Daughters of the Bride

by Susan Mallery

  She went out into the backyard. It was huge, with a few mature trees and a nice fence. A picnic table stood by a barbecue. She took a seat and allowed herself to simply be in the moment. There was no rushing, no hurrying to do something. Just sitting in the sun on a warm spring day.

  Her mind raced with all kinds of thoughts. She ignored them and focused on her breathing. Gradually, she started to relax.

  She hadn’t meant to stop by the open house, but when she’d seen the signs with Jimmy’s head shot on them, she’d found herself turning into the residential neighborhood and parking in front of the house. Now she was glad she had. These few minutes of quiet had renewed her.

  She heard someone come up behind her.

  “What do you think?” Jimmy asked.

  “There’s room for an addition,” she said as she stood and smiled at him. “I’d add a master suite, which would mean an extra bathroom.” She turned and pointed to the other side of the house. “There’s room for a second addition there. A family room along with a half bath.”

  “You’re practically doubling the square footage of the house. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Based on the sizes and prices of homes in this area, yes. It won’t be the largest or the most expensive house in the neighborhood. Not even close.”

  Jimmy grinned at her. “You’ve learned well, grasshopper. Want a beer?”

  “You drink at your open houses?”

  “Naw. I’m just kidding. But I do have some lovely imported bottled water, if you’re interested.”

  “Thanks.”

  She followed him back into the kitchen. The open-house signs were gone from the lawn and all the potential buyers had cleared out. She took the water he offered and unscrewed the top.

  “You had a big crowd,” she said.

  “The whole three hours. We’re going to get at least one offer on the place, maybe two.”

  “That’s great.”

  He looked good, she thought as she studied him. Dressed for business, but not stuffy. He had on khakis and a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He wore a tie, but it was loose. He was a small-town success story.

  “How were the waves?” she asked.

  He grinned. “I haven’t been surfing today. I had paperwork to do.”

  She gasped. “Say it isn’t so.”

  “I wish I could. But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

  “I remember when surfing would have been the priority.”

  “We all grow up,” he said easily. He nodded at her ring. “Congratulations.”

  Her good mood evaporated. “Thank you.”

  “Will you and David be buying a house in town?”

  She took a drink of water. “I honestly have no idea.”

  “Do you want to stay in Los Lobos?”

  That wasn’t the right question, she thought. The right question was what the hell were you thinking? But no one seemed to be asking that. At least not to her face.

  “I’m not sure what will happen,” she said, evading the question.

  Jimmy stepped toward her. His expression was intense, his eyes gentle. “Sienna, we’ve known each other a long time. We’re friends. I care about you. If you ever need me...for anything, I’m here. You just have to let me know.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the reminder.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She faked a smile. “Never better.” She held up the bottle of water. “Thanks for this. I appreciate it. And I’ll see you soon.”

  Jimmy looked as if he was going to say something, but in the end, he only nodded. “Say hi to your mom for me.”

  “I will.”

  15

  COURTNEY WAS EXHAUSTED. Not from a lack of sleep. She’d gotten over that in a couple of days. No, her bigger problems were terror and faking it. Both had a way of draining a person.

  It had been three days since her glorious night with Quinn. Three days of catching sight of him around the hotel and sharing a secret smile. Three days of sexy texts and a delivery of chocolate chip cookies, which was way better than flowers. Three days of thinking it wasn’t that the intimacy had been so great, it was that she really liked him. A given for some people, but her past choices for lovers had been on a scale of bad to worse. Which was why she’d decided to give up on the whole boy-girl thing for a while. She didn’t need the distraction.

  But Quinn was different. If she was going to get weird about it all, she would say he was a positive force in her life. He wasn’t the kind of guy who had to put a woman down to feel like a man. He was actually sweet and sexy, and the things he’d done to her body...

  Don’t think about that, she told herself firmly. Because her problem wasn’t with Quinn—it was with his grandmother. Courtney was terrified everyone around her could see that she’d had amazing sex with Quinn and that so wasn’t anything she wanted to discuss with Joyce.

  For the most part, she’d been able to avoid her boss, but this afternoon was the first of many planning parties with Maggie about the wedding. It was being held in Joyce’s spacious office, and there was no way Courtney couldn’t attend. So she put on her best why no, I didn’t have sex with your grandson face and tried very, very hard to pay attention to the wedding planning details.

  They’d already settled on the location—the lawn by the grand pavilion. There would be tents, similar to those used for the engagement party. The wedding would be at the north end of the property, the reception at the south end.

  The chairs would have a nice drapey cover on them. Courtney was to check into color availability. The menu was still up for discussion, as was the cake. Although a discussion on the latter was going to be about what kind and flavor, not where to get it.

  “I checked with Gracie,” Courtney said, consulting the notes on her tablet. “We’re not giving her nearly enough notice, what with how popular she is. But there was a cancellation, so she can fit you in. I’ve made an appointment for a design and tasting meeting.” She smiled at her mother. “I can come with you, if you want. Neil should be there, as well. And Gracie wants to know if you would like a groom’s cake.”

  Maggie clapped her hands together. “I can’t believe I’m going to have a wedding cake made by Gracie Whitefield. She’s been in People magazine.”

  “I remember,” Joyce said with a sigh. “No one loves cake like Gracie does.”

  Courtney offered a silent apology to Gracie. She was sure the other woman was perfectly nice and deserved to be left alone to live her life in peace. But that wasn’t ever going to happen—not in Los Lobos.

  Although Gracie was a few years older than Courtney, and the two knew each other only enough to say hello, the legend of Gracie lived on, even some twenty years after the fact.

  When Gracie had been fourteen, she’d fallen deeply and totally in love with Riley Whitefield. He’d been a few years older and not the least bit interested. When Gracie had discovered he was seeing someone else, she’d done everything from putting a skunk in his car to nailing his doors and windows shut so he couldn’t go on a date. When Riley’s girlfriend had turned up pregnant and Riley had offered to do the right thing, Gracie had lain down on the road, in front of his car, and begged him to run her over. Because without him, life wasn’t worth living.

  Gracie had been sent away for the wedding and hadn’t returned to town for nearly fourteen years. Courtney remembered some rumor about the girlfriend not being as pregnant as she thought, and the marriage had ended as quickly as it had begun. When Gracie had come back, Riley had been in town, as well. Somehow they’d gotten together. Courtney wasn’t sure of all the details, but in the end, Gracie and Riley had married and she’d moved her wedding cake business to Los Lobos.

  “Did you tell her the cake needs to be pink?” Maggie asked.

>   “I did.” Courtney checked her notes. “She’s going to show us a range of colors and styles and says she has some really fun ideas for you.”

  “Excellent.” Maggie turned to Joyce. “What do you think of adult Otter Pops?”

  Courtney pressed her lips together. Seriously? Was this a frat party?

  “What are Otter Pops?” Joyce sounded confused.

  Courtney described the frozen treat. “They come in a lot of different flavors. Mom’s suggesting we add alcohol.”

  “Vodka,” Maggie said cheerfully. “You inject them with a syringe, then freeze them. It’s fun.”

  Courtney wasn’t sure which part would be fun. And where exactly were they going to get syringes?

  “I’ll make a note of the idea,” she said, entering the information on her tablet. “We’re confirmed to have Judge Jill Strathern-Kendrick perform the ceremony.”

  “Oh, good.” Maggie smiled. “I just love Jill. She and I serve on several community boards together. She’s really pregnant, though. Is that going to be a problem?”

  Courtney checked her notes. “She’s not due until three weeks after the wedding and she was late with her last baby. Do you want me to arrange for a backup? It’s probably a good idea. Just in case.”

  “No. I want Jill. I’m sure everything will be fine. Now, about the flowers...”

  Courtney listened as the other two women discussed various choices. She offered suggestions as well, thinking the color scheme made it easy to have a range of options. Now, if her mother’s colors had been shades of blue, they would have had to be more creative.

  She had visions of the hotel overflowing with vases filled with water colored with food-based dyes and roses in a range of sky blue to violet. That would be interesting.

  “I’m going to be away for a few days,” Joyce was telling Maggie. “Just so you know. Courtney will be handling everything while I’m gone.”

  “With the wedding?” Maggie asked, her tone doubtful.

  “Yes. She fills in where we need her and she’s been handling a lot of events for us. She planned your engagement party and that turned out very well.”

  “That was a onetime thing.” Maggie turned to her daughter. “I thought you were just a maid.”

  “Most days,” Courtney said, reminding herself it was her choice not to say anything to her family. “I’ve also been known to serve tables, bartend and coordinate weddings. I go where I’m needed.”

  “She does an excellent job,” Joyce added, looking pointedly at Courtney. “You should ask her about it.”

  Maggie nodded, still looking doubtful. “Yes, I would imagine after all this time you would be able to do a lot of things around the hotel. But you’re still primarily a maid.”

  For a second Courtney thought her mother was going to say more. Suggest yet another course at a trade school. Soon, she promised herself. Soon she would be done with college and be able to tell everyone what she’d been doing.

  She thought about what Quinn had said about external validation versus internal. Maybe she should—

  No! She’d waited this long. She wanted to be able to slap her diploma down for everyone to see. She wanted it to be real and tangible. Until then, she was keeping her secret.

  They finished up with their appointment, and Maggie left to go back to her office. Joyce walked out to the lobby with Courtney.

  “You should tell her,” the older woman said. “She worries about you.”

  “I will.”

  “You’ve accomplished so much. She’ll be proud of you. Why make her wait any longer?”

  “I’m not done.”

  “You’re hurting them and I worry you’re hurting yourself.”

  Shades of what Quinn had said about her punishing herself as well as her family. Was insightfulness genetic?

  “I appreciate your concern,” she said instead, “but this is how I want to do it.”

  Her boss smiled at her. “A very polite way of telling me to mind my own business. All right. I will. You have to decide for yourself.”

  “I know and I have. This is the right thing for me to do.”

  But even as she spoke, Courtney couldn’t help wondering why she was the only one who could see that. And if everyone else thought differently, wasn’t there the tiniest chance that maybe she was wrong?

  * * *

  The door to the bungalow swept open and a tall, handsome African American man walked in. He spread his arms out wide and announced, “I want to be the next Prince!”

  Quinn pulled off his headphones. He stood and crossed to his client and friend.

  “Tadeo,” he said and held out his arms.

  The two men hugged. Tadeo slapped him on the back.

  “What are you doing here, bro? This town, it’s not you.”

  “It grows on you.”

  “So does fungus. It’s so small. There’s no shopping or restaurants. What do you do for fun?”

  Quinn flashed to Courtney. There was plenty of fun to be had with her, and a good portion of it didn’t include sex. How often could a man say that about a woman?

  “I get by.”

  Tadeo put down his guitar case. “I meant what I said about Prince.”

  “No, you didn’t. What are you doing here? Are you and Leigh fighting again?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “What happened this time?”

  Leigh and Tadeo’s fights were legendary. They loved hard and loud. Marriage and three kids hadn’t changed that. Anyone hoping that time would mellow the passionate couple had been disappointed. Although Quinn had to admit they were never boring. But their relationship was a little too high-energy for him.

  “She’s trying to cramp my style,” Tadeo complained as he sank into one of the club chairs. “If I write music all night, I can’t get up and take the kids to school. She’s got to be reasonable. I’m an artist, man.”

  “You’re also a father.”

  “That’s what she said.” Tadeo glared at him. “Did she call you?”

  “She didn’t have to.”

  Tadeo shook his head. “I’m not going back. This time it’s for good. I’m outta there. She keeps me on too tight a leash.”

  “You’d be lost without your leash.” Quinn glanced at his watch. It was nearly one in the afternoon. “I’m going to order some lunch. You want something?”

  “Sure.”

  Tadeo looked over the room service menu, then Quinn called in the order, including food for Wayne and Zealand, who were due back shortly.

  “Zealand texted me about the new studio,” Tadeo said. “I’m down with that. Show me the plans and I’ll give you my ideas.”

  “What makes you think I want your ideas?”

  Tadeo sat back in the chair. “I’m the artist here, bro. I get to have the attitude.”

  “I sign the checks.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I forgot that part.”

  Quinn chuckled, then got out the floor plan of the building. He explained the modifications they were going to make.

  “There’ll be rooms where we can write?” Tadeo asked. “I need to be writing and I can’t do that at home.”

  “You’re living in LA,” Quinn pointed out. “Do you plan to commute up here?”

  “I can stay in the hotel. It’s nice. Leigh needs to remember I’m a man.”

  “She needs to kick your ass, which I’m going to guess will be happening soon enough. If she calls me, I’m not lying about where you are.”

  “You don’t know where I am.” Tadeo sounded smug.

  “You’re in my living room.”

  “I meant you don’t know where I’m staying.”

  Quinn would guess the singer would get a room at the hotel, but he didn’t bo
ther stating the obvious. Nor did he continue the discussion. One thing he knew for sure—the more talented the artist, the bigger pain said artist was in his ass. Tadeo was one of the best. Marriage to Leigh had mellowed him, but not enough for the singer to ever be considered just like everyone else.

  Quinn supposed he was a little strange himself, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Before he could decide, someone knocked on the front door.

  “Room service,” a familiar voice called.

  He opened the door to find Courtney pushing a large cart.

  “Either you have company or you’re seriously hungry,” she told him.

  He took a second to study her. The chef-style jacket suited her. He’d liked the bangs from day one and was pleased she’d kept them. The ponytail was practical and sexy—his kind of combination.

  “You look good,” he told her. “I miss you.”

  She blinked. “Wow. Right to the heart of things. You look good, too, and I—” She glanced over his shoulder. “You do have company.”

  “Tadeo, this is Courtney,” Quinn said without turning around. “She works for my grandmother. Courtney, Tadeo. He sings.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Tadeo said, then cuffed Quinn in the arm. “I’m more than a singer. I’m a songwriter. An artist. I’m the next Prince.”

  “So you claim. I’m less sure.”

  Courtney laughed. “I can see you’re really busy. Let me get this set up and I’ll leave you to it.”

  “You don’t have to rush away,” Quinn told her as he helped her maneuver the cart into the bungalow.

  “We had someone call in sick today, which is why I’m delivering food. I need to get back to that.”

  She went over the order, then held out the bill for him to sign.

  “Tadeo is one of your clients?” she asked.

  “I found him singing at some dive club in Riverside. He owes me everything.”

  Quinn was joking about that last part, but Tadeo looked up and nodded. “I do. The man even married me.”