by Emily March
“Nope. I’ve got it covered. Aunt Cathy’s coming by to help. We have a bride from Lubbock coming in with her mother and grandmother.”
“That’s good.”
Gillian turned to exit through the salon’s front door to the sidewalk, where the others waited for her. She was halfway to the door when her mother called, “Just promise me you’ll be back in time for our four o’clock appointment.”
Gillian stopped. She’d heard a note in her mother’s voice that gave her pause. She knew her mother. Something was up. “Who do we have coming in at four?”
When a full five seconds ticked by without Barbara providing the name, Gillian’s stomach sank. She had a bad feeling about this. No. Please, no. “Mother?”
Barbara steepled her hands in front of her mouth and met her daughter’s wary gaze.
“No! Tell me it’s not Lindsay Grant!”
“I wish I could.”
Gillian groaned aloud. Lindsay Grant was Bliss Salon’s most infamous customer. She and Gillian had been sorority sisters at the University of Texas, and her parents owned a vacation home not far from Redemption. She and her mother had visited Bliss Bridal on the day the shop opened and purchased the first gown Bliss Bridal had sold. On the bridezilla scale, Lindsay was a Tyrannosaurus rex, and by the time they delivered the dress, Barbara and Gillian had been ready to close up shop.
Lindsay had come back two years later to buy a gown for her second wedding. The experience had been just as joyous for Barbara and Gillian as the first. Then last month, Gillian and Jeremy had run into Lindsay at a charity ball in Austin, fresh off her second divorce and escorted by a new victim … um … man. She’d mentioned to Gillian that she’d see her again soon. When sharing the news with her mother the next day, Barbara suggested declaring bankruptcy—never mind that Bliss made them both a tidy profit each year.
“Lindsay and her bridal party are scheduled for four o’clock.”
That meant they’d show up at four thirty and be here until eight.
“And since I’m confessing, there is one more detail you should know,” Barbara continued. “When Lindsay made the appointment and provided the number of people in her party, she mentioned the name of her matron of honor—Erica Chadwick.”
“You are kidding me.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Gillian closed her eyes. Erica had been another sorority sister of hers, and the two of them had been “frenemies” since the second semester of freshman year when Gillian’s superior grade point average earned her the spot in the sorority house that Erica thought should be hers. It hadn’t helped things any when the hot guy in their accounting class who was also a back-up quarterback for the Longhorns had turned down Erica’s invitation to the spring formal and invited Gillian to the football banquet. After that, Erica made it her mission in life to never lose out to Gillian in any way, shape, or form again.
The woman was smart, pretty, outgoing, and could be as venomous as a baby rattlesnake. After college, Erica had gone to law school and now practiced corporate law in Dallas—the perfect ocean for a quintessential mean-girl shark to swim in, in Gillian’s opinion.
Groaning, Gillian brought a hand up to her forehead. She dramatically announced, “I forgot to tell you, Mom. I came down with the plague this morning.”
“Ha. Ha. Don’t even think about deserting me, Gillian Michelle. I’m not without ammunition here. All I need to do is mention your new business to Lindsay. She was Bliss’s first bride. Maybe Blissful Events could—”
“Now, that’s just cruel, Mother,” Gillian interrupted. “Almost as cruel as failing to mention our four o’clock before now.”
“Needs must.”
The front door bells jangled, and Maisy stuck her head inside. “You coming, Gillian?”
“In a minute. Y’all go on, and I’ll catch up.” When the door closed once again, Gillian met her mother’s gaze. “You know, Mom, we could both catch the plague.”
“It’s a lovely thought, but no.”
“Want me to bring you back something for lunch? A martini, maybe?”
“Thank you, but I’d better skip it. After we finish with the Lubbock bride, I’m going to close the shop and take Aunt Cathy to the Bluebonnet and get my sugar on.”
“A worthy substitute for alcohol.”
“I know you’ll have a healthy lunch at the spa. Want me to bring back a piece of lemon chess pie for you?”
Gillian pictured herself wearing her own wedding gown, and then imagined Lindsay Grant standing in front of a rack of Bliss dresses. “Sure. I still have eight weeks to watch my calories. If plague is off the table, then pie needs to be on it. Pie drunk might be the only way I make it through the afternoon.”
* * *
Standing at the base of a century-old pecan tree whose winter-bare branches extended over a spring-fed creek in Enchanted Canyon, Tucker kicked over a piece of deadwood and observed, “This is one of my favorite ways to spend an afternoon.”
“Digging for worms?” asked Haley. A look of innocent curiosity gleamed in eyes the same spring-green color as her father’s.
Tucker reached down and ruffled the seven-year-old child’s blond curls. “Passing time with my best girl.”
He pulled his fixed blade knife from the sheath he wore on his belt, squatted down on his boot heels, and used the knife’s tip to dig through the soft, loose black soil where the log had lain. Beside him, Haley mimicked his pose and sifted through the dirt with a stick.
The sweet scent of fresh earth rose on the still afternoon air as Tucker flicked aside pieces of decaying wood and plant life, his keen-eyed gaze searching for his prey.
“How deep do we have to dig?” asked Haley.
“That depends on the season and locality. This time of year, the little buggers burrow beneath the frost line, and in some places, that can be very deep. But here in the canyon, we’ve had a mild winter, so I expect we’ll find something pretty easily.”
In less than a minute, Haley’s small hand shot forward, her index finger extended. “There’s one!”
“Sharp eye, sugar bug.” He plucked a fat earthworm from the dirt and placed it onto the red bandana he’d spread upon the ground. “Keep looking. We need a few more.”
Haley’s brow furrowed as she moved the dirt. “If we find a bunch and have extras, you could eat one of them.”
Tucker smirked. The child had been obsessed with the idea of unusual sources of protein since she’d watched a television show that touched on the subject not long ago. “If we find plenty of extras, you can eat one too.”
She wrinkled her little button of a nose. “No. I’d rather feed the worms to the fish, and then eat the fish. I like fish.”
“Smart cookie.”
She grinned impishly up at him. “I like cookies better than fish. We should fage for those.”
“Forage,” Tucker corrected. “The word is forage. So, what bait would you suggest for catching cookies?”
“That’s easy. All we have to do is ask Miss Angelica and say please.”
“Good to know. Although, I probably won’t have as good of luck as you do when I go fishing for cookies in the inn’s kitchen. I don’t have Miss Angelica wrapped around my little finger like an earthworm like you do.”
Haley giggled. “That’s silly.” Then her smile faded and sadness dimmed her gaze. “Poppins always said I had her wrapped around my little finger. She didn’t say the worm part, though.”
The pain in her voice broke Tucker’s heart.
He worried about her. Her parents worried about her. Most of the adults in Haley’s life worried about her. Even her grief counselor agreed that Haley’s thoughts too often focused on the dark—on death and dying and loneliness and loss. Under the circumstances, it was understandable, but they all hoped to begin seeing some lasting healing of Haley’s spirit soon. The grief counselor had suggested that Haley needed tools to feel more in control over her world. Angelica had insisted that Haley needed to spen
d more time in Enchanted Canyon.
Tucker agreed wholeheartedly. Heaven knew the canyon was doing him a world of good.
He’d arrived in Redemption in September with a chip on his shoulder, self-pity in his heart, and shame on his soul. Almost immediately, the plane crash gave him a reminder of the real problems life had to offer. A job change meant diddly-squat when compared to the upheavals Haley faced.
With Jackson away from Redemption dealing with fallout from the accident, Tucker had spent those first weeks in the Hill Country alone, exploring Enchanted Canyon and living off the land. The place began to work its magic on him, and the turmoil in his spirit slowly eased. Nothing like landing a three-pound bass and cooking it over the friction fire he’d started before going to bed beneath the cozy, warm shelter he’d built to make a man feel competent.
It was that realization that had given Tucker the idea to teach Haley wilderness skills. Hence, this afternoon’s outing on a day when school dismissed at noon for teacher in-service.
In less than three minutes, they had five earthworms on the kerchief. Tucker offered the fattest one to Haley. “Okay, sugar bug. Are you ready?”
Her eyes went round as a Bluebonnet Café peach pie. “I was kidding about eating them!”
“I know that. I’m talking about the goal we set when we started on our hike today.”
Haley’s teeth nibbled at her bottom lip as she studied the wriggling, four-inch worm. “I don’t know, Uncle T.”
Tucker was technically her first cousin once removed, but he and her dad, Jackson, had always been more like brothers than cousins, so uncle fit. “What’s holding you back?”
“I’m an awfully girly girl.”
“I dunno about that. Girly girls don’t talk about eating worms all the time.”
“Talking and doing are different.” She never took her gaze from the wiggling worm. “I’m the girliest girl in second grade. I never get grubby.”
“If you don’t want to go through with this, that’s perfectly all right.” Tucker returned the worm to the bandana. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “But even girly girls need to know how to take care of themselves in a ’mergency,” Haley said.
“That’s true.” He waited, giving her time to make up her mind.
“I saw on National Geographic channel that Yellowstone Park is a volcano even though it’s not a mountain. What if it blows up and everybody dies but me? I should learn how to catch a fish, so I could eat and stay alive.”
Poor thing. Tucker wanted to take her in his arms and hug her tight and promise her Yellowstone wasn’t about to blow, but that wasn’t his job here this afternoon. Today was about helping Haley reach a point where she once again felt safe and secure, so she’d stop dwelling on the dark. “Fishing is a basic life skill that’s not only useful, it’s fun.”
“Unless you’re the worm.”
“Or the fish, for that matter. Lucky for us, we’re living life at the top of the food chain.”
At that, she finally looked away from the worm and up at Tucker, indecision clouding her eyes. Tucker decided that if he didn’t press her a bit, they’d be here until dark. He winked at her and asked, “What’s it gonna be, sugar bug? Ready to get grubby?”
After a long moment, she nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“Let’s go get our poles.”
On her previous visit, they’d hiked into the woods and harvested branches to fashion into fishing poles. He’d decided against using a vine for line—the girl was only seven, after all—but he’d given her a little essentials pack for her backpack that included monofilament line and hooks. Now, Haley scampered back to where they’d left their poles propped against the trunk of a creek side cottonwood tree near the spot where they’d decided to fish. She picked up her pole and held it out to him. “Do you want to check my knot, Uncle T?”
“Already did. You tied a good clinch knot.” They’d practiced knots over the weekend. He squatted down, opened the bandana, and held it out toward her.
“Okay, so…” She exhaled a bracing breath and reached for an earthworm. “Do I just poke it?”
“No. We’ll do a worm weave. Watch me.” Tucker found the other worm and proceeded to teach her how to properly bait her hook. For the girliest girl in second grade, she did an acceptable job. Soon, two baited hooks floated in the slowly flowing creek.
Less than five minutes after sinking her worm and with her gaze locked on the hunk of bark they’d used as a bobber, Haley asked, “How long does it take to catch a fish?”
“Ya never know. Just have to be patient and keep your eye on the prize.”
Thoroughly at peace with the world, his own fishing pole gripped lazily by his right hand, Tucker leaned back against the trunk of a cottonwood hugging the riverbank and watched his cousin’s daughter. She had leaves in her hair, a streak of dirt on her cheek, and worm guts on her T-shirt where she’d wiped her hands. Love swept through him, along with a powerful dose of yearning. He’d like to have a little girl wearing worm guts of his own someday.
“What kind of fish do you think we’ll catch, Uncle T?” she asked, pulling her line from the water to check the status of her worm.
“None, if you don’t leave your hook where it belongs. On these little hooks, I expect we’ll catch perch. Then we’ll use one of the perch as bait on a bigger hook and try for a cat.”
“Catfish,” Haley corrected. “You’re not fooling me. Catfish are really ugly.”
“They sure do taste pretty, though.”
“I’m a little scared that we might catch one.”
“Why is that?”
“’Cause I’d have to kill it and chop its head off and scoop out its guts, and that’s a lot more than sticking a worm. I think if I’m stranded, I’d rather just eat berries.”
“Well, for one thing, you don’t scoop out a fish’s guts or chop off its head when you clean it. Not if you do it right, anyway. Second, that’s a lesson for you on down the road. You need to take things one step at a time, sugar bug. Whatever fish we catch today, I’ll clean. You can watch the process or not, that’s up to you.”
She visibly brightened. “Okay. I like that plan.”
Not a bad afternoon outing, Tucker decided later as twilight began to fall. They’d caught two black bass, three perch, and two big old cats with plenty of meat. Tucker had planned to run Haley into town and drop her at Caroline’s bookstore when they were done, but they’d caught enough to have an old-fashioned fish fry that night. “How about we invite your dad and Caroline out for supper? We can build a bonfire.”
“Yes! I love bonfires. Can we roast marshmallows?”
“Of course.” Tucker listened with satisfied contentment as Haley used his phone to call her father to request the change in plans. Afterward, they hiked the short distance back to the spot beside the swimming hole where Tucker lived in the Airstream trailer that once had been Jackson’s. There, Haley watched the fish-cleaning process with more interest than squeamishness—a heartsick girly girl happily getting her outdoors on.
This is good, Tucker thought. Good for the heart. Good for the soul. Good, for both Haley and him. Angelica Blessing said that troubled souls could find peace in Enchanted Canyon.
Maybe, just maybe, she was on to something.
Chapter Four
“I take it back,” Gillian said as she flipped Bliss Salon’s OPEN sign to read CLOSED. “Lindsay isn’t the T. rex of bridezillas. She’s the Spinosaurus.”
“I’m not familiar with that dinosaur,” her mother replied as she rehung the gown Lindsay had left piled on the floor.
“I wasn’t either, but I googled most dangerous dinosaur after she yelled at Erica.”
Barbara gave an amused snort. “I hate to defend Lindsay, but Erica deserved it. I’d forgotten how much I disliked that girl. She’s very passive-aggressive, isn’t she? It wasn’t kind of her to constantly call attention to the size of Lindsay’s hips. That’s not appropriate behavior for a maid of honor.”
“That’s typical Erica,” Gillian said with a shrug. “Lindsay’s in love, and apparently, Erica is fresh off a bad relationship, so she’s going to have her claws out.”
“Jealousy is such an ugly trait. Despite all that professional success she made sure to share with us, Erica is obviously an unhappy woman.”
“Bless her heart,” Gillian drawled.
Mother and daughter shared a smile, then Barbara glanced at the clock. “All in all, it was a successful appointment, and I won’t complain. We got them out of here only an hour and a half past closing time.”
“You did a brilliant sales job, Mother. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, dear.” Barbara disappeared into the dressing room and returned a moment later with her arms full of a wedding gown. “Want to put this one back on the mannequin for me?”
Gillian frowned. “Are we switching out our display window already?”
“No. I want to display this one in the parlor for a bit. This is my favorite dress in the shop right now.”
“It is gorgeous,” Gillian agreed. She accepted the dress from her mother and got to work dressing the naked mannequin in the corner.
Aside from Lindsay Grant and Erica Chadwick, today had been a lovely day. Caroline was so happy with her gown. It had been fun to watch—
“Ow!”
Barbara’s pained exclamation interrupted her thoughts. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Barbara responded. “Poked myself with a pin. How are you coming with the bustle?”
“I may get it fastened by Thursday,” Gillian grumbled. For the second time that day, she knelt on her hands and knees beneath yards of satin and lace, warring with the buttons and tabs of a ball gown bustle. When she finally accomplished her mission, she backed out of the skirt and looked up at her mother. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that the gown Caroline chose only requires ten tabs to bustle. Makes my bridesmaid’s duties much less stressful. This is some bustle, Mom.”
“I know,” Barbara Thacker agreed. She bent over beside Gillian and gave the satin skirt a fluff. “You have to admit the ball gown bustle is perfect for this dress. Didn’t Caroline say it made her feel like a princess?”