by Amy Olle
Chapter Thirteen
The weeks passed in a flurry of cough syrup and antibiotic intake until Emily’s sinuses dried out and her muscle aches eased. With her renewed energy, she completed the inn’s website and designed an advertising campaign to begin in the next few months and slowly ramp up, peaking in the spring.
She’d also gotten her period.
At loose ends, she convinced Mina to let her take on more wedding-planning activities. She crafted handmade invitations and mailed all but one to the forty-person guest list comprised mostly of family members and colleagues from the university where Noah worked.
The last invite, to the Mayor of Thief Island, sparked a squabble between the couple, with Noah arguing Mina’s ex-fiancé had no place at their wedding and Mina countering, gently, that despite their failed engagement, the Mayor had been a childhood friend to her.
Mina won the dispute.
Next, Emily delivered Vivian’s menu to a caterer in town that would prepare the meal for the reception following the ceremony. She then selected a bakery and presented a sampling of three cakes—vanilla, red velvet, and chocolate—to the couple. Another heated discussion ensued with Mina favoring the red velvet and Noah arguing the cake, when cut, looked like roadkill.
Noah won the debate.
In that time, fall came to the island with a relentless chill and an explosion of color. Growing up in the desert, Emily was unprepared for the drama of the seasonal change. Deep red and vibrant orange torched the treetops, and a honey-yellow glow warmed the landscape.
One afternoon, she arrived at the cemetery to find her mom’s oak tree had dropped a ring of fire on the ground, burying the tombstone with orange leaves, and for the first time, Emily experienced a sense of ease when standing beside her mom’s grave.
Two weeks before the wedding, she sent Max an e-mail to verify his arrival the Monday after the wedding, which he confirmed.
Two days before the wedding, the order she’d placed for fresh-cut flowers arrived at the inn. She gutted twenty white pumpkins and stuffed them to bursting with deep purple ranunculus, cream-colored lilies, and greenery.
The day before the wedding, after she’d checked in with the vendors and fussed some more with the flower arrangements, she drove into town to pick up her dress from the bridal shop. On her way home, she spotted a sign hanging over one of the storefronts. With a muttered curse, she whipped into an empty parking space in front of the Curl Up and Dye Hair Salon.
Unable to recall the last time she’d had her hair cut, she didn’t allow herself to think through her decision, knowing she’d only talk herself out of the long-overdue trim.
An electronic chime sounded when she entered the shop and a woman at the front desk looked up with a warm smile. The woman’s smile crumpled.
Emily gasped. Her feet grew roots where she stood, or she’d have run. The psychologists had it wrong. Fight or flight might describe most people’s instinctual response to attack, but not Emily’s. No, for Emily, when a threat presented, the circuits of her brain went haywire, leaving her mute and motionless. It should be fight or flight or freeze, but they never mentioned the or freeze.
“Can I help you?” Kate managed a stiff smile.
“I n-n-need a haircut.” Emily’s voice sounded muffled through the whoosh of blood rushing past her ears.
Kate’s cornflower blue eyes took in Emily’s unkempt hair. She shoved to her feet. “Follow me.”
Emily swallowed the bile rising in her throat and focused on not tripping over her feet as she followed Kate through the salon. Black leggings clung to her impossibly long legs, and her hips rocked with a womanly sway. She had everything a woman could want, Emily realized glumly. A killer face with unblemished skin, Luke Nolan, and a thigh gap.
“Just a trim today?” Kate swiveled a chair around.
Emily climbed in and Kate tossed a black cape over her.
Looking at her reflection next to Kate, Emily frowned. “Do wh-whatever you want to it.”
Kate’s blue eyes widened and her gaze locked with Emily’s in the mirror.
“Wh-whatever you think wo-would look nice,” Emily rushed to clarify.
With a comb, Kate started to pick at Emily’s snarls. “Have you ever considered layers?”
Emily shook her head.
“Layers would add some body. What about the length? Can I take it up a bit?”
Emily wrinkled her nose. Her hair was a kind of security blanket, providing her with a curtain to hide behind when she needed one. And she always needed one. “M-maybe a little, but I like to—”
“Pull it back in a ponytail.” Kate finished Emily’s sentence with a smile. An adorable dimple appeared in her left cheek. “Got it.”
Kate led Emily to a row of wall-mounted sinks where she wet and shampooed Emily’s hair. The conditioner’s fruity scent floated with them when they returned to Kate’s styling station.
After running the comb through Emily’s now snarl-free hair, Kate picked up the scissors.
With the first snip, Emily squeezed her eyes shut.
“How long have you known Luke?”
One eye popped open. “Uh, n-not long. You?”
Kate’s gaze remained fixed on the top of Emily’s head and a frown pulled down the corners of her wide mouth. “We’ve known each other for years. He’s been a good friend to me.”
Relief swamped Emily, and with it, a smile brightened her face. Luke was telling the truth. He and Kate were just friends and Emily was not, in fact, the other woman.
Kate caught Emily’s smile in the mirror and her frown deepened. “But we’ve been growing closer lately. It’s only a matter of time before we make it official.”
Emily’s smile fell.
The scissors sliced and a hank of Emily’s hair fell to the floor. “We’re perfect for each other, really. I know we are…”
“But?”
“But… It’s just… He’s so…”
Annoying?
Bullying?
Kate sighed. “Perfect.”
Emily deflated in the chair.
Another slash of scissors sent more hair falling. “Although, he does have this one little problem.”
“What problem?”
In the mirror, Emily watched Kate hold up her index finger, straight and rigid. Then her finger drooped like a wilting flower.
Emily stared at her finger a moment before its meaning struck. “He’s impotent?”
A frisson of panic swept over Kate’s features. “I’m sure it’ll pass, once we’ve gotten to know each other a bit better.”
Emily recalled the firm press of Luke’s erection poking against her thigh, and the feel of it sliding inside her.
“Promise you won’t say anything. I’d feel terrible if he found out I told you.”
Emily smoothed the shock from her expression. “Of course. I just can’t believe it. He seems so….”
“Virile?” Kate offered.
Emily nodded. Yes, virile, and hot-blooded, and horny.
“He is. I’m just being picky. He’s perfect, except for that one little thing.”
Thinking to remove Luke’s male member from the topic of conversation, Emily asked, “How long have you lived on the island?”
“I moved here five years ago. My husband grew up here.”
Her husband?
The scissors trembled in Kate’s hand before she steadied them and executed the brutal slash. “I need to stop calling him that. Anthony’s been dead almost nine months now.”
With the lost look on Kate’s face, Emily experienced a twist of misery. She knew that look. She observed the same expression on her own face most days since her mom died.
“My m-mom died last year.”
The scissors froze above her head, a large swath of hair poised between the blades.
“She’s still my m-m-mom,” Emily said softly. “She’ll always be m-my mom.”
Kate’s eyes glistened, but she blinked and ducked her chin. She
cut the rest of Emily’s hair in silence.
When a pile of strawberry-blonde hair lay at their feet, Kate spun Emily away from the mirror and attacked her head with a blow dryer and a round brush. Finally, the blow dryer fell quiet and she turned Emily to face the mirror.
Another blast of shock struck Emily at the way her hair shimmered about her shoulders.
“What do you think?”
“I think y-you’re a miracle w-worker.”
Kate even blushed prettily, her cheeks taking on a soft, rosy glow that wasn’t at all splotchy.
“Do y-you think it will last until tomorrow? I’m in a wedding.”
“Why don’t you come by in the morning and I’ll touch it up. What time is the wedding?”
“Three o’clock.”
At the front desk, Kate pored over an appointment book. “Want to come by at nine?”
The next morning, Emily arrived as Kate was unlocking the front door. She wore her long blonde hair in an elegant ponytail and huge hoop earrings. Her blue jeans had more bling on the butt pockets than Emily had ever worn at any one time.
“I was wondering, what would you say to a little color?”
“What kind of color?” Emily asked and slid into the chair.
Kate waved a comb through the air. “Nothing drastic. Just a touch of copper to bring out your red highlights.”
The previous night, Emily had revisited her reflection in the mirror numerous times, and every time she marveled all over again at Kate’s cut.
“Wh-whatever you think will look nice, I’ll try it.”
An hour later, with layers of tin foil sprouting out of her head, Emily regretted her impetuousness. “I didn’t realize there was so much involved.”
Kate just laughed and used the pointed end of her comb to separate another chunk of hair.
Soon, she set down her tools and pulled the apron off over her head. “We need to let the foil sit for a bit.”
She bent to open the cabinet of her styling station and retrieved a large cloth bag from inside her oversized purse. With a yank on the zipper, she unfolded the bag and laid it open across the counter.
She stepped aside and smiled at Emily. “What do you think?”
Emily stared at the bag, stuffed to overflowing with makeup of every shape and shade. She’d never seen some of the utensils contained in multiple clear pouches.
She looked at Kate. “I don’t w-wear makeup very often.”
“Want me to show you how?”
Emily gulped. “Uh… okay?”
Kate squealed and dove for the bag.
For the next half hour, Emily submitted to Kate’s attention in silence. She didn’t even protest when Kate removed the tweezers from her little bag of torture devices and attacked Emily’s eyebrows.
A brush in hand, she stepped back and studied Emily a moment. “This is too good. I’m going to turn you around and wait to show you the whole look when your hair is done.”
After makeup, Kate took Emily to the sinks and yanked the foils from her head. The blow dryer and round hairbrush came out again, and then Kate tugged and twisted at her hair for some time before flitting around her wielding a curling iron.
Just when Emily had worked up the nerve to complain, Kate stepped back, a huge grin on her flawless face. “You ready?”
Emily’s mouth went dry. With light hair, dark eyes, and pale, freckled skin, she was not an attractive woman. Objectively, she knew that. Certainly, she looked like a fool, having done so much to conceal her average appearance.
The chair whirled. For several long moments, Emily stared at the reflection in the mirror. Her reflection. Except, it didn’t look like her. This girl, Emily didn’t know.
This girl was pretty.
The makeup made her skin glow and highlighted the delicate lines of her nose and mouth. A smoky shadow and liner made her eyes appear large and almond-shaped, and coaxed a soft light from their dark centers.
The light blonde strands of her hair intermixed with the deep red undertones, like spun gold threaded through molten fire, which Kate had twisted into an intricate chignon at her nape.
Tears pushed to the surface. Most of her life, she’d wanted to be somebody else, anybody else, but in that moment, she wouldn’t have traded places with anyone. She was just happy to be herself, a pretty girl blessed with unique coloring and well-sculpted features. Her tears pooled.
Kate paled. “Omigod, you hate it.” She snatched three tissues from the box and lunged at Emily. “We can fix it. Don’t cry. I’ll just—”
Emily shrank back. “No, don’t touch me!”
Kate froze with a wad of crumpled-up Kleenex in her fist.
“Please,” Emily whispered. “Don’t ruin it. It’s perfect.”
The mirror ensnared Emily’s gaze, and words she’d never once thought, not even privately, slipped out. “I’m so pretty.”
The stone church sat atop a gentle hill overlooking Lake Michigan. The day was cool, though a bright sun took the edge off the chill and a crisp freshness infused the air.
Emily and Mina settled in the small bridal room, but having already changed, when Vivian appeared to help Mina into her wedding dress Emily snuck out to make one last check of the church.
Sunlight streamed in through the deep-set stained glass windows and gleamed on the warm woodwork. She’d arrived early with the flowers, placing dark purple and ivory arrangements at the altar and hanging small bouquets with gossamer bows on the end of each pew.
When the first guests began to arrive, Emily headed for the brides’ room, only to be cut off by a broad-shouldered man stepping into her path.
“Where’s Mina?”
She pulled up at Noah’s abrupt manner, and then because of the way the sleek black tuxedo he wore intensified his good looks.
Wow.
Deep lines of worry bracketed his mouth and eyes and set off alarm bells inside Emily’s head. “She’s here. She’s getting dressed.”
“Have you talked to her?” He glanced over his shoulder. “How is she?”
“She’s fine,” Emily said carefully. “Is something wrong?”
Noah’s worry turned to irritation. “She won’t let me in your room.”
“Well, you know what they say, bad luck and all that.”
His teeth flashed in something like a smile. “Will you check on her for me? Make sure she’s okay?”
“Sure. I’ll be right back.”
He caught her arm. “By the way, you look amazing.”
The blush of pleasure still warmed her cheeks when Emily ducked into the brides’ room. In her dress, Mina sat in a folding chair, her head in her hands.
A shiver of worry passed through Emily. She’d heard of brides getting cold feet on their wedding day, but she’d never understood it. Not the fact a woman would get so far as the church before speaking up—Emily could totally understand how that might happen. It baffled her, a girl with so few prospects, how a woman might throw aside a man perfectly willing to get married.
“Mina, are you all right?”
Her cousin’s head came up, and at her pale complexion, Emily’s worry turned to dread.
Mina rubbed her forehead and pushed a sharp puff of air between her lips. Then she dropped her head into her hands. “I’m okay. I just need a minute.”
Emily licked her dry lips. “You’re not… having doubts, are you?”
Mina’s burst of bright bubbly laughter echoed around the small chamber. “No. Not even a little.” She flung herself back in the chair, the smile lingering on her white lips. “It’ll pass. I’m just nauseous.”
“Nauseous? Are you nervous?”
Mina shook her head and her smile turned radiant. “I’m pregnant.”
Emily sagged against the door. “Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to have to sneak you out the window. I’m not sure you noticed, but we’re awfully high up.”
“Stop, you’re making me laugh.” Mina wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye
. “I have no idea how to redo my makeup.”
“Have you told Noah?”
Mina’s expression softened. “He knows.”
“Good, because he’s about to beat down the door trying to get in here to see you.”
“Do not let him in.”
“I promise. Can I get you anything?” Emily asked. “Some water or juice?”
Mina nodded. “Some juice might help. There’s this awful taste in my mouth that won’t go away. Do you have a breath mint?”
Emily pushed away from the door. “Be right back.”
She slipped through the door and retraced her steps to the church vestibule. She scanned the crowd gathered in the church and spotted Luke standing at the altar with his brothers. The sight of four tall, great-looking men decked out in tuxedos caused Emily’s brain to freeze.
Jack entertained the others with a vividly told tale while beside him, Shea, his white hair so at odds with his youthful face and lean, well-muscled physique, interjected with a point of clarification. Noah laughed and Luke, tall, dark, and tuxedoed, wore a mean scowl as he glared down the aisle.
At her.
Her heart kicked painfully in her chest as she strode down the aisle toward him.
Tipped off by his fierce regard, one by one the others turned as she approached.
Noah pounced. “How is she?”
“Giddy with joy. It’s disgusting, really.”
His smug smile teased a laugh from her.
Then she noticed the soles of two tiny shoes perched on Luke’s shoulders. She tilted her head to one side to find the ring bearer hanging down his back.
“Crowd control?” She smiled.
Luke didn’t. “What happened to your face?”
Fiery heat burned her cheeks.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Noah snapped.
“Ignore him.” Shea’s brilliant blue eyes were soft with compassion. “He’s an idiot and you’re gorgeous.”
She refused to let them see how much his words hurt. “Do p-p-people really think he’s charming?”
“Truly, it’s mind-boggling,” Jack said, glaring at Luke.
She swallowed the knot in her throat and lifted her chin, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye. “Do you have a p-p-piece of candy? It’s n-not for me. It’s for M-M-Mina.”
