Mr. Maybe

by M. Kate Quinn

  Kit knew that childish singsong cadence. Her cousin Co-Co. A cringe climbed up her spine as if it were wearing combat boots. She pulled her gaze over to Rylee and mouthed a stab me while jerking her index finger toward her eye several times.

  “You want me to go tell her we need to reschedule,” Rylee whispered.

  Kit let out a hissing breath. She gulped half a bottle of spring water. “No.” She took another sip. “There’s no avoiding her.” She dabbed a napkin on her mouth and stood up from the worktable. “Aside from this being an opportunity for the store, I don’t want anybody in my family thinking I’m upset about this stupid wedding. Any misstep on my part would be taken as sour grapes. I wouldn’t give that one out there the satisfaction.”

  “Okay, but just say the word, and we pull the plug on this deal.”

  Kit produced a smile that felt too big for her face. “I’ve got this.” Then she belched.

  ****

  When Kit emerged from the back room, she cast her gaze on the two of them, Co-Co along with her mother, Kit’s Aunt Dee Dee. Co-Co had a white vinyl garment bag slung over one arm. The mother and daughter duo broke out in grins as they stood there with their same strategic blonde highlighting sprinkled through their matching shoulder-length bobs. They might have been wearing the same coral-toned lip gloss, too. Kit manufactured a happy face while her belly tumbled around with too much hot dog and chili.

  “There she is.” Aunt Dee Dee came up to Kit and wrapped her in a strong hug.

  She smelled of potpourri or a funeral parlor. Kit couldn’t tell. But the pungent aroma of floral overload wreaked havoc in her already-uneasy stomach. She swallowed hard. A bead of sweat broke out at her hairline.

  With a look of appall, Aunt Dee Dee waved a hand in front of her face. “Have we interrupted your lunch, dear?”

  “No, I was through.”

  Co-Co pulled a face. “What did you have?”

  Kit lifted her chin. “A chili dog.”

  “Oh my.” Aunt Dee Dee placed a hand to her chest. Her mascara-laden lashes fluttered like spastic spiders as she cast a gaze down Kit’s form. “Salads, dear. They’re a much better choice for lunch.”

  “Kale,” Co-Co added with an encouraging nod. “You’ll love kale once you get used to it. Chop it, though, so you don’t choke.”

  Kit coughed over the sound of the rumbling in her stomach. She had to get this over with. She pointed to the garment bag. “Yes, so is this it?”

  Dee Dee grinned, and Kit couldn’t help noticing how her coral lipstick had bled into the small crevices around her mouth, almost like a starburst around her pie hole. It wasn’t as if she didn’t appreciate Aunt Dee Dee. She was Mom’s only sister, younger by two years. But all during her growing up, Dee Dee had been a pain in the ass and blind as a damn bat when it came to her precious little Co-Co and her deviousness.

  Kit’s mom and Dee Dee were both widowed now, and they couldn’t be living more diverse lives in their retirement years. Dee Dee lived vicariously through her only child, hovering like a helicopter around Co-Co as much as when she was a kid growing up.

  Kit’s mom, Regina, was out living one adventure after the other. She was rarely home at her little condo at an active adult community in Essex County. Currently, she was on a two-week mahjong cruise in the Western Caribbean. Did Mom even know about the engagement and the plans for Gram’s wedding gown?

  “I have some ideas for making changes to Grammy’s dress.” Co-Co made her glossy mouth bunch into an exaggerated pout. “Just a couple of teeny-tiny ones.”

  Kit’s stomach twirled like a carnival ride. She watched Co-Co with her french manicure and that dazzling diamond on her finger unzip the garment bag to reveal the vintage wedding gown, one Kit recognized very well. The pearly-toned, bias-cut satin, the beading on the pointed sleeves on the gown she herself had hoped to wear one day. Being six months older than Co-Co, she was the one in line for Gram’s gown. But that would require a groom, and Co-Co had him. She had the guy, and she had the dress. Kit had a stomach roiling with a poor lunch decision.

  Kit eyed the subtle lines of the dress, its timelessness. The old photograph of her grandmother on her wedding day that she kept in a frame on her dresser came to mind. Gram’s hair was prim in that sausage-roll style, her padded shoulders sharp and elegant. Tucked in the side of the frame was another snapshot of her grandmother, one Kit’s own mom had given to her after she’d cleaned her attic. Gram was alone in the photo and bore the most magnificent smile she’d ever worn. In the black-and-white photo, Gram’s dress—maybe an Easter outfit, Kit didn’t know—appeared a pale gray. But Mom had told her it had been pearly-pink sateen, which she couldn’t fathom. Kit just didn’t get pink, too girly maybe, or too fussy. The only pink she liked was a nice cold glass of zinfandel. But she did like the sparkly rhinestone buckle on the belt. That had been a nice touch and so much like Gram. Always with a hint of whimsy. She’d so loved Gram.

  Gram had told Kit to choose well when it came to her wedding dress and to the husband she would wear it for, and like that, she thought of Brian.

  Her mind replayed the moment when Brian had finally caught up to her when she’d lost steam running from him Christmas Eve. Her feet in the ruined patent-leather flats were frozen and numb, and she had wished the painful deadness had climbed up to her heart. His voice was alive in her mind, his apologizing a million times, telling her he and Co-Co just couldn’t help themselves because they were destined for each other. Even as she tried to banish the thoughts, her insides went round and round, making noises like rocks in a dryer.

  “Will you help me make Grammy’s dress perfect for my wedding?” Co-Co bit her lower lip. “Please, Kitty-Cat? This is the most important thing in my life.”

  Kitty-Cat. She hated that nickname, hated that this cousin of hers had snatched up a family heirloom to make it her own. The dress was her most important thing? What would this little twit do if a one-hundred-year-old tree had slammed on top of her car and she had no money to rectify the situation?

  How was she supposed to respond to this girl? Sure, go ahead, take the guy, and take the dress? Before Kit could say a thing, though, she reached down for the wastebasket by the desk and emptied herself of too much chili dog in one awful wretch.

  Chapter Six

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Aunt Dee Dee asked a while later when Kit emerged from the ladies’ room in a minty cloud after some serious gargling. “We can come back another time.”

  “Mother, no, we can’t. We’re in a time crunch.”

  Kit’s stomach was empty, but her mind was full. She wanted to tell Co-Co she could take that old dress and that new solitaire diamond ring with the baguettes and march her skinny ass out of Rosie’s Bridals. She’d deal with the fallout when it made its way through the family grapevine.

  But out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Rylee as she lovingly positioned a shipment of tiaras in a display case. This shop meant everything to Rylee. It was her legacy, and she’d worked so hard to help make it succeed. Kit couldn’t be the one to turn away any business.

  “I’m fine.” Kit smoothed her hands down her front. “Let’s do this. Co-Co, did you say that you’ll be having your bridesmaids coming to Rosie’s for their dresses?”

  “Yes! And we’d like to find dresses that will complement mine, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll make an appointment today for the girls. I have ten bridesmaids, well, nine plus one junior bridesmaid, Cousin Paul’s daughter, Abigail.”

  Oh for God’s sake.

  “Okay, so tell me what you have in mind for the alterations.” Kit smoothed her hand over the fabric of the dress. She did her best to detach from its loveliness, its history. But her fingers savored the nub of each bead as her touch ran over the intricacies of the pattern.

  “I was thinking of lopping off the arms maybe.” Co-Co tilted her head. “Making it strapless if we could?”

  Sharp filaments of anger s
liced through her, and heat flooded her cheeks. She clenched her fists, feeling the bite of her fingernails digging into the flesh of her palms. “You what?”

  Co-Co held up one of the sleeves of the dress as if it were a fish she’d caught that had just died in the bucket. “I can’t do long sleeves for an August wedding. Not going to sweat like a pig on my own wedding day.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why?”

  Kit bit back an expletive. “Not happening.”

  Co-Co dropped the sleeve and folded her arms. “Mother, you see? What did I tell you? She’s still mad at me.”

  “Girls.” Aunt Dee Dee touched a hand to each of their arms. “Let’s remember we’re family no matter what. Kit, honey, we came to you because you’re the best, of course. But also, if you help with the, um, redesigning of Grammy’s gown, then it’s like you’ve shared in its legacy as well. See? It’s perfect.”

  “I’m not chopping off the sleeves,” Kit said. “I draw the line.”

  “But…”

  “No,” Kit said. “I’ll tailor Gram’s dress to your body. I’ll fix the beading, replace any missing stones. But I will not, cannot take scissors to that dress.”

  Co-Co pursed her lips. “You’re just saying that to be mean.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” She turned to walk away from them.

  “Wait,” Aunt Dee Dee called. “Kit, dear, come on, wait.”

  She turned back to them.

  Aunt Dee Dee put her hands together as if in prayer. She looked to her daughter. “Co-Co, honey, maybe Kit’s right.”

  “What?”

  Kit half expected Co-Co to pull one of her fits like in the good old days when they were in grammar school. Like the time she locked herself in the coat closet in fourth grade when she’d lost out on the lead in their end-of-year play. Kit had been chosen as the damned narrator, as she had every year since first grade, and nobody saw her hiding among the windbreakers and bookbags.

  “Look.” She closed the distance between them. “If Gram’s gown isn’t the vision you had in mind, maybe we can show you another dress that better suits you. We have so many great designer samples—”

  “No, no. You’re not talking me out of the dress. Nice try.” Co-Co folded her arms across her chest. “Fine. We’ll keep the sleeves. Just make me look spectacular in it. That’s all I want.”

  How could she share DNA with this twit? She needed to quell the fire in her veins. As much as it hurt that Co-Co had Gram’s dress in her bony-fingered clutches, Kit had bigger things to worry about.

  When Aunt Dee Dee meandered over to a rack of mother-of-the-bride dresses, Co-Co took the opportunity to sidle up to Kit. “You’re okay about all this, aren’t you, Kitty-Cat? I mean, you and me, we’re fine now, aren’t we?”

  Kit blew out a minty-mouthwashed breath. “Stop beating a dead horse. I’m over it.”

  “I just don’t want it to be awkward for you, you know, attending the wedding festivities alone and everything.”

  Kit pointed to one of the dressing cubicles. “Take the dress in there and try it on so I can see what we’re dealing with.”

  Co-Co came in close for a stage whisper. “Lola’s groomer is single. I think you might like him, and you’ll get used to his glass eye. I won’t even tell you which one it is. You’ll never guess.”

  Lola was Co-Co’s spasmodic Something-poo, and Kit was not at all interested in meeting her faux-eyed groomer. She tamped down the niggle of anger that rose in her veins. “No, thanks. Go try on the dress.”

  “I just hate that you’re alone.”

  “I’m not, okay? Happy?”

  A smile broke out across Co-Co’s face. “You’re seeing someone?” She whipped around. “Mother, Kit’s dating.”

  Kit wasn’t prone to lying, but somehow this one tumbled out of her mouth, and there was no pulling it back. She’d deal with it later.

  “Oh, do tell,” Aunt Dee Dee cooed as she closed the gap between them, her hands waving in the air as if she were about to take flight.

  “Not now.”

  “Come on,” Co-Co urged. “Just a tidbit. What’s his name?”

  Kit pulled open the door to the dressing cubicle. “Change, Co-Co. I mean it.”

  “Fine, but just so you know, I’m counting this as a preliminary fitting because I’m bloated this week. I thought I’d come back next week for any adjustments. That good with you, Kitty-Cat?”

  “No can do.” There was no way Kit was going to accommodate her cousin’s tragedy of premenstrual bloat. Co-Co and her cycle could just deal with it.

  “Why not?”

  Co-Co had the simpering whine of a toddler. Maybe she was teething. And she didn’t need to know that the lessened client load around here gave Kit’s schedule a lot of leeway these days.

  “We’re booked next week, Co-Co. As it is, count yourself lucky I was even able to squeeze you in today. Now, are you going to go put on the dress or what?”

  “You’re being deliberately difficult.”

  Did she stamp her foot? Kit sucked in a breath to keep from calling her a body part. She thrust her arm toward a dressing room. “You can either go in there and put on the gown, or you can go home. I don’t care. But do one of those things now.”

  The little bell that hung above the front entry jangled, and Shane Dugan strode in. The catgut of nerves in Kit’s midsection tightened its gird. He wore a fire academy T-shirt that clung to his muscles. His black hair looked damp and had been combed back over his head, leaving his pleasant face more exposed, open, his smile eye catching. Lordy. He was a fine specimen of a firefighter. Something inside her did a little somersault, her pheromones ignoring totally that she was the self-appointed president of the man-haters club.

  Co-Co unfolded her arms from her chest, casually put a hand to her blonde bob, and gave it a tussle. In Co-Co speak that was a loud Notice me.

  Shane latched his mottled-green gaze on to Kit, and his full mouth broke into a grin. Despite herself, her heart did a wiggle.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  “I see you’re busy.” He cast a glance toward Co-Co. “I was hoping you had a few minutes to talk.”

  Kit watched Co-Co’s gaze move back and forth between them in rapid succession. She was a walking, talking slot machine. “Sure.” She bit her lip. “Just give me a sec.” She slid her gaze over to Co-Co. “Are we done here, or are you going to try on the dress?”

  “Fine.” Co-Co’s tone changed to that teasing lilt she saved for each and every man on the planet. “I’ll ignore the grumpy pill you took this morning, and we’ll do it your way, Kit. But before I change into the dress, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

  “Nope. Go change.”

  Co-Co looked around Kit and waved her fingers. “Hi, I’m Co-Co, Kit’s cousin.”

  Aunt Dee Dee sidled up beside Kit and lifted a coy shoulder. “Who have we here? I’m Kit’s aunt and the mother of the bride here.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  Co-Co came close. “And you’re?”

  “Shane.” He looked over to Kit, one eyebrow quirked upward, giving him a look that Kit decided meant he wasn’t buying Co-Co’s saccharine persona. Even though she hated men, right at the moment she kind of liked Shane Dugan.

  “I can come back,” he said. “I wanted to get your thoughts about my moving in.”

  While Kit’s heart plummeted to her feet, Co-Co coughed and slapped a hand to her chest. “Are you her new man? Oh my God, and you’re moving in together?” She sounded as if she’d sucked helium.

  Kit didn’t answer but instead prayed for a bolt of lightning with good aim. Considering it was one of those blue-sky, yellow-ball-of-sunshine kind of days, the chances were slim.

  “Is that what I’m hearing? You two are a couple?” Aunt Dee Dee slapped a hand to her chest, and the valise-sized purse over her arm went swinging.

  “My next appointment is due in fifteen minutes.” It
was another lie, but this was a desperate situation. She needed a second to think her way out of this. “We have to do this now or reschedule, and like I told you, I’m pretty much booked for the foreseeable future.” Lie number three. She was going to hell.

  “All right, all right,” Co-Co said. She grabbed her mother by the arm. “Mommy, come on. You need to help me.” She cast her doe-eyed gaze on Shane. “But don’t go anywhere, you. I want to hear everything about you two.”

  Co-Co and Aunt Dee Dee disappeared into a dressing room, and when the door had sufficiently clicked shut, Kit gave Shane a poke in the shoulder, one hell of a taut shoulder. “Come here.” Her whisper was a hot rasp. She marched toward the bank of windows at the front of the store. “We need to talk.”

  The sunlight coming in through the windows brought out the multiple flecks of gold in his eyes, and she did her best to ignore their appeal. She swallowed hard. “Shane.” Her eyes flashed to the door to the dressing room. “Here’s the thing.” She pinned his gaze. “That’s my cousin and my aunt in there and…”

  “I think I know this story,” he whispered back. He leaned in close. He smelled spicy, like cloves. “Hop mentioned something.”

  “Oh, did he? Nice. I’ll kill him later, but for now listen up.” She took a breath. “So you know she’s marrying my ex-boyfriend.” Shane nodded. “Well, she was just saying how terrible it is that I’ll be alone for all the wedding activities, and God only knows what that means, and I kind of stretched the truth, okay? No, I lied, okay? I’m not proud of it, but yeah. I sort of intimated that I have a boyfriend. And then you walked in the door. She’s assuming you and I are, you know, a couple, especially since you said you wanted to talk about moving in.”

  “Oh boy. I’m sorry. That didn’t help the situation, did it?”

  “No.” She watched the brass doorknob of the dressing room. “Here’s the deal, Shane. I know you have a girlfriend in what was it, France or something?”

  “Italy.”

  “Yes. Italy. But for now, could you just go along with it? The wedding’s August fourth. Maybe you wouldn’t even have to attend the spectacle with me. I could say you had to work. Something was on fire maybe. If you help me out, the loft is yours. For the two grand up front, of course.”