She rolls her eyes. “I oughta break Jack Feeney’s pencil over my knee next time I see him. People don’t think of you as a ‘runaway bride.’”
I shrug. “The truth is, Ames, my biggest fear is they might have reason to worry.”
~~~~~
Brenda twirls her chair around and hooks the red vinyl cape around my neck. “So what do you want to do today?” she asks as she brushes out my hair.
“I don’t know. What do you think? Short and spiked with red tips?”
Brenda stops brushing and raises an eyebrow at me in the mirror. “Are you serious?”
Ami giggles from the chair beside me. “Don’t let her kid you. Me maybe. Her never.”
Brenda clutches the front of her smock. “Goodness, girl, you about gave me a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry. I really don’t know what I want.” I used to think that was true of everything in my life, but I’m narrowing the list down. I want to serve God, run the store, and as far as anything else, I sure am excited about going out with Garrett tonight, even if I did have to ask him.
Brenda lifts my hair to the top of my head and purses her lips. “Well, since tonight’s the most romantic night of the year, how about a soft updo with some ringlets hanging down the back?”
“Ohh, yeah,” Ami pipes up. “Perfect.”
Ami’s stylist, Renee nods. “I agree.” She and Ami head to the sink.
“Okay.” That should be quite a switch from my signature ponytail. “You know how thick my hair is though. Do you think it will work?”
“Trust me, honey. Your hair is perfect for this. Now let’s go get you washed and rinsed.”
“How’d you two rate the back room?” Renee asks as she rinses Ami’s hair in the sink next to us.
“I asked Angel.” I feel kind of bad, but the commotion in the front is unbelievable with everyone from high school girls to retirement home residents getting ready for the big night.
“She sure does miss your gran.” Brenda towels the water out of my hair.
“Yeah, I know. Me, too.”
“We all do.” She pats my head and puts my hand on the towel she leaves in place. “Wouldn’t she just turn over in her grave if she knew what was going on now?”
I nod. I know that’s not the most sensitive phrase, but in the South, you get used to it. No disrespect is meant. “We’re going to keep fighting this, though. Maybe nothing will come of it.”
Brenda laughs. “You should have seen Angel send that boy packing the other day when he came by with his petition.”
“Did I hear someone say my name?” Angel sticks her bleached blonde short spiked ‘do around the doorway. I’m not so sure about the ‘bleached’ part. I have a sneaking suspicion she’d be white headed if she didn’t add blonde tones.
“I was just telling Kristianna and Ami how you ran that lawyer off,” Brenda says.
Angel throws her head back and gives a throaty laugh. “He didn’t stay around for a manicure, I’ll say that.” She hugs me, her tanned skin like leather under my hands. “Good to see you, child.”
“You, too. Are you worried about the town name change?”
She shrugs. “Not for myself. Won’t nobody make me change my name. My sweet Mama, God rest her soul, named me Angel when I was born, and that’ll be what’s on my tombstone. So why shouldn’t my business be Angel Hair and Nails?”
“Will it hurt our tourist business much?” Renee asks as she picks out Ami’s curls.
“Tourists.” Angel leans against the doorway. “You know, the tourists don’t usually come in to get their hair done. Ah, a few do. But they don’t worry about the name. Remember when that lady tripped over on Santa Claus Lane and fell in the ditch, headfirst? She didn’t care what our shop was named, did she?”
Brenda and Renee both shake their heads.
Renee is giving Ami a trim and she wields the scissors like a Samurai using his swords. But without pausing, she says, “And then there was that time that guy spilled paint in his hair over at the hardware store. Never could figure that one out.”
“Me either,” Angel agrees, “but we liked to never got it out.”
Brenda runs the comb through my hair and keeps her hand on her blowdryer, obviously ready for the conversation to end. I don’t blame her. It takes a while to dry my hair.
“ANGEL,” a voice hollers from the front.
“Oops. Gotta go.” She turns to Brenda. “You fix Miss Kristianna up real nice for her date tonight. He deserves the best.” She winks at me and sashays out.
“Who are you going out with?” Brenda demands, as she blowdries my hair.
I pretend not to hear her over the dryer and in a few seconds, she and Renee are comparing their kids’ latest antics.
Ami grins and gives me a thumbs up behind the magazine in her lap.
~~~~~
Garrett knows where I hide the key to the front door, but like a modern day gentleman, he calls me from his cell phone when he arrives.
“Let yourself in, I’ll be right down.” I grab my clutch bag and give myself a quick once over in the mirror. The dress does bring out the color of my eyes. And my hair. . . I reach up to my neck and put my finger in one wispy ringlet. . .my hair makes me feel like a princess. But thankfully, I still look like me. Just a little more polished.
I stop at my door and murmur a prayer. I admit I’m nervous. I’ve never asked a man out before. And I’ve never gone out with someone I know so well. Or who knows me so well.
Suddenly I can’t wait to see what the night holds. I yank open the door and step to the top of the stairs.
I hear an indrawn breath and look down to see Garrett staring up at me. “You look amazing.”
My heart slams against my ribs as I walk down to meet him. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He brings his hand around from behind his back and presents the most exquisite bouquet of yellow roses I’ve ever seen. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to—”
He touches his finger to my lips. “Shh. . .I didn’t have to do anything.” He grins. “Except maybe wear this tux. If you hadn’t called me, I was going to invite you to go to Buon Natale. And I’m pretty sure I could have gotten away with a coat and tie there.”
As I grab a vase and step in the store restroom to get water for the roses, I smile. I didn’t misread his cues. He does intend to take our friendship a step farther.
Outside, I lock the door behind us, then slip the key back in its hiding place.
He gives me a hand up into his SUV. “Sorry. I left the Jag at home tonight.”
“That’s okay, I’m allergic to cats.”
When he climbs in and starts the motor, he glances over at me. “I’m glad we’re together tonight. It’s nice.”
I smile. “And a little weird?”
“Way nicer than it is weird.”
Good answer.
We ride in awkward silence for a while. What kind of conversation do you make with a date you’ve known forever?
“Speaking of weird,” Garrett’s voice booms out in the quiet vehicle and he looks startled. “Did I ever tell you about the precocious seven-year-old I met on the beach who thought his parents had kidnapped him at birth from his real parents?”
“I don’t think so.”
“His basis for this theory was that both of his parents loved ice cream, but he hated it. And since he couldn’t get them to admit he was adopted, he knew there must have been criminal activity involved.”
“Oh, bless his heart.”
Garrett nods. “For a week, every day, up and down the beach he’d go, watching to see who walked by the ice cream carts without stopping.”
“And that’s why he chose to talk to you. Because you didn’t stop at the ice cream cart?”
“Yep. I had to buy a triple dip Rocky Road cone and scarf it down just to prove to him that I wasn’t his long-lost brother.”
I laugh. “What a great sacri
fice you made for a stranger.”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“So what happened? Don’t leave me hanging.”
“His parents convinced him that since they all three loved the beach, they had to be related.”
“Aww, how sweet.”
He grins. “The ice cream was sweet, the kid was mildly annoying.”
I slap at his shoulder. “Don’t try to act like a man of steel. I know how tender-hearted you are.”
“You only think that because I could never say no to you. You’re my Kryptonite.”
I can feel the heat creeping up my cheeks. That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I’m speechless.
He saves me from having to reply. “Why did Mark tell me to tell the ducks hello when I told him we were going out tonight?”
“You know. The Peabody ducks.”
“Is that a musical group?”
I flip the lighted visor mirror down and look at my makeup. “I can’t believe you live forty-five minutes from Little Rock and have never heard of the Peabody ducks. You live a sheltered life.”
“Don’t rub it in. Just tell me what they are.”
I snicker. “They’re real live ducks. Every morning at 11:00, with music and fanfare, they waddle from the elevator down the red carpet into the fountain in the lobby. They splash and play in the water all day, then march back out at 5:00 to retire to their ‘penthouse suite.’”
He taps the steering wheel. “Oh, man, somebody get me an application. I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.”
“Um, I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you don’t fit the bill,” I quip.
He snickers. “Oh, well, the job probably isn’t all it’s quacked up to be anyway. Guess I’ll just stick with mine.”
I know he’s joking, but I feel a twinge of sympathy for him. He does a good business in computer consulting, but in the world we’re about to enter, where everyone is defined by their occupation or at least their bank accounts, he and I will be near the bottom of the ranks.
At the Peabody, Garrett tosses the key to the valet and signs the card. “Do your parents know I’m coming?”
Gulp.
Chapter Twenty
I intended to call and tell my parents I was bringing Garrett, even though Mother had mentioned Shawn.
But I didn’t.
He gives me a bittersweet smile. “I’ll take that stricken look on your face to be a no. They expecting a lawyer, by any chance?”
“Maybe. But I can choose my own dates.” And the sooner my parents realize that, the better off we’ll be.
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
I consider my answer, but I’m not ready to give away too much. So I settle for light. “My mother told me to bring someone with good table manners and I didn’t want her to think she could boss me around, so I brought you.”
He winks at me. “Good choice.”
When we enter the gala, my dad waves from across the room. Garrett takes my hand and I hold on for dear life as we walk to meet him.
“Kristianna, glad you could make it.” Dad shakes my hand. When he gets in his public persona, it would take a natural disaster to bump him out of it. “Garrett.” He shakes Garrett’s hand, too, but I notice he doesn’t say he’s glad to see him. He points us to our table where Mother sits, chatting with a blonde standing in front of her.
As we’re walking toward her from the side, I watch my mother’s animated face with something close to envy. She never talks that much when she’s with me. Unless she has a point to make or an ultimatum to issue.
As we draw nearer, I hear her say, “Oh, yes, our daughter’s coming tonight. She’s terribly busy, quite the entrepreneur in a little tourist town not far from here. And the demand for her paintings makes it hard to balance everything. But charitable events are important to her.”
I’m stunned by her proud tone, not to mention her grandiose description of my job.
“Who’s her date?” the blonde asks.
Mother says, “Her date? He’s—” The smile on her face freezes and her eyes glitter with anger as she sees me with Garrett. “Here they are now.” She introduces us, drawing an obvious blank at Garrett’s name, even though we’ve been friends for twenty years. He graciously covers for her and when she tells the woman he’s in “computers”, he nods.
We slide into our seats as the woman moves on to speak to someone else. “Hi, Mother.”
“Kristianna.” Her lips are pursed so tightly, it’s a wonder she can get the one word out. No doubt she wants to rail at me for not bringing Shawn, but good manners won’t allow it. What a battle must be going on inside her.
During the delicious meal, my parents are polite, if not warm, to Garrett, and make no references to law school. When people start mingling while we’re waiting for the entertainment act to get set up, my parents excuse themselves to circulate, but we stay put.
I smile at Garrett. “Well, well, not only do you have impeccable table manners, you’re quite a charmer, too.”
His green eyes twinkle. “Oh, sorry. I should have spilled something or wiped my mouth on my sleeve. Did I mess up your plan to show your mother who’s boss?”
I laugh. “Only a little.” I sit back in my chair. “Don’t look now, but I think the worst is over.”
Before he can respond, my mother’s best friend Mitzi scurries over to us. “So good to see you, Kristianna.”
She pats my cheek and turns to Garrett. “And this must be the lawyer.”
I open my mouth to say no and think I actually get the word out, but she goes on without stopping, “Your mother is so proud that you’ve found someone. . .” She pauses for a second, to consider her words maybe, but I’m too stunned by now to speak. “Well, let’s just say you’ve given her more than one gray hair with your taste in friends. But now you’ve come to your senses and, from what I hear, the law office will stay in the family.” She winks at Garrett. “Not a bad deal for you, either, eh?”
We just look at her.
“Welcome to the family,” she calls as she bustles on to her next poor unsuspecting victim.
I put my head in my hands and rub my temples. So much for the worst being over. I have no idea what to say to Garrett. He’s not talking either. Probably too horrified by the dysfunctional mess he’s stumbled into. I finally look up and he’s not here. I don’t blame him, but I’m startled. They don’t come any steadier than Garrett. I glance over toward my parents and there he is, talking to my dad.
A few seconds later, he comes back to the table. “Unless you’re just dying to hear the opera singer, I got us out of the rest of this.”
“I take back what I said earlier. You are Superman.” I grab my clutch purse and follow him out of the room. When the big double doors clank shut behind us, I turn to him. “What did you say to them?”
“Your mother was busy talking to someone, so I just told your dad I thought you were getting a headache and we were going to go. Then I thanked him for a lovely evening. I didn’t mention that your mother was the headache.”
I smile. “Thanks.” I might as well brace myself for a nasty phone call from Mother tomorrow about leaving early. But it’ll be worth it.
“Anytime.”
“I’m sorry about what Mitzi said. She doesn’t have good sense.”
He laughs. “She was just repeating what she’d been told.”
I look at him, so distinguished-looking in his tux and feel a new surge of anger at my mother. “I’m even sorrier about that.”
He pulls me into a one-armed hug as we walk down the carpeted hallway to the glass elevator. “Kristianna, some people can’t see past the surface. We should feel sorry for her.”
I nod. “I tell myself that, but sometimes it’s hard.”
“I bet if I had a job as a Peabody duck, she’d look at me differently.”
“Oh that’s for sure.” We get in the elevator and I grab his hand before he can punch the button.
“I’ve got an idea.” I push the UP arrow.
“Going up?” he asks.
“To the top.”
When the doors slide open, the cool night breeze sluices through my dress. The wind does its best to blow my hair, but Brenda used enough hairspray to withstand a tornado.
I lead Garrett over to the wooden enclosures where the famous Peabody ducks are happily napping. “Welcome to the penthouse,” I whisper. “Not exactly what I expected when I first heard they lived in the penthouse, but it works.”
We watch the ducks for a bit, then he pulls me to his side. We stand in silence, watching the moon glisten on the Arkansas River.
“So many things in life aren’t what they seem once you scratch the surface,” he finally says.
“No, I guess not.” I shoot him a puzzled look. He’s more enigmatic than James Dean these days.
“Still, you know the ducks are much more comfortable here than they would be in our idea of a penthouse suite. So sometimes it’s just semantics.”
I glance over at him sharply. That sounded like more than a casual comment. “What are you really talking about?”
“If you lose the Jingle Bells name, will you lose the town you love?”
I groan. I should have known. He’s never said which side of the issue he’s on since I stopped him in the bowling alley that night. But considering he’s always busy when we’re door knocking or having committee meetings, I was pretty sure where he stood. I just didn’t want to face it. I take a step away from him and shiver. “How can it be the town I love if it’s not Jingle Bells?”
“If the name changes, will Scott still put a table of books on the sidewalk on sunny days?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Will Joe down at the coffee shop still brew coffee stout enough to force you into facing the morning whether you want to or not?”
“I suppose.”
“I know you love the town, Kristianna, but the town is the people, not the name.”
“If someone changed my name to Mary tomorrow, would you like that?” He’d probably just call me “sport” anyway, so it’s a silly question.
“No, I’d hate it.” He moves toward me, but I take another step away. “But I’d accept it if that’s what it took to keep from losing you.”
Forever Christmas Page 15
