Daughters Of The Bride (22 page)

* * *

Rachel hesitated before going into the coffee shop. While her self-actualization plan was moving forward, she felt as if her newfound strength was a lot more flash than substance. She was doing a great job walking every day, and she would say she was about eighty percent on her new food plan. Her pants were looser, her stomach a little flatter, and most important, she felt better about herself.

But she suspected it wouldn’t take much to derail her. The evening with Greg was proof of that. After their kiss, she’d felt shaky and fragile for a couple of days. She’d just gotten over that when Courtney had texted her, yet again, suggesting they get together to talk.

Avoiding her sister seemed so much easier than discussing what had happened, but the truth was, with their mom getting married, avoidance, however cheerful a thought, wasn’t an option.

Which was why she found herself wanting an extra shot of mocha syrup with her latte. Sugar could always be counted on to help her be brave.

She took her drink—sans chocolate—to one of the small tables to wait. She was a few minutes early. She and Courtney had exactly thirty minutes to solve their problem. Then both of them had to meet Sienna at the bridal shop to pick out bridesmaid dresses. Last she’d heard, there were two choices on the table. The same style in different colors, or different styles in the same color.

Betty Grable had sent several pictures for them to consider. Rachel sipped her coffee as she scrolled through them. The styles weren’t bad, but the colors... Seriously? Shades of pink? Did they have to?

“Hi.”

She looked up as Courtney sat down across from her. Her baby sister looked both anxious and hopeful. Fierce love flooded Rachel, washing away the hurt. For so many years, she’d been the fill-in mom for her youngest sister. She’d been the one to make Courtney’s lunch and make sure her homework was at least attempted. She’d tried and tried to help Courtney learn how to read, but nothing she’d done had worked. It had taken a reading disabilities expert to make that happen.

Rachel knew her sister being left behind two grades hadn’t been her fault, but she still felt guilty about it. Ridiculous, but true.

“I’m sorry,” Courtney told her. “I should have told you. At first I was afraid to tell anyone because I was so sure I was going to be a disaster. That I wouldn’t be able to even get my GED. But then I did and my teacher suggested I apply to community college. That floored me. So I got the idea of surprising everyone with a diploma. It just kind of grew from there.”

She swallowed. “It’s just that I spent so long being the problem child. You know? I wanted to be the successful one. Just once.”

Rachel knew her well enough to read between the lines. She remembered all the times she’d tried to comfort a devastated Courtney when her sister had come home from school, crying because the kids had called her stupid or retarded. She’d been so incredibly frustrated herself—unable to understand what was wrong. What must her sister have gone through?

“I know I hurt you,” Courtney continued. “I’m so sorry about that. I honestly never thought about it from anyone’s perspective but mine.”

Rachel stood and held open her arms. Courtney rushed to her and hung on so tight, Rachel could barely breathe. But that was okay. Better to have a sister than air.

“I’m sorry, too,” Rachel said. “But also happy and proud. Really proud. Look at you.”

Courtney drew back, her expression apprehensive. “What about being mad?”

“I’m still a little mad, but I’ll get over it.”

Courtney got a latte for herself, then rejoined Rachel at the table. They smiled at each other.

“Better,” Rachel admitted. “With everything going on, I’ve really missed you.”

As soon as she spoke, she wanted to call back the words. Courtney wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. Rachel had yet to share with anyone how her feelings for Greg confused her. She wasn’t sure if she should start now or not.

“What’s going on?” Courtney asked.

“Nothing. Everything.” Rachel looked at her coffee, then back at her sister. “I’m losing weight. Walking and eating better. That’s good. There are still times I would kill for a muffin, but even when I eat one, I tell myself it’s okay, as long as I get back to my program.”

“Good for you. I should eat better.” Courtney wrinkled her nose. “Or exercise.”

“Your job is exercise.”

“Kind of. But you’re on your feet, too.”

“Standing, not moving around. There’s a difference. Anyway, that’s part of it. I’m also having trouble with one of the baseball moms. She’s not showing up when she says. It’s frustrating.”

“Have you talked to her?”

Rachel laughed. “You mean in a mature, mother-to-mother kind of way, telling her why I’m upset that she’s not doing what she signed up to do?”

“I’m guessing that’s a no.”

“It is. I’ve tried, but she always has an excuse. So I hate her in my heart and glare at her. I’m starting to think I might have some serious passive-aggressive issues.”

“You think?”

“Hey! You’re still in trouble. You have to be nice.”

Courtney grinned. “I think you’re more aggressive than passive.”

“I hope so.”

“So what else is going on?”

“Just stuff. It’s summer. Josh has a million activities and either Greg or I have to take him there. Thank goodness he’s a social kid. He’s also hanging out with his friends a lot, so that’s good.”

She tried to speak as casually as she could so Courtney wouldn’t suspect that the real problem was her ex rather than her son.

“Greg’s helping?”

Rachel picked up her latte. “Uh-huh. He’s, um, coordinating his schedule to be around as much as possible, which is great for Josh. He needs his dad, especially as he gets older.”

Courtney’s blue eyes focused on Rachel’s face. “You two are getting along?”

“Sure. We always have.”

“Not after you first threw him out.” She hesitated. “What Greg did was horrible, but I always felt bad that you two couldn’t have worked it out. You were so good together. The way he would look at you when you weren’t paying attention...” She sighed. “I always envied that.”

Rachel had no idea what she meant and didn’t know how to ask. “We married young. He wasn’t ready to be a husband and father, and I wasn’t interested in giving him room and time to grow up. I’m not sure we weren’t doomed from the start.”

“That’s too bad. At least you’re getting along better now.”

Rachel thought about the other night, when Greg had shown up at her house to make sure she understood he wasn’t dating anyone else. They were divorced. Why should he care what she thought?

“We are,” she murmured, then glanced at her watch. “We need to get going. Sienna’s meeting us at the store. We have to make a decision today. Betty told me that all the dresses we’re considering are available in different stores around the country, so they’ll be here in time, but we don’t want to wait any longer.”

Courtney sighed. “Okay—here we go. Into the dress lion’s den.” She frowned. “That sounded a lot better in my head.”

Rachel laughed. “I know what you mean. Don’t worry.”

They walked out together and headed around the corner to the dress shop. Sienna hurried in behind them.

“Oh, good. I’m not late,” she said and hugged them both. “Thank God. Normal, rational family. I’m so grateful.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

Sienna covered her face with her hands, then dropped her arms to her sides. “David’s mother flew in for a couple of days over the holiday weekend. It was horrible. She’s obsessed with my height and I don’t know why. David is a few inches taller than me. But she kept going on and on about it. Worse, she brought me his grandmother’s wedding gown. It’s hideous and huge and too short and she expects me to wear it. David said I didn’t have to, but still. It’s there. In his house. I hear it mocking me every time I walk into the living room. Oh, and she’s set up a Facebook page for the family and she expects us to move to St. Louis.”

Sienna paused for breath. “It’s not that he isn’t a great guy and all, it’s just I’m so confused about everything.”

“Including whether or not you love David?” Rachel asked, recognizing the panic in her sister’s voice and eyes.

Sienna stared. “What? No. I love him. At least I’m pretty sure I do. I mean, of course I do. It’s just everything happened so fast and there’s the haunting dress to consider.”

Rachel patted her arm. “It’s a little early to drink, but I think come five o’clock, you need some serious margarita time.”

“Tell me about it.”

22

THIRTY MINUTES LATER
Sienna seemed calmer, the sisters had viewed the color and style choices in the bridesmaid dresses and now had to make a decision. Courtney knew which one she wanted, but it wasn’t up to only her.

“Your mother has settled on a pale pink wedding gown,” Betty told them. “She said your choices are white, ivory, a darker pink or black.”

“Black,” Sienna and Rachel said together.

Courtney nodded. “Black.” White or ivory would be too weird and dark pink, well, given what had already been ordered for the wedding, no one wanted to go there.

“So black dresses in similar styles, but slightly different?” Betty asked.

They all nodded.

“Excellent. Let’s see what we have.”

They walked back to the racks of bridesmaid dresses. She showed them various options. They settled on a designer that had three dresses in the same fabric. They were similar, with just enough variation to keep things interesting.

Each of them took a dress into a changing room. Courtney had barely pulled off her jeans when her phone chirped. She glanced at the message.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?” Rachel called from her room.

“It’s Mom,” Courtney told her. “She wants to know if we have a DJ request list.”

“Do we?”

“Last I heard, we weren’t using a DJ.”

“We are now,” Sienna said from her room. “I know a great guy we use all the time at fund-raisers. Want me to get in touch with him?”

“Yes, please.” Courtney replied to her mother. They were texting now. Not speaking all that much, but there was communication. She supposed that was an improvement.

She pulled off her T-shirt, then slipped on the dress. As soon as it settled on her, she realized her bra wasn’t going to work at all, so she removed that, as well.

“I’m going to need a strapless bra with this,” she said.

“Me, too,” Sienna called.

“Me, three.”

Courtney’s dress was simple. It had a fitted sweetheart bodice, with spaghetti straps. The skirt followed the shape of her body through her hips before falling to the floor. The fabric was flowy without being overwhelming. The cut was flattering and comfortable.

She stepped out of the dressing room. Her sisters did the same. Sienna’s dress was a wrapped bodice, strapless style, while Rachel’s was an off-the-shoulder style. They were all long and fitted to the hips. The black fabric emphasized their blond hair and fair coloring.

The three of them stood on the low dais, in front of the large mirror. Sienna tossed her head.

“We look good.”

“We do,” Rachel agreed, her tone slightly bemused. “I have a great body. I need to appreciate that more.”

“Modest much?” Courtney teased.

“Hey, I’ve been suffering in a muffin-less world. Get off me.”

“Girls,” Sienna said. “Let’s play nice and take a moment to admire us.”

Courtney thought of the high heels Quinn had bought her. While the color wouldn’t work, knowing she had them made her want to buy a pair for this dress. This bridesmaid gown deserved killer heels.

Betty walked in and clapped her hands together. “You’re more stunning than I’d imagined. Impressive. If you don’t order those dresses, I’m going to be disappointed.”

“I think these are the ones,” Sienna said. “You both agree?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I want this one,” Rachel said, turning so she could see herself from the side. “I can’t remember the last time I felt hot. I think it was before I had Josh. This is great. Do you think it would be tacky to wear this dress to work after the wedding?”

They laughed, then stepped down and went back into their dressing rooms.

Courtney pulled on her jeans and felt decidedly less glamorous than she had before. Funny how she’d never thought much about clothes before. They were something she wore, but nothing to care about. But those stupid high heels had changed everything. Or maybe it was just the way Quinn looked at her when she wore them.

Her phone rang. She picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Courtney? It’s Jill Strathern-Kendrick. I’m officiating at your mother’s wedding?”

“Of course.” She couldn’t think of a single reason for the judge to be calling, unless... “Is there a problem?”

“I hope not. You know I’m pregnant, right?”

“Yes.” Courtney held in a groan. Was Jill going to have to be on bed rest or something?

“It seems my due date has changed. The doctor just moved it up a couple of weeks.” Jill gave a strangled laugh. “It’s, ah, technically the day of the wedding.”

“Yikes. That’s not good.”

“I wanted you to know, in case you wanted to make other plans. But to be honest, I was more than two weeks late the first time, so there’s no reason to think I won’t be late again. It’s your call. I’ll totally understand if you want to get someone else.”

Courtney hesitated. “Mom really wants you to perform the ceremony. She’s known your dad forever. He was very nice to her after she lost my father. I’ll talk to her about it, but I’m going to say we’re hoping for the best where you’re concerned.”

“Oh, good. I’d love to be the one to officiate. Your mom is a real sweetie. I plan to be there.”

“That’s great. Thanks for letting me know, Jill.”

Sienna and Rachel walked into the dressing room.

“We heard,” Sienna said. “What are you going to do?”

“Talk to Mom, even though I’m sure she’s going to want to keep Jill. I’ll check around for a backup person in case Jill goes into labor. It will be fine.”

Sienna smiled at her. “You really do have all this under control, don’t you?”

“I’m trying.”

“No. You’re doing a lot more than that.”

* * *

Quinn and Joyce sat out in the shade on the patio of her bungalow. It was midafternoon, with the temperature near eighty. A light breeze off the ocean kept them cool, as did the crisp Washington chardonnay she’d poured. There was a plate of fruit and cheese, along with two very attentive dogs waiting for anything that fell.

Joyce sat on a chaise with her wrapped foot propped up on a pillow. Sarge sat on her lap, watching every bite she took. Pearl had staked her hopes on Quinn. She’d positioned herself in front of him. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to refuse those big brown eyes.

“When do you close on your building?” she asked.

“The end of the week.” There were advantages to paying cash. “Wayne has contractors lined up to give bids. We should be able to start construction by the end of the month.”

He was going to say more when he saw Maggie approaching. He knew from what Courtney had told him that their reconciliation had been halfhearted at best. While he understood that Maggie was still smarting from what she’d found out, he was Team Courtney all the way.

He started to stand, but Joyce put a hand on his arm. She didn’t say anything, but he heard the message all the same. She wanted him to stay in case things got difficult. Maggie gave him a quick smile, then turned her attention to Joyce.

“I just found out about your accident. How are you?”

Joyce waved her into a chair. “I’m fine. It was a silly thing and I’ll be up and about in the next day or two. I’m lucky it was just a sprain. At my age, you don’t want to break a bone.”

“No, you don’t.”

Quinn poured Maggie a glass of chardonnay and passed it to her.

“Thank you.” She took a sip. “I wanted to talk to you about Courtney.”

“I thought maybe you did.” Joyce gave Sarge a piece of cheese. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to say what I did. I shouldn’t have pushed Courtney like that. It wasn’t my secret to share.”

Maggie’s mouth turned down. “What I don’t understand is why she had a secret in the first place. She’s my daughter, but she’s so much closer to you than to me.” Her lower lip trembled. “Everything was so difficult after Phil died. I know I focused on work, but I thought the girls were fine. I never meant to hurt them.”

“You got through it,” Joyce assured her, her tone warm. “Maggie, you had a high school education and minimal training. You lost your husband, your house, and had three young girls to raise. Look at all you did and where you are now.”

“But at what price? Maybe if I’d paid more attention to my girls, they wouldn’t hate me so much.”

“Now you’re being silly. No one hates you. Courtney’s doing everything she can to make your wedding wonderful. It makes her happy to see it all come together.”

Maggie’s expression turned hopeful. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Quinn gave Pearl some watermelon, then stroked her long, silky ears. Not that anyone was asking him, but in his opinion, everything about this conversation was wrong. If Maggie was so upset, why wasn’t she talking to Courtney or her other daughters rather than Joyce? And what about all Courtney had been through? Where was the regret for that?

He remembered what she’d told him about being held back twice and the fact that her mother had barely noticed. How she’d moved out when she turned eighteen rather than face being the freak at school. He recalled the tattoo on her lower back, how it was a promise to herself. She wasn’t going to give in. She was going to keep fighting.

But he didn’t say any of that. He wasn’t part of the conversation.

“Did she mention we’re going to have a DJ?” Maggie asked.

“No. That will be wonderful.”

“I’ve been thinking about the decorations. Don’t you think it would be nice to have some kind of blooming tree brought in?”

Quinn fed Pearl some cheese. He needed the distraction to keep from rolling his eyes. Apparently, Maggie’s pain was fairly short-lived.

“Trees are difficult to move around,” Joyce mused. “But what if we did something that offered the same kind of visual interest? Just the other day I was talking to someone about Astrantia. It’s so beautiful. We could pair it with cherry blossoms.” She turned to Quinn. “Be a dear and get my laptop. I want to show Maggie what an Astrantia looks like.”

He stood and kissed her cheek. “I live to serve.”

She laughed. “If only that were true.”

* * *

“You know I’m busy, right?” Courtney said as Quinn let her into his bungalow. It was Sunday and technically she wasn’t on duty, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t busy. “The wedding is getting closer by the day.”

“Time does march on,” he murmured, shutting the door behind her.

“Ha-ha. There’s some new weird flower combo I have to find and get delivered. Apparently, my mother and I are now speaking, even though we never had anything close to a reconciliation talk. Suddenly, there are texts and phone calls. She wants cake pops.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Like at Starbucks?”

“Yes. Little round cakes on a stick. Pink, of course. The tablecloths are pink and copper, so of course we need copper chargers on the table.” She glared at him. “Do you know what chargers are?”

“Decorative large plates you put out before the dinner. Then they get taken away before anyone eats. It’s very confusing. Your point being?”

“I’m busy! Why am I here?”

He’d texted her and asked her to stop by. Not that she wasn’t happy to see him. He looked good, as always. Faded jeans, an untucked gauzy white shirt rolled up to the elbows. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and the faint stubble looked nice. Sexy.

Don’t think about that!
She didn’t have time for sexual daydreams, let alone actual sex. There were about five thousand things on her to-do list.

“And the shoes,” she added.

“Excuse me?”

“We’ve ordered our bridesmaid dresses. They’re black, which I like. But because of you, I keep thinking I want to wear high heels. I can’t wear the blue ones. So I’m going to have to buy some. This is Los Lobos. Where am I supposed to buy a pair of nice black heels?”

He walked toward her. “They’re not ‘blue ones,’” he said with air quotes. “They’re Saint Laurent suede pumps. I’ll buy you black heels. Maybe Jimmy Choo.” He reached around her to lock the door.

She was both intrigued and stressed. “I don’t have time for sex.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Good. We’re not going to have sex. Come here.”

He led her to the chair by the sofa and told her to sit. She saw a tray on the end table with a couple of small bottles with narrow tips, a washcloth and liquid in a bowl.

“What are you up to?” she asked as she took her seat.

“Henna.”

“Huh?”

He pulled a rolling stool over from the corner and sat down, then wiped the back of her hand with the cloth. “I’m going to do a henna design on the backs of your hands.”

He could have said he was heading off to Jupiter and she wouldn’t have been any more surprised. “Why would you do that?”

He glanced at her, then returned his attention to her hand. “Why not?”

Honest to God, it was a question she couldn’t answer. “Did I mention being busy?”

“You did. Think of this as a mental vacation.”

He picked up one of the small bottles and began squeezing the thick liquid on her skin. He worked quickly, creating a swirly design that was both simple and beautiful. More impressive, he was doing it freehand, without a template or a picture or anything.

“You’ve done this before,” she said.

“A few times. I like to be creative from time to time. I’ve designed a few record covers. It’s a nice change.”

She watched as he took the design past her wrist. With all she had going on, it was kind of nice to just sit for a few minutes.

“What do I have to do to this?” she asked.

“Nothing. Once it dries, you brush off the henna and the design remains. Depending on your skin chemistry, it will last around ten days, maybe longer.”

“Fun.”

He finished with her right hand and rolled the stool to the other side of her chair to start on her left. She closed her eyes as he worked. The past few nights she’d covered the late shift on the registration desk and then had cleaned rooms in the morning. The wedding was only a month away and there were a thousand things to do.

“Joyce showed my mother some flower I have to find, along with cherry blossoms, which are not, by the way, in season. But does that matter to anyone? Of course not. Oh, and she found napkins that match the texture on the wedding cake. I get to order those, as well.”