Now she paused and shifted her weight. “There’s a, ah, dress I’m going to try on.”
Her sisters exchanged a look.
“That will be fun,” Rachel said. “Is this a dress you picked out?”
“David did.”
Courtney pressed her lips together as if trying not to laugh. Rachel covered her mouth with a failed cough. For one unexpected second, Sienna felt her eyes start to burn as anger blended with a sense of betrayal. Damn them both, she thought grimly and raised her chin.
But before she could say anything, Courtney stood and hugged her. “Invite everyone you hate to the wedding, because you will cause them physical pain with how beautiful you’ll be. A wedding may not be a traditional time for revenge, but you should so go for it.”
The unexpected compliment left her speechless. Her anger faded as if it had never been and she hugged her sister back.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said with a smile. “This will be a dress picked out by a man. God knows what it will be.”
“I’ll bet it has that lace back we saw in Mom’s magazines,” Rachel said. “The see-through kind that shows your butt.”
“I am not showing my butt on my wedding day.”
Courtney raised a shoulder. “I don’t know. If not then, when?”
Sienna was still laughing when she walked into the dressing room.
Fifteen minutes later she stared at herself in the mirror and didn’t know what to think. The gown David had chosen was couture—exquisitely made and nothing she would have chosen herself.
It was strapless, with the V of the sweetheart neckline dipping low between her breasts. There was about an inch of beading around the top of the neckline. The dress was fitted down to midthigh, and the smooth silk was covered with strings of tiny pearls that went from the front of the dress to the back. The ropes of pearls moved with her, creating a shimmering effect. From midthigh to the floor was a cascade of tulle.
Between the beading and the pearls, the dress had to weigh twenty pounds. It was snug to the point of making it hard to breathe. Sienna couldn’t tell if she liked it or not. Shocked didn’t begin to describe how she felt. It wasn’t that David had picked out a wedding gown—it was what picking out the wedding gown meant in the first place.
He genuinely thought they were getting married.
“Come on,” Rachel said, banging on the closed door. “We want to see.”
Sienna turned and opened the door. Her sisters and mom stood there. Maggie was still in her robe. They all stared—wide-eyed.
“I was right,” Courtney breathed. “You are stunning.”
Sienna looked back at the mirror. She had no sense of herself in the gown. She could see her body and her face and the dress, but she couldn’t voice an opinion. Did she look good or bad? Pretty or ugly? Those were just words with no meaning. She felt nothing.
Betty appeared and sighed. “I knew you would be dazzling and I’m right. Come see in the big mirror.”
Sienna found herself walking through the store to the dais. She climbed up, then, once again, faced her reflection. Her sisters and mother were talking. Betty made a few adjustments to the dress. Sienna simply watched and wondered why no one else saw the walls forming around her heart.
13
“ARE YOU ENJOYING your stay in Los Lobos?” Joyce asked pointedly.
Zealand nodded.
Joyce pressed her lips together. “I have to stop asking yes or no questions, don’t I?”
Zealand shrugged.
Quinn chuckled. “Leave him alone. It’s not nice to badger people.”
Joyce didn’t look convinced. She glanced back at Quinn’s best sound guy and sighed. “Am I badgering you?”
Zealand held up his left hand, his thumb and index finger less than an inch apart.
“Well, that was very clear,” Joyce grumbled. “I’ll point out that if I could hear you talk, I would leave you alone.”
Quinn nudged his friend. “Don’t give in. You’re driving her crazy and not many people can do that.”
They were seated on the patio of the hotel’s main restaurant. There were plenty of guests and tourists taking advantage of the warm, sunny weather to enjoy a leisurely lunch.
Wayne sat next to Zealand. Quinn’s assistant had paperwork spread out in front of him as he looked over the various industrial spaces they’d toured the past couple of weeks. The older man looked focused, but Quinn saw him reach down to rub the side of Pearl’s face. The standard poodle sat next to the table, while Sarge had claimed one of the two empty chairs.
“It’s good you own this place,” Quinn observed. “Otherwise, you’d have to leave your dogs at home.”
“That would never happen,” Joyce assured him. “They’re a part of my family. Speaking of my family, are you going to leave me when you decide on which location to buy?”
“Yes, but I’m not in a hurry if you’re not.”
“Stay forever.”
“We’d both get tired of that.”
His grandmother shook her head. “I wouldn’t, but a young man needs his privacy.”
As he was over forty, Quinn wasn’t sure about being a young man anymore, but he would take the title at least, for now.
“Two of these work,” Wayne said. “None of them will be perfect, but we’ll embrace the suck and move on.”
“Embrace the suck?” Joyce asked.
“Military term,” Quinn told her. “You can take the man out of the marines...”
“Of course.”
He spotted Courtney on the patio. Joyce had mentioned she was filling in as a server today. He wasn’t sure who had called in sick or had a personal crisis—not that it mattered. She was always ready to help where needed.
“She is pretty, isn’t she?” his grandmother said.
Wayne and Zealand followed her gaze. Zealand raised an eyebrow. Quinn ignored him and the question.
“She should be doing more than cleaning rooms and picking up odd shifts everywhere else,” Quinn said. “She could be a real asset around here.”
“I agree, but she’s stubborn. I’ve offered her several opportunities. She says she’s waiting until she has her degree. Ridiculous, if you ask me, but she’s not asking anyone but herself. I have to respect her decision.”
He wasn’t surprised by the information. Courtney was playing the same kind of game with her family—not telling them what she was doing until she had her degree in hand. He knew it was about more than the piece of paper. It was about what it represented. He wondered what would happen when she figured out that validation couldn’t come from outside herself. That it had to be something she felt. He supposed that lesson, like many others, was a matter of having to live through the experience.
She looked up from where she was setting a table and caught his gaze. He winked. She laughed, then went back to work.
Wanting stirred. She appealed to him on every level and she’d made her interest in him clear. He planned to take her up on her invitation, just not yet. Long ago he’d learned that anticipation could be its own kind of pleasure.
“You were just as stubborn,” Joyce said.
It took Quinn a second to remember what they’d been talking about. “Me? Never.”
Joyce looked at his friends. “It’s true. Quinn wanted what he wanted. But he was never any trouble. We never had a cross word between us.”
He laughed. “You’re lying and we all know it. I was a pain in the ass teenager—just like every other kid is. I stayed out too late, I talked back.”
Her gaze was loving. “Maybe, but you were kind and so sweet to me. I appreciated having the chance to make up for my past.”
She sighed. “I’m sure Quinn hasn’t told you, but I was a terrible mother.” She held
up a hand before anyone could protest. “It’s true. I was very young when my husband died and he left me this hotel. I wanted to make it a success, so I did everything I could to make that happen. That included ignoring my only child—Quinn’s mother. I paid for it later. We were never close. She left and we didn’t speak for years. She died before we could reconcile. A lesson to you all. Hold on to those you love.”
He thought about what Courtney had told him about her past. “Is that why you helped Maggie Watson and her girls?”
Joyce nodded. “I could see she was going through a lot of the same kind of thing, although Phil didn’t leave her nearly as well-off. I did what I could for them and she found her way. Now she’s getting married again to a wonderful man and she has three lovely daughters. Everything turned out perfectly.”
Quinn wasn’t so sure about that. From what he’d seen, Sienna was engaged to a man she didn’t want to marry, and Courtney hadn’t told her family she’d gotten her GED and was nearly done with a four-year degree. He didn’t know what secrets Rachel was keeping, but he suspected she had plenty. On the surface, all was well, but there was trouble brewing just below. He wondered how it was all going to come out.
* * *
“I have the power to create peace and happiness within myself,” Rachel said aloud as she walked along the sidewalk in her neighborhood. She kept her voice low but spoke clearly. Although she felt foolish, doing something was better than doing nothing.
Those horrible few minutes when she’d been trapped in the bathroom at her mother’s engagement party had been a turning point for her. She’d been angry and humiliated and hurt. Once she’d crawled into bed, she’d cried herself to sleep. But sometime before dawn, she’d awakened with the realization that she could either spend the rest of her life standing passively on the sidelines or do something to show those bitches they were wrong.
Righteous indignation had carried her through her first walk. She’d been breathing hard at the end of a single block, but she’d kept going. Then she’d joined an online weight-loss group.
Over the next few days, she’d battled sugar withdrawals, hunger and general crabbiness. Now, nearly three weeks later, she was actually starting to feel better. Last night she’d succumbed to a cookie, but for once she hadn’t let the single slip derail her. Here she was, at seven in the morning, getting her walk out of the way.
Of all the things those two women had said, what had hurt the most was the comment about letting herself go. Sure, Sienna had been born with natural beauty, but Rachel had always prided herself with knowing how to work with what she had. She’d starting playing with hair—hers and her girlfriends’—when she’d been about ten. She’d begun experimenting with makeup as soon as her mother would let her. She’d read books and pored over magazines and she’d always known she wanted to be a hairstylist. Beauty school hadn’t been work, it had been one giant revelation.
But ever since the divorce, she hadn’t cared as much about her appearance. She’d been stunned to discover nearly everything she owned was torn, stained or both. Yes, the salon had a dress code that was pretty much all black, all the time, but that didn’t mean she had to look frumpy. Black could be interesting and trendy.
She’d gone through her closet and tossed everything that was beyond repair. Then she’d spent an afternoon at the local thrift shop, searching for bargains. She’d found a cool burgundy leather obi belt for the unbelievable price of fifteen dollars and a pair of gently used knee-high boots. She’d also picked up a set of hand weights.
Change was hard, she thought as she turned the last corner and headed for home. Change was uncomfortable and she doubted herself every second. But what she knew for sure was that feeling like crap wasn’t the solution. Nor was eating badly and hating her life. She had a great son and a home she loved and family and friends. If she was miserable, wasn’t it her own fault?
“I have the power to create peace and happiness within myself,” she repeated. It was the affirmation of the day from the free app she’d downloaded onto her phone. Hokey, maybe, but it was working and that was all that mattered.
She called to Josh as she opened the front door to make sure he was up and getting ready for school. She heard the sound of the shower, along with his off-key singing, so she went into the kitchen and loaded the disgusting ingredients into the blender for her smoothie.
The combination of protein powder, coconut milk and flaxseed was enough to make anyone gag. The only thing that made the drink possible was the peanut butter powder she added. At least the flavor was tolerable.
When the drink was ready, she poured it into a tall glass, then retreated to her bathroom. She emerged forty minutes later, showered, coiffed and dressed. She’d taken extra time with her makeup that morning. A smoky eye flattered her, but she hadn’t bothered in forever. Because the extra four minutes were really that challenging? She supposed the actual problem was a downward spiral was difficult to stop. Momentum in any direction had power.
She pulled on black pants and a black tunic top, then wrapped the obi belt around her waist and tied it tight, then she looked at herself in the mirror.
She’d taken to sleeping with her hair in a braid to give it waves, then curling a few strands. The extra makeup looked good, and while she still had to lose about twenty-five more pounds, she appeared polished rather than pathetic. An improvement, she told herself.
She returned to the kitchen to find Josh at the table, eating, and his father sitting across from him. The sight of Greg brought her to a stop. For a second she felt flustered and nervous. As if she didn’t know what to say to him.
Ridiculous, she told herself. He was just her ex-husband. They dealt with each other because of Josh and that was all. He showed up in her house on a regular basis, and she had never much cared before. Whatever he’d been going on about after the baseball game a few weeks before didn’t matter.
“Good morning,” she said crisply as she carried her empty glass to the sink and rinsed it out. She crossed to Josh and kissed the top of his head. He briefly leaned against her. Then she looked at Greg.
“Were we expecting you?”
“Nope. I just got off work and came by on my own.”
He looked good in his uniform. A little tired, as if he’d had a couple of calls in the night, but still appealing. She remembered when they’d still been married and Josh had been sleeping late. How Greg would come home from his shift, crawl into bed with her and wake her up in the best way possible.
He held up a mug. “I started coffee. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” She got herself a mug and poured from the pot. “Did you, um, want something to eat?”
“I’m good, but you go ahead.”
She scooped some cottage cheese into a bowl and added blueberries. Combined with the protein shake, it would last her all morning. On the days she worked, she tried not to snack between meals. As long as she kept busy, she wasn’t thinking about food so much. She already had her lunch—she’d made that the night before. An effort to not have any excuses.
She sat at the table.
Greg smiled at his son. “Excited about the summer?” he asked.
“You know it. Three more weeks until we’re done. I can’t wait.”
Greg looked at Rachel. “Don’t forget we need to talk about his schedule. So I can help.”
She started to tell him she was fine on her own, then pressed her lips together. One of her recent silly affirmations on her phone app had been about accepting help from others.
“That would be nice,” she said. “Let’s get together and talk about how we’re going to handle the summer.”
“You could start by getting me an Xbox,” Josh offered with a grin. “That would be cool.”
“Not gonna happen,” Greg told him with a laugh. “Besides, you’d rather be outside.�
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“I would.” Josh carried his bowl over to the sink, then reached for his backpack. “I’m ready.”
Rachel took her own bowl to the sink and rinsed it out. “You’re taking him to school?”
“Him to school and you to work,” Greg told her. “Your car is due for an oil change. I’ll take care of that this morning and leave it parked at the salon when I’m done.”
She swung to face him. “How do you know it’s time?”
“I wrote down when you had it last. You drive about the same every month, so it’s not hard to figure out when it’s about due. You’re busy and I don’t have much going on today.”
He spoke easily, but she read the tension in his body. His shoulders were stiff, as if he were braced for a fight. Because she would usually tell him no, that she would handle it herself. She would rather not owe anyone anything. She wanted to be the giver, the one doing.
Accepting help is an act of graciousness.
Stupid affirmation app, she thought glumly. Now the phrases were getting stuck in her head.
“How will you get back to your folks’?”
He flashed her a smile. “I can walk. It’s barely two miles.”
He looked hopeful and eager, like the teenage boy she’d fallen in love with. His too-long hair fell into his eyes. He brushed it back with a careless gesture.
“Why don’t you come by the salon about eleven thirty?” she told him. “I have an hour break. I’ll cut your hair, then drive you back home.”
He winked. “It’s a date.”
Silly words. Meaningless words. Yet they caused a distinct flutter. One she knew better than to believe.
14
IT WAS NEARLY ten o’clock, and the night staff was busy with their evening routine. It was as if everyone had somewhere to be but her. Courtney had already circled through the grounds and now, as she walked the length of the lobby, she realized she was running out of places to go.
Daughters of the Bride Page 16
