Must-Have Husband

thoughts.
    “Holy crap! I’ve killed her! Killed her! Killed her! Killed her!”
    Mac looked toward the corner and gritted his teeth.

    Ollie stopped Connie as she raced down the hall, sobbing. “Hey, sis, what’s the… Have you been crying?”
    She met her brother’s gaze with bleary eyes. “It’s Mac,” she said with a sniff. “I just can’t do this.”
    “What’s he done?” Ollie asked combatively. “Because if he’s hurt you, I swear—”
    Connie quickly shook her head. “It’s nothing like that.”
    “Well, then, what is it?”
    She heaved a breath. “I don’t know if I can go through with it anymore.”
    “Marrying Mac? But why not? I mean, hey,” Ollie said sympathetically, “I know he’s a little different, doesn’t exactly fit in around here. But he just needs some time around us, and we’ll get to know him. If you love him, Connie, then the rest of the family is bound to. I mean, eventually.”
    “Even Grandpa?” she asked, raising her chin.
    “Especially Grandpa. All he wants is for you to be happy. You know that.”
    “No. What he wants is for me to wear that stupid dress.”
    “Hey, listen to me. That dress isn’t stupid. It’s been an Oliver family tradition for years. All right, I’ll admit at first I thought the idea was sort of quirky, but now that I’ve seen how all the other women have gotten into it, I find it kind of…nice.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. Really. I mean, if Trudy wanted to wear it, I wouldn’t be opposed.”
    “ Trudy? You can’t mean…?”
    “Not getting anywhere close to thinking about it until we’ve both finished school. But it is on the back burner, if you know what I mean.” He grinned, and Connie hugged him soundly.
    “That’s wonderful, Ollie!”
    “Yeah, it’s cool. But mum’s the word. Okay? I don’t want any cats out of the bag for a long while. It’s not like I’m asking tomorrow. Besides,” he said with a grin. “You’re the bride in the spotlight for now.”
    “I am, aren’t I?”
    Ollie had a clue what would make her feel better. “I was just headed to the kitchen for some Rocky Road ice cream. Want to join me?”
    “After a double dessert and that enormous catered dinner? Are you kidding? You bet!” she said, racing him down the stairs.

    Mac shut the door to the gold room behind him and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve.
    “Sneaking a peek at the dress ?” Linda asked as she and Beau strolled by, linked arm in arm.
    Mac felt the blood drain from his face. “No…I… Actually, um…”
    “Hey, isn’t that supposed to be bad luck before the wedding?” Beau asked.
    “That’s only when the bride is in it,” Mac replied with a croak.
    “Yeah,” Linda said, playfully poking her husband in the ribs. “Don’t be such a stickler for details.”
    Beau laughed out loud as they snuggled together and continued on their merry way down the hall.
    Mac heaved a sigh.
    What on earth am I going to do now?

Chapter Seven

    Early the next morning in the billiard room, Wendell Senior dismissed his nurses, then stealthily rose from his wheelchair, taking his favorite putter in his hands. How he missed the game, he thought, taking a broad practice swing. He could see the golf course behind him through the plate glass window. He and Melissa had commissioned some men to install it shortly after they’d bought the vineyard, and for forty-eight years, Wendell had never missed an afternoon of golf. He’d played on through rain, wind, and sun, ever improving his skill. It was just a shame circumstances and his failing health had forced him into this chair. Though he did seem to rally some days, he was concerned things were getting worse. But if his earlier years of smoking cigars had caused him emphysema, he didn’t want to know it. Best to live out the rest of his life as well as he could without any further diagnoses getting in the way. Every time he asked his doctors if he was dying, they said yes. Then again, they assured him, so were they. Everybody went one day at a time. Wendell Senior didn’t find this very funny, given his more limited time. Sure, one might make a joke at fifty. At eighty now, the joke was on him.
    He heard the door creak open and scrambled back into his chair.
    “Father? Are you in here?” It was Junior with Elizabeth, his bride. The boy had really lucked out with that one. She was kind and pretty and ever the good wife. Plus, she had a solid head on her shoulders and had been a