Daughters Of The Bride (30 page)

Relief nearly made her collapse. She wanted to burst into tears and throw herself at him. Instead, she did her best to hold it together.

“Thanks for coming,” she said.

“Happy to help.” He studied her. “What’s the best way to get you to the car?”

“Let me lean on you.”

He got close and let her find the most comfortable position. She also set the pace. Once she was in the passenger seat of her SUV, he jogged back to the field and collected everything before returning to climb into the driver’s seat.

“Do you have your pills?” he asked.

“Yes. And an appointment with the chiropractor. I’ve been putting it off. I should know better.”

She thought he might tease that, yes, she should, but instead he was all business. He drove to her place and got her inside. When she was stretched out on the bed, he got her the pills and a glass of water.

“Thanks.”

He hovered without sitting on the mattress. She swallowed the medication before handing him the glass.

“I have to get back to the station,” he told her. “I’ve called Courtney. She’ll be here in a little bit to check on you.”

Rachel looked at the man she’d once been married to. He was saying and doing all the right things, but she had the feeling that something was wrong.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“You seem... I don’t know. Something.”

He looked at her for a long time. “Nothing’s changed. It’s exactly as it was. Let me go see if Courtney’s here.”

With that he walked out of the bedroom. What on earth? But before she could try to figure out what that cryptic exchange had meant, her back spasmed and it was all she could do to keep breathing. When the muscles released, she looked at the clock and promised herself that the medication would kick in soon and then she would be fine.

* * *

“I hated those dresses,” Maggie said, pointing to the pictures in the album. “My mother loved them.”

Two days after Rachel’s back went out and three days before the wedding, Courtney sat on her mother’s sofa, looking at an old photo album. Her parents looked impossibly young and in love. The bridesmaid dresses—a hideous green with big bows in the front—were unfortunate.

“Was it the style back then?” she asked.

“No. They would have been ugly in any decade.” She closed the album and smiled at her daughter. “Have I thanked you for all you’re doing for me with the wedding?”

“You have.”

“I want to say it again. Thank you. I’m excited about everything. You’ve made my day special.”

“Don’t say that,” Courtney warned her. “No talking about how great it’s going to be. I don’t want to tempt fate. So far all our crises have been small and I want to keep it that way.”

“Have you talked to Rachel?”

“She’s feeling much better. The chiropractor did his magical thing, she’s taking her pills and she’s on the mend. She swears she’ll be fine by Saturday.”

Courtney had been through her checklist about fifteen times in the past two days. Flowers would be arriving in the morning. The food was ordered, the servers scheduled. The weather was supposed to be perfect. The tents would be put up the day after tomorrow, everyone had their dresses or tuxes and Gracie had sent pictures of the cake as it was being constructed.

“I’m hopeful,” she said, crossing her fingers as she spoke, “that everything will go smoothly.”

“I know it will.” Her mother squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad you’re the one making this happen. I’m so proud of you and your new job.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“So much responsibility.” Her expression fell a little. “And to think I could have lost you.”

“Mom, stop. You didn’t lose me.”

“But I could have. You were so angry at me for so long.”

Courtney really didn’t want to talk about their past. “I was young and confused about a lot of things.”

“You rejected me.” Her mother sighed. “Perhaps a case could be made that I rejected you first.”

That got Courtney’s attention. “Why would you say that?”

“You were right—I didn’t know what was going on in your life. By the time you were eight or nine, I was finally successful. I was terrified of losing it all again. What happened after your father’s death changed me. I knew I never wanted to be dependent on anyone else again. I wanted to make my own way, no matter what.”

She looked at her daughter. “I forgot about what was important. My girls should have been my priority. Somewhere along the way, that message became something else.”

“I’m right here,” Courtney promised.

“Thank you for that. I hope you know I’m here for you, too.”

“I do.”

“Then why haven’t you told me about your breakup with Quinn?”

Courtney had no idea which of her sisters had tattled, but she shouldn’t be surprised. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Isn’t it? You cared about him very much.”

Not something she wanted to talk about. Courtney missed Quinn more than she would have thought possible. She hadn’t realized how much he’d become a part of her life. He was the first person she thought of when she woke up and the last one before she went to sleep. She spent her days avoiding him and hoping to run into him at the same time. So far she’d seen him only from a distance.

“I almost didn’t go out with Neil,” her mother said. “But I said yes because... Actually, I’m not sure why I said yes. It was one of those things. By the end of the first date, I knew he was special. And then I got scared.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want to fall in love again. I didn’t want to get my heart broken. Losing your father was hard enough, but having him not have taken care of us was equally devastating. I never wanted to be that scared again, and I knew that if I let Neil in, I was at risk.”

“Neil will always take care of you.”

“I know that now, but I didn’t at the time. I had to believe.” The smile returned. “You know what’s funny? I didn’t have to believe in him. I had to believe in myself. I had to know I would be strong enough to survive whatever happened. Because loving someone means giving your whole heart, and once you do that, you have no defenses. You’re at their mercy.” Her mother took her hand again. “I think that’s what you’re worried about. Being at Quinn’s mercy.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“What if he left you? What if he died? What if you loved him more? What if he changed his mind?”

All questions Courtney had been asking herself.

“Love hurts,” she whispered.

Her mother hugged her. “I was afraid that was the lesson you’d learned. It’s the wrong one, darling. Love doesn’t hurt. Not when it’s right.”

“You loved Daddy and you were hurt.”

“I was. But that was because I lost him. It wasn’t the loving that was painful, it was the losing.”

“But if you hadn’t loved him, then you wouldn’t have lost him.”

“Perhaps, but then I wouldn’t have had him, either. And that was worth everything.” Her mother stroked her hair. “It’s the cliché about the fact that we need rain to get a rainbow.”

“I don’t want to risk losing Quinn, so it’s safer not to love him.”

“There’s a small flaw in your plan,” her mother murmured. “You’re already in love with him.”

Courtney started to protest. She didn’t love Quinn. She’d been very clear about that. She liked him. A lot. She wanted to be with him. The list of his good qualities was endless. But that wasn’t love.

“I don’t love him,” she said firmly. “I refuse.”

Maggie patted her hand. “Yes, dear. I’m sure that’s going to work brilliantly.”

30

BY THURSDAY, RACHEL
had returned to the land of the living. Her back was better. She could move with relative ease—however, she couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong. The problem was she didn’t know what the something was.

Sienna showed up a little before noon for a trim before the wedding. The short, spiky style was easy to maintain—requiring only regular cuts and a free hand with product.

“I can’t believe the wedding’s in a couple of days,” Sienna said as Rachel began to cut her hair. “It seemed so far away when Mom and Neil announced their engagement.”

“I know. The summer’s going by so fast. Josh starts school in less than a month.”

“Is he going to be spending more time with his dad now?”

“What do you mean?”

Sienna winced. “Crap. I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to. Do real estate agents have to keep secrets?”

“I don’t know.” Rachel lowered her arms to her sides. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Her sister looked guilty. “Jimmy happened to mention that Greg had asked him to start looking for a house. I guess he’s tired of living with his folks. So I thought that meant Greg would spend more time with Josh. Don’t say anything, okay?”

“Sure.”

Rachel’s response was automatic. She changed the subject to the fund-raising effort Sienna was involved with and managed to fill the rest of the appointment with casual conversation. But on the inside, she was seething.

How could he? She thought they were working toward something. She didn’t know exactly what she and Greg had going on, but it wasn’t supposed to end with him buying a house. She’d always thought—hoped, really—that one of the reasons he’d stayed with his folks was that he was thinking they might get back together. She’d started wondering about that, too.

But apparently, she’d been the only one showing up. Just like when they were married. She was doing all the work and he was just along for the ride. He was... He was...

She sucked in a breath as she realized she had no idea what he was doing, because she hadn’t talked to him about it. She hadn’t asked what Greg wanted and she sure hadn’t offered any thoughts of her own. She’d gone along, she’d hoped, she’d assumed, but she’d never asked. Or been clear about her feelings. She’d never once admitted she was still in love with him and wanted them to get back together.

She finished with her sister and checked her schedule. She had nearly an hour break. If Greg had been working Monday, he would be off today. She texted him and asked him to meet her at her place in five minutes.

Rachel paid attention to the road as she drove. She knew she was in a state and didn’t want to rear-end some innocent bystander. She was confused. Scared and upset and mad at both Greg and herself.

She pulled into her driveway about ten seconds before Greg pulled up next to her. He got out of his truck and circled around to hold open her SUV door.

“What’s up?”

He looked good. His T-shirt was worn with a couple of holes around the collar. He had on baggy shorts that should have been ridiculous, but weren’t. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.

She loved him and she had no idea if he loved her back. If he wanted a relationship with her or if he was just playing her. Fear swept through her—terror at losing him again. And because being afraid terrified her, she retreated to something much, much safer. Anger.

“You!” She poked him in the chest as she got out of the car and glared at him. “How dare you? Was it fun for you? Did you get a good laugh out of making me think you actually gave a damn?”

In the back of her mind a voice whispered that she might want to take this inside, but she ignored it and everything else except her unexpected and possibly inappropriate rage.

“What was with all that crap?” she demanded. “Hanging out here, acting as if you cared about me? Saying all those things about learning your lesson? It was all just lies.”

For one brief second, she hoped he would pull her close and say, “Of course not, Rachel. I’ve loved you forever.” Which didn’t happen. Not even close.

He leaned toward her, his dark eyes bright with anger. “It wasn’t crap. I was working the program, Rachel, even though you don’t make it easy. If anyone has a beef here, it’s me. You’re the one who played me.”

“I didn’t. You started this and now you’re going to twist it around? That is so like you. Well, fine. You got your wish. You hurt me. I’m hurt. Are you happy? I hope it was worth it, because know this. I will never make things easy for you again.”

He took a step back and stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Hurt you? That’s not possible. That would require you to give a shit, which you obviously don’t. So no, I didn’t hurt you.”

What was he talking about? “You did. You’re moving out of your parents’ house. You’re getting your own place. This summer was just a prank. You were doing everything you could to show me you still cared about me. About us. You swore you were a changed man, but you’re not.”

“What do you expect me to do?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “You made your feelings very clear the other day.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You called me last!” he yelled. “You hurt your back and you needed help and you called me last. You made sure you told me, too, so I would know just how unimportant I am to you.”

She felt like a cartoon character—the one whose jaw drops to the ground, then stays there. “What are you talking about?”

He turned and walked away three or four steps before facing her. “Do you think I’ve liked living with my parents? I don’t. I’m nearly thirty-six. I feel like a fool. But I did it to save money. Because I kept thinking we would find our way back to each other. I wanted to help pay off the house and have enough left over so that you could cut back on your hours and we could have another baby.
That’s
what I’ve been doing all summer. Trying to prove myself to you. But it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re not interested.”

Her brain had fainted or something, because she couldn’t think. “You want us to get back together and have more kids?”

“I thought it was a possibility. Because I’m an idiot.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You called me last.” He glared at her as he spoke. “You were hurt and desperate and you called everyone you knew first and
then
you called me. If you cared about me, if you trusted me and needed me, you would have called me first.”

“You were at work. I didn’t want to bother you at the station. If you’d been home, I would have called you first. I was being nice!”

“No. Admit it. You don’t care at all.”

Her anger returned. “You don’t get to speak for me,” she told him. “You don’t get to say what I want or don’t want. You don’t get to say what I was thinking. That’s my right. That’s for me. And even though it doesn’t matter at all, I do care. A lot. So there.”

She got back in her SUV and started the engine. She was shaking so hard, she could barely drive, but there was no way she was staying.

She made it back to the salon in plenty of time for her appointment. She drank water, took her over-the-counter anti-inflammatory and then reviewed her schedule for the rest of the day.

She’d made her point and Greg had made his. The thing was, she didn’t know what either of them was going to do with the information.

* * *

Courtney didn’t expect to sleep the night before her mother’s wedding. She assumed she would lie in bed, going over the thousands of details she had to take care of in the morning. So she was surprised to open her eyes and find out that the sun was up and it was already after six.

She stretched and sat up. Physically she felt pretty good. Rested and determined to make this wedding the best it could be. From the pink champagne to the kazoos Neil had bought.

Judging by the sunshine flowing through her window, the weather wasn’t going to be a problem. Check. As soon as she was dressed, she would follow up on everything else.

But before she could duck into her tiny bathroom, someone knocked on her door. No, not knocked. Pounded.

“Courtney, get up! You have to come quickly.”

She pulled open her door and saw her friend Kelly standing in the hallway. “It’s six in the morning on a Saturday,” she said in a low voice as she pulled her friend into the room. “You’ll wake the other guests.”

Kelly was pale. “Oh, I think that’s the least of their problems.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The bees. The ones that have been at the Anderson House? The Drunken Red-nosed Honeybees?”

“Yes, what about them?”

“They’re here. I mean they’re everywhere. I think maybe it’s the flowers we set up for your mom’s wedding. Those weird ones Joyce suggested. Or maybe the cherry blossoms. I don’t know. But there are bees.”

Courtney dressed in record time. She didn’t bother to do more than brush her teeth and grab an elastic to hold her hair back. Then she and Kelly took the stairs to the main floor.

Before they even got to the glass doors leading outside, she could hear it. A low humming sound, like millions of tiny wings. It was a sound out of one of her mother’s favorite old movies.
The Naked Jungle.
Of course, there the problem had been ants rather than bees, but the result was the same. Disaster and devastation.

Courtney hurried outside to where the staff were setting up for her mom’s wedding. There were bees everywhere. On the tent, on the chairs, but mostly on the beautiful pots of flowers. Several flew by. They ignored the humans and went on their merry bee way. There were hundreds of them. No, thousands. Thousands and thousands of bees right where the wedding was supposed to be.

“We can’t have the wedding out here,” she breathed. “We’re going to have to move it inside. In less than ten hours.”

Could they do it? Fit in that many people? Dinner was a sit-down service rather than a buffet, which required more room. Plus, they’d planned on having two tents, one for the ceremony and one for the reception. But there was only one ballroom, and it couldn’t hold both the ceremony and the reception. It wasn’t big enough.

Her phone buzzed. She reached for it without looking at the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Courtney. It’s Jill Strathern-Kendrick. I’m sorry to bother you.”

It took Courtney a second to put the name with the face. Or in her case, purpose.

“No,” she said faintly. “No, no, no.”

“I’m so sorry. My water just broke. I can’t believe it. I was late last time. We’re going to the hospital. I won’t be able to perform the ceremony.”

A man’s voice in the background urged Jill to hurry.

“It’s fine,” Courtney said automatically. “Go have your baby. It’s fine.”

She hung up. Kelly stared at her. “The judge?”

“Her water broke.”

“Do you have a backup person who can perform the ceremony?”

“Of course.” Courtney scrolled through her contacts until she found the minister in Sacramento who’d agreed to fill in. She dialed.

“Hello?”

The voice was sleepy. Courtney winced when she realized it was still early. “I’m sorry Reverend Milton. The time. I wasn’t thinking. This is Courtney Watson. I’m calling to say I’m going to need you for my mom’s wedding after all.”

There was a moment of silence, then the reverend cleared her throat. “Courtney. This is unexpected. When I didn’t hear from you, I assumed you didn’t need me. I apologize and don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m in Mexico for a few days. A last-minute vacation with my husband.”

“M-Mexico?” No. No! Courtney closed her eyes. “Okay. Thanks. Have a good time.” She hung up and looked at her friend. “My backup minister is in Mexico.”

“Oh, no,” Kelly breathed. “What are you going to do?”

There was a question. What
was
she going to do?

“Ceremony and reception first, officiant later.”

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

Somewhere around ten, Courtney stopped to breathe and drink water. Two local bee people had carefully moved all the flowers to the far end of the property. Most of the bees had followed, although enough remained by the hotel to confirm that, yes, the wedding really did have to move inside.

She’d worked the seating chart to fit everyone in the ballroom for the reception, had come up with what she thought was a brilliant solution for where to hold the ceremony, and with a little luck, she was all done with disasters for today.

There was still the problem of who was going to perform the actual wedding, she thought, but there might be an answer to that, as well.

She finished her water, wishing it were tequila instead, then walked around to the bungalow that stood by itself. Quinn’s bungalow. She’d already checked that his Bentley was in the parking lot, so she knew he was home. What she didn’t know was what he was going to say.

Maybe he would tell her off. Maybe he would profess his love again and beg her to be with him. Maybe pretend he didn’t know her. Maybe he would say no.

She knocked once and waited. The door opened. Quinn stood there in all his Quinn-glory. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how good-looking. His hair was too long, his eyes were too blue. He radiated intensity and power.

Her heart cried out to grab him and hold on. Her brain added that might not be such a bad idea. But the fear—oh, how big and powerful it was. The fear made her say, “I’m sorry to bother you, but the woman who was going to perform the ceremony for my mother’s wedding has gone into labor and my backup minister is on vacation in Mexico. I know you’re licensed in the state. Can you fill in?”

She hated how businesslike she sounded. How impersonal. Why couldn’t she be softer? Flirt or something?

“What time?” he asked.

“Five thirty.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

She drew in a breath and tried to think of something to say. Something that would make him smile or laugh or even invite her in. But she couldn’t find any words, and before she could fake it, he closed the door in her face.

* * *

Rachel was the tiniest bit spaced out on muscle relaxers, but as she wasn’t driving, she figured that was okay. Yes, she was doing hair and makeup—so there might be a small risk of things going awry. Still, she decided it was better to enjoy the wedding without having to be in pain or worry about her nicely healing back.