Pearl of Great Price (22 page)

I sprawled in an armchair across from Isabel. “Actually, I really liked that red, white, and blue outfit I had on the other day—or is it a huge faux pas to be seen wearing the same thing twice in the same decade?”

Isabel cast me a sympathetic frown. “You are not so happy here, Miss Julie?”

I gave a harsh laugh. “What’s not to like? Anything I want or need, all I have to do is ask. I’m living like a princess—and dressing like one, thanks to you.” I beamed her an appreciative smile. “Too bad Yvette hasn’t been able to tame my mane. I’m sure this mop is a colossal source of embarrassment for Renata.”

“No, Miss Julie, that is not true. I have never seen Mrs. C happier than since you arrived.”

“Do you mean it?” I clasped my hands between my knees. “About Renata being happier?”

“I have never seen her smile so much in all the years I have been working for her.” Isabel stood, shaking out the white dress. “Please try this on. Mrs. C ordered it especially for you to wear today.”

Maybe my being here was making a difference after all. If Renata could finally be at peace with the past, if she was ready to reconcile with Micah so that both of them could be free of their ghosts, then I could certainly deal with whatever high-society awkwardness it caused me.

I carried the dress into the giant closet-slash-dressing room and slipped out of my jumper. And I admit, wearing the slim-fitting white embroidered Oscar de la Renta, the ruffled hem skimming my knees, I did feel like a princess.

When I modeled the dress for Isabel, she gave a satisfied nod. “I do not believe anything needs to be altered, Miss Julie. The fit is perfect.” She went to the closet and retrieved a pair of stiletto-heeled sandals with ankle straps. “Here, you should wear these.”

I didn’t remember the shoes among the ones Felicia had picked out for me, but apparently Renata had special-ordered them to go with the dress. I grimaced. “I normally don’t wear heels. I’m tall enough as it is.”

But Isabel insisted, so I reluctantly slid my feet into the shoes, and she knelt to fasten the ankle straps. Again, a perfect fit.

Wobbling on the spiky heels, I turned to view my reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door.

And I gasped.

Even before Yvette plied her talents with makeup and hairstyling, I couldn’t believe how amazing I looked—how amazing I
felt
. It was more than the way the winter-white dress complemented my skin, more than the lacy trim accenting the narrow waist and kicky hem.

Nope, it wasn’t the dress at all. I couldn’t take my eyes off the lean, toned look of those mile-long legs. If I’d known heels could have that effect on my bearing, I’d have been wearing them all along. And to think, I used to make fun of the Miss America contestants mincing across the stage in swimsuits and stilettos—like anyone would ever wear heels to the pool.

Wow! Now I understood.
It’s all about the legs.

I swiveled one way and then another, striking various poses before the mirror while Isabel watched with a knowing smirk.

Yvette arrived, and by the time she finished with me an hour later, I really could have passed for a runway model. This time she didn’t bother trying to tame my curls, but pinned my hair into an artfully tousled updo, leaving strategically selected ringlets framing my forehead and temples.

Not long after she left, dear ol’ strictly-business Felicia rapped on my door. Same nondescript neutral-color pantsuit with sensible shoes, blond hair tucked into a braided chignon. Her only concession to fashion was the lacy camisole peeking out between the lapels of her jacket.

“Mrs. C asks that you to join her downstairs to greet the arriving guests,” she stated. Then her stunned gaze traveled up and down all five-foot-eleven-inches of me. More like six-foot-two with the heels.

I asked God to forgive me for taking pleasure in her unabashed envy. Staring down my nose at her, I said with my most charming smile, “Thank you, Felicia. Tell my
sister
I’ll be right down.”

“As you wish,
Miss Stiles
.” Touché. Glaring, she backed out the door and yanked it closed.

I didn’t realize how much she’d rattled me until I turned to check the mirror one more time and nearly fell on my keister. As I lunged for a chair, a taunting voice rang in my head:
Julie Pearl Stiles, when are you going to get it? You can play dress-up all you want, but it will never change who you are inside.

C
HAPTER 25

Christmas, 10 years earlier

Fort Worth, Texas

Micah stuffed sweaty hands into his jeans pockets and searched his fiancée’s gaze. “You’ve been quiet all evening, Tori. What’s wrong? Did I say something?”

“This—us—it’s not working.” Tori Varten crossed her arms over the tiny silver bells decorating her navy sweater and turned toward the blazing fireplace. “Think about it, Micah. Things haven’t been the same between us since that night.”

That night
. The night he made the biggest mistake—no, make that the
second
biggest mistake of his life. The night he drove Renata home from the Arkansas Philanthropic Association gala and almost allowed his boyhood crush to morph into full-blown lust.

“I never meant to hurt you.” He touched Tori’s shoulder and felt her muscles tense as she edged away. “It’s just that Renata and I have this . . . unfortunate history together. Seeing her again brought it all back, for both of us. We needed to talk.”

“Talk?” Tori spat out the word. She whirled around and glared at him. “Yes, I’m sure that’s
all
you did. Too bad you don’t have the decency to talk to
me.
You don’t even love me enough to confide in me what this ‘unfortunate history’ is all about. Which of course leaves me to torture myself with ugly scenarios from my own imagination.”

Micah reached for the fireplace poker and stabbed at a flaming log until it split open and collapsed in a sizzling mass of red coals. Sparks popped and crackled and danced up the chimney. He wished his memories of the past would do the same.

“It’s better you don’t know,” he murmured. “Believe me.”

“So you’re choosing your private pain over our love, is that it? You’re going to let something that happened years ago come between us now?”

“I didn’t
choose
this pain,” he said, even as it gripped him once again. He clawed the back of his neck and sank onto the sofa. “I did something I’m not proud of. Can’t we leave it at that?”

Tori gave a heartless laugh. “Are you talking about what happened in the obscure past, or the night of the gala.”

“Tori, I love you. I’m telling you, nothing happened that night—”

“That’s
bull!
You’re lying to yourself, Micah.” Angry tears spilled down Tori’s cheeks. “Admit it. You’re really in love with
her.
”

“Renata? No! You’ve got it all wrong—”

“I saw the look in your eyes when you first saw her at the gala.” Brushing the wetness from her cheeks, Tori gave a disgusted growl. “You went trailing after her like a lovesick puppy.”

He couldn’t deny it, not completely. He’d idolized Rennie Pearl from the first day she befriended him that summer at the resort. How else could he explain the fatal lapse in judgment that had changed both their lives forever?

And yes, when she called his name at the gala, when he turned and looked into those seductive, gold-flecked hazel eyes, for one crazy moment he’d felt eight years old again. Only this wasn’t the old Rennie, the skinny teen with tousled hair and sun-reddened cheeks. Renata the woman—elegant, sophisticated, knockout gorgeous—sent his senses reeling.

He pounded a clenched fist against the plaid sofa cushion. She was doing it again, turning his life to shambles. He’d been crazy to believe the past could remain in the past. Crazy to believe something as horrifying and inexcusable as what he and Rennie had done could be permanently locked away in his mental safe-deposit box. Now his connection with Renata was coming between him and Tori, ruining perhaps his one and only chance for lasting happiness.

“Tori, please.” He rose, went to her, tried to pull her into his arms. “Don’t let the past destroy what we have. I love you.”

She pressed her hands hard against his chest. He could feel them trembling. “No, Micah, I can’t compete with your ghosts, past or present. It’s over between us.” Silent tears streaming down her face, she backed away. She slipped off her engagement ring, laid it his hand, and closed his fingers around it. “Good-bye, Micah.”

C
HAPTER 26

Present Day

Four-inch heels may do wonders for a woman’s sex appeal, but they weren’t made for traipsing across a spongy lawn. I had to totter around on tiptoe to keep my stilettos from sinking into the ground and sending me sprawling. Once Renata released me from obligatory mingling, I filled my plate with a sampling of appetizers from the buffet table and abandoned the crowded party tent for the more stable surface of the terrace.

Extra tables had been set up under the lattice roof, with most seats already occupied. Avoiding the misting fans, I spied an empty chair and asked if I could join the threesome already seated at the small, square table.

“Please do. Lovely party.” The matronly-looking woman at my left lowered her sunglasses and peered at me beneath the brim of a massive straw hat. “Renata does know how to entertain.”

I smiled and unfolded my napkin. “Sure looks that way.”

“Tell me your name again, dear?”

“Julie Stiles.”

“I’m Madeleine Orbach, chairwoman of this year’s APA gala. And how are you acquainted with our hostess?”

I had no idea what APA stood for, and decided not to embarrass myself by asking. “I’m . . . a friend from out of town.”

“How nice.” She nodded to the other two guests, a balding man with glasses and a slender redhead in a tangerine halter dress. “Arthur, Caroline, have you met Miss Stiles?”

“I believe we were introduced when we arrived.” Caroline gave me a toothy smile. “Where’d you say you’re from, sweetie?”

“It’s a very small town. You probably never heard of it.” Renata had yet to make any kind of formal introduction of me as her sister, which made these conversations extremely awkward.

Worse, I’d been keeping one anxious eye on the terrace doors in case, by some remote chance, Micah showed up. I honestly didn’t expect him to, but a furtive last-minute check of the RSVPs showed nothing beside his name. A hasty call to Sandy’s cell phone just before noon got only her voicemail. Maybe now would be a good time to run upstairs and check my phone to see if she’d returned my call. Finishing the last bite of a crabmeat hors d’oeuvre, I washed it down with a swallow of ginger ale.

I scraped my chair backward across the mossy flagstones. “It’s been nice chatting with all of you. I should probably go find Renata.”

“Oh, but you only just joined us.” Mrs. Orbach touched my arm, her jeweled rings glittering. “And look, Renata’s over there visiting away with the director of the Little Rock Wind Symphony. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if we kept you awhile longer.”

“Well, you know, I—I—” I froze, one hand grasping my glass buffet plate, the other gripping the arm of the chair. My mouth started doing that fish thing it does when I’m halfway between surprise and panic.

Micah.

He ambled through the French doors onto the terrace, slipping on mirrored aviator sunglasses as he got his bearings. He hadn’t noticed me yet, half hidden by Mrs. Orbach’s wide-brimmed hat and Caroline’s over-teased hairdo. And all I could do was drink him in—the seductive tilt of his head, the masculine curve of his bearded jaw, the lean lines of his torso beneath a navy striped shirt.

I felt a hand at my elbow. “Are you feeling all right, Miss Stiles.” Arthur, the bald guy. “You can never be too careful about crab, you know. I avoid it myself—seafood allergy. I break out in this horrible—”

“Excuse me, please.” I rose and started around the table.

Then my heel caught in a crack between the paving stones and this time I really did go sprawling. If Arthur hadn’t jumped to his feet and caught me, I’d have landed in Mrs. Orbach’s shrimp cocktail.

“Steady there.” Arthur wrapped his arms around my waist—a bit too tightly, as far as I was concerned. A sunbeam reflecting off his bald spot nearly blinded me.

I disentangled myself from his chivalrous grip. “Thanks, I’m fine—
really
.” With a jerk, I freed my heel from the jaws of the shoe-eating pavers, but by the time I recovered enough composure to remember where I’d been headed in the first place, Micah was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, another man stood near the French doors, and he looked even less thrilled about being here than Micah.

“Well, well,” Arthur murmured, “looks like Larry’s back in town.”

“Larry?” My gaze followed the broad-chested man with the shock of silver hair as he strode toward the guests clustering around Renata under the party tent. “Larry, as in Lawrence Channing?”

Mrs. Orbach lifted the brim of her straw hat and gaped at me. “You haven’t met Renata’s husband?”

“Never had the pleasure.” I sank into my chair and tried to figure out what my next move should be.

“It’s rare of him to attend one of Renata’s functions,” Caroline said. “Running GigantaMart keeps him so busy.”

“Heard he just opened a new store in Tupelo.” Arthur picked up his and Caroline’s drink glasses. “Refill, darling? Gin and tonic, wasn’t it?”

Caroline’s response was drowned out when the string ensemble performing under the tent interrupted their music-to-munch-and-mingle-by with a resounding fanfare.

“My dear guests,” came Renata’s amplified voice. I glimpsed her through the crowd as she stepped to the front of the small stage and shook back her glorious mane. “Thank you all so much for coming to my little get-together. It’s a delight to see so many dear, dear friends again.”

She rambled for several minutes thanking the musicians, caterers, and household staff for their contributions to the affair, then began introductions of honored guests. I promptly tuned her out, resuming my visual scan of the area in hopes of finding Micah. How could he simply disappear?