Storm Shells (The Wishes Series #3) (47 page)

“Beetroot juice?” I was aghast.

He shrugged. “That’s how Ryan makes pink cake.”

As confused as I was, I didn’t ask for an explanation. I just pushed the cake to the centre of the table, suddenly unenthused by the prospect of eating it. When Nancy the dog approached a short while later, I figured I’d give her a treat. I broke off a morsel of cake and fed it to her under the table. Apparently, Nancy had a thing for cake. Within minutes, she’d polished off the whole piece. “Are you going to eat that?” I asked, pointing at Adam’s plate.

He slid it across. “Knock yourself out.” I continued feeding the little dog until Adam’s plate was nearly cleared. “I’m not sure you should give her any more, Charli,” he warned.

“Why not? It’s a celebration. She deserves a treat.” I hadn’t always been kind to the ugly little pooch. In fact, I’d often laughed at her misfortune. Nancy was Jasmine’s baby. I wouldn’t like it if Jasmine was mean to my baby.

Adam pointed out that it was an unlikely scenario. “Your baby doesn’t have an overbite.”

“No,” I agreed, grinning. “But she is bald.”

With two slabs of sickly sweet pink cake under her furry belt, Nancy scurried away and headed for Jasmine. She jumped up on the self-proclaimed queen’s lap and that’s where she stayed while Wade made his ridiculous speech.

Adam had trouble keeping a straight face from the first line.

“Our love is like a murial painted on the wall of life...” Wade began.

Jasmine was so focused on her new husband’s declaration of love that she didn’t notice Nancy retching on her lap. By the time she did it was too late. The little beast had thrown up a massive slab of pink cake on her stark white dress. Jasmine’s bloodcurdling screams suited her new look perfectly. She looked like she’d just been stabbed.

Nancy took off. Meredith and Wade ran to Jasmine’s aid and the room erupted into sympathetic gasps and groans.

Not so long ago, I would’ve been thrilled by such a turn of events. Not anymore. I felt terrible. I’d inadvertently ruined tramp-Barbie’s dream wedding.

August 20

Adam

I had to laugh, which meant it was time to leave. Charli didn’t protest when I pulled her to her feet. In fact, she didn’t say a word until we were out of the room.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” she choked, wide-eyed and worried.

She looked absolutely horrified and I felt the need to reassure her. “It wasn’t your fault,” I lied.

“It was ninety percent my fault.”

It shouldn’t have mattered but I was interested to know how she’d worked out the ratio of blame. “Who’s responsible for the other ten percent?”

She widened her brown eyes. “Did you see her bouquet? Putting foxgloves in your wedding bouquet is begging for trouble.”

“Of course,” I agreed.

“I need to make this right, Adam.”

I was used to crafty, criminal Charlotte who would’ve taken great delight in using Nancy as a Pomeranian weapon of mass destruction. The girl with me didn’t look too delighted. I could see her mind ticking over as she tried coming up with a way of atoning.

“We’ll pay for the dry-cleaning,” I offered.

Her head whipped up. “No! Then she’ll know it was us.”

I overlooked the fact that she’d implicated me her crime. She wasn’t completely reformed. Charli might have been remorseful, but not remorseful enough to own up.

“So, what’s your plan, Charlotte?”

She put her hand on my shoulder to steady herself while she took off her heels. At first I thought it was so she could run faster, but she walked to the table of gifts, shamelessly swiped a bow off one of presents and tied it around her shoes.

“Shoes?” I asked incredulously. “That’s your atonement?”

She positioned her impromptu gift on top of the pile. “They’re not just shoes. They’re twelve hundred dollars worth of awesome and Jasmine will love them.”

The level of fascination I felt for this girl was practically a disability. I stepped forward, gearing up to kiss her half to death. The embrace was cut short when the not-so-happy couple appeared in the doorway. Jasmine was gripping the skirt of her dress and puffing like a fire-breathing dragon. Wade looked suitably terrified.

“Charli,” she huffed between blubbers.

I glanced at Charlotte, immediately noticing the trapped expression on her face.

“Oh, Jasmine,” she said pitifully. “I am so sorry.”

Both of us stared at the huge stain on her dress. Jasmine stalked toward us, looking so menacing that I pulled Charli closer to my side to protect her if it turned physical. But Jasmine wasn’t heading for Charli. She made a beeline for the gift table.

“Louboutins?” she squealed. “You’re giving me your Louboutins?”

Charli stiffly nodded. “I know you like them.”

Jasmine glanced down at Charli’s bare feet before unceremoniously launching herself at her. Charlotte tried wriggling free, and for a moment, it looked like she was having a punch-up with a marshmallow. Finally Jasmine let her go. “You’ve just made this day the happiest day of my life!”

She tore the bow off the shoes-of-awesome and swapped them with her own. The puke on her dress was forgotten. Her tears were now tears of joy. It was unfathomable.

“I really love you, Charli,” she declared. “And you, Adam. I really love you. And your little baby,” she added as an afterthought.

“We love you too, Jasmine,” replied Charli in a strange monotone voice.

The bride squealed, gathered up her filthy dress and took off back into the reception to show off her shoes. Wade made no attempt to follow her. “Thanks, Charli,” he said. “That was a really nice thing to do. She was really upset when Nancy chundered. I wasn’t looking forward to spending the rest of the night being her escape goat.”

Charli half smiled. “No worries, Wade. Congratulations, by the way.”

Wade thanked her and headed off to find his bride, leaving me alone with mine. “Did he just say
escape
goat?” I whispered in her ear.

“Yes.” She chuckled. “Yes he did.”

December 2

Charli

After five long months, the bank renovation was finally finished. I hadn’t visited the bank often during its revamp. It wasn’t the best place to hang out with a baby who’d developed a fondness for putting things in her mouth. But now Bridget and I had the honour of being the first to see it. Adam started bombarding us with builder’s jargon at the door. I wasn’t interested in hearing that the antique mortise lock on the door had had to be sent to the mainland for restoration. I didn’t even know what a mortise lock was.

“So it opens and closes now?” It was the best I could come up with.

He smiled. “Yes, it does.”

“Awesome. Can we go inside, please?” I asked impatiently, bouncing Bridget on my hip.

Adam stretched out his arms and Bridget mimicked him, giving him permission to take her. Baby transfer complete, Adam opened the door and ushered me in.

It took me a long time to find the right words to describe the place. It was completely transformed. The hardwood floors were so dark they looked almost black. The dull lacquer was in keeping with the age of the building, and was offset perfectly by the stark white walls.

Everything looked perfect and, more importantly, authentic.

I stood in the centre of the main room, trying to notice every detail.

“What do you think?” asked Adam.

“I think you’re amazing,” I declared, turning to face him. “I love it.”

“I love it too.” Well deserved pride saturated his tone. He dropped his head, speaking only to Bridget. “What do you think, Bridge?”

Supremely comfortable in her father’s arms, her little legs were wildly kicking.

“I think she’s impressed,” I told him.

“I want to show you something,” said Adam, holding out a hand. “A surprise.”

He led me through to the back room. Near the old vault was a paint-spattered tarp. In my experience, any surprise hidden under a tarp was a good one. “What is it?” I asked eagerly.

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” He spoke slowly but there was underlying excitement in his voice.

As expected, the big reveal wasn’t dragged out very long. He pulled the tarp away revealing a painting set up on an easel. I leaned down. Instantly I knew it was one of Gabrielle’s masterpieces. It took me a bit longer to work it out – too long for Adam. He explained, rushing to get the words out. “I know the plan was to sell this place once it was finished, but I have a better idea. I think it would make a great gallery to display your work.”

I kept my focus on the painting. It was a picture of the outside of the bank, complete with a sign at the door.

“Galerie Décarie,” I announced, leaning to get a closer look.

“If you don’t like the name, you can call it whatever you want.”

I hoped my poker face had improved since the last time I’d attempted it.

“Well?” he asked nervously. “What do you think?”

“What do
you
think?”

“I think there’s a fine line between encouraging and pushing where you’re concerned,” he replied. “In my experience, you tend to resent pushing and ignore encouragement. I’m trying to work out which line I’ve crossed.”

“Really?” I asked dryly.

“Absolutely, and I’ll have you know that I’m prepared to use my daughter as a human shield if necessary.” He held Bridget in front of him to validate his claim. Our little girl madly kicked, cooing like a little pigeon trying to take control of the room.

I tried not to smile, but once he cracked I couldn’t hold back. “You want to know what I think, Adam?”

“Tell me,” he replied, repositioning the baby on his hip.

I stepped closer to him. “I think you’re the best person I know.”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine. Bridget grumbled, making the embrace short but perfectly sweet. “Don’t get out much do you, Charlotte?” he teased.

I giggled my way over to the small room. “Do you really think I could open a gallery here?”

“I think you could open a gallery anywhere, but here is as good a place as any.”

I took some time to think things through. Opening a gallery would be a great next step for me, and something I would never have considered if not for Adam’s support. It was a telling sign. As much as I’d grown in the past few years, I still needed the occasional push to move forward.

“I like the name,” I said finally.

His eyes brightened. “So you’ll do it?”

I nodded, inciting a lovely Décarie grin. “You know what this means, Adam?”

“Tell me,” he urged.

I threw my arms wide. “You’re done. You’re going to have to find a new project to keep you occupied.”

“I’m way ahead of you, Coccinelle,” he replied wryly. “I’ve found another boat. It’s being delivered to the shed as we speak. It’s old and rundown and needs a lot of work. It might take me years to restore.”

I needed the occasional push, but Adam needed the opposite approach. He was still a perfectionist, driven to put everything into whatever he was working on. It was up to me to rein him in and slow him down. Dragging him away from his renovation work at a reasonable hour of the day was something I’d had to do more than once. Knowing I’d only have to walk as far as the other side of the yard to do it from now on brought relief.

“Years? Really?”

“Years and years and years.”

I smiled at him, realising that for the first time ever, I felt like I fitted my life. Charli Blake grew up, took a wrong turn by becoming Charlotte Décarie, and finally found her feet as Charli Décarie.

After spending far too long trying to pull each other in opposite directions, Adam and I had found balance.

Our child was our middle ground. She was Bridget by name and nature. The impossible deadlocks that forced us apart over and over were bridged by a mutual desire to be deserving of her. She made us both want to be better people, and as long as we continued to walk the same road, our happy ending would always be in reach.

Three Years Later

Adam

We spent a long time looking for Charli’s wedding rings – three years, to be exact. I offered to replace them a hundred times but she refused, settling for the simple gold band she’d started out with instead.

“You wear the rings you’re married with. That’s it,” she told me.

She didn’t have much time to devote to searching the garden these days. Her gallery had taken off in the past few years, as I knew it would. She’d sold pictures to buyers all over the world and had been published hundreds of times over. She was continually surprised by the interest in her work. I wasn’t. It confirmed something I’d always known. She was talented, creative and a genius.

My workload was a little more subdued, and I loved every minute of it. After the bank renovation I moved on to a fifteen-metre sloop in dire need of some TLC. Six months later I flipped it for a tidy profit and moved on to another. Working from home had its advantages. It meant I could spend days hanging out with the chatty whip-smart toddler we had on our hands.