12
Kelly stood in front of her closet and was torn between swearing, throwing herself out the window or giving up before she started. Swearing wouldn’t help at all and her bedroom was on the first floor, so hey, empty gesture. Which left her with giving up, but she really hated to quit anything. How hard could it be?
Apparently too hard for her, she thought glumly and turned away, only to find Olivia standing in the doorway to her room, an orange in one hand.
“What?” Olivia asked.
“Nothing.”
“You don’t have nothing face. You have something face. What is it?”
Kelly took in her sister’s jeans. They were fitted to the point of being tight, but somehow they looked great. She had on a T-shirt, but it had a nice neckline and a cute shirttail and was in a great shade of green. Instead of work boots, Olivia wore simple flats. Technically Kelly and her sister were wearing the same thing yet they couldn’t have looked more different, and that was before she got started on the whole hair-makeup thing.
“Kelly, should I worry?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
“We’ve been down the nothing road already. What’s going on?”
“You look nice.”
The compliment was grudgingly given. Kelly wanted to stomp her foot as she said it, or throw something. This was all Griffith’s fault because, dammit, she wanted to look good for him.
There. She’d thought it. She wanted to look nice for a man. She collapsed on the bed. “I’m so pathetic.”
“Why?”
“Griffith. I want to look nice for him.”
Olivia moved into the room and sat on the chair by the small desk. She set down the orange. “Why is that pathetic? You have a great boyfriend. Of course you want to look nice for him. Not that he was first attracted to you for your fashion sense.”
“Ha ha.”
“Stand up.”
“You don’t get to boss me around,” she muttered even as she stood.
Olivia moved her until she was in front of the full-length mirror on her closet door. “What do you want to change?”
“Everything.”
“You don’t mean that. You have no interest in dressing any differently for work. You’d tell me it was stupid. That what you wear is practical.”
Kelly met her gaze in the mirror. “You don’t know that.”
Olivia simply raised her eyebrows. Kelly sighed.
“Fine. I like what I wear to work. It’s practical and easy.”
“Then keep it. What do you want to be different when you’re with Griffith?”
Kelly had no idea. She just knew that ever since he’d kissed her, she’d had a hard time thinking of anything else. Except...
“I want him to think I’m pretty,” she admitted, then wanted to claw the words back into her mouth.
Olivia smiled. “He already does.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m fairly sure. Not a lot of men date women they don’t find attractive.”
“Oh.” Kelly had never thought of it that way before. Griffith liked how she looked? She smiled.
“And people thought you were the smart one,” Olivia grumbled as she walked into the closet. “Let’s see where we’re starting.”
She handed Kelly armfuls of clothes with instructions to put them on the queen-size bed in stacks.
“Jeans, cargo pants, tops, dresses. We’ll sort from there.”
Twenty minutes later the rack was empty and the bed was covered with what even Kelly could see was a fairly pathetic inventory.
“You have one dress,” her sister said. “Who only has one dress? And could you possibly own more ratty jeans and disgusting cargo pants?”
“They’re for work.”
“Even if I accept that, what do you wear to business meetings? You don’t have a single pair of nice pants. Something in black. You don’t have a blazer or a skirt. You own one blouse that buttons.”
Kelly tried not to get defensive. “I don’t have meetings. Dad handles all that. Sometimes I meet with the direct shippers but they don’t care what I wear. I’m a farmer.”
“That’s not an excuse to dress badly outside of work.” Her expression turned stern. “Stay right there.”
Olivia walked out of the room and returned less than a minute later with a bright yellow sleeveless dress.
“I don’t know why I brought this one with me. The style’s all wrong for me and I think my hair’s too light for the color. Put it on. I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared again. Kelly stared at the dress, then at the doorway.
“This is beyond stupid,” she grumbled, even as she pulled off her T-shirt and stepped out of her jeans. Her boots and socks followed. She drew the dress over her head and was fumbling with the zipper when Olivia returned.
Her sister had several banker’s clips in her hand. She zipped up the dress, then began fussing with it in the back.
“Just like I thought. You’re what, a size four? I can’t tell you how much that bites. I run five miles a day and I’m a solid size 8.”
“I’m skinny because I don’t have breasts. You have breasts.”
“Boys do like breasts,” Olivia admitted. “However, you can wear a lot of cool backless things that make me look trampy. Now, this is what I’m talking about.”
She turned Kelly to the mirror. Kelly stared at herself and couldn’t believe it.
The dress fit perfectly. It hugged her torso before skimming over her hips. She looked tall and almost elegant. The color made her skin glow and added golden highlights to her hair.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Nice clothes make a difference,” Olivia said. “Clothes that fit. The right colors. You don’t have to spend a ton, but make a little effort.” Her gaze narrowed. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
Kelly shook her head.
“That is just so typical.” Her sister walked over to Kelly’s handbag and pulled out a credit card. “I’m going to order you a bunch of stuff. You’ll try it on and keep what you like. After we figure out your basic style, such as it is, I’ll sign you up for a shopping site where they send you a package every couple of months. I’ll be the one filling out the questionnaire, just to be clear. Then you keep what you like and return the rest. It will allow you to build up a non-work wardrobe over time.”
Kelly was torn between being uncomfortable and grateful at the same time. The two emotions did not sit well together.
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.
“That, I believe.” Olivia eyed her. “We have got to do something about your hair. How curly is it?”
“It’s more wavy than curly.”
“Then stop trying to tame it. You either start blowing it out every morning with a round brush, which we all know you’re never going to do, or you embrace it fully. You need a good cut. A layered one.”
“You’re not cutting my hair.”
“Do I look like I’d know what I was doing when it comes to cutting hair? Of course not. I’ll find someone decent in the area, although we may have to drive a bit. It’s all about a great cut and the right product.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll tell you what to buy and you’ll buy it. I’m also going to take you makeup shopping. We need an Ulta or Sephora.”
Kelly stared at her blankly. “I don’t know what they are.”
“No one’s surprised. I’ll find the closest one and we’ll do that when you go get your hair done. Oh, I’m going to email you some YouTube videos. They’ll be on basic makeup application. Watch them all. I mean it. All of them. All the way through.”
The combination of bossy and caring was unexpected.
“How do you know all this?” Kelly asked. “Who taught you?”
“Friends. Older sisters of friends.” Olivia looked away. “I, um, read a lot of magazines. They always have tips. The basics aren’t hard. You’re going to have to practice, though. And don’t tell me you don’t have time. You do. Tulips do in fact grow themselves.”
“Thank you.”
The simple words didn’t begin to describe what Kelly was feeling inside. Confused, mostly. Overwhelmed, yes, but more than that. For the first time since Olivia had returned, she thought it might be nice to have a sister again. That now that they’d grown up, they might be able to get along, like they had when they’d been little.
Back then they’d been different, too, but it had worked between them. Now Olivia was sophisticated while Kelly was the country bumpkin. Like knowing about makeup. Had that been what she’d been learning all the times she’d spent summers with friends rather than coming home?
“You’re welcome. I really like doing this kind of thing. It’s like staging a house. I can see the potential, then make it happen.”
She walked over and unzipped the dress. “Does your dry cleaner do tailoring?” She held up a hand. “Never mind. You don’t have a dry cleaner, do you? I’ll talk to Helen and ask her. We’ll get this taken in so you can wear it.”
Kelly spun to face her. “You can’t give me a dress. It had to have been expensive.”
“I don’t want it. It’s yours.”
Kelly believed in living her life on an even emotional keel. She didn’t like a lot of highs and lows—most likely one of the reasons she’d stayed with Sven for so long. There hadn’t been any drama.
Now she felt a flood of emotion that she couldn’t name and didn’t know what to do with. Her throat got all tight as words formed, then faded. For one horrible second, she thought she might cry.
“You’re being so nice to me,” she managed to say.
“I know. I’m shocked, too.”
Kelly chuckled, then choked. “I appreciate your help. I wish...” The feelings swirled and separated, then merged into one overwhelming sense of guilt.
“I’m sorry.”
Olivia’s expression turned quizzical. “About?”
“Before. When—” Tears formed but Kelly pushed them away. She shouldn’t talk about it. Couldn’t. Except—
“I’m sorry I talked to Dad about sending you away,” she said quickly. “It was my idea.”
Her sister’s eyes widened as color drained from her face. “What?”
“You were so crazy about Ryan and I was terrified you were going to end up pregnant and then what? It would have all been on me and I just couldn’t stand to watch you turn into Mom. Plus, I didn’t want to get stuck with your baby. I wanted to live my own life. But you’re nothing like her and I was wrong and I’m sorry. Olivia, I really am.”
Her sister stared at her for three heartbeats before turning on her heel. “Go to hell,” she yelled before she ran out of the room.
* * *
Olivia was up at five—not that she’d slept very much. She waited until there was enough light that she wouldn’t get sideswiped by a passing car, then went out for a run. By the time she returned, both her father and her Judas sister were gone, which was good. What wasn’t was the fact that she didn’t feel the least bit better.
Running was supposed to clear her mind. When she ran she was free. But despite the four miles she’d clocked, she was just as hurt and confused as she’d been before.
Kelly had been the one. Olivia had always been so pissed at her dad. Pissed and hurt and betrayed. She’d blamed him, had hated him and a few years ago had realized she had to forgive him or deal with the fallout of being angry for the rest of her life. She’d made peace, in a way. And now that peace was shattered.
Nearly as bad, there was no one to talk to. No one to call and say “You’ll never guess what my bitch sister just admitted.” She didn’t have friends. There were women she hung out with, but they were more frenemies than people who cared about her.
She certainly couldn’t call Marilee. She and her mother weren’t speaking right now and if they were, Marilee honestly wouldn’t give a damn. She only cared about herself—something that had taken Olivia a while to realize. It was that knowledge that had forced her to self-heal about her dad.
She showered and dressed, then stared at the credit card still sitting on the desk in her bedroom. She thought about booking herself two weeks in Aruba, all compliments of Kelly’s VISA.
Her sister had her sent away. She’d made the decision that Olivia wasn’t welcome, then had talked their dad into making it happen.
She opened her computer and pulled up a travel website, then began a search of all-inclusive five-star resorts. She was about to click on one when she got an email notice. She clicked on the small envelope.
The email was from someone in town offering a weekend on a forty-five-foot yacht for the auction. Olivia nearly fell off her chair. Talk about a score. She wrote back immediately, accepting the generous gift, then read the rest of her mail. Most of it was from locals wanting to donate physical items for the silent auction.
It was a lot of stuff. A quilt, several bottles of wine, three large planters. The list grew as she opened more emails.
“I’m going to need somewhere to store all this,” she murmured, absently closing the travel site. Renting a storage unit would be pricey. Maybe she could find someone to donate space in a warehouse or something.
There might be room at the farm, but Olivia wasn’t in the mood to ask her family for anything right now. She thought about Helen, but that was too much like asking Kelly. On a whim, she searched the number for Sven’s business, then called. He picked up on the second ring.
“It’s Olivia. I’m getting a lot of people emailing me about donating to the silent auction and I’m going to need a place to store it all. I wondered if you knew anyone who had extra garage space for me.”
“I have a barn you can use. Why don’t you come over and see it when you have time?”
“Thank you. I can come over right now.”
“I’ll be here.”
* * *
Two hours, one barn viewing and an orgasm later, Olivia sat at the island in Sven’s kitchen while he made pancakes. He had a small black apron tied around his waist but otherwise was completely naked.
She’d pulled on panties and one of his oversize T-shirts. The hem hit her midthigh—a very flattering post-coital length, she thought. She’d already set the table with plates, butter, syrup and a blueberry compote he swore he’d made himself.
Music played from hidden speakers. It had a very New Agey tone to it, but somehow it suited the man and the house. The view wasn’t bad, either, she thought, watching the muscles in his back bunch and release as he flipped pancakes.
“Do you do this a lot?” she asked. “Have midday sex and then pancakes?”
He smiled at her. “This is a first.”
“Which?”
“The pancakes after sex.”
“It’s nice that you cook. I never learned. I suppose I should. It’s traditionally female to cook.”
“Is that why you don’t?”
“Maybe.”
He piled pancakes on a plate, turned off the burner, then handed her the stack. As she carried it over to the table, he unfastened his apron and walked naked to claim a chair.
He was so unselfconscious, she thought. So beautiful. She wanted to run her hands up and down his body until they were both aroused. But first, pancakes.
“Thank you again for the offer of the barn,” she said. “It’s really going to help.”
“You’re welcome. What are you going to do with the extra money?”
“What extra money?”
He put two pancakes on
her plate and took four for himself. “You’re well on your way to making the auction a success. You’re going to raise more than what’s needed for the roof. What will you do with the extra?”
It was rare for someone to have that much faith in her, she thought. “It’s not mine. I guess the tourism folks will decide. They should use it to fix up the craft mall. Right now it’s a disaster and it doesn’t have to be. It has a lot of potential.”
“You should tell them.”
She took a bite and chewed. The pancakes were light and fluffy, the blueberries just sweet enough. “Delicious,” she told him when she’d swallowed. “They don’t know me from a rock. Why would my ideas matter?”
“You’re obviously smart and you know what you’re doing. Why wouldn’t they?”
She nearly dropped her fork. “You think I’m smart.”
“No. I know you’re smart. Beautiful, too, but that’s on the surface. Although it’s easier, isn’t it? People don’t expect as much.”
“Because you trade on your looks?” she asked.
“My body more than my looks, but yes.” He smiled at her. “Ironically, my last girlfriend didn’t care about my body. She didn’t look at me the way you do.”
Olivia glanced at her plate and willed herself not to flush. “I do enjoy the show.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. I enjoy looking at you, as well. Your face is perfect. Your smile draws me in and when your breasts move under the T-shirt, I get hard.” He raised his shoulders. “We like what we like. It took me a long time to figure that out.”
“Is that when you ended your last relationship?”
He nodded. “What about you? Tell me about your great loves, aside from Ryan, of course.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ryan isn’t a great love. In fact I haven’t had one. There have been men, but no one I really loved.”
“Because of them or because of you?”
“What do you mean?”
His blue gaze was steady. “Either you deliberately chose men who wouldn’t touch you or you wouldn’t let them touch you.” He held up a hand. “I don’t mean your body. I’m speaking of your heart, Olivia. I can see what you’re doing. You deliberately keep things superficial so you won’t be hurt. I’m not going to ask who wounded you, I promise. If you want to tell me, I’ll listen.”
Secrets of the Tulip Sisters Page 14
