*
The Plum house sat like a big pink trilevel cake on a tray of green grass. That morning it was festooned—from the mansard roof down to the historical plaque announcing it as the oldest house in Goldie—with Instagram-worthy balloon arches and fresh flower decorations. Peony bouquets the size of small children lined the steps. A big banner that read CONGRATULATIONS, TAYLOR AND BEN hung across the porch columns, the letters glimmering and catching the light. Pink, pink, pink! Everylittlebit of it. It’d been both Taylor’s and Ada’s favorite color their entire lives.
The inside of the house adhered strictly to the theme—pink twinkle lights and tulle, pink streamers and ribbons, T-A-Y-L-O-R in huge, individual rose-gold balloons. Kasey put the bag holding Taylor’s bridal shower gift on a table covered with a pink tablecloth, and it was no surprise when Ada herself appeared in pink chiffon bell sleeves squealing Kasey’s name.
“Oh oh oh, you’re here! I’m so glad you’re here. Finally! Tay, Kase is here! In Goldie!” Ada said the last part up at the ceiling, her bouncy brown-blonde hair falling down her back, although Taylor was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m so glad to see you. Everything looks annoyingly perfect. I mean, of course…you did all this. It looks…amazing. You look amazing,” Kasey said, staring into Ada’s hooded smoky-blue eyes. Kasey had to bend down a bit to hug her properly.
“Oh please, thank you. But you! It’s been too long since you’ve been in front of me, and I hate that. I need to see you more. In real life! Why weren’t you texting on the way here? Why didn’t you call last night?” Ada asked, letting Kasey go.
“I’m sorry—I am. It’s bizarre being back, but all that matters is…I’m here now! Aaand I need a drink,” Kasey said as a woman she didn’t know stopped next to them and kissed the air. Ada leaned her cheek over to the woman’s mouth.
“Kasey? Kasey Fritz!” a high school acquaintance of the foursome said from the staircase. She was with some other girls Kasey only vaguely recognized; they’d gone to the other high school.
“Hi!” Kasey waved up at them.
“Of course. Go! Get a drink and go out back. I’ll be right there,” Ada said to her.
Ada’s husband, Grayson Castelow—tall in a lilac seersucker suit—smiled and boomed, “What up, Fritz?!” and hugged Kasey like the old friends they were. Grayson, a year ahead of them in school, had always been a gem. Kasey got on her tiptoes to hug his neck and asked him about their boys.
“Mama has the little ones upstairs,” Grayson said, gesturing vaguely, “and the twins are playing outside with their friends. Oh, wow, it’s really good to see you. Welcome! Can I get you anything?”
“No, but thank you, Grayson.”
“All right, just let me know if I can do anything. This should feel like your home,” he said as he was nudged and pulled into a conversation with a rowdy gumball group of men dressed in bright suits.
“KaseyEffinFritz?” a girl from junior year seventh period leaned over to squeal at her.
“Hey! It’s me,” Kasey said, smiling.
“The hell?! I swear we thought you’d died or something!” The girl threw her head back and laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“Ta-da,” Kasey said weakly, still smiling.
Bless Rosemarie Kingston’s heart with her God-given timing. She stepped into the foyer in an earth-colored linen short suit, Birkenstocks, and giant hoop earrings, strikingly out of place amidst the candy-colored sundresses.
“I assure you Kasey Fritz is alive and well and I do need to borrow her for just a bit; please excuse us,” Rosemarie said to the girl from high school. Saved! She took Kasey by the arm and led her to the back deck, where Rosemarie promptly plucked two bubbling flutes of champagne and handed one to her.
“I love you,” Rosemarie said as they hugged, careful not to spill.
“I love you too,” Kasey said. “So much. Look at how beautiful you are.”
“You’re the one. You have the best ass out of all of us. I’m way too skinny. I’ve already had a cupcake and a slice of cake,” Rosemarie said, all brown skin and coconuts—her forever shampoo. Kasey noticed her long lashes swiped with mascara and barely tinted lip gloss, which was about as fancy as Rosemarie got makeup-wise. She had her hair pulled up with a white scarf tied in it, the loose knot and leftover fabric like petals at the base of her neck. “Take a cupcake,” Rosemarie commanded. Kasey obeyed, grabbing one with a cloud of lime-colored frosting and pink sprinkles. “There’s Caro. Have you seen her yet?” she asked and pointed, taking Kasey’s cupcake hand by the wrist.
They snaked across the deck, through the buzzy crowd. There were a couple gasps from people Kasey knew, more smiles and squeals. Kasey’s face was already tired from smiling, but that didn’t matter when she saw Caroline leaning against the railing on the other side. Goddess-like, her thick red hair flamed over the shoulder of her white long-sleeved turtleneck minidress. She was sipping something honey colored from her champagne flute, the stem tied with a white ribbon. Without a word, the three girls got close, pressed their foreheads together. The tension Kasey had worried about was there, but it wasn’t as thick as she’d anticipated. And it disappeared in a blink as soon as Taylor appeared.
“Oh me, me! Lemme in!” Taylor said, squeezing in next to Kasey and kissing her cheek. “Kase, you’re here and I can’t believe I’m looking at you! I love your boots!” she said, putting her arms around the girls.
“Hi, Taylor! Yes, yes, I’m here,” Kasey said.
“Tay! I haven’t even seen your ring. Where’s Ben? I haven’t seen him either! Where’s the groom?” a woman said a bit too loudly from behind them, and that quickly, the embrace was broken. Taylor was gone, replaced by Ada, who reached out for Kasey’s hand but laughed as Kasey used it to take the first bite of her cupcake.
“This is so good, Ada. Caro, this is so good,” Kasey said to them. She took another bite. She hadn’t eaten all morning and that cupcake tasted as if it’d been baked by God Himself.
Rosemarie’s finger got the rebel frosting from the tip of Kasey’s nose, and she licked it off. Caro smiled at them and retrieved the small, round flask she had hidden behind the flowerpot on the railing. Refilled her flute.
“Day-drinking Foxberry Bourbon? Tsk-tsk, Caroppenheimer, you naughty minx,” Rosemarie said, calling Caro by the nickname they’d given her in kindergarten. Caroline Oppenheimer turned into Caro Oppenheimer turned into Caroppenheimer. Even though she was Caroline Foxberry now, the nickname was forever stuck like glue.
Caro winked at them. “Cheers!” she said.
Her new husband’s family came from a long line of slaveowners and tobacco farmers, and they owned the brewery, the winery, and the two large distilleries near town, as well as several others spread across the South. The list went on and on: Foxberry Beer, Foxberry Gin, Foxberry Vodka, Foxberry Bourbon, Foxberry Wine, Foxberry Moonshine. At Halloween? Foxberry Pumpkin Ale. Christmas, Foxberry Winter Spice. Why not Foxberry Resurrection Communion Juice for Easter? Or start calling it Foxberry Rain when the heavens open? Aren’t they all soaking up the Foxberry Sun? Kasey thought as she watched Caro drink.