Daughters Of The Bride (29 page)

Joyce’s stern expression didn’t change. “Was that a yes?”

Courtney blinked. “What? Of course it’s a yes. Yes, I want to be the events planner. Full-time. I’ll miss cleaning toilets, but I’ll get over it.”

Joyce smiled. “I’m glad to hear that because I’ve already hired the new maids.”

“What if I’d said no?”

“I’m afraid I would have had to fire you.”

Courtney was glad she was sitting down. “For real?”

“I love you, child, but every bird needs to leave the nest. You weren’t flying before. Now you are. I’m proud of you, Courtney. You’ve accomplished a lot. Everyone’s afraid at one time or another. The trick is not letting the fear control you.”

* * *

Rachel put in the last bobby pin and reached for the hair spray. The updo flattered her mother’s features. Maggie had decided on a short veil anchored by a comb.

“When the ceremony is over,” Rachel said as she put down the can of hair spray, “I’ll be able to pull the pins. The curls will stay in and you’ll have a more casual look for the reception.”

“I love it. Thank you, darling.”

They were in Maggie’s large bathroom for a practice hairstyle session. Her mother stood and walked over to her closet, then looked back over her shoulder. “Not a word to your sisters. I want them surprised.”

“I promise.”

Rachel was used to dealing with brides and their idiosyncrasies. She was usually one of the first nonfamily members to see the dress. Often she did a practice run on hair and makeup, and at the end the bride put on the dress to check the look. With her mother, she’d only created the hairstyle. She’d done Maggie’s makeup countless times before.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need you to zip me up,” her mother called.

Rachel stepped into the closet and pulled up the zipper, then quickly retreated to the bathroom so she could get the full effect.

Her mother stepped into the room.

“Oh, Mom. You’re beautiful.”

The dress was perfect. The lining was pale pink and strapless, but the sheer ivory lace overlay came up to her collarbones. The same overlay created long sleeves and fell to the tea-length hem. The bodice was fitted with the skirt flaring out. It swayed and moved with every step.

Her pumps were hand painted with a pink floral pattern and the date of the wedding in the design.

“My bouquet is white with hints of green, so it will show up against my dress. You girls are carrying pink flowers.”

Rachel sighed. “You’re stunning. It couldn’t be more right for you.”

Maggie’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you so much. Now help me unzip this. I don’t want anything to happen to it before the wedding.”

Once Maggie was back in her shorts and T-shirt, she and Rachel went out to the kitchen. They sat across from each other at the glass table. Her mother had promised lunch in exchange for the practice session.

“You’ve been very good to me,” her mother said. “I’ve always been able to lean on you.” Maggie poured them each a glass of iced tea from a pitcher on the table. “Maybe a little too much.”

“Mom, I do hair for a living. I want to help.”

Her mother looked at her. “I’m talking about when you were little and your father died. Finding out about what Courtney kept from me has gotten me to thinking. I was so desperate back then. So frightened. Phil died and then I lost the house. If Joyce hadn’t taken us in, we would have been in a shelter. I had nothing and I didn’t think I could hold it together. I depended on you to help me. But you were just a little girl.”

“I was scared, too,” Rachel admitted. “Helping you gave me something to focus on.”

“I was drowning and you saved me.”

“That’s a little dramatic.”

“Maybe, but it’s true.” Her mother leaned toward her. “Tell me I didn’t ruin you forever. Tell me I’m not the reason you and Greg split up.”

“Are you stressed about the wedding? You’re acting kind of strange.”

“I’m serious. Did I destroy your marriage?”

Rachel thought about all that had gone wrong. Her inability to ask for what she wanted or accept help of any kind. Greg not being mature enough to handle the responsibility. They had been in love, but love hadn’t been enough.

“We were young and made a lot of mistakes,” she said. “That’s why we split up.”

Had her mother’s actions formed parts of her character that had contributed to the failure of her marriage? Maybe, but saying that wouldn’t help anyone. She and Greg were responsible for what had happened—no one else.

“And now?” her mother asked.

“We’re friends. We like each other again.” Maybe there was more, but she wasn’t sure. “I’ve forgiven him. That feels good. We have Josh.”

“Do you want more?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But that scares me. I’m not sure I could handle losing him a second time.”

“Why would you have to? You’ve learned a lot and so has he. Maybe this time it will last forever.”

That was nice to think about. Being with Greg again. Giving their marriage a second chance. And while she thought they were headed in that direction, she wasn’t sure. Because neither of them had actually said the words—or made the offer. She knew why she hadn’t, but what about him? Which brought her to her biggest fear. That she was the only one considering trying to make it work again.

29

SIENNA POURED ANOTHER
glass of wine and passed it to Courtney. Her sister cradled it in her hand. They were outside in Sienna’s backyard. The night was clear and still warm. Music drifted to them from a neighbor’s house.

“I just don’t know,” Courtney was saying. “About Quinn. He said he loved me. I can’t wrap my head around that. What does it mean?”

“Not to state the obvious, but I’m guessing it means he loves you.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Do you love him back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. No. I’m not sure.”

Sienna held in a smile. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only mentally twisted Watson sister. “Let’s try an easier question. What don’t you like about him?”

Courtney sipped her wine. “Nothing.”

“There has to be something.”

“He can be bossy, but it’s always in a nice way, and I can’t think of anything else. He’s successful, he’s kind, he loves his grandmother and her dogs, he cares about people, even though he pretends he doesn’t. He’s talented. I’m sure the other women in his life would be furious to know he’s finally ready to settle down and I’m having a freak-out. My life could be in danger.”

Sienna laughed. “Just don’t tell them.”

“Believe me, I won’t. I’m so confused.” She put her arm on the table and her head on her arm. “Tell me what to do.”

“I’m the wrong person to be giving advice. I’m equally confused, but for different reasons.”

Courtney straightened and looked at her. “You don’t love David, do you?”

Sienna hadn’t expected that. “Of course I do. Why would you say that? He’s—” She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. The truth was there—it had been there for a long time. Probably from the beginning. “I don’t love David.”

She gulped some wine, then continued. “I tried to tell him before. I tried breaking up with him. He said it was because I was scared. That Dad’s death had scarred me, but that I was the one for him. He said he’d waited for me.” She drank more wine and waited for her gut to tell her what to do. “Oh, God. I have to break off the engagement.”

Courtney patted her arm. “You’re so brave. I admire that.”

Sienna stared at her. “I can’t break up with him.”

“What? Why not?”

“He’s out of town until Mom’s wedding. Literally. He’s on a business trip, then he’s going to go see his family for a couple of days. He’ll fly in late Friday night. I can’t break up with him over the phone. That would be horrible and tacky. Plus, I have to give him back the ring.”

She glanced at her hand, then pulled it from her finger and tossed the ugly ring on the table. “I want to break up with him and I have to wait over a week. I have to talk to him on the phone and I don’t think I can do this.”

“Breathe,” Courtney instructed. “Just breathe. It says a lot that you want to face him in person. That’s very mature. As for the phone, he’ll be busy. You can be busy, too. Text rather than talk. That will make things easier.”

“You’re right. I can do this. It’s fine. I’m fine.” She swallowed more wine. “I’m also going to be drunk, but I’m not driving. How are you going to get home?”

“I may have to crash on your sofa.”

“Of course you can. Let’s do that. I’ll order a pizza, we’ll open another bottle of wine and deal with the disaster our love lives have become.”

“That sounds like a perfect plan.”

Sienna looked at her sister. “You’re not happy.”

“I miss Quinn.”

Sienna waited.

Courtney grimaced. “I know, I know. I’m an idiot. A wonderful man loves me, and I send him away because I’m scared. It’s what I did with my job. Hiding behind what was safe. Am I hiding again or being sensible?”

“You’re hiding.”

Courtney rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to think about that before you answer?”

“Sorry, no. Look, it’s always easier to see what’s wrong with other people than with ourselves. You knew I didn’t love David. I know you care about Quinn a lot more than you’re willing to admit. So what are you going to do about it? Be brave or be stupid?”

“Ouch. Are those my only choices?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Sienna had to admit she was feeling pretty damned smug. She didn’t have to deal with her crisis for over a week. So it was easy to tell other people what to do.

“Do I have to decide tonight?”

“It would probably be best if you didn’t.”

“Then I won’t.”

“That’s my girl.”

* * *

The new recording studios were currently empty, but soon they would be filled with equipment. Soundproofing had been added to make sure that no outside noise got in, and no inside noise got out. Upstairs were offices, workrooms and a large kitchen/living room area. Writing and recording took time and energy. Sessions could go well into the night. People needed access to food and a chance to unwind.

For a couple of days, Quinn had toyed with the idea of putting in a couple of bedrooms, where artists could crash between sessions, but he’d decided against it. The sofas in the living room were enough. Access to a bedroom was only going to cause trouble with the nonmusical partners.

“It’s totally rad,” Peter said, his voice filled with awe. “I can’t wait to record here.”

“Me, too,” Collins added.

“The equipment gets delivered next week,” Wayne told them. “State-of-the-art. Quinn picked it all himself.”

“So if you don’t like it, you know who to blame.” Quinn pointed to the stairs. “Be careful when you go up. It’s not finished yet.”

He didn’t want his most successful band getting injured by falling through a wall or down stairs.

“We should be up and running by the middle of September,” Wayne told him when the guys had disappeared upstairs. “Just let me know when you’re ready for me to start looking for a house for you. I’ve heard good things about a local real estate agent. I’m going to get in touch with him.” Wayne looked momentarily uncomfortable. “Should I, ah, talk to Courtney about the house?”

Quinn knew there would come a day when hearing her name wouldn’t be a big deal. When he wouldn’t feel the fist to the gut or a drowning sense of loss. Eventually, he would be able to be pragmatic. No big deal. They’d had a good time and then it had ended.

“What?” Wayne demanded. “What happened?”

“We’re not together anymore.”

His retired marine assistant actually flinched. “You didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“And now?”

“Still don’t.”

“What happened?”

Quinn told himself not to take anything out on Wayne. Nothing was his fault. “I told her I loved her and she ran. Literally. It was impressive.”

“She’s scared.”

That was what he thought, too. Given her past—all she’d been through—she wouldn’t trust easily. Wouldn’t want to take the risk. She’d been so angry at his declaration. He knew that fear lived behind the anger, but that didn’t make being without her any easier.

“She’ll come around,” Wayne told him.

“Not so far.”

“When did this happen?”

“On the way home from LA. I told her in the car.” He grimaced. “Not my most romantic moment.”

“She’ll come around,” Wayne repeated. “You two are good together. You’re happy with her and she’s happy with you. Don’t give up.”

He’d never been a big believer in hope. It generally let him down. He was more of a doer. But in this case, he wasn’t sure what he should be doing. His heart said for him to go to her. His head said to give her time.

“There is irony in the fact that I finally fell in love, and the woman in question wants nothing to do with me. Maybe it’s karma.”

“You don’t believe in karma.”

“No, but it makes for a good story.”

“Are we still staying in Los Lobos?”

An interesting question Quinn had asked himself. For a couple of days, he’d wrestled with going back to LA. But what would that prove? “We’re staying.”

“Even though you’ll have to deal with her?”

“Especially because I’ll have to deal with her. Better for both of us to face what happened.”

“Good. The only way to get over something like that is to go through it. You’re not running. That’s the first step.”

“Thanks.”

Quinn figured if anyone knew about getting over an incredible loss, it was Wayne. He would take the other man’s advice and get through it. Eventually. Because, to be honest, he couldn’t imagine ever not loving Courtney. She’d fundamentally changed him and he had a bad feeling there was no going back.

* * *

Rachel told herself that this particular Monday wasn’t any hotter than the other summer Mondays. That the only reason she felt uncomfortable was her back was killing her. She had an appointment with the chiropractor in the morning—something she’d foolishly been putting off. Now she was paying the price.

Of course, Heather wasn’t there—as per usual. Rachel started to drag out the equipment she was responsible for, along with the water and the snacks, then stopped herself. Ask for help, she thought. It was time to start doing that.

She hobbled over to the coach. “Could you and the boys help me with the things in my car? My back’s acting up.”

“Sure, Rachel.” He looked around. “Where’s Heather?”

“I have no idea.”

He blew a whistle and waved in the team. In less than a minute, her SUV was empty and the supplies were in place. Thank goodness. Every step was a nightmare. The instant she got home, she was taking a muscle relaxer. She didn’t like how they made her feel, but she didn’t have much choice.

She took her seat on the uncomfortable benches and groaned. This was going to be a long, long game.

About five minutes before they were due to start, Rachel saw Heather walking toward her. Rage propelled her to her feet. All right—she’d learned how to ask for help. Now she was going to give the other woman a piece of her mind. How dare she leave Rachel with everything for the entire season?

“Hi.” Heather, a brown-haired woman of average build, waved at Rachel. “You’re probably surprised to see me.”

“I am.”

“I’m sorry about not being around this summer. I should have called.” Tears filled Heather’s eyes. “I just...”

Rachel felt her anger fade. She pulled the other woman to the bench and they both sat down. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom had a stroke. It was pretty bad. That was hard enough, but then my dad took off. Just like that. They’ve been married nearly forty years and he left her. He said he didn’t want to be married to a cripple.”

Tears spilled down Heather’s cheeks. “She’s paralyzed on one side. She can’t talk. I don’t know how much she understands, but I feel like she keeps waiting for him to show up at the rehab facility. But I haven’t heard from him in a month. Paul’s been great, but he has to work and the kids are scared. I cry all the time.”

“It’s okay,” Rachel told her, thinking this would have been good information to have weeks ago. Which she would have had if she’d bothered to ask. Instead, she’d fumed and assumed. Talk about dumb.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch with you sooner,” Heather continued. “I should have.”

“No. It’s okay. You have plenty on your plate. I’ve been dealing. I’ll ask one of the other moms to help on a permanent basis.” She paused. “I won’t say why unless you want me to.”

“You can say my mom had a stroke,” Heather told her as she wiped her face. “But maybe if you wouldn’t say anything about my dad?”

“Whatever you want.” Rachel hugged her. “Let me know how I can help. Oh, I know. Why don’t I stop by the rehab facility? I can wash and cut your mother’s hair. Maybe it would make her feel a little better about herself.”

Heather began to cry again. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

They sat together for the first three innings, then Heather excused herself to go check on her mother. Rachel promised to stop by the first part of next week. By then the wedding would be over and her back should be better.

Josh’s team won by two. There was plenty of cheering about that. Lena asked if Josh could go to the movies with her and her son. Rachel accepted gratefully. A quiet evening was exactly what she needed.

She made her way to the restroom, then walked back to the field and found that everyone was gone. There was still equipment on the field and water bottles on the table. A cookie wrapper tumbled past in the light breeze. As she bent to pick it up, she felt the telltale jolt of fire in her hip and knew it was going to be bad.

Sure enough, as she straightened, her entire back locked. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as muscles tightened like a vise. Even taking a single step was excruciating. She cried out and reached for something to hang on to, but there was nothing. The benches were too far away. The pain was a wild animal. It claimed her with sharp teeth and claws, leaving her whimpering.

She thought longingly of Greg. Even when things had been at their worst in their marriage, he’d always been there when her back went out. He’d taken care of her, once even carrying her to bed when she couldn’t walk. Too bad she’d lost that in the divorce.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Courtney. The call went right to voice mail. It was the same for Sienna. With her mom, there were a half dozen rings before the voice mail picked up. A quick glance at the time told her that Lena and the boys would already be in the movie theater and that Lena would have turned off her phone.

She didn’t know what to do. Finally, she dialed the fire station and asked for Greg.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry to bother you at work,” she began. She could barely speak. She was terrified she was going to start spasming any second. “I tried everyone else first. It’s just...” She felt herself sinking into despair.

“Rachel, what is it? Are you hurt?”

“Josh had a game. Everyone’s gone. I have things to take home and my back went out. I can’t move. I’m sorry. I need help.”

“Hang tight. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Rachel put her phone into her pocket and started for the bleachers. She’d made it about halfway there when she saw an unfamiliar truck pull up next to her SUV. Greg jumped out, spoke to the driver for a second, then sprinted toward her.