by Theresa Weir
As she folded down wearily onto one of the comfortable benches that lined the room she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her dark hair had lost some of its shine, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her mouth looked a bit pinched. Suddenly the exhaustion surged over her, leaving her a bit dizzy as the lack of sleep abruptly caught up with her.
“Oh, Brooke,” Callie said as she slipped off her coat and took in the elegant display of treats. “It looks delicious! But…you’re so busy. You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”
“It was no trouble at all.”
“I’ll have one of those, too,” Callie’s mother, Kate said as Brooke rose, gave Callie a quick hug, and began to make the mimosas. Kate’s eyes twinkled at Brooke while she took Callie’s coat, hanging them both on a hook by the door.
“You ready to try on wedding gowns?” Brooke asked as she handed mimosas to both her fresh-faced friend and her lovely mother.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. You know I don’t usually get dolled up. I just hope I don’t let Owen down.”
Brooke laughed. “Oh, men don’t care about weddings. They just want it over with.”
Callie looked nonplussed for a moment.
“Oh, not in a bad way,” Brooke bit her lip, feeling like an idiot. She waved her hand to erase the comment.
“They just want to get to the good stuff,” Harper added as she playfully shouldered Brooke aside and made herself a mimosa. She hugged Kate and Callie and lifted her glass in a salute to Brooke.
Harper Sinclair was the dog park group’s socialite. She enjoyed doing charity work, judging dog shows, and showing her gorgeous standard poodle, Blue.
“Speaking of the good stuff…” Poe spoke from the doorway as she whipped out a bottle of champagne, and Brooke laughed and gestured to the one she’d brought, saying “Great minds, Poe!”
“Awww, Brooke, you’re always prepared. Oh, well, now we have double the champagne for double the fun.” She gave Callie a hug and traded the bottle for a sunny orange mimosa.
Poe Madigan rounded out their group of dog park friends. She and her precocious Jack Russell terriers, Edgar and Allan, always made for a rocking time at the park. Poe was a first-year veterinary resident after graduating from Cornell with her DVM.
“I still can’t believe you’re getting married,” Poe grinned and raised her glass to Callie.
Brooke again felt that strange pang in her heart, but continued to staunchly ignore her silly emotions.
“It’s surreal, but I love Owen so much, it feels supremely right.”
“Yes, Mr. Wrong-for-All-The-Right-Reasons turned out to be Mr. Right. Go figure.” Harper chuckled.
“We all want you to be blissfully happy, right, ladies?” Brooke said.
They all nodded.
“So it’s all about Callie for the duration.”
“Exactly,” Poe said. “There’s no excuse for tears, bloodshed or giving the silent treatment to your maid of honor, until after your honeymoon. And today is all about the dress of your dreams, no matter how opinionated some of us can be. And I’m looking right at you, Harper.”
Harper gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Who, exactly, is going to be your maid of honor? I don’t believe you’ve said, Callie. I know the rest of us will be bridesmaids.”
“Well, I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I so don’t want you all to think I’m playing favorites.” Callie’s hands twisted nervously in her lap.
“We won’t think that,” Brooke soothed.
“Harper’s a great friend and the life of any get-together, and Poe is wonderfully loyal and giving, but…”
When Callie turned to Brooke, tears prick her eyes. They came perilously close to spilling over when Callie took her hands. The connection between them was so strong.
“It was Brooke I first met at the dog park, Brooke who’s always been there to help and give me advice—even when I didn’t want it.” She turned to Brooke with a radiant smile. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
“I would be honored.” Brooke sniffled and hugged Callie hard. She was silly to think she was losing a friend. Instead she was gaining one in Owen. She resolutely pushed away the wistful feeling. Even though dating was less than spectacular now, she would someday have her own wedding and husband. And, for now, she was accustomed to going it alone. Well, no, she wasn’t alone, she reminded herself firmly. She had her ancient, beloved bulldog Roscoe. He was her loving, uncritical, steadfast companion since childhood.
The attendant entered the room beaming, followed by another woman pushing a rack of frothy white lace, buttons, and bows. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Everyone settled themselves for the fashion show, and, in the silence, the loud pop as Poe uncorked the second champagne bottle made Brooke jump nervously. She shook her head and firmed her lips. The edginess she was feeling would pass. All she had to do was get out of her head and stop worrying about Pawlish. Everyone chuckled at Poe’s noisy reminder that it was time for fun, and Brooke laughed along with them. “Yes, let’s get this party started,” she said.
“Oh. My. God. Brooke! These bacon and mushroom mini-quiches are rockin’. I think bacon should be in the periodic table. It’s so good.” Poe said with a smirk.
“Like an element?” Brooke asked.
“Yes!” Poe nodded vigorously. “I can see the description now. Bacon with the symbol Bn is a meat product derived from the back of the pig where the leaner meat is found, which gives you a slice that is 85% meat and 15% fat. Due to popular demand, it has replaced hydrogen in the number one slot on the Periodic Table. When it is cooked, it gives off a sweet, tasty aroma. The reaction to bacon is pronounced. Saliva forms and causes Homo sapiens to engage in ‘grabbing-the-last-piece’ syndrome.”
Mirth bubbled up from her diaphragm as all her friends, Callie’s mother, and even the attendants burst into laughter.
Poe giggled. “But instead of atomic power it would have to be pig power.”
“To what degree?” Callie asked between giggles.
“The tenth!”
“I have to agree with Poe,” Callie said, holding her sides and laughing through her tears. “Bacon is so good it should have been a subject in school.”
Poe nodded, unable to contain her enthusiasm. “I’d definitely teach that class. Bacon 101 or Baconology.”
“Well, if you’re going to those lengths, I want an honorary degree in bacon.” Harper chimed in.
“Nice, a doctorate in bacon! And all I have is this darn DVM degree!”
“You are crazy, Poe. Are you sure you should be doing surgery on animals?” Harper said, her words rippling with laughter.
“I’m very vet-like at St. Mark’s,” she replied, struggling to keep a straight face.
“You have to be. The dogs can’t talk back,” Brooke said.
“No, but I’m sure they’re laughing inside.”
The room erupted again in peals of laughter.
“Bacon is no joke. In fact, I’m sure if a zombie was chasing you, and you had some bacon, you could throw it like a stick and they’d chase the bacon instead of you.” Poe took another bite of the mini-quiche.
Harper raised a brow. “Poe, if a zombie was chasing me, I’d just trip you.”
“Oh, that would be okay! I would have bacon.”
Harper grabbed Poe around the neck and said, “You are such a nerd.”
Poe wrinkled up her nose, and replied, “Come over to the dork side. We have Pi.”
By then Brooke was holding her sides and could barely catch her breath. Suddenly everything was all right again.
Thirty minutes into the fitting Callie had rejected every single one of the gowns the attendant had selected. Brooke hadn’t noticed that Harper had disappeared until she returned with a dress in her arms.
“Callie,” she said softly, “try this one on.”
Callie turned toward Harper, and her audible gasp as she saw the gown made everyone sit up with interest.<
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As the lace-covered satin slipped over her daughter’s head and flowed down her body, Kate covered her mouth, and Brooke’s heart lurched. What she wouldn’t give to have her own mother look at her like Kate was looking at Callie now. Love shone out of her eyes, glassy with tears. Brooke just knew that Callie’s mother was thinking about Callie as a little girl, her memories reflected in her eyes, Callie growing from a skinned-kneed tomboy into a beautiful woman with a spitfire edge.
And then her throat tightened and that same embarrassing well of emotion hit her so hard she had to blink rapidly to hold off the tears. Callie took her breath away. Oh, God, she wanted to get married someday and look as stunning as Callie did right this minute.
Harper just smiled and nodded.
The mermaid dress fit her to a T. An understated satin ribbon cinched the waist and ended in a simple bow that rode atop a series of buttons ending right at the flair of a short, sassy train. The square, modest neckline accentuated the off-the-shoulder chain of lace straps which added just the right touch of romance.
Brooke rose abruptly, blinking away tears as she excused herself and left the room. In the bathroom, she closed herself in the stall and leaned back against the door. Her fists clenched, her stomach in turmoil, she fought the feelings she couldn’t name. Change was good, and Owen was good for Callie. Their love shone like a beacon. It was wonderful to watch and hope that love like that would find her. It took her only a few moments to get herself under control, since she was eager to get back. This day was about Callie, not about her.
When she came out of the stall, Harper was leaning against the sink, her arms folded across her chest.
Brooke stopped and her face flamed.
“What gives?”
“What do you mean?” Brooke walked nonchalantly towards the sink and washed her hands as Harper’s eyes bore a hole in her back.
“You look exhausted and in unguarded moments…worried. You’re always the one to nurture us and be the top cheerleader.”
“I’ve had a rough week.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is? Sweetie, we want to know when something is bothering you.”
Brooke had no intention of burdening Harper with her business problems. She’d handled Kristen Wright-Davis and her spoiled dog. It was done. Resolved. “I’ll be fine after some sleep and a little TLC.”
Harper snorted. “When have you ever taken time for yourself? I swear, Brooke, you do too much for too many people.”
“Look who’s talking. You do plenty for others.”
“Yes, but I don’t own a business. I just sponge off my family’s wealth.”
Brooke laughed, warmth settling in the pit of her stomach. Thank God for Harper’s bluntness. “It’s my thing, and it makes me happy.”
“I would just like to see you taking care of yourself. Be a little selfish. It won’t be the end of the world.”
“You mean the zombie apocalypse?”
Harper laughed. Then sobered. “No joke. I mean it.”
“I’ll think about it. Enough about me. Now let’s get back to Callie. And that dress is sensational. You just know what works best, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift,” came the smug—and oh, so correct—reply.
Back in the salon with her emotions firmly in check, Brooke oohed and aaahhhhed over Callie’s dress. It was simply gorgeous. She also participated in chatter about what would fit best for a headdress. They left Stunning to continue the conversation over lunch at one of their favorite places, a quaint bistro named Habit, which happened to be directly across the street. After they pulled two tables together, the women settled down on the wooden chairs.
Judging it the perfect moment, Brooke produced Callie’s gift and, with a flourish, presented it to her.
“Prezzies! After all you’ve done today, I don’t need gifts, but it’s much appreciated. Thank you, Brooke.”
“Open it. The suspense is killing me,” Brooke said.
Callie carefully removed the ribbon, placed it aside, and tore into the paper. She gasped when she pulled out the book. “Oh, my God. This is just what I needed! I’m so lost when it comes to wedding planning. Look at all the great stuff in here. This must have taken you forever. No wonder you look so tired. Oh, shoot, I mean, you look great as always, so pulled together…but…you know, you do look a bit tired, and frayed around the edges.”
“All I need is a good night’s sleep,” Brooke dismissed Callie’s worry with a shrug. “And I was having so much fun putting this together last night I almost forgot to sleep. I pulled pictures from bridal, lifestyle, fashion, gardening, design, and food magazines and also found a great app we can all use to link up our ideas. All the information I gathered is in the app, too, so you can make a decision on the spot. Just let me know if you like it. I even found a great travel agent on Times Square that we can visit for honeymoon ideas. I made an appointment for two o’clock in case you like the idea.”
“That’s a good place to start. I can get some brochures. Although I think Owen wants to surprise me.”
“Now, about the headpiece,” Harper said. “I think a veil would detract from the simple, clean style of the gown.”
Callie’s mother nodded. “I totally agree.”
“I have a hairdresser who is phenomenal and can weave real flowers into your hair. You can pick what you personally like along with either lace or ribbon for a stunning look. What do you think?”
Callie sighed with relief. “That’s perfect, Harper. I can’t see myself in a veil or tiara. It’s just not me, but flowers would fit perfectly.”
“Good. Let’s eat.”
They ordered food and passed it around, although once it arrived, Brooke discovered that she lacked an appetite. After paying the bill, Callie touched Brooke’s shoulder while the party started to break up. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Brooke flashed a smile to hide her sudden sense of disconnection from her best friends. “Of course I’m fine. One of my best friends is getting married to the man of her dreams. My business is evolving into a one-stop spa for pets and their owners to make my clients feel even more pampered.”
“I’m more interested in how you feel, Brooke. You do too much for people, and I can see it’s taking its toll. I think you need to change some things in your life so you can have more time for yourself. Have the courage to change.”
“She doesn’t want to change,” Poe said, “or she’s too afraid to.”
Dismissing Poe’s very astute observation, Brooke insisted, “I told you. I’m just fine.”
Harper, Poe, and Callie’s mother had to run, so Brooke and Callie hailed a cab to Times Square.
“Thank you for the wedding planning ideas. You did that for my mom, right?” Callie said.
“Yes, actually. I knew you would love the app, but your mom is more old-fashioned.”
“You’re so thoughtful.”
At Times Square Brooke paid the fare, but when she stepped out of the cab, she collided with Callie. “Callie, what…” Callie was looking up and Brooke followed the direction of her gaze. Suddenly dizzy, she stared in shock at one of the huge Times Square digital screens. It was broadcasting a local pet psychic show featuring none other than her nemesis.
Kristen Wright-Davis sat next to Trudy Sommers, and her teary voice wobbled out of the loudspeakers. Mimi reclined in her lap, all the worst parts of the poodle’s cut emphasized on a grand scale. “I’m so distraught for my baby,” Kristen sniffled theatrically.
Brooke’s stomach twisted into hard knots. This kind of publicity could ruin her.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Trudy Sommers. Please welcome Kristin Wright-Davis and her toy poodle Mimi. They’re joining us today on Pet Speak because Mimi seems to be out of sorts. I sense she’s upset over a recent trip to the groomer.”
“Yes, she was just at Pawlish two days ago, that cut-rate place. They were callous and unkind to my darling sweetheart.” Kristen’s baby talk to Mimi grated on Brooke’s nerves l
ike the shriek of a siren. The dog licked Kristen’s face.
“Cut rate?” Callie exploded. “I’ll shave that damn dog bald. How dare she go on TV and defame your business! I think you should sue that witch for slander!”
Instead of anger at Kristen’s malicious behavior, a confident calm settled over her. She could smooth this over. It would just be a matter of talking to Kristen to encourage her to see reason. This was grim, and certainly not good for her business, but it could be fixed. The longer the woman blubbered, the more Brooke was sure she could be convinced to see it Brooke’s way. She just needed to know she mattered.
“Mimi’s telling me she is mortified by the terrible cut she got there, and I’d say it would be best if she got some therapy.”
“Kristen Wright-Davis,” Callie snarled it like a four-letter word. “She’s consulting a pet psychic? I don’t need a psychic to tell me the woman is nothing but a con. But, of course that pretentious, narcissistic bitch would choose to go on TV to defame your business.”
“I’m getting something else,” the pet psychic said as she gazed at the dog. “She thinks the owner of the place where she got her bad trim should be punished.”
“She does?” Kristen cooed. “What a clever girl. What does she think is a good punishment?”
Punishment? As if she’d done one thing wrong! Kristen would never accept the blame, and now something dreadful was about to happen. It was coming, bearing down on her like a speeding train. She clutched her stomach, the terrible feeling there spreading like a disease. In another second or two everything was going to change, and nothing in her world would ever be the same again.
“A lawsuit.”
“Yes,” Kristen said, snuggling the dog up to her face. “I am going to sue Brooke Palmer for everything she’s got.”
Chapter 2
Drew mercilessly smashed the round, black ball with ruthless precision, placing the shot perfectly on the squash court. That bastard Kevin Jensen had to really scramble to return it. No way was he losing this game. That corner office was his. He’d worked sixty to eighty hours a week since he’d landed this job.
