Prescription For Love (The Kingsley Series)

by Kennedy, Brandi

  "It's not really that. I mean, I don't think it is, anyway. I've never been that kind of competitor, where I just want the win, you know? And I'm too old for serious competition now, anyway, like I'm not going anywhere big in my career as a gymnast. I've passed Olympic possibility; it’s behind me, and I know that and I accept it. That’s why I’ve moved more into teaching these days." Harmony kept her eyes on her breakfast, and as Cameron took in the girl's body language, she was forced to second-guess her sister's words. Her shoulders were rounded, slumped under the weight of her realizations. And where she usually ate with gusto, this morning Harmony didn't seem terribly hungry.

  "What is it then, Harmony?" Michael asked, reaching with one hand for his toast and taking a bite that removed nearly half the slice.

  "I guess I'm star struck. This kid coming in, she's going to take the win. I know she will. She'll do it because she's fourteen, because she's strong and agile, because she’s light. And she's so determined. You watch her and you just know she's going somewhere with her ability."

  "And you think you're not." Cameron said, pushing her plate to the edge of the table for the server to pick up.

  "No, I know I'm not. In all honesty, I'm probably going to end up with a job working for you or something, Cameron, and we all know it. I don't have any kind of degree in anything; I haven't been to any sort of college. My focus was all on my training when I wasn't in school, and then when I graduated, it was all about getting out there, getting on the floor and working hard."

  "You did work hard," Cameron answered, shaking her head as Michael devoured the rest of his toast. "You're like a little celebrity around here, and you can't gloss over the other offers you've had. Being asked to coach the younger girls is nothing to make jokes over, Harmony, and you know it."

  "I know, but all that time, I guess somewhere in me was this little hope. There was a part of me that wanted that whole Olympic thing. Not just for the celebrity, either, because I've never craved that. But to be recognized in that way for all my effort would have meant a lot. And now, it's all behind me. I guess knowing there will be a new kid around who can make it has just brought it all out for me," Harmony said quietly, spearing a grape and swirling it through the almond butter on her toast.

  "I didn't know you were struggling with that," Michael said, gently pulling Harmony's head to rest on his broad shoulder. Her honey-colored hair was pulled tight from her face, wrapped in a neat bun in preparation for the coming meet. Hairpins sparkled around her head, glittery pins cleverly inserted with the dual purpose of enhancing her image and holding back flyaway hairs.

  "We all do. It's easy to say that we're just in it for the love of the game, you know? And it's always true, you have to love gymnastics, really love it, in order to go through the beatings you take in training. The falls are painful, the injuries plentiful. I've seen people wipe out their entire career in one fall; I've seen aerials go horribly wrong in practices. But we're all doing it with a goal, you know? Everyone wants to get somewhere with what they do."

  "That's true enough," Cameron said thoughtfully. "What are you going to do with it though? You can't go into the meet today with this cloud over your head, Harm, or you'll end up on the sidelines getting something wrapped in fiberglass."

  "I know. So let's eat, and we'll talk about you guys instead," Harmony said, a wicked gleam in her eye. "And I'll get distracted, and then I'll be fine. I may not win the meet with that other girl there, but if I'm going to get a real shot in the training world, I need to be able to prove I've still got it, old or not."

  "Yeah," Michael laughed. "Because you're so ancient, being all of nineteen. After the meet, Cam and I will take you for your Botox, and then we'll get you in for that hip replacement, okay?"

  "Ew, Botox." Harmony arranged her face into a tight pose with no expression, only her lips moving as she continued. "Then again, I could be completely devoid of facial ability. Kind of cool. The only gymnast with a paralyzed face.” She broke into a grin, shaking her head. “No way," she laughed.

  "Well maybe if you put the post-meet smile on before they do the shots, they can freeze your pretty smile in place, hmm?" Michael teased.

  "Yeah, she griped about Botox, but I noticed she didn't complain about the new hip," Cameron laughed.

  Harmony allowed her face to relax into her usual easy grin, so like that of their father and their brother Drew. "Well, maybe they can give me extra flexibility or something. I can use that when I try to bribe the male nurses at the geriatric home to give me extra applesauce with my blood pressure meds." She winked, laughing at the scandalized expression on Michael's face.

  "Oh God, I did not just hear that. Tell me I did not just hear my kid sister joking about prostitution for applesauce," he muttered, swiftly moving away from Harmony to the edge of the booth seat.

  "Well, I gotta get my sauce somehow," Harmony laughed. Michael's eyes widened in shock, and he dropped his face to his hands.

  "I'm telling mom to lock you up," he muttered, his words muffled by his hands.

  "Now Michael, you heard," Cameron joined in, laughing along with Harmony. "She's gotta get her sauce from somewhere."

  "I'll have you know, she's plenty saucy already," Michael growled, his fierce sound ruined by the grin he wore. "And she'd better be keeping it all to herself."

  "Michael, you're such a prude," Harmony laughed. "I am not a baby, you know; I am nineteen years old!"

  "I don't care, I'll say the same thing when you're sixty," he said.

  "And what if she's married?" Cameron asked with a grin.

  "Same thing then, too," he laughed, handing the check and his credit card to the waitress who'd just arrived to clear the table.

  ***

  "Oh my God, this guy? Again?" Cameron asked, exasperated. She was with Tabitha, setting up their plans for the week, and Tabitha had just opened their business email account. Right at the top was an email address that Cameron had known by heart for years.

  "Lester? Is that Lester McMillan?" Tabitha asked. "Oh, it is! Can you believe this?"

  "Not really. How many times is this now?" Cameron asked, leaning over Tabitha's shoulders to read the email.

  "Five, I think? Is it five, then?" Tabitha wrinkled her brow, a wisp of red hair slipping from her hair clip and falling over her shoulder.

  "I can't believe this guy!" Cameron exclaimed. "And the worst part is that he's so young. How can he be emailing, looking for us to plan another wedding for him already? This will be his fifth wedding; you'd think he's figured out that he sucks at it by now. Who the heck is on their fifth wedding before they're thirty-five? I mean, jeez, he's our age!"

  Tabitha signed, leaning back in her chair. "I don't know, Cam. He's a good client, though, and planning another shindig for him would set us in the black for a good long while. He likes those big huge parties, remember?"

  Cameron gripped Tabitha's shoulder suddenly, drawing her breath in. "Oh. My. God. Tabitha, look at the email again. The bride. Oh my god, the bride."

  "Okay, okay," Tabitha muttered, leaning forward again to look closer at the email. Cameron stood back, waiting with her arms crossed under her breasts, a pained expression on her face.

  "Okay, this is just too much," Tabitha laughed, pressing her chair back and resting her head on the desk. "Seriously? How did these two get together? Seriously, are they meeting new spouses right there in divorce court now?"

  "Christina Dawn to see you, Cameron." A disjointed male voice broke into the room, the only other employee in Cameron's business. He was a cousin of Tabitha's, and they'd all known each other since childhood. These days, he worked the front reception desk for Cameron's business; he was the first face anyone saw when they entered the office.

  "Oh that's fast," Tabitha muttered. "She's here already."

  "Hi, y'all," Christina said, breezing into the room. Her surgically perfected face was glowing, her straight teeth gleaming from a tense smile glossed over in trademark red. The scent of something s
picy and sensual followed her, billowing out from the folds of her bohemian skirt. Her voice was a rich, low, country drawl, and she wore her fame confidently.

  "Ms. Christina Dawn," Cameron said, forcing extra warmth into her voice and a smile to her face. "We were actually just talking about you, and --"

  "Oh, honey, ever'one's talkin' ‘bout me," Christina interrupted, waving her hand dismissively, her diamond-encrusted rings sparkling in the light of the room. "My new movie went out last week, an' ever'one that matters is still floored by it, talkin' all over the place ‘bout my performance. But I'm here to plan a weddin'!"

  "Is that so?" Tabitha asked dryly. She stood silent as Christina looked at her briefly and then turned back to Cameron, rolling her eyes at the blatant dismissal.

  "Now, I know you planned my weddin' before, and the time before that," she said, her drawl turning 'that' into 'they-at'. "But I'm givin' it another go, and I want you on it, Cam’ron."

  "I see," Cameron said, nodding with forced patience.

  "My betrothed was s’posed to message you ‘bout all this," Christina went on, wandering around the office in a take-charge way that indicated her sense of self-importance.

  "Lester McMillan?" Tabitha asked, glancing down at the email as if to make sure she was getting the name right. Christina, forced to notice Tabitha, turned and nodded crisply, pursing her lips and narrowing cool, hazel eyes. Her perfect blonde hair swinging, she sauntered over to Tabitha and pressed a credit card into her palm.

  "Be a dear, won't you, honey, and go on over to find me a latte in that diner down the way?" She gave a tight smile, and turned her back on Tabitha, dismissing her a second time. She took a breath, gathering her fame around her and resting in the fact that the world found her significant. Waiting for the sound of Tabitha leaving the room, Christina adjusted a lampshade, then picked up and examined a small crystal sculpture on a table.

  "Now that the help is out of the way, we can talk more seriously, honey," she said, patting her fingers lightly over her hair to see that it was still smooth. "I swear, there's always some crazy fan tryin' to get a piece of me these days." She rolled her eyes, and Cameron laughed, reminded of Tabitha's own eye roll moments before. They hadn't gotten along while planning Christina's second wedding either, because Christina's husband at the first wedding had developed a nasty habit of flirting with Tabitha.

  "That must be difficult for you," Cameron murmured, sliding around to take her place at her desk. "What can we do for you, Ms. Dawn?"

  "Well, like I said, I'm here to have a weddin' planned," Christina laughed. "You know me from the last one, honey, so you know I really don't care what you pick. Cost ain’t an issue either, so you do what's fancy, and I'll sign checks. That seemed to work well last time, didn't it, doll?"

  "It certainly did, Ms. Dawn, you had a wonderful wedding. The papers loved it."

  "Yes, well, they just love ever'thin' that's to do with me," Christina giggled, leaning back to cross her slender legs. "I'm like a little piece of the last meal on the planet, love, and ever'one's wantin' a bite."

  "Well, now you can't blame any of us, surely, Ms. Dawn," Cameron said, glad the other woman didn't recognize the mocking tone she couldn't keep from her voice. "A woman of your ... splendor ... is something to be watched and admired, isn't that right?"

  Christina giggled again, placing one elegant hand over her chest in false modesty. She lowered her face, looking out at Cameron coyly from under thick lashes. "I do suppose some people see it that-a-way," she said.

  "Ms. Dawn, are you sure you don't care what's done for the wedding? You wouldn't like to choose some of the music this time, or the flowers? Anything? Make it more personal?"

  "No honey, I'm an actress," Christina said, raising an eyebrow and speaking slowly as if Cameron were intellectually challenged. "As an actress, anything in the world can be personal to me. Why, even that pen there," she gestured dramatically, indicating a cheap drugstore pen that Cameron had found in Michael's car. Her hazel eyes flooded with tears, and she took on an entirely new persona.

  "That pen, that was my momma's pen, so long ago when she was alive. And she used to sign my school papers with it, and she used to write long love letters to papa ..." Christina allowed her voice to trail away, a tear cutting a trail through the makeup on her cheek.

  "You see doll, I can put meanin' in anything," she said as she rose from her chair. “The weddin' is in two weeks, honey. Set it up." Breezing carelessly out the door, she completely missed the shocked expression on Cameron's face. She pushed through the door just as Tabitha was coming back in, snatched the latte and her credit card from Tabitha’s hand with a quick "thanks, love," and she was gone.

  "Well, you look like you've just had a blast," she laughed, coming in and dropping into the chair Christina had just left.

  "I feel like I've been hit by a blast," Cameron muttered, pulling herself together. "That bimbo just said the wedding is in two weeks! How can I plan a 'weddin' fit for a star' in two weeks?!"

  "Pull out the plans from the first wedding and fancy them up a bit more," Tabitha laughed. "She didn't care back then either, she probably wouldn't even notice now."

  "The newspapers will," Cameron said. "No, it has to be original. And Tab, I know she's awful to you, but please, will you help me?"

  "You know I will," Tabitha giggled. "We're going to skip the 'fit for a star' part, and give her a wedding fit for a queen. Maybe then she won't be able to afford to get married again for a while."

  "Please, she'd just snag another billionaire."

  "Like McMillan," Tabitha grumbled. "Some girls have all the luck."

  "Luck has nothing to do with it," Cameron laughed, pulling out her contact notebook and starting a list of numbers to call. "Jeez, and people wonder why I don't get married."

  ***

  "I can't believe you're telling me this," Drew whispered, dropping his head to rest his face in his hands.

  "Well, I'm not saying that you shouldn't do it, Drew. I'm just saying you really want to think first. Make sure this is what you want. That she's what you want. I just want you to be careful."

  "I'm almost thirty, and I'm just walking into marriage for my first and hopefully only time," he answered, his voice rising slightly, taking on the gruff tone of frustration. "This isn't something I've taken lightly."

  He spread his hands, his eyes wide, his expression hurt. Sighing, he twisted, watching a breeze flick through the budding limbs of a tree outside the window. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Be careful," she'd said. "Think first." He'd thought she liked Cass, he'd thought that she was happy for him. Was she now showing him otherwise? Would she try to talk him out of marrying Cass?

  "I know, Drew. I know you've thought about it well; you've never been one to make decisions lightly. It's just ... you're my little brother, and I like Cass. I just don't want to see anything happen to either of you, I don't want you to get hurt."

  "Get hurt?" His gaze left the window, hurt showing on his face for an instant, before he quickly turned away again.

  "Well," Cameron said cautiously. "I know you've been through stuff, especially lately, and that she's been through stuff too. I don't pretend to know everything Drew --"

  "Don't you," he interrupted. "Aren't you?"

  Ignoring the barb, Cameron took a deep breath and ploughed on. "I don't pretend to know everything, but my world is in weddings; it's in marriage. And I don't want to plan any more weddings for you, or for Cass. Please, Drew, I'm not trying to overstep anything, but I love you and I want to know you're okay. With you and Cass both fresh out of therapy, you're both in vulnerable places, and --"

  "We're not out of therapy." Drew smirked, watching his sister's mouth fall open, her dark eyes going wide with surprise. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, neatly closing her mouth and he watched her throat work as she swallowed.

  "You're not?" she asked.

  "Nope. We've switched though; we don't see Mac anymore. He re
ferred us to a colleague of his, someone who does marital counseling. Cass and I are going preemptively, trying to set ourselves up for something solid. We're aware that we've only known each other a short time, and we admit we spent much of that time apart. But we're committed to making it work, making sure we know each other well and that our connection is a good one. I love you Cameron, and I'm glad you're looking out for me. But I'm not some young dumb kid anymore. I know what I'm doing here. So are you with me, or not?"

  "Of course I am," Cameron said, crossing her legs. Drew couldn't help smiling, watching her. She was sweet, funny, and beautiful. She should be married now herself, but her cynical nature blocked her off from people, her jaded perspective keeping her alone. She looked small there, sitting primly in Adam's favorite chair, her slender legs crossed before her.

  Though most of the Kingsley children had moved out and moved on to live in their own homes, their original family home was still a bustling place to be. Most of the Kingsley's still came home several times a week for family dinner, and they all still had keys to the house. Adam and Eva loved seeing them, loved the surprise of walking into a room and finding a grown child there, having the chance to touch them and interact with them.