“Would you?” She held it out to me and I went to fasten the clasp, but the necklace was small and Dottie’s neck was less so, and the chain dug into her flesh. “Oh, no.” Her shoulders deflated.
“Hold on, I have an idea,” I said. I took my Swiss Army knife out of my purse, then took off my own gold necklace, which was newer and cheaper but had links. I pried a link open a couple of inches from the clasp and squeezed it shut again, then held it up. “Chain extender!”
She beamed. “Aren’t you resourceful!”
I laughed. “I broke into my car with that knife once,” I said. “It’s the greatest tool I’ve ever had.” I clipped the chains together and was glad to see that the difference wasn’t all that obvious with a few feet of distance. “Let’s try this again.”
She turned around and held her hair up and I put the necklace on her. “Perfect!” she declared, and turned around. The stone sparkled against her chest at the collarbone. It was perfect.
“What else could you need?” I asked.
“Actually,” she said, “there is one thing. I wonder if you’d mind running over to the reception hall and grabbing a little bite of something for me? I’m feeling a little faint.”
“You’re probably revving high right now with nerves,” I said. “You need protein. Have a seat and relax, I’ll be back in a few.”
As I was leaving, I saw three of Dottie’s friends bustling toward the back room to join her. They were the old aristocrats from town, you could tell by their eclectic dress and hairstyles. The real rich, in my experience, tended to be the oddballs. I smiled to myself and took out my phone and pushed speed dial.
“Crazy Town, how may I help you?” Glenn answered.
“That bad, huh?”
“Your ex was here at the reception hall, on the phone with a lawyer, trying to make sure her assets were protected in case he was”—he lowered his voice—“a gold digger.”
I thought about how happy Dottie had looked getting ready and how cruel it would be to crush her hopes. Over what? Money?
“I’m coming over,” I said. “Can you set up a little platter of something for me to take back to Dottie? I think her nerves are getting the best of her. Meanwhile, I’ll try to talk some sense into Burke, though I don’t imagine that’s going to be easy.”
“You ain’t kiddin’.” He clucked his tongue against his teeth. “I’ll set something aside for you to take back.”
“Thanks.” We hung up and I quickened my pace. Dottie wasn’t a little old lady who couldn’t take care of herself. And Lyle wasn’t a gold digger, but even if he was, she was a sane adult who was making her own decision to marry him.
The place was bustling when I arrived. Glenn’s staff was busy setting up the food, the ice fountain of champagne, the antique pink carnations on the tables. It was beautiful and dignified and 100 percent perfect. Man, I hoped Burke wouldn’t ruin it.
You’d think he’d know what it was like to have someone step in and blow up your wedding.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to work hard to get him into conversation, as he came to me the moment I walked in.
“You’ve got to talk some sense into her,” he said without preamble.
“Who?”
“What do you mean, who? You know exactly who. My grandmother. She’s making a huge mistake.”
I collected myself for a moment, then spoke calmly. “I don’t believe she’d agree with that. In fact, she looks happier than I’ve ever seen her. Happier than I’ve ever seen most people, actually.”
“All I’m saying is that they should sign a pre-nup.”
“And I see why you think that’s smart; maybe I’d want the same thing if it were my grandmother, but that’s only on the very off chance that he’d take advantage of her. I don’t know Lyle that well, obviously, but I really don’t think that’s the case here. Maybe you should ease up and give Dottie the gift of her dignity today, huh?”
For just a second I thought maybe I’d reached him, then he shook his head. “Okay, this conversation is over. I’ve got things to handle, I don’t need to argue with you.”
“Fine.” I started to turn and huff off, but stopped. “Let me just say one thing that I hope you’ll take seriously. I mean, really think about before you fuck up your grandmother’s whole life. Lyle is a nice guy, a great guy, I think he can make her happy, but”—I searched for words that wouldn’t be demeaning—“I just don’t think he has it in him to orchestrate the kind of plan you’re talking about. I don’t think … He doesn’t seem all that aware of Dottie’s net worth or the implications. I think he really loves her.”
Burke scoffed.
“Great.” I threw up my hands. “Well, have at it, then. Do the very thing to her that was done to me on my one and only wedding day. The circumstances were different, but we were both women who deserved to make our own choices. So if you blow this for her, don’t strain your shoulder patting yourself on the back for it.”
I started to leave but he said, “Quinn.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“I hear you,” he said, and a small bit of hope surged in me. “I’ll think about it.”
“Please do, Burke. Please do.” I turned and went to Glenn, who had half an eye on me and half an eye on the Saran Wrap he was using to cover a pretty silver tray of canapés and fruit.
“Get through to him?”
“I don’t know.” I glanced back at Burke, who, for what it’s worth, was not on his phone. “Maybe.”
“You really think he’s wrong about this?”
Glenn I could be blunt with. “I really do. Lyle’s not the brightest bulb in the box. He doesn’t have highbrow tastes, and, honestly, I think he probably works really hard to balance a checkbook so maybe he’d have a hard time managing a stock portfolio, you know what I mean?”
“He’s stupid?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe. Kind of.”
Glenn laughed. “But a heart of gold, yes?”
“Yes.”
He handed me the tray. “Sounds like just what she needs at this point in her life.”
“Right! Let her be happy. Jeez. She’s been alone for so long now.”
He nodded. “Here’s hoping today goes as planned.”
“Amen. By the way, Dottie had champagne sent over but included a bottle of nonalcoholic sparkling grape for Drinky McDumbass here.” I pointed to myself. “Thanks to Day Drunk Day.”
He laughed out loud. “I know, I’m the one who sent it. She asked for apple cider, but I figured grape was funnier.”
“Almost wine but not quite?”
He pointed a finger gun at me and clicked.
“Very funny.”
“I know. See you at the wedding!”
I turned to go and was shocked to see Aaron across the room with an older woman who I took to be the grandmother he’d told me about. A friend of Dottie’s, most likely, a guest who had brought her grandson as her date. Perfect.
“Glenn! Glenn!” I whispered as loud as I could.
He stopped and looked back at me.
Aaron, I mouthed, and nodded in his direction.
“What?” He came over.
“That’s Aaron, over there with the older woman in blue.”
“Who’s Aaron?”
“The guy from Short Stops. You know, the guy I told you about.”
“Oooh.” He looked. “I see what you mean.”
I nodded. “Work on that.”
I took the tray back to the church, where Dottie and her clutch of hens were giggling like teenagers. She had no idea that Burke was on the warpath, and I hoped, so very much, that he wouldn’t show up.
“Here she is, my hero!” Dottie cried when she saw me. “My goodness, I am starving.”
“You are in luck.” I put the tray down in front of her. “Glenn has outdone himself, I can tell. Everything is beautiful.”
“Oooh, lovely!” She chose a square of ham and cheese, which I happened to know was one of the bes
t things on earth, thanks to the brown sugar–cured ham Glenn used. “Mmm-mm. Doris, pour Quinn a sparkling juice, would you?” She gave her friend a Significant Look that I guess she thought I wouldn’t notice.
Four glasses of champagne and one glass of grape juice were poured and we all raised our flutes to toast Dottie and Lyle’s future happiness. And as time wore on and the women put on their makeup and gabbed merrily about events from long ago in their history, I felt more and more optimistic that Burke had heeded my advice and reconsidered his assault on the marriage.
He wasn’t without romance in his heart, I knew that. Maybe he’d had character flaws that made him a lousy fiancé and, presumably, husband, but I knew—I knew—underneath it all he had a good heart.
So when there was a knock on the door in the midst of the revelry, I thought only that it must be the pastor, coming to alert us all that it was time to get into position for the wedding ceremony.
“I do believe it’s getting to be about that time!” Adrianne Parker trilled to Dottie. “The bells are about to be ringing and you are about to be a missus again!”
“Lord help you,” Lorel Beard chimed in. “If I hadn’t seen your Lyle, I’d wonder what had gotten into you to make you do such a damn fool thing as getting married again.” She giggled and raised her glass. “But I think I know exactly what’s gotten into you. More power to you!”
There were shouts of “Amen” and clinking glasses, then Sukie Maynard went to the door.
Then there was a weird moment when I could feel, in my entire being, the pull between the lighthearted excitement of the women on my left, and a dark pull on my right, by the door.
I knew what it was, of course.
I’d felt this before. I knew exactly what it was.
Sukie came back to the group, looking confused. Not alarmed. Maybe I wouldn’t even have gone so far as saying concerned to describe her expression, but she clearly knew something was off.
“Dottie,” she said, but her voice was lost in the laughter, and she repeated, louder, “Dottie?”
Dottie looked up. “Yes, baby?”
“Burke’s at the door,” Sukie answered. “He says he’d like to talk to Dottie. Alone.”
Chapter 26
June, Ten Years Ago
It wasn’t as if Quinn wouldn’t admit she was a romantic. She was definitely a romantic. But today was ridiculous, even for her.
Granted, it was her wedding day, so she was supposed to be on cloud nine, but she had the strangest sensation of walking through a dream. It was like a movie sequence about heaven—everything was perfect: her dress, the weather, the forecast for their honeymoon in Jamaica.
How had she gotten so lucky as to truly find the love of her life at such a young age and never have to go through the heartbreak that most had to suffer? All those songs, movies, books about it, and she’d slid into Burke Morrison’s arms at fourteen and he’d never let go.
On some level she must have believed she didn’t quite deserve the luck. That would explain the low hum of anxiety deep in the pit of her stomach right now. The niggling fear that this wasn’t real. It was an elaborate hoax to set her up for a fall. By … God? It was silly. Maybe everyone felt this kind of fear, that complete devastation could hide in the shadows of perfect happiness.
“Quinn!” Karen, one of her bridesmaids, came tripping over with a glass of champagne and a giggle. “A little liquid courage for the bride!”
“She doesn’t need courage,” another bridesmaid, Rami, said. “She’s only marrying the cutest guy who ever went to our high school. No offense, Quinn, I’m not after him, but you gotta know it’s true.”
“I don’t know,” Karen said, sipping the champagne she’d just brought over for Quinn. “There was Phil Edwards. Lee Holloway. Glenn Ryland. There were a lot of cute guys on the football team.”
Quinn took the half-empty glass from Karen’s hand. “I’m not into competition, thank you very much. You can take your Phils, your Lees, your Glenns, just leave my Burke alone.”
“As soon as you get the ring on him, ain’t no one gonna try and take him away,” the maid of honor, Jackie, said. “So get your makeup on, girlie, and get out there to claim your man. You never know what’s going to happen in the meantime!”
They all laughed, and Quinn went to the Jergens plug-in-light-up makeup mirror she’d brought, knowing the lighting in the church rectory was going to be so crummy she’d look like a clown in daylight if she relied on it alone.
“Are you nervous?” Rami asked, sitting down next to Quinn on the bench seat in front of the piano where Quinn had set up the mirror.
Quinn thought about it for a moment, swiping Great Lash mascara onto her lashes. Was she nervous or just eager to have it done so this crazy feeling that her happiness wasn’t real would end?
“I’m not nervous,” Quinn said. “I have never been as sure of anything in my life as I am that I want to be Mrs. Burke Morrison.”
“That is so old-fashioned,” Karen said. “Are you seriously changing your name to his?”
“Yes.” Quinn felt a flush of anticipation. Quinn Morrison. She couldn’t wait.
How many times, and in how many places, had she been exactly the clichéd schoolgirl scripting all the variations?
Quinn Morrison.
Mrs. Burke Morrison.
Mrs. Quinn Morrison.
Mr. and Mrs. Burke Morrison.
And, for a brief period during which she’d gotten grandiose ideas from watching too many Lifetime TV shows, Dr. Quinn Morrison.
Sounded familiar. So it must have been right.
There was a knock at the door, then it swung open and her mother came in, smiling. “You’re looking beautiful,” she said. “Don’t go too heavy on the black liner, remember.” She always said that. “Got your chocolate.” She held out a Toblerone bar.
“Oh, thank you.” Quinn tore into it. Chocolate always made her feel better when she was nervous. Not that she was nervous, because she wasn’t, but she’d still had a last-second craving for chocolate and sent her mother out to get it.
“You’re welcome.” She smiled, looking just the same for as long as Quinn could remember, and Quinn felt a pang of melancholy at knowing today was the day she officially grew up and was no longer a little girl anymore. “Now. What can I do for you?”
“Just tell me I’m going to live happily ever after.”
“Of course you are,” her mother said, then frowned. “Do you have any doubts?”
The laughter and chat of the bridal party filled the silence as Quinn thought about her answer.
“No,” she said honestly. The room was large and, despite the party atmosphere of her friends, this conversation with her mother felt very private. “But this day just feels so perfect that I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
Her mother laid a warm hand on her shoulder. “Everyone feels that way on their wedding day. Like it’s the biggest day of their life and nothing else can live up. But the truth is, it’s just the first day of your new life.” She paused and gave a small chuckle. “And that sounded even more hackneyed than I meant for it to.” Her eyes met Quinn’s in the mirror. “But it’s true. Tomorrow everything is different. The same but different.”
Quinn felt tears fill her eyes and put her hand on her mother’s. “I’m so happy. Right now I’m so perfectly happy, I wish I could just freeze this moment and relive it over and over again.”
“You can. Why on earth wouldn’t you be able to? Every time you want a little lift, you remember your wedding day. I do.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
They both laughed.
Quinn took out her eye shadow palette and carefully brushed on some neutral browns. She didn’t want anything too dramatic. With the black mascara and black liner—carefully and subtly applied, per her mother’s instructions—she had enough going on.
As emotional as she was, she just hoped she wouldn’t cry. The mascara looked great on but was
notorious for being saltwater soluble. She didn’t need wet black rivers running down her cheeks as she took her vows at the altar.
“Do you ever regret marrying Daddy so young?” Quinn’s parents had gotten married when they were both twenty-one.
“Oh, I’ve questioned it a million times, and I’ll probably question it a million more. Every time he irks me, I question it. But regret? No. Never.”
Quinn swept some blush across her cheeks, then turned the lighted mirror off and turned to face her mother. “And you know he doesn’t regret it!”
“I think he questions it himself sometimes, but no.” She smiled. “I don’t think he regrets it. But the person who doesn’t question his or her major decisions is a fool.” She hesitated. “Maybe a lucky fool, but a fool nonetheless.”
“The music’s starting, Quinn!” Karen called, then shrieked as Rami bumped into her and they both spilled their champagne. “That gives you about fifteen minutes until the final countdown.”
Quinn took a bite of her chocolate. The champagne would be tempting if she didn’t have to be sure she didn’t trip, or slur, or otherwise make a fool of herself.
What was with these nerves she was experiencing?
Jamaica, Jamaica, Jamaica, she thought silently to herself. In twenty-four hours she’d be on a beach in Jamaica with Burke—her husband—by her side and all the fanfare would be over. They’d be baking under a bright Caribbean sun during the day, and making love to the sound of the waves lapping the shore all night. It would be pure bliss, the perfect cap to this beautiful wedding day.
Just thinking about it, the sun and Burke’s hand in hers, made her relax.
It was just nerves, she told herself. She’d never been one to love being the center of attention, and that was the truth. Ever since she got engaged, she’d had a vague fear that she’d trip on her way up the aisle, or pass out on the altar, or do something else that made her look like a complete fool. The comparison would be even worse next to the always-confident Burke.
Fortunately, the always-confident Burke had never let her fall, literally or figuratively, so even if she started to, he’d catch her.
Chose the Wrong Guy, Gave Him the Wrong Finger Page 27