After stopping dead center of the tent, and shifting his neck from side to side, Haynes scratches his jaw and mutters, “Holy God Almighty.” He then slides his hands into his pockets and strolls over to the food table.
At the bottom of every domed dish sits a little card with the name of the food item contained within. Each is written in perfect calligraphy. Even though he knows it drives me crazy, Haynes opens and closes every single dish, one at a time, to peer inside. Eggs Benedict, eggs Sardou, and plain scrambled are in the first three. Benton’s maple bacon and homemade pork sausage links are next, and Belgian waffles with Vermont maple syrup are in another. Gouda cheese grits and hash browns make up the final two. A tiered fruit display with a carved watermelon cornucopia, spilling over with every kind of fruit one can imagine, is on one end, and a large spread of fresh oysters on the half shell is on the other. Citronella candles are burning on both sides.
“Honey!” he says, moving toward the table. “You told Gage how much I love oysters.”
“Will you pleasestop it,” I say in a hushed tone.
Knowing it works every time, he shoots me one of his disarming winks, then slurps an oyster right off the shell.
As luscious and wonderful as this food looks and smells, there is something else more jaw dropping than all the decadent cuisine put together. Hardly anyone is here. Perhaps the size of the tent dwarfs the crowd, but after a quick scan of the guests, I guesstimate only twenty-five people. Frank and Judy must have had sixty. And they only have one Grove spot. What is going on?
We both spot Lilith at the same time. She’s on the far side of the tent in front of a massive big-screen TV, in all her glory, wearing a stunning pale blue ensemble, holding court with a small audience of women I don’t know. From all the way over here I’m drooling at her outfit and her rail-thin body. Lightweight pants, slim cut, with a matching scooped neck T-shirt that has a thickbanding around the bottom of the elbow-length sleeves. A wide taupe leather belt with a large silver buckle ties it all together.
She sees us, waves, and points at the bar. Haynes, waving back, wraps an arm around my waist, then guides me in that direction. A server stops in front of us with a tray of sausage balls, and we each take one, along with a cocktail napkin embossed with the same message as the tent:HOTTY TODDYTHE WHITMOREWAY.
Another couple is at the bar, so we step in behind them. Lilith had told me I’d probably know several people, but oddly enough, I don’t recognize a soul. And it makes me feel sorry for her. By the massive amount of food they’ve prepared—well, the food someone else has prepared—it’s obvious the Whitmores had planned on a large crowd. What has gone wrong?
Two bartenders are mixing drinks, and it only takes a minute before one politely asks for our order. “Gage Whitmore does not hold back,” Haynes says, while scanning the bottles on top of the bar. Ketel One vodka, Woodford bourbon, Glenlivet whisky, Bombay gin, and Schramsberg champagne are displayed off to one side, as well as a large crystal pitcher of Bloody Mary mix with a sign that reads,BIM BAMBEST BLOODIES. Another pitcher containing orange juice has a sign in front of it that reads,FLIM FLAMFRESH SQUEEZED.
“I’ll have a Bim Bam Best Bloody, please,” I say, my words sounding a bit tongue-tied. “That sounds delicious.”
“Yes, ma’am. Comin’ right up.” He pours, then hands me a large red cup with the Whitmore party slogan imprinted in white.
Haynes orders a Heineken, which incidentally must be concealed in a cup as an ancient law prohibits beer in The Grove. The bartender pushes the beer toward Haynes. “Thank you, sir,” my husband says, tapping the top of the bar, and we step aside to let the next person in line place their order.
“I cannot wait to dive my face in that food,” I whisper after my first sip. “The smell is killing me.”
“Knock yourself out, babe.”
“You aren’t eating?”
He shakes his head. “I’m full.”
“How can you resist?” I deliberately starved myself at Frank and Judy’s, knowing what was to come.
I’m beelining it to the table when Gage’s voice booms over a loudspeaker.“Welcome, friends!”
I turn around and see that he’s at the far side of the tent, holding a microphone. It’s the way he’s dressed that has me startled: a navy blue blazer, white dress shirt, and red tie. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t think twice, but it’s ninety degrees outside and a hundred and ten inside this tent. Haynes moves over to me, and we, along with their other guests, give Gage our undivided attention.
“Lilith and I… where’s Lilith?” He scans the pitiful crowd. “There you are, darling.” He beckons her with a flutter of his fingers. Lilith smiles bashfully, and strolls over to join him. Placing his arm loosely around her waist, Gage holds the mic a few inches under his mouth. “Lilith and I want to welcome you to our first tailgate party. We’re tickled you’re here… aren’t we, darling?”
Once he squeezes Lilith’s side, she leans into the mic, her lips brushing the top of the ball. “Sure are. We—” One of those awful microphone squeals stops her mid-sentence, and after making a dreadful face, she backs away. Gage whispers in her ear and she tries again. “We’ve been excited about this party all summer. It’s the first of many to come. So make sure you eat up. Drink up. And Hotty Toddythe Whitmore Way,” she shouts, and Gage punches the air with his fist.
I start to nudge Haynes, but when I see a quarter-inch vein throbbing in his temple I reconsider.
“Listen up,” Gage continues, stealing the mic back from Lilith. “Make sure you come back after the game. Lilith has a victory celebration surprise. We’re going to stomp those Terriers into the ground!” Everyone around us whoops and hollers and claps loudly. “Are youready?” Gage yells into the mic.
Every guest—myself included, my husband excluded—replies, “Hell Yes, Damn Right.” Then everyone, including Haynes, who is reacting to the sneer I’ve just flashed him, finishes the fight song. “Hotty Toddy Gosh All Mighty, Who The Hell Are We? Hey, Flim Flam, Bim Bam, Ole Miss By Damn.” A round of high fives and cheers follows before the Whitmore guests resume their conversations.
“Alrighty then,” I say, turning to Haynes. He simply lifts his forehead, and offers a cool smile.
Someone tugging on my arm causes me to whip around. It’s Lilith. “Hey, y’all,” she says, all bright and cheery.
I give her a big hug. Haynes only offers a pat on the arm. “What a party,” he manages to say. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“Oh my gosh, Lilith. This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, glad you’re here. The girls were here a little while ago, but they left to find a better party.” She finger quotes “better party” and tightens her lips.
