Courtney had had some kind of learning disability. Sienna had never been clear on the details, but it had made school difficult for her sister. Despite their mother’s attempts to interest Courtney in some kind of trade school, the youngest of the three seemed happy just being a maid. Baffling.
“You here to talk to Mr. Ford’s group?” Courtney asked as Sienna approached.
“Yes. I’m going to guilt those California Organization of Organic Soap manufacturers into coughing up some serious money.”
“I have no doubt. The A/V equipment is all set up. I tested it earlier.”
“Thanks.” Sienna patted her large tote bag. “I have my material right here.” She glanced toward the meeting room, then back at her sister. “How’s Mom’s engagement party coming? Do you need any help?”
“Everything is fine. The menu’s almost finalized. I’ve taken care of decorations and flowers. It will be lovely.”
Sienna hoped that was true. When Maggie and Neil had announced their engagement, the three sisters had wanted to throw Mom a big party. The hotel was the obvious venue, which was fine, but then Courtney had said she would handle the details. And where Courtney went, disaster was sure to follow.
“If you need anything, let me know,” Sienna told her. “I’m happy to help.” She would also stop and talk to Joyce on the way out. Just to make sure everything was handled.
Emotion flashed through Courtney’s blue eyes, but before Sienna could figure out what she was thinking, her sister smiled. “Sure. No problem. Thanks for the offer.” She stepped back, bumped into the wall, then righted herself. “You should, um, get going to your meeting.”
“You’re right. I’ll see you later.”
Courtney nodded. “Good luck.”
Sienna laughed. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m not going to need it.”
She waved and headed for the Stewart Salon. The meeting room was set up with glasses of wine and plenty of hot and cold appetizers. At one end was a large screen, a podium and a microphone. Sienna removed her laptop from her tote and turned it on. While it booted, she plugged it into the room’s A/V system. She started the video and was pleased to see the pictures on the screen and hear the music through the speakers.
“Perfection through planning,” she murmured as she set the video back to the beginning.
Ten minutes later the good members of COOOSM bustled into the salon and collected glasses of wine and appetizers. Sienna circulated through the room, chatting with as many people as she could. She knew the drill—introduce herself, ask lots of friendly questions and generally be both approachable and charming, so that by the time she made her pitch, she was already considered someone they knew and liked.
She made as much effort with the women as the men. While studies were divided on which gender gave more to charity, Sienna had always found that generosity came in unexpected ways, and she wasn’t about to lose an opportunity based on stereotypes. Every dollar she brought in was a dollar the organization could use to help.
Milton Ford, the president of COOOSM, approached her. The little man barely came up to her shoulder. So adorable. She smiled.
“I’m ready whenever you are, Mr. Ford.”
“Thank you, my dear.” He shook his head. “This town does have its share of very tall women. There’s a young lady who works here at the hotel. Ramona, I believe.”
Sienna happened to know that Ramona was about five-two, but she didn’t correct him. No doubt Courtney had done something to confuse Mr. Ford, but this wasn’t the time to set him straight. Not with donations on the line.
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the podium.
Sienna walked over to the microphone and turned it on, then she smiled at the crowd. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you so much for taking time out of your schedule to meet with me today.” She winked at a bearded older man wearing overalls. “Jack, did you ever decide on that second glass of wine? Because I think it will help you make the right decision.”
Everyone laughed. Jack toasted her. She smiled at him, then pushed the play button on her computer. Music flowed from the speakers. Carefully, slowly, she allowed her smile to fade. A picture of a large American flag appeared on the screen.
“Between 2001 and 2012, nearly sixty-five hundred American soldiers were killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. During that same period of time—” the screen shifted to the face of a battered woman clutching two small children “—almost twelve thousand women were murdered by their husbands, boyfriends or a former partner. Even now, three women are murdered every single day by the man who claims to love them.”
She paused to let the information sink in. “Through the money we raise at The Helping Store, we provide a safe haven for women and their families in their time of need. They are referred to us from all over the state. When they arrive here, we offer everything from shelter to legal advice to medical care to relocation services. We take care of their bodies, their hearts, their spirits and their children. One woman in four will experience some kind of domestic violence in her life. We can’t stop that from happening across the globe, but we can keep our corner of the world safe. I hope you’ll join me in making that happen.”
She paused as the voice-over on the video started. She’d planted the seed. The material she’d brought should do the rest.
Two hours later the last of the guests left. Sienna carefully put away the pledge forms. Not only had the group been generous, they also wanted to challenge other chapters of their organization to match their donations.
“How’s the most beautiful girl in the world?”
The voice came from the doorway. Sienna hesitated just a second before turning. “Hi, David.”
“How did it go?” her boyfriend asked as he moved toward her. “Why am I asking? You impressed them. I know it.”
He pulled her close and kissed her. Sienna allowed his lips to linger for a second before stepping back.
“I’m working,” she said with a laugh.
“No one’s here.” He moved his hands to her butt and pulled her close again. “We could lock the door.”
If the words weren’t clear enough, the erection he rubbed against her belly got the message through. How romantic—going at it on a serving table while surrounded by dirty plates and half-full glasses of wine.
Sienna chided herself for not accepting the gesture in the spirit in which David meant it. Successful and smart. He loved his family, puppies, and as far as she could tell, he was an all-around nice guy.
“Remember you telling me about the time you took a girl home to meet your parents and realized you couldn’t do it in their house?” she asked, her voice teasing.
He chuckled. “I do. Humiliating.”
“Joyce, the owner of the hotel, is a little bit like my grandmother.”
“Ouch.” He drew back. “Grandma is even worse than Mom.” He nibbled on her neck. “Rain check.”
“Absolutely. Thanks.”
He released her and pushed up his glasses. “You heading back to the office?”
She’d kind of wanted to head home after her presentation. She could deliver the pledge forms to her boss in the morning. But if she said that, David would want to make plans. Wow. She would rather go back to work than spend the evening with her boyfriend? What was up with that?
She looked at him. He was about her height, with dark brown hair and dark eyes. A nice build. He wasn’t handsome, but she’d never cared much about that. Once a guy crossed the “not a troll” threshold, she was fine.
David Van Horn should have been the man of her dreams. Lord knew she’d been looking. He was the thirty-five-year-old senior vice president at the recently transplanted aerospace design firm in town. She was pushing thirty and had no idea why she hadn’t been able to find “the one.” Maybe there was something wrong w
ith her.
Not a conversation she wanted to have with herself right now, she thought. Or ever.
“I don’t have to go back to work,” she told him.
“Great. Let’s have dinner here.”
“I’d love that.”
A statement stretching the truth more than a little, but who was going to know?
3
“WANT ME TO put vodka in yours?” Kelly asked as she handed Courtney a tray of glasses filled with lemonade.
“I wish,” Courtney told her. “Alas, no. I have a meeting.”
“Uh-huh. With your mom. Just give me the high sign and I’ll start screaming. That will give you a good excuse to come running.” Kelly wrinkled her nose. “I’ll have to think of a reason. Maybe a broken ankle.”
“You’d look adorable in a cast. Tiny and broken. Men would be flocking.”
Kelly grinned. “I could use a good flocking.”
Courtney was still laughing as she walked out of the bar and around to the pool area, where Joyce sat with Courtney’s mother, Maggie, at one of the tables on the far side. A large umbrella protected them from the mid-May afternoon sun. Sarge and Pearl lay on the grass a few feet away.
Joyce wore her usual St. John separates—today she had on black knit pants and a three-quarter sleeve black knit shirt. A blue, black and gray scarf pulled the look together. Maggie had come from her office. Her tailored dark green dress brought out the color of her eyes and complemented her blond hair.
As Courtney approached, her mother caught sight of her and quickly scrambled to her feet. Her haste to get to Courtney and rescue the tray would have been comical if it wasn’t a metaphor for their entire relationship. Assume, no matter the circumstances, that Courtney can’t handle it. Although given her somewhat predictable ability to create a disaster out of thin air, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.
“I’ll just take that,” her mother said with a smile. She carried the tray back to the table.
Courtney hesitated only a second before joining them. Too bad Neil hadn’t come along. He was always a calming presence. Courtney and her sisters enjoyed spending time with him. He was sweet, with a quirky sense of humor. But there was no Neil-buffer today, and as Joyce considered herself as much Maggie’s friend as Courtney’s, there would be no help from that quarter, either.
Courtney sat next to Joyce and reached for a glass of lemonade. As she took a sip, she thought that maybe she should have taken Kelly up on her offer of vodka. That would have taken the edge off the meeting.
“As we discussed before,” Joyce began, “the party is going to be out here.” She motioned to the grassy area in front of the pool. “We’ll have an open tent for dinner, but I’m hoping the weather cooperates and we can have drinks and appetizers out under the stars.”
“Sunset’s about eight ten,” Courtney said, putting her drink back on the table and opening her tablet cover. “We’ll be having drinks and appetizers with the sunset.”
“That will be so beautiful.” Maggie smiled at her daughter, then leaned toward Joyce. “What about the food?”
Joyce turned to Courtney and raised her eyebrows. “What are we having?”
Courtney found the menu in her file. “We’ve talked about a buffet. That gives us the most options. You and Neil both like spicy food, so I suggest you serve barbecue jerk chicken and grilled sweet-and-spicy shrimp as the main entrées.”
She listed the side dishes offered and the appetizers, along with the idea of having watermelon mojitos as the signature drink.
“They’re pink,” she told her mother. “We could do cosmopolitans, too.” The latter was much easier and would make her popular with the bar staff. In theory, the catering department didn’t ever want anything labor-intensive like a mojito as a signature drink at an event, but she’d called in a few favors to get it approved.
“I do love pink,” Maggie murmured, glancing between the two of them. “And Neil would say whatever makes me happy. Oh, let’s do cosmos. They’ll remind me of Sex and the City.”
Courtney could practically hear a collective sigh of relief from the bar staff. She made notes on her tablet.
When her mother had first started dating Neil Cizmic, none of her daughters had thought much about it. A widow for nearly twenty-four years, Maggie had dated on and off, sometimes getting involved with a man for a few months at a time. But the relationships had never gotten serious. Then Neil had come along.
On the surface, they couldn’t be more different. Maggie was tall and thin. Neil was at least two inches shorter and much more round. But he’d won her over with his kind heart and honest love. Now they were getting married. Every now and then Courtney poked at her heart to see if she minded that her late father was being replaced, but there had been no reaction. More than enough time had passed. If marrying Neil made her mom happy, then Maggie should go for it.
As for the “until death do us part” section of the vows, well, Courtney wasn’t the one getting married. She was willing to admit she’d never been in love, but from what she’d seen, most romantic relationships ended badly. As for the nonromantic kind of love, well, that hurt, too.
“The cosmos will be so pretty,” Joyce said. “And there’s an open bar for anyone who wants something different.”
Maggie leaned back in her chair. “I’m so excited. I always wanted an engagement party, but my mother said we couldn’t have one.” She looked at Joyce. “I was only eighteen when Phil and I got engaged, and nineteen when we got married. My mother made all the decisions. It was awful. We argued every day for a year. I wanted different dresses for the bridesmaids, a different cake. I hated the flowers she picked. So I swear, this time, I’m going to do everything the way I want. Convention be damned.”
“You have good taste, Mom. No one’s worried,” Courtney assured her. Something she’d passed on to her other two daughters. Sienna could make a paper bag look like high fashion, and Rachel made her living by doing hair and makeup. Courtney knew she was the only one missing the style gene in their family.
Her mother grinned. “You should be a little worried. I started planning my wedding when I was fourteen. I have a lot of pent-up ideas.” She eyed the pool. “Is that treated with chlorine?”
Joyce looked a little startled by the question. “Of course. Why?”
“Oh, I was just thinking swans would be nice. But they can’t swim in chlorinated water, can they?”
Courtney felt her eyes widen. “No, and swans poop a lot, Mom. Cleaning the pool after the fact would be a nightmare.”
Her mother sighed. “Too bad. Because I’ve always wanted swans.”
Joyce shot Courtney a look of concern. Courtney quickly flipped through the files on her tablet, then turned it so her mother could see the photo on the screen.
“I’ve been playing around with some ideas based on pictures I’ve seen on Pinterest. For example, a champagne fountain before the toast. Kelly, one of the waitresses here, knows how to stack the glasses and is going to help me with it. Won’t that be great?”
She figured it was the adult equivalent of shaking keys at a fussy baby, and her odds were about the same.
Maggie leaned forward and nodded slowly. “That’s lovely. Neil and I would like that very much.”
“Good.” Courtney flipped to another picture. “This will be the table runner for the head table.”
Her mother stared for a second, then her eyes widened before filling with tears. “How did you do that?” she asked softly.
“It was easy. I uploaded the pictures to the website, then arranged them. The company prints out the runner and ships it.”
The custom table runner was made up of a collage of photographs. Most of the photographs were of the sisters as they grew up. A few pictures showed Maggie with her daughters. Interspersed were pictur
es of Maggie and Neil on their various trips.
“Where did you get these?” her mother asked. “They’re wonderful.”
“Rachel had a lot of them on her computer. I borrowed a couple of photo albums the last time you had us over for dinner. I got the ones of you and Neil from him.”
“It’s lovely. Thank you. What a wonderful idea.”
Courtney was surprised by the praise. Pleased, of course, but surprised. This was good. They were making progress. And no swans would be forced to swim in chlorinated water.
“It sounds like we have everything under control,” Joyce said as she got to her feet. “Excellent. I need to go check on some arriving guests. They’re new and, to be honest, sounded a little shady on the phone.”
Courtney groaned. “Did you take reservations? We’ve talked about this. You need to stay off the phone.”
Joyce, while a lovely person, could be overly chatty with new guests. Most people simply wanted to know availability and price. Joyce wanted them to share their life story, and if they weren’t forthcoming with the information, they were labeled “shady.”
“It’s my hotel. I can do what I want.”
Courtney grinned. “That would be true.” She turned to Pearl and Sarge. “Be gentle with the new people. I’m sure they’re perfectly nice.”
“My dogs are excellent judges of character. Don’t try to influence them.”
“I’m trying to keep you from scaring the guests away.”
Joyce grinned. “Where else are they going to stay? The Anderson House has bees.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I know. It’s part of my charm.”
Joyce waved and walked toward the hotel. Courtney turned back to her mother and found Maggie studying her.
Daughters of the Bride Page 3
