Summer on Mirror Lake

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Summer on Mirror Lake Page 35

by JoAnn Ross


  “I’d imagine your work allows for a lot of travel,” she said, after she’d committed them to memory over two readings.

  “At times,” Jolene said. “But even with films set in fabulous places, many of the interior shots are done in studios in LA, so there’s not as much as you’d think. Though sometimes the constant traveling for work makes it difficult to have a relationship. I’m going to be in Ireland for three months, while my boyfriend, I guess that’s what you’d call him, although it sounds so high school, will be shooting in Australia and Hawaii.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything, because you probably get tired of answering the question, but since you brought him up, I’ve seen the photos of the two of you on magazine covers at the checkout in the market—is it difficult dating an actor?”

  “I’d never dated one before Mark,” Jolene said, sweeping color across Desiree’s lids. “I always stuck with guys in the trade. Electricians, carpenters, the occasional camera operator. But yes, I’ll admit that it can get bothersome having paparazzi cameras in your face whenever you go out to the grocery store.”

  “I can imagine. When Bastien and I were together, women would send notes and even nude photos to him. Sometimes they’d even have them delivered to the dressing room we shared, or they would wait outside the club door and hand him envelopes with their phone numbers. It was hard on our relationship because, being young, I’d get jealous... I can’t believe I just told you something I’ve never admitted to anyone.”

  “Hairdressers and makeup artists are like bartenders,” Jolene said cheerfully. “Clients always tell us everything. We’re also like priests in a confessional. We’re sworn to keep all secrets. And if I had to put up with that behavior, it would really upset me. But to be honest, my relationships never last long enough for me to get jealous.” She drew a line with a black pencil and smudged it with her fingertip. “My mother said I was born leaving. She’s probably right.”

  “I envy you,” Desiree admitted. “Being able to move on so easily.”

  “It has its pluses.” She looked into the mirror. “So, what do you think?”

  “I have never, in my entire life, looked this good. No wonder you were nominated for an award.”

  “Nominated is the operative word,” Jolene said. “The awards aren’t until September.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’d vote for you in a heartbeat.”

  “Too bad your vote doesn’t count. Close your eyes.” She spritzed Desiree’s face with setting water. “And if I weren’t leaving right after the wedding, I think we could become besties. Now that my BFF back in LA is engaged, I suspect I’ll come back from Ireland to discover I’ve lost her to her fiancé.” She took a mascara brush and swept it across Desiree’s lashes. “I don’t know a woman in Hollywood who has lashes as thick and long as yours,” she said. “And I’m including those who paid big bucks for extensions. This mascara is waterproof, just in case you end up crying at the wedding.”

  “I don’t cry,” Desiree said.

  “Never?”

  “Not since my grandmother passed when I was twelve. My mother died when I was born. There were complications with the birth. So I ended up having only my father through my teens. It didn’t take me long to realize that tears really upset him, since he had no idea what to do with a girl. I just learned, the night of my grandmother’s funeral, to cry into a pillow. By the time I graduated, I’d lost the tears, I suppose,” she said, meeting Jolene’s eyes in the mirror. “A bit like your ability to move on.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. She had cried in the restroom on the flight to New York from Paris, but that was more information than she cared to share.

  She was, Desiree told herself as she left the room to change into her dress, going to have to gather up all her strength to resist Bastien Broussard. Or she’d be right back where she’d been when the most delicious man she’d ever seen had sauntered up to her after she’d finished singing “Joyeux Noël” and, without so much as an introduction, asked, “Hey, cher, want to be in my band?”

  It was the first time in her life she’d understood that “near occasion of sin” the nuns were always warning girls against. It was also the first time she’d wanted to experience it. In that frozen moment in time, if Bastien Broussard had asked her to fly to the moon with him on gossamer wings, she’d have accepted on the spot.

  She had assured the rest of the choral group that she’d be fine, and although she’d known it would be considered foolish, she had gone with him down Pirate’s Alley, where the famed Privateer Jean Lafitte and Andrew Jackson had formed an unlikely alliance to plan the successful defeat of the British at the Battle of New Orleans. Unlike the noisy holiday mood throughout the Quarter, the bar had been reasonably quiet. He’d ordered a beer for himself, a Coke for her, and he’d explained about how he had a three-piece band that needed a front girl and since she was not only the most beautiful girl in the Crescent City, but also sang like an angel, she’d be perfect.

  She’d been vaguely aware of him saying something about not making much money, but she needn’t worry, he’d be sure she’d be taken care of, and he’d protect her against any drunk guys who might want to harass her, and how he’d promised her they’d pass a good time together.

  By then she’d already been swept away by his smooth, deep voice and dark brown eyes, and, with their fingers linked together, she’d walked with him to a little hole-in-the-wall bar on Royal, where he introduced her as his new front girl, and within five minutes they’d left with a gig that had been only two nights away.

  “I don’t know any of your songs,” she’d complained at the time.

  He’d stopped, framed her worried face in his beautiful hands and said, “Don’t worry, cher. We have two whole days. I’ll teach you.” And hadn’t he? About a great deal more than singing the blues.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DESIREE HAD ALWAYS been a beauty, but whatever magic Jolene, daughter of Gloria, had done had turned her into a goddess. “No one will notice the brides.”

  “I strongly doubt that,” she said dryly. “I saw them getting dressed. They’re stunning.”

  “There must be something in the water, here,” Bastien said. “Because all the women are beautiful.”

  “You’ve always had an eye for women.” She didn’t say it in the angry, sulky way she once had. Bastien hoped that was because she’d grown older and belatedly realized that he’d had no reason to look at anyone but her.

  “For the record, all the years we were together, I never, ever, looked, touched or had any kind of sex with any of those groupies. Or any other woman.”

  “I knew that,” she said. “Well, most of the time.” She shrugged shoulders bared by a dress with a floaty, longish skirt that looked as if it had washed off a painting of Monet’s garden at Giverny, but sadly didn’t show off her long legs he could still, during long dark nights, remember wrapped around him.

  “But you were always waiting for me to cheat.” She hadn’t trusted him then. He wondered if she’d trust him now. If not, it may take longer than expected to win her over. But fortunately, she wasn’t going anywhere. And now that he’d come up with a plan, neither was he.

  “Perhaps,” she admitted. She shrugged those bare shoulders that gleamed as if they’d been polished. “I was young and insecure. So, did you find your ukulele?”

  “I did. But I also found something, or someone, better. One of the bride’s cousins has a job playing at one of those big resort luaus. He’s agreed to play the ‘Hawaiian Wedding Song’ during the ceremony.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “It would be. But he insists he can’t carry a tune, and from his demonstration, he’s right, so we’ll have to sing it.”

  “That’s okay. I have it memorized.”

  “I knew you would. Now here’s the cool thing. I was talking to Caroline Harper, she’s the mothe
r of Seth, who’s the fiancé of Brianna, the wedding-planner-slash-B-and-B owner.”

  “I know that.”

  “Of course you do. I was just trying to connect all the dots. Apparently, Kylee’s mom died. And her dad rejected her when she came out to him.”

  “That I didn’t know. But since Mai’s dad is going to walk both brides down the aisle, I suspected something like that might have happened.”

  “You suspected right. So, since Mai’s entire family is essentially going to become Kylee’s family, Mrs. Harper, who’s officiating, planned a Hawaiian ceremony. A surprise for the both of them, which she hid from them during yesterday’s rehearsal. Mai’s family brought leis that have been stashed in Amanda Barrow’s cooler. She’s apparently the landscaper who created this garden and is also one of the attendants.”

  “Oh.” Desiree’s right hand went over her heart. “That is so lovely. And thoughtful.”

  “She seems like a lovely woman,” he agreed. “If we get married here, perhaps we ought to consider her. Unless you’d like to get married in the church I drove by on the way to Herons Landing. Or, like I said, back home in New Orleans.”

  “This is my home now. But that doesn’t matter because you won’t be staying because we’re not getting married and I’m going to be the one to move into that space next to my bakery. So, since you’re wasting time, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “There’s a song Honi, the cousin, sang for me, that would be perfect for the brides’ first dance. But they’re not doing that, so we thought it’d make a nice song for the exchange of leis.”

  “I thought you said her cousin couldn’t sing.”

  “He can’t. And, just so you won’t think I planned this, he swears the entire family is tone deaf. Since it’s a song for a guy, we thought he could play it on the ukulele while I sang it.”

  “I’m still not getting the problem.”

  “It’s a love song called ‘I’ll Weave a Lei of Stars for You.’”

  “Oh, that sounds beautifully romantic.” Then she caught on to the possible problem. “You want to sing it to me.”

  “Well, if there weren’t two of us, I suppose I could sing it by myself. But it would look a little odd and take away from the romanticism of the day if you suddenly either walked away, or just stood there not looking at me, while I sang it by myself.”

  He watched as she ran both those scenarios through her mind. “You’re right. So obviously you’ll sing it to me.”

  “It won’t bother you?”

  “Not at all. Believe me, I’m impervious to your Cajun charms.”

  “Ouch.” It was his turn to cover his heart. “Direct hit.”

  “I’m sorry if that wounds your male ego. But you don’t have to worry about my delicate sensibilities. It won’t be any different than if we were two singers who’d never had a relationship.”

  “But we did. For five years.” When he’d watched her become more and more unhappy touring with the band. “And that one night three years ago.”

  Score one for him. He watched her eyes soften and knew that she was sharing the same memories of that twenty-four hours that had so often haunted both his waking moments and his dreams.

  “Well,” she said finally, “I guess we should both just think of it this way... We’ll always have Paris.”

  * * *

  THEY DECIDED THAT Bastien would play from the list that Kylee and Mai had compiled as the guests gathered, while Desiree brought out the pastry trays and attached the Wonder Women to the base she’d already secured to the top tier of the cake with straw dowels before covering it with more buttercream frosting. She’d also volunteered to help the bridal party with any last-minute needs. Not that they seemed to need her help, since Brianna had everything running perfectly.

  Caroline Harper, who would by this time next year be Brianna’s mother-in-law, reminded Desiree of a wood nymph in her flowing deep green dress with a moonstone on a black cord around her neck. Her streaked blond hair, cut in a smooth, jaw-length bob, was evidence she hadn’t gone completely New Agey during this lifestyle transformation that had had all of Honeymoon Harbor buzzing. Though she was wearing a crown of flowers around her head.

  Her smile was warm as she greeted old friends and Mai’s family before the ceremony started. She and her husband had been traveling the country, but had returned to Honeymoon Harbor for this wedding.

  One of Mai’s many cousins, who was wearing a beautiful white silk Aloha shirt with red flowers that was definitely superior to the cheaper ones sold in tourism shops, led everyone to their seats. Because of Kylee lacking an immediate family, there were no sides. There were only family and friends gathered together in this magical fairy garden Amanda Barrow had created for them.

  After everyone was seated, Seth Harper rolled out the white runner that led from the second patio outside the master bedroom’s French doors to the arch covered with summer wisteria, under which the brides would exchange their vows.

  Her work completed until it was time to cut her cake, Desiree went to stand beside Bastien. Although it had been years since they’d sung together, as he paused to smile down at her, it was as if time had spun backward and she was precisely in the place she was meant to be. Dangerous thinking, that, she reminded herself as an older man came forward to stand at the end of the runner.

  Brianna’s attention to detail was demonstrated by Mai’s three brothers, who were accompanying Brianna; Chelsea Prescott, Honeymoon Harbor’s librarian; and Amanda Barrow down the aisle wearing Hawaiian shirts in the same colors as the dresses worn by the women they walked beside.

  Brianna, maid of honor, had chosen a sapphire blue that brought out her blue eyes. Amanda had gone with a sunny yellow that worked with skin tanned from years of working outdoors, while Chelsea’s bright purple was a perfect choice for her burnished brunette hair. They looked like beautiful flowers in this lush summer garden Amanda had created.

  They walked up the aisle, carrying small bouquets of tulips in the colors of their gowns mixed with white, to “All You Need Is Love.”

  It was such a positive song, one that was often requested at weddings, and one Desiree wished could be true. But she’d learned that love, while sometimes wonderful, could also be painful. And it wasn’t always enough. Still, when she got to the part about it being easy to be where you’re supposed to be, her voice faltered just a little. The guests didn’t notice, but she felt Bastien’s knowing glance, as if reinforcing the song’s message.

  As they split when they reached Caroline, the men to the right, women to the left, there was a momentary pause, allowing for suspense as everyone waited for the brides.

  Then an older man, who’d been introduced to Desiree last night at the rehearsal dinner as one of Mai’s uncles, stood at the end of the runner and lifted a conch shell, and blew a deeply rounded tone that spiraled over the garden and could probably be heard all over the harbor, announcing the arrival of the brides. Watching the bridal couple carefully, Desiree saw Mai’s gasp of surprise as she touched her cheek, as if wiping away a tear.

  While they might have gone a bit old-school with Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love with You” for the processional, there was nothing ordinary or expected about their gowns.

  While getting dressed earlier, Desiree had been awed by Kylee’s beautiful black fitted strapless midi dress embroidered with oversize red, yellow and purple beaded flowers. Dottie and Doris, who’d come to help the women into their gowns, had told her they’d ordered the dress from a designer Kylee had met on a photography trip through Italy. The more flamboyant of the two, she was wearing a pair of red sequined low-top Converse tennis shoes.

  According to Dottie, the more talkative of the elderly twin sisters, it was traditional for Japanese brides to wear white for the ceremony, then change to red for the reception. Wanting to be modern, while paying homage to all the women
in her family who’d married in the traditional style, Mai had embraced both looks in a Western-style white strapless sheath gown, with a red sash embroidered with gold butterflies that fell down her back instead of a train. She’d chosen to wear simple white ballet-style flats. They were accompanied by Mai’s Japanese-Hawaiian father, who walked down the aisle with a bride on each arm. He kissed both their cheeks, then sat down next to his wife in the front row.

  “Greetings. And aloha,” Caroline said. “We’re gathered here today to celebrate the love of Kylee and Mai as they exchange vows in this very special union of marriage. Before we begin, I’d like to ask all the family and friends here today to take the hand of the person next to you and unite with us with one heart as we close our eyes and picture those who could not be here with us today. The Hawaiians have gifted us with the lovely knowledge that when the breeze stirs in a wedding, as it’s doing lightly at this very moment in this garden, it’s the presence of their ohana, or family, who are physically absent but are surrounding the brides at this moment with their love, support and blessing.”

  As she felt her eyes moisten at the thought of her mother and grandmother, Desiree was glad Jolene had brought along that big waterproof mascara tube, especially when Bastien’s fingers lightly brushed the back of her hand. The touch was as quick and light as a butterfly’s wings, but it struck like a gilded arrow straight to the center of her carefully guarded heart.

  “The traditional Hawaiian lei signifies love and respect,” Caroline said as she continued the ceremony. “Like a wedding ring, it’s an unbroken circle that represents your eternal commitment and devotion to one another. Just as the beauty of each individual flower isn’t lost when it becomes part of the lei, but enhanced by the strength of its bond, so will you, Kylee and Mai, remain unique individuals, enhanced by the strength of your bond.”

  “May the lei of life you weave together as wife and wife be as beautiful and fragrant as these two you give to each other here today,” Caroline said as Mai and Kylee exchanged leis. Singing the song he’d learned from Mai’s cousin, Bastien looked deep into Desiree’s eyes and when he got to the part about always greeting her with a kiss each time she wore her lei of stars, she knew that she wasn’t alone in remembering all those kisses they’d shared.

 

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