Winter Dreams
Page 105
“And why is that?”
“You see,”—oh, the wheedling tone! The one Deborah used when she knew she was delivering information that was not going to foster sympathy—“this isn’t Margaret Rose’s first wedding, and Webb wasn’t happy with the prices of the dresses she chose last year. So, you see—”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Noel waved her hand around like she was trying to keep the last fire at the North Pole burning. “You mean to tell me Paige and Constance have already been in one wedding for this woman? And it was last year? And she has already divorced, found a new man, and is doing it all over again? And my sister and niece are going to participate again?”
“Now, Noel. It isn’t quite like that. She didn’t find a new man, as you say. She’s remarrying the first one. And it’s entirely understandable that Margaret Rose would want to celebrate with her family and friends after she and Powell cleared up their differences. It’s not as if she’s wearing white again. And the attendants’ dresses will be short. Everything will be in good taste for a second wedding.”
“In good taste, but expensive?”
“Don’t the two usually go hand in hand? Noel, you don’t understand what an honor it is to be asked to be in a wedding.”
That was the truth; she’d only been in one wedding, and being part of the cast of thousands in the Paige-Webb extravaganza had felt more like a lot of work than an honor.
“Margaret Rose has chosen fall colors. I hope the dresses will be warm enough for October in New Hampshire.”
“New Hampshire, huh?” Noel simply could not go on with this conversation; the end result was going to be the same anyway. “Tell me what you want me to do, Mother—apart from coming to Louisville this weekend.”
“Well … we were hoping you might order the dresses and let Paige pay you back—you know, at a time when Webb might be more amenable?”
Noel didn’t relish helping to deceive her long-suffering brother-in-law, but she’d given up trying to make her family see reason long ago. Besides, Webb was the one who’d decided to suffer; she could relate.
“Fine. Yes. Email me the link.”
“Oh, Noel! You know we can’t do that! It’s in an email from Margaret Rose, but the last time I tried to email you something, it disappeared into thin air.”
Why had she even tried to school them on basic computer skills?
“Okay. Go next door and tell Quincy if he’ll come over and do it, I’ll give him five dollars when I come to alter the dresses.”
Quincy was nine years old.
“Oh, thank you, Noel! Won’t things be so much easier when you make enough money to come home and open a shop here?”
Easier for who? Her family would never understand how prestigious it had been to be courted by the Beauford Arts Council to open a shop in such a respected artisan community. She’d have to make the wedding party of a Phi Mu for them to be impressed.
A little guilt went through her like it did every time she let her family think she was still on track with the original plan—for her to move back into that crumbling showplace with them and open a shop in Louisville.
But Noel didn’t have time for guilt right now—or coming clean, had she been inclined to do so, which she was not. Through the front window, she caught sight of Nickolai coming across the street. He was alone.
“Mother, I have to go. I have a customer.”
“But, Noel, I—”
“I’ll call you back, Mother. Get Quincy to send that email.” And she hung up as Nickolai entered the shop. “All ready,” she said cheerfully and handed him the box. “I hope she enjoys it.”
“Thank you. I hope she will, too.” But he didn’t sound too sure. He paused at the door and looked back over his shoulder, first at Lazy Morning and then at Noel. “I hope it finds a happy home.”
“Me, too.”
• • •
The next time Noel saw Nickolai Glazov, he put a Calgary Flames right wing out of the game. Then he made his third goal of the night—and that hat trick brought a victory for the Nashville Sound.
And though she never expected it to happen again, the next time she saw him face to face was six months later on Christmas Eve at Beauford Bend Plantation.