by Erynn Mangum
“For Pete’s sake.” I groan. “Dad, Lexi hasn’t lived here for four years! It’s not like you saw her every day. In fact, you’ll probably see her more now. Lexi and Nate’s house is two blocks away.”
Dad nods, his face easing back into a sad frown. “I guess, Laurie-girl.”
I close my eyes.
“So what big plans do you have for this evening?” Brandon sits at the other end of the couch from me, kicking my bare foot.
“None.” I twist away. “Dad wants to rest.”
“The wedding wore me out. And there’s a bad cold going around.” Dad puts a hand to his forehead. “I hope I didn’t catch it.”
When I was in fifth grade, my teacher asked my class to describe our parents in one word. Mom passed away when I was eight, so I only had to depict Dad. It was the easiest assignment I have ever had. One word: Hypochondriac. The hardest part of the assignment was spelling it.
Brandon’s mouth twists in a pitiful attempt to not smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Holbrook. I’m sure you’re safe.”
“I don’t know. I’m going to go make some tea. Would either of you like some?”
I know what kind it will be. Lemongrass. Blegh.
“No thanks, Dad,” I say cheerfully. “I feel fine.”
“You got your mother’s immune system. You should be thanking God for that every day,” Dad says solemnly.
I nod.
“None for me either.” Brandon smiles. “I had a glass of orange juice before coming over.”
“Smart boy. See, Laurie-girl? You should take a few lessons from Brandon.”
“I’ll try,” I say, this time not as cheerfully.
Dad leaves the room. Brandon waits until Dad is out of earshot. “He’s not doing very well,” he whispers.
I groan.
“I guess you knew that.” He pauses. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Lex is happy, Nate is happy, and I’m happy because I’m the one who introduced them.” One week before Christmas. How romantic is that?
He brushes it off. “Luck.”
“Not luck. They’re perfect for each other.”
“Yes, but don’t attribute that to yourself. God would have had them meet eventually on their own.”
Brandon takes great pride in minimizing the things in which I take great pride.
“Say what you want. But I know I’m partly responsible for the wedding today, and I’m proud of it.”
“Laurie, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Dad says, coming back from the kitchen.
“What’s that, Dad?”
“Tear families apart.”
I blink. Brandon starts laughing and tries to cover it with a cough.
“Dad, I didn’t tear any families apart, I joined them together.”
“A wedding is a very sad thing for every family. Did you see Nate’s mother today?” He shakes his head mournfully.
“She was bawling,” Brandon says.
“Exactly.” Dad points at me. “Tearing families apart.” A faint whistle floats from the kitchen, and Dad leaves again.
I can’t get mad at Dad. But I definitely can at Brandon.
“What is the matter with you?”
“What?”
“Telling him Nate’s mom was bawling.” I whack his tux-shrouded shoulder. “Good grief, Brandon.”
He laughs.
Brandon Knox has been my best friend since second grade. We met on the playground during an intense game of Fox and Hound. After we both ended up with bloody noses and spent the next three hours together in the nurse’s office, it was fated — we would either be best friends or best enemies for life. There are times when I wonder if we’re really the latter dressed up as the former.
He’s been there for all the major events in my life. When my mom died. When I had braces. Graduation. Both of my sisters’ weddings.
It can make me sappy if I think about it too long.
“Where are you coming from, Brandon?” Dad comes into the room with a steaming mug filled with thick, pale sludge.
“Adam and Laney’s. Actually, they told me you weren’t taking this well.”
Laney is my sister and older than me by three years. Lexi is one year older.
“Laney.” Dad jumps on her name. “How is my girl?”
“Dad, you just saw her three hours ago.”
Dad ignores me. “Is she taking the wedding well?”
“She’s doing great. She was a little busy when I saw her. Jess was crying hysterically, Dorie was throwing her dinner, and Jack was spitting up.” He points to a red spot on his wrist. “Spaghetti.”
I start laughing. “Ah, the joys of motherhood.”
Brandon grins.
Dad doesn’t see the humor in it. “Does she need help?” Worry creeps into his tone.
“Not anymore. Between me and Adam there was an adult for each kid. So Adam cleaned up Dorie, Laney took care of Jack, and I tried to distract Jess.”
“I bet your mother feels the loss of Adam as much as I feel the loss of Laney and Lexi,” Dad says.
Brandon shrugs. “Mm. I think Mom was just glad he’d found a nice girl to marry.”
“She’s a strong woman, then.” Dad takes a sip of his tea. “Well, kids, I’m going to bed. Laurie-girl, you should as well. You don’t want to catch the cold.”
“I’ll be up soon.”
Dad nods at Brandon. “Good night, son.”
“Night, Mr. Holbrook.”
He disappears up the stairs.
I start working on the front of the dress.
“What in the world are you doing, Laurie?” Brandon is staring at me, his eyebrows bunched together.
“Wrinkling this.”
He starts laughing. “You are a stubborn, pig-headed, know-it-all woman.”
I crunch more of the silky material against the sofa. “Yeah, well, we all have our little faults. You’re opinionated, meddling, and devious, and I still let you stick around.” I pause. “Don’t ask me why.”
“That’s why I like you, Lauren Emma Holbrook. You’re not afraid to tell me what you really think of me.”
“Anytime, Knox.”
He gets quiet and I look over at him. “What are you thinking about?”
Brandon blinks. “Oh. Nothing.”
“Yeah, right. Give it up.” He has his classic off-in-Never-Never-Land look. His eyes are usually a light brown color, but when he’s deep in thought, they darken considerably. It makes it easy to know when he’s stopped listening to me.
He stretches. “Adam and Laney.”
“Translation: Chaos.”
He smiles. “No, just about the two of them. They’re happy. Really happy. Even in the chaos.”
I stop messing up the dress for a minute. “So?”
“So don’t you ever envy what they’ve got?”
This is what our friendship is like: No pretenses.
“Sometimes,” I admit. “Not the whole husband thing, you understand. Just the contentment.”
He nods. “I mean, we both know they aren’t perfect.” He snorts as he laughs.
“Yeah. But they accept it. Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Yeah.” He plays with his class ring. “I think Nate and Lexi have it too.”
“Any good marriage should.” I go back to wrinkling.
“Sometimes I wonder —”
“Uh-oh.”
“What marriage would be like,” he finishes.
I immediately start shaking my head. “I don’t. I am perfectly happy here. I’m not missing out on anything. I have everything I could ever want or need. Dad dotes on me, I have a good job, and then there’s you, of course.”
“Yeah, but, Laur, things change. One day you might wake up and I’ll be married with a couple of kids, you’ll have to take care of your dad instead of the other way around, and whatever.” He shakes his hands around as he talks, trying to pull the words from the air, I guess.
For a moment, just the tiniest mill
isecond, I worry.
Then I get over it. Nothing is going to change. Life is comfortable right now. Brandon is kidding.
He looks serious.
I shrug him off. “Well, I’ll stress about that when it happens.”
“Laurie’s lifelong motto.” He yawns. “I should go back to my place.”
“You mean you’ve had your own place this whole time? Heck, I thought you lived here.” I smile at him. He’s relaxed back into the sofa, head lolled, completely at ease.
He grins and he is the same old Brandon again. “Good night, Laurie,” he sing-songs.
I stand, relishing the way the dress creases in all the wrong places. “Night, Brandon.”
He watches my pleasure and shakes his head. “Lauren Holbrook, you are one of a kind.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“See you at work tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
He lets himself out and I go upstairs. It’s Sunday night. Work begins again tomorrow. Life will once again fall into its perfect pace.
I change into my pajamas, fall into bed, and am asleep almost as soon as I touch the pillow.
Almost.
Do I envy what Laney and Lexi have?
Nah.
And then I go to sleep.
Chapter Two
I wake up at eight when my alarm goes off.
Ugh.
Sometime in my prewedding madness yesterday morning, I must have hit the tuner on my alarm clock. Loud trumpets and twangy guitars burst from my clock like a Mexican hat-dancing quartet has taken up residence in my bedroom.
May it never be so.
I hit the alarm clock with the sudden strength of a heavyweight boxer and throw the covers off.
I dress casually because I’m twenty-three years old and I can. People who come to The Brandon Knox Photography Studio expect my coworker, Ruby Palmer, who is thirty-three, to look coordinated and professional because they know she is officially An Adult. People look at me in my jeans and sweater and brush it off because I look like just A Kid.
I take advantage of my youth.
I’ve been working for the studio since I was a sophomore in high school, at first mostly as a gopher for Mr. Knox, who still owns the place. The older I got, the more I fell in love with the photography process, and Mr. Knox started training me to take the photographs instead of doing my half-secretarial, half-hold-the-screaming-baby job. Brandon’s been there since he was about eight. He manages the place now while his grandparents take extremely long trips to exotic places.
It takes me five minutes to get dressed and thirty minutes to fix my hair. I am a stickler about my hair.
Downstairs, Dad holds his lemongrass tea in one hand and his blue indigestion medication in the other.
“Good morning, Laurie. Did you sleep well?” He pops the horse-sized pill in his mouth and swallows it without blinking.
Here’s what I don’t understand: Horse-sized indigestion pills. It seems like if you’re having indigestion, swallowing a pill the size of Massachusetts would be a little difficult.
I answer his question while pouring a cup of coffee. “Yes, Dad. How did you sleep?”
He exhales sadly. “Not as well as I would have if Lexi had been home.”
“Dad, Lexi hasn’t lived here for four years.” If I’m not careful, this can become last night’s conversation minus our buffer, Brandon. “What is on your schedule for today?”
“I thought I’d go see Laney.”
Bad idea. “Dad, I think Muffin is due in for a veterinarian visit today. Would you mind taking her? I’m working all day today.”
He pauses for a second, mulling it over. “Good thinking, Laurie. Lexi wouldn’t be happy if Muffin keeled over while she was on her honeymoon.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Relief.
“Who are you taking pictures of today?”
“Unless we have any last-minute cancellations, we have the Rawleys, the Carters, the Jacksons, and Linda and Greg.” Oops. I regret the last two names the moment they slip out.
Dad perks up. “Linda and Greg? Linda Myers and Greg Halloway? Why are they getting a picture taken?”
Oh brother. I shove a piece of toast in my mouth. With Dad’s dismal view of marriage, it is my only hope of continuing to have a peaceful breakfast. “Weww, Dwad, Winda an Gweg awe gwetting —”
“Laurie, don’t talk with food in your mouth. That’s rude.”
Thank You, Lord. I take my time chewing. A lot of time. I swallow. “Sorry, Dad. Whoa, look at the time. I need to run.”
“You don’t want to be late.”
“Nope, because that would give Brandon license to fire me.” I jump up from the table.
“Brandon wouldn’t fire you, Honey.” He smiles up at me. “Have a good day.”
I run for my shoes and backpack and climb into my new Tahoe. All Dad’s retirement money and no one to spend it on . . . except me.
See why I’m never getting married?
I drive the five minutes across town to the studio. Brandon’s grandfather started the studio about thirty years ago. Brandon’s wanted to run it since birth, and last January, Mr. Knox half-retired. Now Brandon runs the place, while Mr. Knox just owns it. It’s grown a lot in a year, and Mr. Knox was even nice enough to let Brandon change the name to The Brandon Knox Photography Studio. Now he has four photographers, including me, working for him and is in the market for a secretary.
“You are this close to late.” Ruby holds her thumb and forefinger a hair’s width apart.
“But I managed to avoid lateness yet again.” I sling my backpack into my cubbyhole. I hate carrying a backpack. I am constantly forgetting it. But when the alternative is a purse — well, a purse is just not my style.
Ruby just looks at me and shakes her head. Ruby Palmer has no sense of humor at all, thrives on punctuality, and eats Slim Fast bars for lunch.
If this is what happens when you turn thirty-three, I am never growing up.
She is always dressed stiffly. Or maybe it’s just her posture that makes her look stiff. Honestly, you’d think she has a board tied to her vertebrae the way she stands. She has very boring past-the-shoulder-length, mousy brown hair and pretty eyes that could be prettier if she’d just smile occasionally.
There’s a part of me that wants to toss a neon-colored scarf around her neck and jump about singing. It’s hard to maintain a stiff composure when there is someone dancing around you and you’re wearing neon.
Brandon walks in. “Morning, Ruby. Morning, Laurie.”
“Good morning, Brandon.”
“Hey.”
I notice Brandon is seven seconds late, but as the boss, I guess it’s his right because Ruby keeps her mouth closed.
“Where are Ty and Newton?” Brandon plops a file folder on the desk and hangs up his coat on the tree by the door. Ty and Newton are the closed-mouthed photographers here. They don’t speak to me. Apparently I’m too loud for their tastes.
“In the back,” Ruby says to Brandon. “The Rawleys showed up early. Again. It takes both Ty and Newton to corral their kids.”
Brandon grins. “How many kids this time?”
“My count? Eight. You never know, though. With all the movement, I could have miscounted.” She shakes her head and then smoothes her hair.
The Rawleys have consistently added a child to their family every year since I can remember.
“Laurie, you’ve got the Carters; Ruby, you take the Jacksons.”
“Yes, sir.”
My answer is a halfhearted, “Uhh.” Brandon does this just to spite me. The Carters like to be photographed with their two cats. I detest cats.
“Oh,” Brandon says suddenly. “And Laurie, I just heard that Tina Braxton and Kyle Medfield got engaged. They’ll be coming in for pictures at three.”
“Tina?” I yell.
Brandon does the funny twisting with his mouth meaning he’s hiding a grin. “Yeah, Tina. You remember Tina.”
My chin is super-glued
to the carpet. “She’s eighteen. She’s hardly legal. I mentored her through seventh-grade English as my senior extra-credit project.”
“Did she pass?” Ruby asks.
“No,” Brandon says.
“I can’t believe she’s engaged!”
“Well, you know, sometimes it just happens. A guy meets a girl. They like each other. Then they love each other. Then they decide to get married.” Brandon shrugs. “It happens.”
“Yeah, but not to children.” I’m not really upset they’re getting married. It is more the fact that Tina is eighteen and has already been proposed to.
No one has ever proposed to me.
I wouldn’t accept him if he did. It would just be somewhat flattering.
What’s so great about Tina Braxton anyway? Sure, she’s beautiful, kind, and a good Christian, but what other qualities does she have?
Plenty. I sigh.
Brandon notices my silent pity party and levels me with a stare even Tina Braxton would shudder at. We’ll talk later, it says.
Oh joy.
He picks up the appointment book. “I had a call about the ad I put in the newspaper. Hannah Curtis will be coming by to interview for the secretary position about four fifteen.”
“Who’s Hannah Curtis?” With a name like that, I’m picturing a fiftyish woman, probably with no sense of humor. The only person here who does actually laugh is Brandon, and he can’t get too goofy because he has to remain bosslike.
Brandon glances at a yellow sticky note he’s holding. “She just moved here about a month ago. I haven’t actually met her in person, just talked to her on the phone on my way in. She seems nice enough. We’ll see.”
The bell over the door jangles and the Carters come in.
With Bonny and Betty, The Cats Boisterous.
“Hi!” I say with a cheeky smile. “Good to see you again! Oh, and Bonny and Betty are looking well!”
Three o’clock marches around much too quickly. I hardly have time to gather my composure after the family reunion mob leaves before Tina and Kyle walk in.
A radiant Tina and Kyle.
Oh brother.
“Tina.” I tip my head to one side. “You look fantastic.”
“Hi, Laurie.” Her voice is whispery, fairylike. “This is my fiancé, Kyle.”
Kyle shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you, Laurie.”
