“I wouldn’t ever play Lady Macbeth. Shakespeare was never my thing, but I get your point.” One corner of her mouth turned up. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll wear whatever you decide and you’ll wear whatever I decide. We’re about the same size.”
Margot didn’t like the sound of that. Not only was she several inches taller than Bianca, she was fairly sure she was a size or two larger.
“It will be fun,” Bianca coaxed.
“I don’t trust you,” Margot said bluntly.
Bianca laughed. “You probably shouldn’t. All right—I’ll go first so you can see I’m playing fair.”
She went to the racks of dresses and began to go through them. She started on a second rack, then a third before pulling out a lipstick-red dress.
On the hanger it didn’t look like much at all—just skinny straps and a longish skirt. But there was something about the way it hung awkwardly that gave her pause.
“I’m not sure,” she began.
Bianca shook it at her. “Try it on. I insist and, up until now, I’ve been a very cooperative client.”
“That’s true,” Margot murmured, taking the dress and heading for the attached bathroom. “But I know I’m going to regret this.”
She walked into the marble and glass bathroom. There was a huge walk-in shower, a soaking tub that could easily host a party, double sinks, a mile of vanity space and an entire wall of mirrors. There was genuinely no escaping her reflection.
Margot placed the hanger on a hook by the shower and immediately realized the reason the dress didn’t look right was because it was clipped in place—the straps were in fact little more than strings.
Her stomach sank as she took the dress off the hanger and stared at it. There were cutouts. Bunches of them.
“This is a nightmare,” she said aloud, then sighed heavily and unzipped her very plain, light gray sheath and let it slide to the floor. She took off her bra, because there was no way it would work, then slipped on Bianca’s dress. Once it was in place, she sucked in her breath and pulled up the zipper. Miraculously, it closed easily. Then Margot faced herself in the mirror.
It wasn’t as bad as she thought. The color was vibrant and flattering. The bodice fabric dipped to a deep V between her breasts, but was reinforced so there would be no unexpected wardrobe malfunction. There was a good-size cutout on each side of her waist which looked sexy but actually didn’t show much. The skirt wasn’t that tight and fell nearly to her knee. If she ignored the fact that she was showing more cleavage than usual, the dress was really okay. She hung up her sheath, then stepped back into the bedroom.
Bianca sat on the edge of the bed, her expression expectant. When she saw Margot, she clapped her hands together. “I love it! You look great. See—show a little skin and the world is your oyster.”
“I’m not sure that’s how the saying goes, but I get your point. You think I should add a little fun to my wardrobe.”
“I think you should add a lot of sex to it. You’re young and single. Trust me, you’ll be old soon enough and then you’ll regret all the wonderful things you didn’t wear.”
“Do you regret that?”
Bianca laughed. “No. I wasn’t sharing an insight, Margot. I was really talking about you. Regrets? Not like that.” She laughed again, then bounded to her feet. “So you’ll wear it tonight?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so glad. All right, a deal’s a deal. Dress me for a funeral. I’ll try not to complain.”
“You’re not going to a funeral so that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Now you sound like Alec.”
A nice compliment, Margot thought.
She returned to the closet and took her turn at flipping through dozens of dresses. It didn’t take long for her to notice a trend—anything not remotely glamorous or revealing still had its tags.
She held up a long-sleeved brown dress that looked frumpy enough to insult a woman in her eighties. “Why did you buy it if you’re never going to wear it?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it was a gift.”
Margot smiled. “No one who’s met you would ever give you this dress.”
“You’re not going to make me wear it?”
“Of course not. I want you to look as if you belong. I’m not here to punish you.”
“Just checking.”
Margot looked at ten or fifteen more dresses before pulling out a smoky-blue lace dress. It was sleeveless, with a high neckline. The pattern of the lace was exquisite and the dress looked as if it would flow down to midcalf. She handed it to Bianca.
“This one.”
Bianca pouted. “It’s so plain.”
“It’s beautiful and elegant and appropriate.” She allowed herself a small smile. “And fitted enough to show off your rockin’ hot bod.”
Bianca rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Instead of disappearing into the bathroom, she stepped out of her clothes right there, then slid into the dress. After pulling it up, she turned her back so Margot could fasten the long zipper. Together they walked into the bathroom and its wall of mirrors.
The dress was perfection. It was snug enough to emphasize every curve, yet wasn’t tight or overly revealing. The color made Bianca’s blue eyes even darker and turned her skin luminous. The lace would be perfect for a cocktail party.
“Oh.” Bianca stared at herself for a couple of seconds. “I suppose it’s not too hideous.”
“Stop it,” Margot said mildly. “You look incredible and you know it.” She moved behind her and twisted her hair up. “I assume you know how to put your hair up?”
“Yes.”
“And you have diamond earrings?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?”
Margot pressed her lips together. “Let’s leave the colloquial expressions at home tonight, shall we?”
Bianca sighed heavily. “You don’t have a boyfriend right now, do you? We should work on that.”
Margot ignored the statement. “So you’ll wear that dress tonight?”
“If you wear yours.”
“Fine.”
“Double fine.”
“I’ll see you downstairs as six,” Margot said, grabbing her old dress and walking out of the bathroom.
Chapter Nine
I’m going to regret this.
Margot sent the text to her sister and waited. Seconds later, she had a reply.
You shouldn’t. You look amazing. Even if you take the worst selfies ever. If you weren’t my sister, I would back the car over you.
Margot chuckled.
You talk so tough and it’s all a total lie.
Only because I love you. Enjoy your faux cocktail party.
I’ll do my best.
Margot put away her phone, freshened her makeup, picked out a pair of nude pumps she would put on at the last minute, then made her way downstairs. Once she reached the kitchen, she tucked her shoes in the corner, then walked barefoot to the counter where Edna had left serving dishes and instructions.
The woman was a marvel. Despite the fact that they were having cocktails for four, Edna had prepared a half-dozen food items, along with nuts and olives. After slipping on an apron, Margot read the detailed instructions through before going back to the top.
She turned on both ovens and got the crab puffs and the stuffed mushrooms out of the refrigerator. Both were already on cookie sheets and would simply be popped in the ovens when they reached temperature. She poured nuts and olives into serving bowls and took them out to the table by the wet bar. Glasses, small plates, forks and napkins were already in place.
On her return trip to the kitchen, she paused to admire the ceilings at least twenty feet up. The tower bell was still in place, as was much of the stained glass. Everyone should get the opportunity to stay in an amazing house at least once i
n their lives, she thought as she returned to the kitchen.
Edna had freshly sliced and toasted bread for the bruschetta. All Margot had to do was put on the toppings. She’d just set out ingredients when Alec walked into the kitchen.
Her first thought was that he looked good. He was always attractive, but the dark suit and contrasting white shirt was especially appealing. When he saw her, he frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting the food ready for our cocktail party.”
“That isn’t part of your job.”
“Yes, it is. Not to worry. I won’t be actually cooking. Edna left me instructions on how to assemble. She said it was super easy and even I couldn’t mess it up.”
He smiled at her. It was a nothing smile—casual and amused. It was the kind of smile you gave a stranger, and yet there was something about it. Something that settled low in her belly and made her think about possibilities. Or if not think about them then certainly hope for them. Which was completely and totally ridiculous. She barely knew the man. Most days their only contact was when they nodded at each other at breakfast. He said good morning, she said the same, then she took her breakfast and left. Alert the media—it was the romance of the century!
“I seriously doubt Edna said anything like that,” he told her.
She’d been so busy taking her imagination train to a nonexistent destination, she had to figure out what he meant.
“Not in so many words,” she admitted. “But the meaning was clear. Edna doubts my cooking ability.”
“Is there reason to?”
She laughed. “I have a few skills, but they are nothing when compared to my sister, who can cook anything and make it delicious. Regardless, tonight I will assemble with the best. Oh, and she mentioned you would be acting as bartender. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course. It’s only the four of us and my mother raised me to be the kind of gentleman who makes an excellent martini.”
“Good to know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I detect a lack of enthusiasm. Not a martini drinker?”
“I am, I confess, more of a margarita girl.”
His dark gaze met hers. “Excellent. When our guest of honor arrives, I will impress you with my bartending skills.”
“I look forward to being impressed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to tend to the bruschetta.”
Alec nodded, then surprised her by taking off his jacket and literally rolling up his shirtsleeves before walking to the sink and washing his hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Preparing to help.”
“But I can do it.”
“It will go faster this way.”
She told herself not to read anything into his actions. He was just being polite. Still, she was more than a little fluttery, which was unexpected and made her nervous, which was probably why she accidently blurted, “I feel as if this is the least I can do. Helping out with the party, I mean. Your mother is doing so well with her lessons and practice sessions. I’m not totally sure why she hired me.”
Alec wiped his hands on a towel, then looked at her. “You mean that?”
“Of course. She’s a little eccentric and I worry about her wardrobe choices, but otherwise, she’s been attentive and interested in learning about the history of Wesley’s country and everything else we’ve talked about.”
As she spoke she got out the toasted bread slices and the toppings.
“Let’s give it a couple of weeks before you make any judgments,” he told her. “There are still a few things to be worked out.”
“If you say so.” Margot wondered if Bianca had mellowed more than he’d realized. Sometimes it was hard for adult children to see their parents as people with separate lives.
They went to work on the rest of the appetizers. Margot stirred fresh chopped chives into softened cream cheese, then spread it on the bread and topped it with the mushroom mixture. Alec prepared the more traditional bruschetta, topping the bread with diced fresh tomatoes and feta. They both finished as the oven dinged.
“I’ll take care of that and set everything up if you want to take care of the drinks,” she said.
“One excellent margarita coming up.”
“Now I’m curious.”
She pulled the cookie sheets from the ovens and slid the various appetizers onto serving plates, then carried them into the living room. Bianca was already there, waiting while Alec poured her a martini.
“Isn’t this lovely,” she said, her gaze darting around the room. “Stifling monastery meets munchies. Whatever will people say?”
Bianca’s sharp tone surprised Margot. As far she knew, Bianca loved the house so what was up with the “stifling” comment?
Rather than respond, she took in Bianca’s appearance. She’d pinned up her hair, had put on dangling diamond earrings and strappy high-heeled sandals. Her makeup was subtle while still bringing attention to her beautiful face.
“You look like a model for Vogue,” Margot said honestly. “Seriously, Bianca, you take my breath away.”
“The dress is frumpy,” Bianca grumbled.
“It’s classy,” Alec corrected, handing her the martini.
“I feel old.” Bianca swallowed half her drink in a single gulp. “This was a ridiculous idea. I should text Wesley and tell him to forget it. We’ll go get burgers or something. What was I thinking?”
Bianca’s tension was palpable and surprising. Margot lightly touched her arm. “We’ve been working on some breathing exercises. They always make me feel better. Make sure you’re inhaling to your stomach. Short shallow breaths increase anxiety.”
Bianca finished her drink, then held out her glass to Alec. “One more, please. There’s a good boy.” She swung her gaze back to Margot. “Anxious? You couldn’t be more wrong. I’m fine and you might want to put on some shoes.”
Margot had totally forgotten she was still barefoot and wearing an apron. Not exactly the example she wanted to set. She returned to the kitchen and reappeared a few seconds later. Alec was pouring her margarita over ice. When he turned and saw her, his eyes widened slightly, as if taken aback by her appearance.
She felt herself flush. “Yes, well, your mother and I had a deal. I got to pick out her dress and she got to pick out mine. Not that this is something I own because, while it’s lovely, it’s a designer dress and I’ve never owned anything... I mean, it’s your mother’s. But it’s really pretty and I should stop talking now.”
“Yes, you should,” Bianca told her. “You look great. If my monk-like son noticed, then my work here is done. Oh, there’s the doorbell. I’ll get it.”
Margot looked after her. “She’s in a mood.”
“Still think you’re not needed?”
Bianca returned with a tall, thin man at her side. Wesley Goswick-Chance wasn’t the most handsome man, but he had an air of confidence that was appealing. He wore glasses and a suit that had obviously been custom-made for him, and when he looked at Bianca, it was as if the sun had finally returned after a six-year absence.
Bianca waved toward Margot. “Here she is, Wesley. The woman who is going to fix me. Or at least try.”
Wesley smiled and shook Margot’s hand. “Lovely to meet you. I’m sure you’ll agree that my darling Bianca is exquisite exactly as she is.”
“I do agree. Completely.”
Wesley handed over a medium-size gift bag. “Just a little something.”
“Thank you. Shall I look inside now?”
“Whatever you’d like.”
Margot guided everyone to the seating area. Alec handed Wesley a Scotch and poured one for himself, as well. Margot opened the gift bag and pulled out a beautiful cardigan sweater. The wool was delicate and soft, dyed in what seemed to be a thousand shades of blue.
“It’s lovely,
” she told Wesley. “Thank you so much. You’re very thoughtful. I will think of your wonderful country every time I wear it.”
“Oh dear God,” Bianca grumbled. “Isn’t that laying it on a bit thick? I mean it’s nice, but it’s a sweater.”
Alec looked uncomfortable but Wesley only laughed and captured Bianca’s hand in his. “My delightful Bianca always speaks her mind. It’s so refreshing.”
“It is,” Alec murmured.
Margot made a mental note to discuss erring on the side of graciousness when in a social situation. She would also have Bianca help her write her thank-you note.
She thought about how this Bianca—sharp, almost brittle—was so different from the woman who had negotiated who wore what and who sometimes insisted on ten-minute dance breaks during her lessons.
“Have you been to Cardigania?” Wesley asked her.
“I haven’t,” Margot told him. “But I hear it’s lovely.”
“It is. Bianca visited once, but only for a short time.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re trying to get something scheduled.”
Bianca offered a tight smile. “We are. I can’t wait.”
The words were right, but the panic in her eyes told Margot that Bianca was terrified to visit Cardigania and Margot had no idea why. The visit wouldn’t be for formal state business. No doubt they would do touristy things. Of course she would be meeting Wesley’s friends and colleagues and that could be stressful.
“Do you enjoy travel?” Wesley asked Margot.
“I do. Like most people, I have a bucket list of places I’d like to visit. My problem is I don’t really enjoy the one-week stay. I like to really get to know a place. Talk to the people and see what their everyday lives are like. Not that I don’t love a beautiful sandy beach like everyone else.”
Alec took his mother’s now-empty glass and rose. “Where have you traveled to?” he asked Margot.
“I spent a month in Thailand while I was in college,” she said, leaving out the part where she’d nearly flunked all her classes because of it. “I’ve been to Germany a few times, and in the did you really category, I’ve hiked through much of Patagonia.”
“Very eclectic,” Wesley said. “I’ve never been to Patagonia.”
The Summer of Sunshine and Margot Page 11
