Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 22

I heard her voice trail as she bent down, pulling out a small mixer. I looked between the mixer and the bowl warily, not quite sure it would be able to handle the batter.

"Uh...is that going to work?" I asked, looking down at the triple batch of batter we had made. "It's pretty thick."

She chuckled. "Nah, this has like 250 horses on it," she finished, setting everything up so that she could blend everything together. "Harry had gotten me that huge mixer," she paused, nodding towards the far corner of the kitchen where an industrial sized mixer took up about two feet of counter space. "And then he realized what a pain in the arse it was to use, so he got me this smaller one for Mother's Day."

She smiled, a motherly, happy smile, as she starts beating the dough with her mixer, almost insanely happy to be doing something for her son with something he got her. The love she had for her boy radiated, and it warmed me from the core. I hope I could be a mother like her one day.

"So, Eleanor...have you and Harry started on the guest list yet for the wedding?" She asked.

But my concern continued to rise as the mixer got louder and more whiney in frequency the higher she turned up the speed, having to make her voice louder to compete with it.

Eleanor's head snaps at the mention of her name. "Oh, yes." She stared at the mixer with an annoyed expression, pissed at it for forcing her to raise her voice to compete with it. "We just started gathering the names."

"Great to hear," Anne replies, pleased to finally have Eleanor engaged in a conversation instead of her stuck with her nose in her computer or her phone. "Remind me later and I'll give you our Church directory. Harry will want everyone there."

I watched Eleanor's face go from completely disengaged to hyperaware in two seconds flat. She forced a tight lipped smile while trying to process what she just said.

"What?" she asked, delicately.

Anne tilted her head to the side, unable to hear her over the whirring of the mixer, forcing Eleanor to get a bit closer. Candy followed suit, not wanting to miss any of the conversation. "What was that, dear?" Anne asked again.

Eleanor grits her teeth, annoyed at this entire situation. Fearing for my life and feeling the awkwardness stretch over me, I reach for a dish rag to start cleaning up the messy part of the counter as a distraction.

"Harry...wants people...from here? At our wedding?" Eleanor asked incredulously. The thinly masked edge to her voice made me cringe.

Anne looked at her bewildered, concern evident in her features. "Well, yeah...why wouldn't he? This is home, and he's been talking about his wedding since he was 7 when my husband and I got divorced."

"He...he never mentioned it," she offers, letting her finger swipe over a dusting of flour on the counter.

Anne's head snaps up, her jaw dropping in the process. "He...he never mentioned it? That boy, I swear..." she finished, sharing a look with Gemma before turning to me.

His sister piped in. "It's true, ever since he was little he talked about getting married in our Grandpa's church -- our dad's side, not mom's. He's the local pastor around here, although retired now -- obviously," she cleared her throat. "He always said he wanted the whole congregation to be there, even when he got famous, he still stood by it on the rare occasion he would talk about it. Something about it grounding him or something. I dunno, he's more emotional than any girl I know," Gemma finished with a chuckle, always having to rib her brother a bit, even if he wasn't there to defend himself.