Wedding Date in Hot Springs, Arkansas

by Annalisa Daughety

  He smiled. “I’m so glad.” He stood. Maybe the best thing to do was leave while he was ahead. “I should go and let you get back to your baking.” He crossed the room to the door.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He turned to face her. “Merry Christmas, Violet. I hope you get everything you want.” Jackson walked out the door and down the driveway to his Range Rover. He climbed inside and started the engine.

  Violet stood at the door, watching him leave. She waved.

  He slowly backed out of the driveway. He’d tried telling her how he felt. Hopefully the gifts would be a way to show her.

  He’d tried his best. If she still didn’t return his feelings, there was nothing more he could do. So he turned the car toward the highway and headed back to Little Rock.

  “Merry Christmas, darling.” Mom opened the door, and Violet walked inside, her arms full of gifts.

  “You, too, Mom.” She put the stack of gifts beneath the tree in the living room. “The tree looks awesome.” The tall fir tree had white lights and uniform red and gold decorations. It was a far cry from Violet’s own smaller tree with its multicolored lights and ornaments that came in all shapes and sizes.

  Mom smiled. “Thanks. I got new ornaments this year at the Junior League’s Holiday House. I decided I was ready for a change when it came to my Christmas decorating color palette.”

  “Well it looks pretty.” Violet held up a container of cookies. “I brought some Christmas cookies.”

  “Put them in the kitchen. Your dad will be thrilled. He loves your baking.” Mom straightened a wayward ornament.

  Violet walked into the kitchen and set the container on the counter. At least Mom hadn’t mentioned the rehearsal dinner fiasco or her absence from Amber’s wedding. Yet.

  “Please tell me those are homemade goodies from your kitchen,” Dad said as he walked into the kitchen.

  Violet turned to face him. “They sure are.” She opened the lid. “Help yourself.”

  He reached in and got a cookie shaped like a candy cane and popped it into his mouth. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  His expression grew serious. “Can I have a word with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s go into my study.” He winked.

  “Certainly, Professor Plum. I’d be glad to.” When Violet was eight and her favorite board game had been Clue, she’d started calling her dad’s office the study. Dad had thought it was quite funny, and it had been a running joke between the two of them ever since.

  Once they were seated—he at his desk and her in one of the leather chairs—he sighed. “I need to confess something to you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I didn’t make you a partner in the firm because I knew how unhappy you were.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “I debated about whether to tell you, but I hate the thought of you thinking for a second that I didn’t want you to be partner. I did. But more than that, I wanted you to be happy.” He shrugged. “And I thought the best way to ensure that was for you to decide to leave the practice.”

  “Thanks, Daddy. I appreciate you telling me that.”

  He smiled. “Also, I’m very sorry for what you went through at your sister’s rehearsal dinner. Regardless of what the young man of yours did, Amber had no right to humiliate you that way. I don’t know what gets into her sometimes.”

  “Switched at birth? Dropped on her head? Possessed?” Violet couldn’t help but try to joke. Sometimes it was the only way to deal with a bad situation.

  Dad pressed his lips together. “Any of those would be better than the truth, which is that she’s spoiled and a little bit narcissistic.”

  “You think?”

  He finally smiled. “And maybe a little bit jealous of her older sister. You haven’t been the easiest to live up to.”

  “Whatever. She hasn’t been jealous of me a day in her life.”

  Dad leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think that’s true. You’ve always been so unique and such a leader. Amber grew up hearing us praise you, and I fear she felt like things were some kind of competition. Looking back, I realize we should’ve done a better job of making sure you both knew we supported your individual endeavors.”

  Violet sighed. She still wasn’t convinced Amber’s problem was as much jealousy as it was that she was just a completely different kind of person than Violet.

  “Your sister, for all of her acting out the other night, has a lot of good traits. She assured us the reason that photo was in the slide show the other night was because she wanted to make sure Jackson didn’t hurt you the way Zach did.”

  Violet opened her mouth to dispute that theory, but Dad cut her off.

  “I’m not saying she went about it the right way. Obviously letting you know privately would’ve been better. But your sister seems to thrive on drama.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t make it right, but it is what it is.”

  “I’m sure that somewhere deep down in her Grinch-sized heart, she thought she was doing the right thing. But it was pretty heinous.”

  Dad shook his head. “I’m guessing you and Jackson are no more then? Too bad. I kind of liked him.”

  “He mentioned that he liked you, too. But yes. It’s over.” Violet thought about the assortment of Christmas gifts he’d given her. It was hard to let someone go who knew her so well. But it was for the best.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Yes?” Dad called.

  “Are you ready to open gifts?” Mom asked, peeking her head inside.

  Violet shrugged. “I guess.”

  “We’re only opening one until Amber gets back. Then we’ll have a good, old-fashioned family Christmas.”

  “Yay.” Violet stood up. “I’m sure that will be super fun.” She knew she’d get over the rehearsal dinner and Amber’s outburst. But it might take a couple of months.

  Mom led them to the living room. She pulled out a flat box, wrapped in red and gold paper. “I want Violet to open this first.”

  “Thanks.” She held it up and shook the box. “Sorry. Habit.”

  Mom laughed. “You’ve done the same thing all your life. We’ve come to expect it.”

  Violet ripped off the shiny paper and pulled out a canvas painting. The background was yellow, and painted in purple, curly script were the words: I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Psalm 139:14.

  “Do you like it?” Mom asked in a worried tone. “I saw it not too long ago, and it just reminded me so much of you.”

  “I love it. But why did it remind you of me?”

  Mom swallowed. “You’ve always been your own person, Violet. Even when you were a teenager and everyone was trying hard to be cookie cutters of each other—you were your own person. I’ve always admired you for that.”

  “You’ve admired me?” Violet couldn’t help but ask the question. Mom was always giving her a hard time about something.

  “Of course. Especially this year. I’m sorry for doubting the bakeshop. I just worried that you were making a hasty decision. But as I’ve watched you throw yourself into the business and seen how it’s grown, I know you were right to give it a try. If it had been me, I would’ve just stayed in a job I hated.”

  “I’ve had some tough times and some growing pains, but never second-guessed the decision to leave the firm and give the bake shop a try.”

  “Well your work is paying off,” Dad said. “I have a client from Hot Springs who mentioned your store a couple of weeks ago. He raved about the moist cupcakes and the atmosphere. I think you have a winner.”

  She smiled. “I owe a lot to you guys for raising me to always be true to myself. Sometimes that’s harder than other times. But I think I’m finally able to realize how important that is.” Violet couldn’t help but think of Reagan and Shadow when she thought about the concept.

  And then an idea took hold.

  A brilli
ant idea.

  An idea that would, at least for a little while, take Violet’s mind off Jackson.

  Chapter 35

  Violet Matthews: HEY, YOU TWO. SORRY FOR THE GROUP MESSAGE. WHO’S UP FOR A GIRLS’ NIGHT AT MY PLACE FRIDAY NIGHT? I WANT THE TWO OF YOU TO GET TO KNOW ONE ANOTHER ANYWAY. (Text message sent December 26, 1:11 p.m.)

  Shadow Simmons: I’M THERE. (Text message sent December 26, 1:13 p.m.)

  Reagan McClure: SOUNDS GREAT. I MAY NEED TO TAKE A LITTLE NAP WHILE I’M THERE. SUGARY CHRISTMAS CANDY + NEW TOYS = TIRED MOMMY. (Text message sent December 26, 1:46 p.m.)

  Violet sat cross-legged on the floor next to her Christmas tree. “I’m so glad y’all could come.”

  “I’m glad you let me take a thirty-minute nap while you made Chex Mix.” Reagan popped a handful of the spicy mix into her mouth.

  Shadow grinned. “And I’m glad to be out on a Friday night.” She made a face. “It’s still two months before I’m allowed to date.”

  They laughed.

  “How’s Arnie?” Shadow asked.

  Violet reached over and smoothed the dog’s fur. “Hanging in there.” She smiled.

  “I hear you painted an amazing portrait of him,” Reagan said. “I haven’t seen it yet though.”

  “It’s already hanging in the shop,” Violet said. “But I have a picture of it on my phone.” She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and scrolled through her pictures. “Here it is.”

  Reagan peered at the screen. “That’s amazing. You are really so talented.” She handed the phone back to Violet. “And I’d love to hire you sometime to do a portrait of my kids.”

  Shadow beamed. “Really?”

  Reagan nodded. “Are you kidding? I have trouble every holiday trying to find grandparent gifts. That would be unique and beautiful.”

  “Cool.” Shadow took a sip of her Dr Pepper.

  “Okay, girls.” Violet stood up and took two identical packages from beneath the tree. “I have something for y’all.” She looked at the tags and handed them out. “Don’t open yet. I have something I want to say.”

  Reagan and Shadow exchanged curious glances.

  “Just hear me out, okay?”

  They nodded.

  “I spent a lot of years pretending to be someone I’m not. I worked as a lawyer even though I hated it because it was safe. I let Zach fill my head with how stupid it was to like things with a history. I’ve really had to work to finally accept who I am and be okay with it.” She smiled. “And I think I’m finally in that place.” She motioned for them to open their packages.

  Shadow pulled hers out first. “Oh, I love that verse.”

  “‘Fearfully and wonderfully made,’” said Reagan. “That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  Violet nodded. “This is a reminder for both of you. You are both amazing women. Reagan, I don’t know how you do it all. You are a wonderful wife and mother, and at the same time you’re also an amazing designer. I’m so happy that you and Chad have figured out a way for you to find a balance.” She turned to Shadow. “And Shadow, I’ve watched you blossom during the past months into a confident young woman. You asked me once why every boy who you liked stopped liking you. It’s because you tried to change for them. And they don’t want that. They want you to be you. There’s only one you.” She bent down and gave Shadow a hug. “And don’t you forget it.”

  Dear Mama,

  I can’t believe it. Another Christmas without you has come and gone. I guess you had a good one though—Christmas in heaven must be pretty awesome.

  I have so much to tell you. Jackson hired me to paint a portrait of Violet’s dog. He paid me! It’s my first sale as an artist. And it turned out really well. Violet hung it at the bake shop so she can see it every day. I kind of thought she’d hang it there, so I put some stuff in the background of the painting that she’d like—this apron with purple and yellow flowers on it and her record player with a stack of records. She told me those little details were what would someday make me a very successful artist.

  Last night we had a girls’ night at Violet’s house. Her friend Reagan came, too. She’s a graphic designer, and we talked about how fun it would be for me to do an internship with her sometime, and she wants me to paint a portrait of her kids. Anyway, Violet gave us both these neat canvases that had a Bible verse on them. It’s that verse about being fearfully and wonderfully made.

  I guess that even though I know that’s been a memory verse before, I never really thought about what it meant. Violet and I had a long talk later about how every time I meet a new boy, I start to dress and act like him. She told me I’m perfect just the way I am—that I don’t need to change to make someone like me. Maybe she’s right. When school starts back in January, I’m going to try and just be me. To tell you the truth, I’m kind of tired of pretending I like stuff I don’t like. God made me who I am—and that means an artist and a writer and a girl who mostly likes to wear jeans and T-shirts with funny logos on them. So that’s who I’m going to be!

  I love you,

  Shadow

  Chapter 36

  To: violet@centralavenuecupcakes.com

  From: JuliaMatthews@myinternet.com

  Date: January 11, 5:01 p.m.

  Subject: Open Now! High Importance

  Violet, attached are some candid shots from the first night’s dinner during Amber’s wedding weekend. I think you should take the time to look at them closely. I’m not privy to everything that goes on in your life, but I will say that upon meeting Jackson, my initial thought was that he genuinely cared about you very much. In these photos, I think you’ll see the real emotion on his face as he’s interacting with you—and the same can be said for the way you’re looking at him. I don’t know if you’ve moved on, or if he’s moved on—but perhaps you’d be remiss not to at least consider that what the two of you shared was real and worth fighting for. That picture Amber included in the slide show, though unfortunate, didn’t necessarily mean something improper was going on. Just food for thought.

  I love you,

  Mom

  P.S. I’d like to come spend some time with you and help out at the bake shop. Even if I just empty the trash, I’d like to help!

  Violet read her mother’s e-mail for the second time. She was taken aback to say the least. Maybe Mom noticed more than Violet gave her credit for. And the fact that she offered to come empty the trash at the bakeshop just so she could be involved spoke volumes. It was her way of giving her stamp of approval and sharing in Violet’s happiness.

  She hovered the mouse over the attachments. Since the wedding disaster, she’d tried to push Jackson from her mind, but seeing the Christmas gifts he’d given her made it seem like a part of him was there. Sure, she could’ve hidden them in a cabinet or boxed them up—but she couldn’t stand the thought.

  She clicked on the attachment, and a picture popped up on the screen. It was right after he’d kissed her in the hallway. They were frozen in time, eyes locked on one another, each wearing the faintest hint of a smile.

  Violet sighed and moved to the next one. Jackson leaned close and whispered in her ear. She remembered the way his breath had sent shivers up her spine.

  The final picture was after they were seated in the dining room. Jackson had his arm draped casually around her chair and was looking at her with adoration as she laughed—no doubt at something he’d said.

  Violet shut down the computer and put her head in her hands. Jackson had told her he loved her—even though he’d heard her say terrible things about him to Reagan. He’d come back again with gifts he’d been collecting for months—gifts he knew would make her happy because he knew her so well.

  She thought about the first kiss they’d shared, the only kiss they’d shared that was for them and not for an audience. She’d almost had to hold on to the wall to keep from falling over—and Jackson had been breathless when he pulled away. Was it possible that it was because what they had was the real thing?


  He’d apologized for going off with Whitney. He’d explained it away. And although it had been a bad decision, she could admit it was probably done because he was so hurt by the things he’d heard her say.

  He wasn’t like Zach. He didn’t try to change her. His Christmas gifts told her that he accepted her for the person she was.

  Violet’s iPhone dinged, dragging her back into the present.

  She glanced at the screen, expecting to see a text or a Words with Friends prompt. Instead, it was a calendar reminder. Don’t be late! Tonight’s the last night of our masquerade. See you at 7!

  Jackson must’ve put it on her calendar weeks ago. She’d let him look through her pictures from the Razorback game, and he must’ve taken it upon himself to set the reminder.

  Enough time had passed that he probably had another date for his event. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

  She jumped up and hurried to her closet. It might be too late. But if she didn’t go—if she didn’t see him make his speech—she knew she’d always regret it.

  Jackson smiled out at the crowd as Jeff introduced him. He glanced over at the table that had been reserved for him. Mom and Roger, Kathleen and Andy, and Lauren and Jeff had been his guests. As far as he was concerned, only two people were missing: Dad and Violet. He felt pretty sure that Dad was with him tonight, smiling down on him, hopefully proud of his son. Violet stung a little more. He should’ve been honest with her much sooner about how he felt. Maybe that would’ve prevented the eventual outcome. She might not have returned his feelings, but at least she wouldn’t have been betrayed by her sister.

  He stepped up to the podium as the crowd clapped. “Thanks for having me here tonight and especially thanks for this honor,” he began. He scanned the crowd, happy to see many familiar faces of people who’d known him since childhood. “This is even more special to me because my dad, whom many of you knew, received this very honor when he was my age.” He smiled. “I remember sitting at that table.” He pointed to the table where his own family sat. “And watching Dad give his speech.” He took a breath. “Many of you who know me know that my dad and I were very close. Losing him last year has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever experienced. The thing that brings me comfort is knowing what kind of man he was, what kind of Christian he was—and knowing that he is truly in a better place. It makes me strive to be a better man and hopefully be a good example to others—just as he was for me.” He noticed the door in the back of the auditorium open and a lone figure step inside. “During the past months, my priorities have begun to shift in ways I never expected. I’ve begun to realize and embrace that the best moments of my life won’t be spent in a boardroom, but will be spent with the people I love. I’m pretty sure that was something my dad knew as well.” He paused. He’d written the next part last night, but wasn’t sure if he should say it. His eyes drifted again to the figure in the back, and just for a second, the light caught the gleaming red hair.