There was a four-tier extravaganza partially covered in lavender-and-blue flowers. Another cake had tiny butterflies, poised to take flight. There were photographs on the walls and drawings leaning up against the subway-tile backsplash. In the corner was a pint-size table, littered with crayons and coloring books.
Gracie led them to a long table with eight chairs in a corner of the room. A sketch pad sat at one end. At the other were plates with slices of cake and a pot of coffee.
“I’ve been thinking about your colors,” Gracie said when they were seated. “And the fact that you and Neil can’t decide between vanilla and chocolate for your cake. So what about something like this?”
She opened the sketch pad and showed them a picture of a slice of cake. The inside was a checkerboard of vanilla and chocolate. The squares lined up perfectly.
Maggie’s tense expression relaxed. “It’s beautiful. Can you really do that?”
“Sure. It’s actually not that difficult. There are special pans and once everything gets rotated...” Gracie waved her hand. “You don’t want to hear the details, but yes, it can be done and it’s really lovely.”
She collected two plates and forks. Courtney saw that while the icing was yellow, the cake was the checkerboard pattern.
“Have a taste and tell me what you think.”
Courtney took a bite. The flavors combined perfectly. “It’s delicious,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like this, and there have been a lot of wedding cakes at the hotel.”
“The hotel you’re practically running?” Maggie asked, her voice sharp.
Courtney looked at her. “Mom, what do you think of Gracie’s cake?”
Maggie shrugged and took a tiny bite. “It’s fine.”
Gracie glanced between them. “I have other flavors for you to try. Chocolate and vanilla, of course, and a really nice spice cake that’s popular.”
Maggie put down her plate. “This is fine.”
Courtney felt herself getting tense. Obviously, this was the wrong time for the appointment. “We should reschedule,” she began.
“Why?” Her mother turned to Gracie. “We’re here. If we don’t decide, we will have wasted your time. As I said, this cake is fine.”
“All right,” Gracie said cautiously. “Based on what you and I talked about on the phone, I’ve been looking at something relatively simple for the frosting. There’s a technique called scratching. It creates a texture on the cake that’s very beautiful.”
She showed them several pictures of cakes with icing that looked as if it had been put on in rows and then partially smoothed.
“I would do a cascade of flowers from the top down one side.” She put a sketch of a four-layer cake on the table. “This is fairly true to size and will serve three hundred easily. I believe that was the number you mentioned?”
Maggie glanced down at the sketch. “Is that the color?”
“The pale pink? It is if you like it. I would do the flowers in the colors you see. They would range from very pale to deep pink. Not magenta, though. Just true pinks.”
“I’ll take it. Thank you for your time.” Maggie rose and walked to the door. Before Courtney could stop her, she was gone.
“I’m so sorry,” Courtney told Gracie. “We’re fighting. But I guess you figured that out.”
Gracie smiled patiently. “It’s okay. You’d be amazed by what I’ve seen happen at these appointments. It’s never boring, that’s for sure.”
“The cake really is beautiful. I’ll make sure it’s what she wants and get back to you by the end of the week. Does that work?”
“Sure. I have your mother’s wedding date in my schedule. I need the design nailed down by mid-July. Otherwise, we’re good.”
“Thank you.”
Courtney expected her mother to have already left, but Maggie stood by her car. Courtney recognized the determined expression on her mother’s face and braced herself for battle.
“I can’t believe you kept this from me,” her mother said as she approached. “For years. How could you lie to me? How could you not tell me what you were doing, day after day, year after year?”
There were a thousand different responses. Courtney considered several of them before her own anger took over. “How could you not care about me for all those years? I was held back in school twice, Mom. Twice. Do you know what that was like for me? Do you know how horrible school was?”
“You had a learning disability. That wasn’t anyone’s fault. You can’t blame me for that.”
“I don’t. I blame you for not caring enough to get me tested earlier. I blame you for not noticing when I moved up from remedial classes into the mainstream ones. When I quit high school, I was getting As and Bs and you didn’t know.”
Her mother glared at her. “Of course. Make it my fault. I’d like to remind you I was doing my best to keep my family afloat. Your father left us destitute. You have no idea what I had to go through to save us.”
“You have no idea what I went through, either. The difference is I was the kid and you were my mom. You were supposed to be there for me and you weren’t. You didn’t see me at all except to tell me to try harder. I grew up knowing I was a disappointment and a failure in your eyes.”
Her mother began to cry. “That’s not true! How can you say that to me? I love you.”
“I know you do, but that’s different than believing in me. The reason I didn’t tell you what I was doing was because I had something to prove. I thought if I could hand you my diploma, you’d finally think I was good enough.”
“I do think that.”
“No, you don’t. You’re always trying to get me to try something else. You’re ashamed of me and what I do.”
“I thought you were just a maid. It’s not wrong to want more for my child.”
“No, and it’s not wrong for me to want to do it myself. You’ve never talked about me the way you talk about Rachel and Sienna. Even at the engagement party, you said ‘I’m so proud of my daughters...and Courtney.’ I’ve always been an afterthought.”
“That’s not true. I never said that.”
“Mom, there’s a video.”
The tears flowed faster. Maggie’s mouth trembled. She seemed to shrink a little. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so cruel?”
“I’m not. I’m trying to explain. I just wanted to do it on my own.”
“Without me.”
She wasn’t asking a question, so Courtney didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry that happened.”
“But you’re not sorry for what you did?”
“Getting my GED, my AA, and being a year away from my bachelor’s? No. I’m not sorry for that.”
“I would have helped you.”
“I wanted to do it on my own.”
Her mother brushed the moisture from her face. “No. You didn’t want me to be a part of it. There’s a difference.”
With that she turned and got in her car. Courtney watched her drive away. She felt sick and shaky. This wasn’t the end of it, she thought grimly. Not even close.
* * *
Sienna slid into the booth across from her sister. Courtney looked at her warily.
“So this is just lunch?” she asked.
Sienna frowned. “Sure. What else would it be?”
“Everyone is mad at me. Just checking you’re not.”
“No way. Like I said before, I think you’re to be commended for what you did.” She smiled. “We all know that if I’d been getting my GED and everything else, I would have been taking out ads in the local paper.”
Courtney relaxed. “Thanks. I need someone to not be mad at me.”
“I’m your girl.”
They were having lunch at Treats
’n Eats near the pier. Sienna had texted her sister impulsively and now she was really glad she’d suggested getting together. Funny how Courtney’s revelation had shifted everything. She was sorry her sister was having trouble with Rachel and their mom, but Sienna was happy to discover they were more alike than she’d thought.
“It’s the secret thing,” she said now. “Mom feels stupid for not knowing and Rachel feels betrayed.”
Courtney groaned. “Thanks for that slightly painful recap.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. We all have secrets. It’s just yours are more interesting than most.”
Their server arrived. They both ordered diet soda and promised to look at the menu. Not that they needed to, Sienna thought. They’d been coming to Treats ’n Eats since they were kids and pretty much had the offerings memorized.
“So what are yours?” Courtney asked.
“My what?”
“Secrets.”
There were so many to choose from, Sienna thought. Her ambivalence about David—although that might be more widely known than she suspected.
“My engagement to Hugh,” she said impulsively, then wondered why she’d gone there.
“What about it?”
“Why it ended.”
Her sister leaned toward her. “You said you realized when you got to Chicago that it wasn’t going to work.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. What really happened was, when I got to Chicago, Hugh decided I wasn’t good enough. I think his family had something to do with it, but in the end, he dumped me.”
Courtney stared at her. “You? He let you go? But you’re beautiful and smart, and WTF! Did he think he could do better?”
Hearing her sister’s outrage was both surprising and gratifying. “Thank you. That’s really nice. I like to think it was his loss, but at the time, I was devastated.”
“I’m sure. What an idiot. David knows you’re a prize, right?”
“Yes. He’s clear on that.” Her problems with David were different. Or maybe they existed entirely in her head. He was sweet and attentive. So why couldn’t she see them together for the next fifty years?
“My point,” Sienna continued, “isn’t about the engagement. It’s about secrets. We all have them. They make us feel safe. They get us through.”
“I was afraid everyone would tell me I couldn’t do it,” Courtney admitted.
“I would have.” Sienna raised a shoulder. “I thought you were...challenged.”
“Retarded,” Courtney corrected.
“We don’t use that word anymore, but kind of. When you were younger. But what you’re doing now is amazing. Not just because it’s hard to work and go to school, but because of what you had to overcome. There’s no way you could have gone through what you did and not have some emotional scars.”
Sienna had been thinking a lot about Courtney over the past several days, ever since the tasting dinner. She’d never thought about her sister’s life from her point of view. Not really. But to have been held back and then be so tall. It had to have been hard. Or even impossible. But here she was. A success.
“I’ve never said this before and I hope you take it in the right way, but I’m really proud of you.”
Courtney smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Sienna smiled back. “Good. Now, what happened with Mom? I asked her about the wedding cake and she couldn’t tell me anything beyond the fact that it’s pink. Did you really have a fight in Gracie’s kitchen?”
“Oh, no. That would be classy. We had a fight on the street. In front of the neighbors.”
Sienna grinned. “That’s my girl. Tell me everything.”
* * *
Courtney carefully wiped down the bathroom counter before double-checking that she’d left the correct number of towels. She scanned the room for any supplies she might have forgotten on a tabletop or nightstand, then walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. She turned toward her cart and jumped when she saw Joyce hovering in the hall.
They hadn’t really seen each other since the tasting. Joyce looked older and tired—as if she hadn’t been sleeping.
“Hello,” Courtney said politely, then reached for her clipboard to make her notes on the cleaning.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Of course. Let me return the cart to the utility room and I’ll be right down to your office.”
Joyce twisted her hands together. “Courtney, don’t.”
Courtney tilted her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m your boss.”
“You are my boss.”
“We’re friends, too. I care about you. Maggie and I have always gotten along, but you and I have a much closer relationship. I don’t want to lose that.”
You should have thought of that before, she thought angrily. She had to concentrate on pressing her lips together to keep from saying something she would regret.
“You’re still mad at me,” Joyce said helplessly. “Please don’t be. I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to start trouble between you and your mother.”
Perhaps not, but she had meant to push things along. Joyce had grown impatient and had taken matters into her own hands, so to speak. Not that stating the obvious would help either of them, Courtney thought. And even though she did consider Joyce a friend, the fact was the other woman was her boss. Not something she could forget.
She needed this job. Not only the pay, but also her living situation made her life convenient. She liked the hotel. She liked being around different people all the time. The hours made it easy for her to study. All of which meant she couldn’t lash out—not without accepting possible consequences.
“I’m sure you had the best of intentions,” she said at last. “Everyone knows now. I’m sure it will all turn out fine.”
“But you’re still angry.”
“I need a little time.”
“Courtney, I’ve known you since you were a little girl. We have to make this right between us.”
“We have. It’s fine.” Courtney held in a groan. Now she sounded like her mother.
“Are you sure?” Joyce’s voice was small as she spoke.
“Yes, of course.”
“I don’t believe you.” Joyce shook her head. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to your work.”
She walked away. Courtney headed in the other direction. She restocked her cart for the next day, signed out and started for her room. Halfway there, she changed direction and walked to Quinn’s bungalow. He answered her knock.
“What’s up?” he asked as he let her in.
“I’m crabby and mad at the world. Your grandmother wants everything to be all right between us. She’s my boss, so I can’t say what I really think. Not if I want to keep my job. My mom is hurt and angry, and suddenly Sienna and I are hanging out. Rachel’s still not talking to me and she’s the one I feel the worst about. Aside from that, I’m great. How are you?”
Quinn studied her for a second, then went into his bedroom. She followed, not sure what he was going to do. While she wasn’t exactly in the mood for sex, she was pretty sure Quinn knew which buttons to push to change that.
But instead of getting naked, he pulled a box out of his closet and handed it to her. She sank onto a chair when she saw what it was.
“Those high heels? Really?”
“Put them on and walk around. Trust me.”
She was well aware of how ridiculous she would look prancing around in Saint Laurent high heels in her khakis and polo shirt. But she also knew Quinn well enough to trust him. Crazy, but true. She pulled off her athletic shoes and white socks, then slipped on the pumps.
It took her a second to find her balance. Once she did, she walked the leng
th of the bungalow and back. She felt the tension leave her body. Her shoulders eased and she was able to pull them back. Her breathing slowed and her mind stopped racing.
Quinn moved into the living room and she joined him.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He gave her that I’m a star smile and sank onto the sofa. “It’s hard being more than a pretty face, but I do my best.”
“Your best is damned good.” She sat opposite him. “I don’t like being mad at Joyce.”
“Then don’t be.”
“As simple as that?”
“Why does it have to be complicated?”
“Because relationships usually are.”
“Only if you let them be. She was wrong. You know she’s sorry for the results, but it’s unlikely she’s sorry for what she did. If you can accept that, then you forgive her and move on. If not, then you stay mad.”
“Where are you on that spectrum?”
“I’m punishing her.”
“How is that different?”
“She’s my grandmother. She’s not going to fire me. I’ll let her off soon enough, but for now I want her to think about what she did. She hurt you. I don’t like that.”
He spoke matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather. Only, they were talking about her and he sounded...well, protective.
She didn’t know what to do with that information. Part of her wanted to hug it close and relive this moment over and over. Part of her wanted... Nope, she thought. There was no other part. There was just the hanging on. Because it had been a long time since anyone had looked out for her. She would guess the last person was Rachel, and they’d both been kids then.
“Thank you,” she whispered, thinking that she wasn’t going to ask why. Just in case the reason was he felt sorry for her. Better to simply hang on to the cuddling feeling.
“No problem. So what are you going to do?”
She looked at the shoes. She’d told herself she’d left them at Quinn’s because she wasn’t sure she was going to accept the gift. But the truth was she hadn’t taken them home because she wasn’t sure she was worthy. Whoever wore these shoes needed some attitude and a lot more confidence than she had.
Daughters of the Bride Page 23
