Made of Honor (7 page)

I looked down at my bare wedding finger. Maybe I needed to take my relationship with Jesus as seriously as Adrian had taken being with Sandy. And Jesus was still alive…

That’s deep.

Lugging the bag of chemicals into the hazardous materials cabinet, I strained to remember a thought that could be food for the devotionals I owed the Sistahood. Especially Tracey, whose new husband had not only declined to apologize for his physical and emotional absence on their honeymoon, but scheduled a series of out-of-town trips in the weeks following. And she was not invited to tag along.

A chime rang at the front as I emerged from the storage area. It’d taken Rochelle long enough to get the food. The deli was only a block away. She’d rejoined Weight Watchers with me enough times to know how cranky I could be on Week One, even if we were trying to do it on our own this time. I’d seen the I-can’t-believe-your-fat-self-is-here-again receptionist’s car on Saturday and peeled out like a wimp.

I pushed back my gloves and grabbed the drawstring handles of another bag of lye. I’d have to wash down the floor with vinegar before leaving tonight. Next time, I’d have the guy deliver to the back. I gathered my determination as the weight taxed my strength. At least I’d have some food now, I thought, heaving with
all my might. “What’d you get? Not plain turkey, I hope. Some honey mustard at least—”

“I didn’t bring any food, but I could go get some if you’d like.”

Adrian’s voice stopped me cold. Only my safety phobia allowed for how that lye bucket made it back to the floor without spilling. I looked down at my sweatshirt and holey jeans in horror. Renee’s laughter whispered from behind the display behind me. What was he doing
here?

He stepped around a stack of boxes. “Hey.”

I stumbled over my former burden, suddenly unconcerned with the danger of its contents. He looked like a dream. A beige turtleneck sweater smoothed against his chocolate throat. His jeans fit, but were slack enough for comfort. A gold stud he’d abandoned when he got saved ten years before sparkled in his left lobe. Tapered loafers and a hip-length leather jacket the same color as his skin finished off the ensemble. He held a small Kick! bag in his hand.

“You look like dinner.” Renee snickered.

No, she didn’t say that. Bad enough that I was thinking it. When Adrian left, I was going to get Renee good. I cut her a scathing look. She raised an eyebrow, knowing that she’d voiced my true thoughts as usual.

Adrian doubled over with laughter, shaking his head as he straightened. “And you two look like businesswomen. Congratulations.” He slipped out of his jacket. His muscular shoulders strained against the knit shirt as he sat the bag on the floor. As his graceful fingers intertwined around the garbage bag handles, his wedding ring was notably absent.

“No busineswoman here. I’m just helping out, though I’ve always been part of the vision.” Renee walked to the front of the store and started cleaning the windows. I’d have to give her double vision if she didn’t hush.

He picked up an hourglass-shaped vial of shower gel—Peachy Kleen. “Nice logo and trade dress. Tracey?”

I nodded. Most people wouldn’t recognize Tracey’s signature curls and swirls, but as her friends, we recognized her work easily. “Yes, she did an excellent job.”

Adrian nodded, lowering his voice. “When were you going to tell me?”

I stared into the empty display case, then took a seat on the floor, Indian style. “I don’t know. I didn’t know where you were. I figured you’d gone back to Chicago.”

He didn’t look convinced. “I have a cell phone. E-mail. Not that I’m one to give advice on communication.”

“True.” I leaned over and opened a box of body butter and started loading it on a low shelf. As hard as it’d been to get these products made and labeled, making the display looked like it would be just as difficult. Especially with Adrian around. He pushed up his sleeves and squatted down beside me. Right beside me.

“I went to do management training for the Chicago warehouse and manufacturing plant, but now I’m here.” His lips brushed my forehead. “Where I belong.”

I adjusted the bandanna on my head, using all my willpower to keep from wrestling him to the ground. Why did he say such things? I dragged another box toward me.

“How’d you find me anyway?” I asked, back to the task at hand.

“Not the way you think.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth. Rochelle, of course.

“I told him!” Renee shouted from the front, sounding particularly proud of herself. She was definitely full of surprises.

“I called your job and she filled me in.” He stroked his bald head, then picked up a package of latex gloves from on the floor beside me. He pulled on each elbow-length glove carefully, smoothing it up to the crook of his arm, then buttoning his cuffs carefully around his wrists. He lifted the chemicals I’d abandoned with ease and started for the back.

I tried to get up. Didn’t quite make it. “Hey that’s—”

“Lye. Sodium hydroxide. Fatal if swallowed. You’d wish it were fatal if it gets on your skin. You forget I was a chemist before I turned candlemaker?”

True. In fact, it was Adrian who’d helped Tracey and I get on at Scents and Savings during his tenure there as a fragrance formulator, back in the good years before they starting ordering stuff that smelled like fumes. “Just being careful.”

He paused. “Haz-Mat cabinet?”

I nodded. “It’s just as you go in. The red one. And watch yourself, even with those gloves…” Chemist or not, Adrian’s days in the lab were long gone, and sodium hydroxide was no child’s play. In the eyes it could blind, in the belly it could kill, and on the skin? Trust me, not fun.

“Got vinegar?” His shoulders flexed as he lifted the tub out of my line of sight.

I pointed to a gallon of white vinegar a few feet away. “Yeah.”

“We’re good then,” he said, his body disappearing, too.

“Should we lock him up back there?” Renee called out from the front.

Void of any energy to deal with another moment of this day, I dissolved in laughter. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

Renee smiled. “I know it. My husband knows it, too. Now if I can just get you two nitwits together. Maybe I’ll just leave and see what—”

“Don’t.” The alarm in my voice surprised me. “Please.”

The thought of me alone with Illinois’ Businessman of the Year in a poorly lit retail unit scared me senseless. Sure we’d spent a lot of time alone together growing up, but then he was a virgin chemist, not a sexy widower with an earring.

Before I could compose myself, Adrian returned. Renee whizzed her way back to the front as quickly as she’d come. He made two more trips, each faster than the last, moving the remainder of my lye shipment. He held out his wrists in front of me. If lye was on his gloves, he couldn’t risk touching his clothes.

I opened the pearl snaps on his sleeves and took my seat on the floor. He peeled off the gloves and tossed them into a paint bucket nearby. He grimaced, then dashed his forearm with vinegar. He smiled at me. The bionic music mounted in my head. Where was Rochelle with that food?

“What should I do next?”

Drive back to Chicago? “We’ve got things under control here. Thanks for asking though.” I held my breath, waiting for some crazed announcement to the contrary by Renee, who was now wiping the stainless steel interior of our facial cart. She made a squeak with the rag, but said nothing.

Adrian narrowed his eyes at the metal kiosk Renee was polishing. “What is that?”

“Facial bar. Fresh fruit. Veggies, too.”

He nodded, walking to the front for a closer look. “This is ingenious, Dane. You could take it to the mall, outdoor shows, anywhere with power. I could formulate a natural preservative—”

“Stop. I’m over my head just being here. If it gets to that point, I’ll call you.” Or the local firing squad.

Adrian slipped across the room for that bag, the one I’d amazingly forgotten about after one look at him. He reached inside and pulled out a small, stuffed animal. A cheetah. I dropped the ice scoop.

He approached cautiously and placed it in my hands. “I know that Tracey’s wedding was hard for you, for a lot of reasons.”

I listened, but didn’t look up from the toy. It got to me, this gift, even though I’d chucked my stuffed animal collection long ago—a zoo of elephants, tigers and bears, most won by Adrian at fairs and amusement parks over the years. Then there were those two wedding gorillas Jordan won for Rochelle. She couldn’t bear to look at them after he left. One ratty bunny with the beans falling out that Daddy had given me many Christmases ago. And a life-size cheetah, identical in looks to the tiny one in my hands, that I’d won myself.

“I also stopped by to share a little news of my own.” Adrian dragged one of his shoes across the floor.

The cheetah squished in my fingers. Don’t tell me. He’s getting married. I should have known.

Instead of proclaiming his undying love for another woman, Adrian nodded toward the partially covered front window, where I watched in horror as two men lifted a sign onto the marquis on the shop across the street. I read the teal and fuchsia sign with wide eyes.

Kick! Candles.

Adrian shrugged. “We’re neighbors.”

“Y
ou’ve got to be kidding.” Rochelle looked at me like I was crazy, and then plopped a bag of food on the counter. Never one to be caught without cute shoes, even for painting and scrubbing, she sported a pair of peach Reeboks. And matching socks, of course.

“I wish I was kidding. How did you miss that? Kick! across the street? There’s no hope for me…he’s got the best candles in the state. Probably the Midwest. How much did we spend when we went last year? A couple hundred between us?”

As if starting my own business wasn’t scary enough, having the man I’d spent most of my life loving across the street terrified me. Having Renee jump for joy at the sight of Adrian’s sign hadn’t helped things, either. She’d offered to stay, but I’d been all to glad to send her home when Rochelle showed up. We’d needed to be alone for this, for Rochelle to tell me that my stuff was just as good as Adrian’s and to rebuke me for my negativity.

Not.

“We spent three hundred at least. We bought gifts, too, remember? To think, I wasn’t even into candles then. I burn his raspberry honeysuckle every night.”

But you won’t touch my stuff. “Same here. Lemon pound cake. The soy one.” I rubbed my chin, remembering all our undercover trips to Adrian’s store over the past couple of years. The candlelight lent an eerie effect and I’d often thought we might all go up in flames, but it worked somehow.

Tension drained out of me when I walked in there—after I made sure he or Sandy weren’t around, of course. I’d always want to stay for the next scent, but the thought of running into either of them made me run through the store grabbing stuff like a crazy person and then ducking into Rochelle’s car.

I stared across the street at the men struggling with the sign and Adrian giving directions from the sidewalk. The candles were the least of my worries. How would I ever avoid him?

A soft punch landed on my shoulder. I definitely couldn’t avoid Rochelle’s clutches. Should I show her the cheetah? I’d told the story up to his store moving across the street and stopped there. Maybe later. Rochelle didn’t know how to stay calm in these situations. She’d be having me fitted for a wedding gown…just in case. Not that I could fit much of anything right now. Maybe if I skipped the fries…But there was always Flex Points.

And Velcro jeans.

Rochelle turned on her heel, her paisley headscarf bobbing with her words. “I didn’t tell him anything about this.” She discarded the bun and wrapped her turkey in a leaf of lettuce. “He didn’t do this on purpose, Dane, if that’s what you think. He wouldn’t.”

“I know. He called the office. Renee told him. But he’d paid on this place already.”

She touched my arm in reassurance. “It will only help you to have Kick! here. That place is special and he’s drawing in your target customer.”

My point exactly.

My handsome nemesis dangled from a ladder across the street, straightening his new sign. He waved, leaning back almost far
enough to fall. I waved back, and prayed he wouldn’t plummet to the ground. Although, admittedly, it might make this all a bit simpler.

Lord, forgive me.

I sure was saying that a lot lately. All Adrian’s fault. “Still, this shop looks half the size of the one he had in Chicago. He’ll probably go back once he gets this going.”

Rochelle shook her head. “Don’t you read that Black Enterprise subscription I pay for every month? He franchised a few months ago. All the new stores are smaller.”

A few months ago? All the new stores? How many were there?

I frowned. “Is there any other good news you’d like to share, Rochelle?” Is that where she’d been running off to those weekends she said she was busy? To every Kick! shop she could find? Not that I could blame her. I looked outside again. Neighbors. He had said that, right? Not competitors or partners or any other such thing? Suddenly I wasn’t so sure. Rochelle carries a tape recorder at all times. Today it would have come in handy.

“Nothing else I can think of to tell you.”

Cool. I had nothing else to tell her, either. It’d take a week of sleepless nights to figure out what I was thinking, let alone trying to decipher Adrian’s thoughts. “There’s just one thing.” I retrieved the cheetah from behind the counter. “He bought me this.” What happened to keeping my mouth shut?

“I knew it! You’d better act right, Dane. This is it.”

“This is something, that’s for sure.”

Rochelle counted out six French fries and nibbled them one at a time, like carrots. Though I’d seen her do it before, I watched in amazement, wondering how long it had taken her to get that down to a system. More time than I had, I decided, shoving a handful of fries into my starving mouth. My taste buds sang in my head.

My joy must have reflected on my face.

“You are pitiful, you know that? A few fries and you light up
like a Christmas tree. A handsome man comes in here, hauls some stuff to your back room and gives you a gift and all you can think about is how it’s going to affect your business.”

I shrugged, licking the salt off my fingers. They usually didn’t put enough salt on, but someone had known just how bad I needed it. “What else am I supposed to be concerned about? Everybody can’t go from Singleville to becoming the Bachelorette of the Year in one swoop—”

“I resent that.”

“Really? I’m glad to hear it. I know this stuff with Jordan is weirding you out, but you’re really scaring me. That dress you wore Sunday was down right obscene…” I scooped a spoonful of chocolate shake to my lips, glad to have something to shove in my mouth besides my foot. Why was I discussing this with Rochelle? I knew she was going through something, but hey, so was I. Several somethings, in fact.

The fact that no ring had appeared on her finger or that my brother had neglected to surface hadn’t been lost on me. Neither had her sudden surge of desire for a relationship. What I couldn’t understand was why? Did she need someone to want her now? To make her feel pretty again? All she had to do was look into the mirror.

I stared at the cheetah on top of the cash register. It went deeper than wanting to be pretty. That much I knew. “Have you heard anything else from him?”

Rochelle turned her back to me, continuing her fry nibbling in silence.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I don’t expect you to understand. There are some things even you can’t get.”

On the outside again. “So I can’t ‘get it,’ huh? Why, because I’m not a mother? Because I’ve never been almost-married or whatever you and Jordan were?” I guess Trevor’s proposal didn’t give me any points.

She shoved a box of Coconut Lime body lotions over to the display case. “That about sums it up.”

Six containers of Banana Berry Mint mask lined the facial cart, all as fresh as when I’d pureed them this morning. Though I’d sell the fruit products as good for twenty-four hours with refrigeration, I wanted to give the cooler a trial run and do some bacteria challenge tests for my own information—now that I knew how to do such things. I should have given my comments to Rochelle a trial run, too. This conversation had taken a turn into the abyss of famous last words.

And of course, I started it.

Where is Tracey when I need her?

Off fighting with her husband instead of fighting with us. Leaving me on the outside of the circle of the wed and/or childbearing. How long would it be before Tracey entered the Mom Club, too? Her bumpy beginning with Ryan didn’t fool me. Tracey was too stubborn to give up on anybody. She was still my friend, wasn’t she? Lord willing, they’d stick, Rochelle and Jordan—or somebody, the way she was acting—would work things out and here I’d be, as always, the last Sistah standing.

How would I ever survive without them? Really bad, considering how I was cutting up right now. Rochelle stacked on in silence, her perfect placement showing the tangerine-colored bottles from every angle. Her rapid breathing meant she was fuming but too loyal to leave.

Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up in due time.

I shoved another mouthful of shake down my throat to cool my burning thoughts. Humility? Again? People who thought Christians were wimps had another thing coming. It was hard. Crazy hard.

Rochelle caught me staring off into space. “Are you just going to sit there? Or are you going to do some work? There’s a lot to do here and I have to go get Jericho from basketball in a couple
hours. I don’t have to be here.” Rochelle sniffed and righted the last bottle of lotion on the top shelf of the three-tiered display. I’d wanted them down on the table, but she’d insisted everything be eye level or above. And she was right.

As usual.

I opened my mouth again, but not for chocolate this time. Rather for a heaping dose of humble pie. I was determined to swallow, no matter how bad it tasted. Hopefully, she’d go easy on me. “I know you don’t have to be here.” I walked over and put my hands on her shoulders, careful not to touch her skin in case some lye from earlier might have snuck under my fingernails. I’d gone to scratch my back after a batch once and almost killed myself.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me the past few months. You’re always here for everybody. Me. Tracey. Jericho. Tracey’s wedding totally rocked and it wouldn’t even have happened if not for you. Shoot, Tracey probably would have forgotten to show up. But you made it possible, because that’s what you do—look out for people and it’s okay for you to look out for yourself, too. I guess I’m—well, I guess I’m just a little left out, you know?”

Rochelle nodded. “Yeah. We’ve all done everything together for a long time. It feels real weird that Tracey isn’t here today. Opening this shop…”

I laughed. “Yeah. I knew there was too many fries for some reason.”

“You two are some eating fools.” She shook her head. “But I know what you mean about feeling left out. Right now, my son has locked me out of his life while he waits for his ‘Dad’ to arrive. Tracey has moved on…and you—”

Me? “What? I’m still the same. Nothing’s changed.”

Rochelle swallowed hard and looked up at the chandelier, then around at the slowly filling shelves. “Everything’s changed, baby girl. You just don’t know it yet.”

The grand opening wasn’t exactly grand, probably because I was comparing Wonderfully Made’s one little, two little, three little customers with the line of giggling women spilling onto Adrian’s sidewalk. I did manage to snag a few browsers who wanted to buy everything in the store—at a discount.

Brides. Mothers-of-the-Bride. Wedding planners. Even a few grooms. They’d come in small but steady numbers looking for favors for their weddings. I could just imagine the possible impetus of this phenomenon—Renee waving one of my baskets and comparing the prices with her latest Fingerhut catalog.

“Can I get this in lavender? This salt scrub?”

I gritted my teeth at the silver-haired matriarch, so much like my mother would have been. “No. That’s the bottle for the Plumeria products. The lavender is a much lighter shade. If you’d—”

“This is lavender. That’s lilac. Brook’s wedding colors are not lilac. Can’t you just pour that into some of these bottles and put her name on this cute label?”

Oh, fun. “I’m really not set up to do personalized favors. My printer—”

“I’ll pay extra and we’ll take all that you have here for the spa party with the bridesmaids.” She fumbled with a large Mount Blanc pen. “What do you say?”

What could I say? To have any hope of paying Rochelle back, I needed to sell as much as possible. “Sold. Let’s step over here to work out the details. Can you spell Brook’s last name here…”

The morning continued like that, bargains struck and checks written, all for projects I hadn’t planned on. As much as I appreciated the business, the glee and glow of the soon-to-be-wed, and their uptight family members, was doing damage to my nerves. Could anybody be that happy? And for how long? Tracey had smiled like that, too.

Days turned in my devotional Bible, each one dotted with little sleep and much stress as the exacting wedding planners and haggling mothers-in-law flooded my shelves.

As much as I wanted to go berserk over Jordan and confront Rochelle, I didn’t have time. I’d seen her at church last Wednesday night, tripping up the step in a new pair of shoes—lime green. Her guilty color. Though she waved and ran on, I figured Rochelle had probably seen Jordan and didn’t want to feel bad because he still hadn’t bothered to contact me. Her contrition was thoughtful, but unnecessary. My brother and I hadn’t been close. Though I’d prayed for this time to be different, there was no use breaking the rules now.

Adrian had been a curiosity, too, working hard outselling me, and spending the rest of his time trying to hook up with me and talk business. Though I knew we needed to be getting together, strategizing, I knew that neither of us would be thinking of marketing if we were within a foot of each other. What I didn’t know was where I wanted those feelings to go. But like I said, such things would have to wait for when I had time to think about them.

For now, I went to work and to church—on slow days, I slipped off to noonday prayer. Those retirees know how to pray. I hadn’t had time to touch the phone outside of business…or the computer, thanks to Tracey handling my Web site and covering my devotionals. Being out of touch was great, in a way. I’d forgotten what it was like to just pray and sing all by myself. Like it was when I first got saved and Rochelle was busy with her business and Tracey was in school for the tenth time, before finally hitting upon her call in life, graphic design.

I took a deep breath and took my church dress out of the closet, hoping it would be looser since the last time I wore it. I slipped it over my head, noticing at once the grip the sleeves had on my shoulders.

Tighter, not looser.

I frowned, thinking of Tracey, who’d given me this outfit when she’d abandoned her flab. Amazing what affect Ryan had on her. When I’d dated him, he’d driven me so nuts, I was on a first-name basis with the pizza man. Tracey, on the other hand, was so in love she’d forgotten to eat…or so she said. Whatever the case, she’d sure looked good in that wedding gown. And here I was about to explode out of another dress.