as Aneeda Mann. She had missed this year's throw-down because she'd been in New York with Trevor while he met with his agent and strategized about becoming the next John Grisham.

“I'll never miss another Kudzu Ball for as long as I live,” Eadie said, stubbornly shaking her head.

Grace said, “Yeah, we missed you. I guess you heard they crowned Rosebud queen.” She was wearing a long, red, flowered dress, a jeans jacket, and a pair of chunky-heeled shoes. It was one of the few times anyone had ever seen her in a dress.

“Yeah, I heard,” Eadie said. “Rosebud's the perfect Kudzu Queen.”

Rosebud Smoot was one of only three female attorneys in town, and she made her living defending the ex-wives of lawyers, doctors, and corporate executives who couldn't find legal representation among the closed, old- boy network that was Ithaca, Georgia.

“I can promise you this, girls,” Eadie said, lifting her wineglass. “I'll never miss another Kudzu Ball. Ever. Fuck New York. Fuck Trevor Boone and his big-ass book deals.”

“Hey, that's my lawyer you're talking about,” Grace said. Trevor had represented her years ago in a libel suit filed by an overzealous county commissioner, and they'd been good friends ever since. “And speaking of my lawyer, where is he?” Grace grinned her lopsided grin and there was something in her expression that reminded Eadie of Trevor. She felt suddenly lonesome for him. She hadn't asked him to come, but she should have.

“He stayed in New Orleans. He's trying to finish his second novel before the first one comes out and he has to travel.” She smiled at Nita who had moved up to the table with her husband on one side of her and her mother on the other. Loretta looked stressed out. She kept glancing over her shoulder toward the makeshift parking lot. “Well, here's the wedding party now,” Eadie said.

“So old Trevor couldn't make it?” Jimmy Lee said to Eadie.

“No, old Trevor couldn't come. Although he says to tell you and Nita that he's sorry he missed your wedding and he wishes you the best of luck in your future matrimonial endeavors.”

“That sounds like something a writer would say.”

“Hey, Loretta,” Grace said.

Loretta, who'd been craning her neck to check out the parking lot, stopped and swung around. “Well, hey, yourself,” she said. She came around the table to give Grace a hug. She had grown up with Grace's parents in Vienna, pronounced Vi-anna, a little farming town east of Ithaca. “How's your mama and daddy?” she asked. “I don't get back to see them much anymore.”

“They're good. Daddy still jumps when Mama hollers frog, but other than that they're fine.” Grace spoke two languages: Wellesley English and pine-barren redneck.

“What'd y'all think of the ceremony?” Nita said.

“Don't change the subject,” Loretta said darkly, looking at her daughter. Now that the pleasantries were over, Loretta was ready to get back to lambasting Nita for her decision to invite Virginia. “What in the world made you ask her?”

“Mama, she is the children's grandmother.” Ever since she found out about Virginia marrying Redmon, Nita had felt kind of sorry for her. She had felt kind of guilty about keeping the children from Virginia over the past eighteen months.

“Now, Mama James, don't get excited over something silly,” Jimmy Lee said. He couldn't bear to hear Nita criticized in any way, shape, or form. “Nita's just doing what she thinks is right.”

“Who said you could call me Mama James? My name's Loretta, son.”

“Oh my God, is Virginia here?” Lavonne said, scanning the crowd.

“Did the Bride of Satan show up after all?” Eadie said.

Loretta looked suspiciously from one to the other. “Did y'all know about this?”

“It's my wedding,” Nita said stubbornly, and Jimmy Lee put his arm around her. “I can invite who I want.”

Behind them, Harry Junior threw his hand in the air and yelled “Whoop!”

“What in the hell was that?” Loretta said darkly, looking around.

“It's nothing,” Nita said quickly. She smiled at Harry Junior, who'd just sat down at a picnic table with a big plate of food. His mother sat in her wheelchair behind him surrounded by a group of spellbound women. She had her bad foot propped up on the table bench and was holding forth on the dangers of ingrown toenails, gangrene, and amputation.

Loretta shook her head ominously and stared at her daughter. “Juanita Sue, you're tied to the train tracks and you don't know there's a train coming.”

Jimmy Lee snorted and bit his lower lip. He'd always thought Loretta could make it on the comedy circuit.

Lavonne said, “Hey, Loretta, can I get you a plate?”

Grace said, “The barbecue brisket is really good.”

Eadie said, “If you kick her ass, Loretta, I want to be there to see it.”

Nita stared nervously at Virginia's big Mercedes. So far no one had climbed out. Maybe Virginia had forgotten today was the wedding. Maybe she had just stopped by to drop off a gift and would leave now that she realized.

“Whoop!” Harry Junior said.

“That boy's getting on my last nerve,” Loretta said, eyeing him grimly.

“Mama, he can't help it.” Nita pinched Jimmy Lee, who was still giggling. “Why don't you try and relax?” she said to her mother. “Why don't you try and have a little fun?”

Loretta stared balefully at Virginia's car. A slight breeze ruffled her black hair, making it stand up above her forehead like concertina wire. “You'll think fun,” she growled, “when you're standing there helpless as a mute in handcuffs.”

Jimmy Lee snorted again and put his head down. Nita shoved him in the ribs with her elbow. “Why don't you go get Daddy and y'all have another dance?” she said, trying to draw her mother's attention away from the parking lot. “Or get a plate and maybe sit down for some dinner.”

“Who catered this throw-down anyway?” Grace said.

“Someone with a great deal of class and good taste,” Lavonne said.

“Whoop!” Harry Junior said.

Loretta spun around suddenly. “Hon, would you like a cough drop?” she said, leaning across the picnic table with her hands resting heavily on the checkered surface. “I've got some cherry red ones that should fix you right up.”

Harry Junior's eyes got wide. “Sure,” he said.

The Ramones sang “We're a Happy Family.” Jimmy Lee coughed and looked at the sky. He chewed his lip and stared at his feet. Nita looked at him and shook her head. She smiled, feeling the tension rise up out of her neck and shoulders. The sun peeked from behind the clouds and shone brightly on the slow-moving waters of the Black Warrior River. Nita felt hopeful for the first time in a long time. Her children were happy. Her family was safe. Her husband was handsome and tenderhearted, and they were in love.

No one could ruin that.

VIRGINIA CLIMBED SLOWLY OUT OF THE CAR, PUTTING ON HER best game face. The wedding was every bit as tacky as she had expected, complete with rock-and-roll band, a crowd of people she barely recognized, and what looked like picnic tables scattered around the yard. It was being catered, of course, by Lavonne Zibolsky and her partner, that Shapiro woman.

She adjusted her skirt and took a deep breath, wondering if she really wanted to put herself through this ordeal. But then she remembered the way her son had let himself be humiliated in front of the entire town by a little scrap of a girl who Virginia hadn't even wanted him to marry in the first place. When she remembered this, she was steadfast in her resolve for vengeance.

She checked her hair in the window glass. She was probably overdressed for this sorry function. Already, her Jimmy Choo heels were caked in a half-inch of mud. At least she hoped it was mud, and not something worse. She smoothed her hair and put her shoulders back. She would prevail, even here, stuck at a wedding she didn't want to attend, in the middle of a mosquito-infested swamp with a bunch of college professors, blue- collar workers, and the three women Virginia felt certain had brought her to this sorry state of affairs.

“Let's go,” she said to Redmon, over her shoulder.

He patted her on the backside and took her elbow. She stiffened but let him keep the arm. “Hot damn,” he said, watching the wedding revelers. “Nothing I like better than a good throw-down.”

Virginia tried walking on her toes so her heels wouldn't get sucked into the sandy soil. Redmon clung to her arm, trying to steady her. “We're not staying long,” she warned him. Just long enough for her to gather the information she needed. Just long enough to figure out where to strike.

“Aw, come on, Queenie,” he pleaded. “Let's have a good time. You know I was born under a honky-tonk moon.”

Virginia muttered, “Under a trailer, more likely.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, honey, let's dance,” Redmon said. “Let's shake it up a little bit.”

“I'm not dancing to this so-called music,” Virginia said in disgust. They stood at the edge of the yard, watching the dancers cavort to “I Wanna Be Sedated.”

“Aw, come on, honey, loosen up. You're tight as a wood tick on a dog's tail.”

Virginia was spared the necessity of a reply by the sudden appearance of Loretta James, standing in front of them like an enraged little terrier.

Virginia put on her best smile. Her eyes swept over the little woman. “My, Loretta, what a lovely dress,” she said.

Loretta wasn't having any of it. “How come you're here, Virginia?” she said.

“I just came by to offer my congratulations to the happy couple. I just came by to see if there was anything I could do to help out.”

Loretta's eyes were gray and sharp as pencil points. “Well, aren't you sweet?” she said. “You're just about as sweet and handy as a Braille Bible to a blind preacher.”

Virginia smiled but looked puzzled. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?” she said.

Redmon, who obviously understood what it meant, snorted. “Hey, Loretta,” he said. “Do you want to dance?”

VIRGINIA PAID HER RESPECTS TO THE NEWLYWEDS, SMILING AND clenching her teeth so hard her jaw ached for days. There was not much information she could pry out of Nita, at least not while her young bridegroom stood glued to her side like an overprotective bodyguard. He was polite to Virginia but she could sense his dislike, and didn't really blame him for it. He was intelligent enough to recognize an enemy when he saw one, which was more than Nita seemed capable of doing.

Virginia wandered over to the buffet table. Out in the yard, Redmon two-stepped with Loretta James to his request, “Kansas City.” She saw Eadie Boone leaning against a pecan tree, sipping her drink while she watched the dancers. Virginia was not surprised to see her here. She had expected Eadie to come in but she had hoped she'd bring Trevor with her. Virginia got up on her tiptoes and scanned the crowd. No Trevor. She spotted Grace Pearson over by the buffet table. Now who in the world invited her? she wondered. The woman was wearing a jeans jacket and looked like she might be headed for a hoedown, not a wedding. Virginia did not understand why women who attended schools like Wellesley could be so clueless when it came to fashion. She felt a twinge of sympathy for Ms. Pearson's mother, who had probably tried to raise her to be a good Southern girl with an appreciation of good grooming and polite society, and then made the mistake of sending her up North to be educated. When she saw women like Grace Pearson, Virginia was glad she had not raised a daughter of her own.

She picked up a glass of white wine and strolled over to visit with Eadie. She had gotten halfway across the lawn when Grace Pearson swung around suddenly and headed toward her. Virginia, dismayed and realizing she could not, at this stage, turn and run for cover, rearranged her face into a blank, pleasant expression.

“Ms. Pearson,” Virginia said, smiling grimly.

The big woman nodded her head curtly. “Madame President,” she said.

Really, Virginia would like to smack her. She'd like to wrap her fingers in that mop of red hair, pull her face down to eye level, and slap her repeatedly. They squared off in the middle of the yard, eyeing each other warily. Eadie, watching from the sidelines, thought they were a perfectly matched set, which was odd given the disparity in their physical sizes.

Virginia broke away first. “Excuse me. I think I see someone I know,” she said in a cold, tinny voice.

“Always a pleasure,” Grace said, moving off.

Virginia continued on toward Eadie, who saw her coming and ducked her head, turning one shoulder slightly. Virginia pretended she didn't see this.

“Yoohoo! Eadie!” she called gaily. “How are you?”

“Hello, Virginia.” Eadie looked tired. Something around the eyes, Virginia noticed with satisfaction, a puffiness that promised to get worse with age.

“Did you not bring your gorgeous husband with you?”

“My gorgeous husband is at home,” Eadie said flatly. “In New Orleans. He couldn't make it.”

“You tell him we're just so proud of him, with the book and all. He's our very own celebrity author.” No one had ever been able to figure out how Eadie had managed to bag and hang on to the most eligible bachelor in Ithaca. Sure, she was beautiful, but there were lots of beautiful girls around, and every one of them had a better pedigree than Eadie Wilkens, who had grown up in a trailer on the wrong side of town. Virginia looked her over carefully, trying to figure out Eadie's secret.

“It's just so exciting,” Virginia murmured, sipping her drink. “Just think, to have had a famous writer living in our midst all these years and not even know it.”

“Yeah, well, you never know how things will turn out,” Eadie said. She had one arm crossed over her stomach and the elbow of the other arm, the one holding her wineglass, rested lightly on it.

“Did you not?” Virginia said, looking at her curiously. “Did you not know how things would work out?”

Eadie cut her eyes at the older woman, trying to decide what she meant by this. For some reason it sounded vaguely insulting, and knowing Virginia, it was probably meant to be. Eadie sipped her wine and wished she had something stronger to drink. She wished she'd thought to make up a shaker of vodka martinis to bring with her. Or hell, she thought, glancing at Virginia, maybe even two shakers.

Virginia crossed one little foot in front of the other. “If you could have looked into a crystal ball as a child,” she said dreamily, “wouldn't you have been surprised to see the way things turned out? Just like a fairy tale.”

Eadie always did her best not to let Virginia rattle her, but today she felt strangely vulnerable. As if to make matters worse, Lee Anne Bales strolled by and Eadie turned her head, hoping Lee Anne hadn't seen her. Eadie had hated her since high school. She and Lee Anne were in the same home ec class, and Lee Anne was the one who had started the petition to have Eadie expelled from school after she managed to sew her finger to her apron and set fire to the simulated kitchen with her version of Tuna Surprise. The fire had only destroyed half the classroom, but it had done enough damage to cause cancellation of the Home Economics Cook Off, an annual tradition where the home ec girls donned homemade aprons and cooked and served meals to members of the Ithaca High football team. Being denied this opportunity to show off their educations hit the home ec girls hard. They got up a petition, signed by everyone but Nita, and Eadie was deemed an example of womanhood gone wrong, everything the home economics curriculum was trying desperately to stamp out, and she was suspended from school for three days. After that, Eadie got her revenge by thumbing her nose at Ithaca every chance she got, not the least of which was marrying Trevor Boone.

Virginia watched Lee Anne disappear in the crowd. “It's gotten so no one will ever recognize a real bosom,” she said archly, “with all the false ones there are in the world today.” She looked down smugly at her own petite, well-rounded figure and then glanced at Eadie's chest. “Of course, you and I don't have to worry about false bosoms. We can be happy with what the good Lord gave us.” She was trying to draw Eadie in, and Eadie wondered why.

“Look, Virginia, I didn't marry Trevor for his money, if that's what you're implying. I didn't marry him because I thought he'd be famous some day.”

Virginia did her best to look horrified. “Oh dear, I've said the wrong thing,” she said, putting her fingers to her mouth. “Of course, I never meant to imply you married for money.”

Eadie lifted her drink and said, “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

Virginia decided to ignore this remark. She smoothed the front of her suit jacket and scanned the crowd. After a minute she smiled and said, “Anyone who's ever met Trevor could see why you married him.”

Eadie wondered what the woman was getting at. It was apparent she had some kind of agenda. Eadie sipped her wine, thinking about that time in the principal's office after the home ec fiasco when Lee Anne had broken down and cried and the principal had instantly sided with her. It was the thing Southern girls did when dealing with irate male authority figures. They broke down and cried and tried to look as small and helpless as possible. If Eadie had used the same tactic, she might have received nothing more than a slap on the wrist. But she had never been able to bring herself to grovel. Her stubborn, dry-eyed, stoicism had earned her the three-day suspension.

Virginia watched Nita and Jimmy Lee dance by, doing some kind of modified two-step. Nita had her head thrown back and was laughing loudly. Virginia said, “I do hope Nita will be happy. I do hope this marriage will work out for her.”

Eadie glanced at the older woman but her face seemed calm. Virginia's voice seemed a little sharp but her manner was composed and sincere. Eadie figured given other circumstances, Virginia might have been one of the greatest stage actresses of the twentieth century. She might have been a cold war spy capable of withstanding torture or sophisticated lie detector tests. “Speaking of marriage,” Eadie said, “how's Redmon?”

Virginia's face shifted slightly, a ripple occurred just beneath the veneer of calm composure. But when she looked at Eadie, Virginia's eyes were smooth and blue as colored glass. “Isn't it wonderful,” she said brightly, “to have finally found your true soul mate?”

She was good. Eadie would give her that. A mist seemed to have formed over Virginia's eyes, a trembling veil of unshed tears. Eadie looked away. Any expression of strong sentiment made her uncomfortable. Eadie never cried. If she had given way to tears during her wretched childhood, she would have cried herself blind by now.

Virginia sniffed and ran one well-manicured finger lightly beneath her damp eyes. She waved at someone she knew across the yard. “But of course you already know about soul mates,” she said to Eadie, “married to Trevor and all. I mean, the Boone boys just ooze charm.”

Eadie clutched her drink and looked at Virginia curiously. “Boone boys?” she said.

It was Virginia's turn to flush. “Trevor's father, Hampton, was a handsome man, too. But you probably don't remember him.” She turned slightly to look at the assembled wedding guests. Eadie was quiet for a moment, considering this. Her wine was almost gone and when the drink was finished, she decided, this conversation was, too. “How's Charles?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

Virginia took her time answering. She sipped her drink. Her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “Why, Charles is fine,” she said finally. “He's been dating a girl from Valdosta. An accountant. She's got a small child, a boy I think, about ten years old. I don't know if anything will come of it, of course. But I hope it will. Charles was always so good with children.”

Eadie shuddered. She thought, Poor kid. She thought, Poor lady accountant.

“We're thinking about going skiing in March and he's talking about bringing the accountant and her son. Out west somewhere. Maybe Park City. Maybe Crested Butte.”

Eadie finished her drink.

“Of course Charles hasn't been out West since that last hunting trip. The one they all took last year. Does Trevor ever mention that trip?”

“Never.”

“I guess he wouldn't since he came back early.” Virginia looked down at her glass. “Since he came back before all the fun and games started. Those bad boys, those little rascals.” She smiled indulgently, like she was describing a slumber party for ten-year-olds.

Eadie yawned and pushed herself upright. “Well, Virginia, it's been nice talking to you. I think I'll go see if Lavonne needs a hand.”

“Of course Trevor was there for all the other trips. It was a tradition started by the Judge, you know. A trip where men get to do manly things and leave all the cares and worries of work behind them. I always encouraged the Judge to go. He was in such a good mood when he got home! Still, I have often wondered what men get up to when they're playing at being boys. I always wanted to be a fly on the wall.” She put her hand over her mouth and giggled conspiratorially, her face becoming pink and childlike. “I've often wondered what shenanigans they got up to. Haven't you always wondered, Eadie? Haven't you always wanted to go along? Haven't you always wished …”

“Look, Virginia, if you want to know what happened, why don't you just ask your new husband. He was there.”

Virginia stiffened. A cloud passed suddenly over the sun, darkening the yard and bringing with it a cool breeze off the water. “Yes, I know that,” she said shortly. “I know he was there.”

Eadie noted Virginia's discomfort. She grinned suddenly. “I thought soul mates told each other everything,” she said.

Virginia stared at her steadily for several seconds, her face becoming less soft and childlike and more like a slab of granite. She poured the rest of her drink out on the ground. “Oh, I'll find out what happened,” she said briskly, squaring her little shoulders. “You can bet on it.”

Eadie shrugged. “Good luck with that,” she said. She turned, and moved off through the crowd.

Virginia watched her go, a tense expression on her face. Her eyes flattened out over the crowd of revelers and then grew sharp as pitchfork prongs as they settled on the hapless Redmon, who, unaware of his wife's piercing gaze, trundled by with Loretta James wrapped in his arms.

VIRGINIA SAW HER GRANDSON LATER, STANDING AT THE EDGE OF the crowd, watching the band play. Public school had obviously not been good for Logan. He was dressed all in black—black pants, black T-shirt, a black leather jacket, and his hair was dyed a deep purple color. He was with a lovely girl, a breathtakingly beautiful girl, who reminded Virginia of herself as a young woman. Startled, she realized it was her granddaughter, Whitney, who, over the nine months since Virginia saw her last, had metamorphosed from a chubby adolescent into a slim-waisted swan. It was too late for Logan, of course, but Whitney showed signs of promise. Virginia imagined herself taking the girl under her wing. She imagined tea parties and shopping trips to Atlanta. Virginia had always thought she would make a better mother to a daughter than she had made to a son. If only fate had worked to her advantage. She pulled herself up straight, and watched the girl, her lips pursed. With the right guidance Whitney might yet make something of herself. Her eyes narrowed. Her breathing slowed. She stared at her granddaughter, feeling a slight tremor of excitement.

Virginia had suddenly realized what shape her revenge would take.