Huck had even taken to helping her clean the kitchen after dinner. He was different than before. Acted as if he didn’t mind them being there anymore. As if he wanted them there. Wanted her there. All this time, she’d tried to keep her distance so she wouldn’t get hurt, but she’d end this thing broken-hearted either way.
What was she doing? She didn’t have time to be depressed. Twenty more ruffles still needed to be sewn on Darcy’s twelve-foot train. Besides, she should be happy. The sale she’d made this morning was a good one, even if she did have to compromise with the customer on the price.
Missy yanked the door open against the wind, sending icy air into the room. Arianne pulled her mother’s sweater tighter around her and crossed her arms against the chill. Without a word, Missy put a cup of hot cider in front of Arianne. The spicy aroma raised her spirits a notch. “Thanks.”
Missy looked at her with red-rimmed eyes as though she were seeing Arianne for the first time. Dark hair spilled from her knit hat and caressed her pink, chapped cheeks. Missy nodded solemnly and turned away.
“Miss, what’s wrong?” Her sister had been acting melancholy ever since she’d been selected for “jury duty.” Arianne’s sisterly instincts knew that letter had nothing to do with appearing in court. Not as a juror anyway.
“Nothing.” Missy headed up the stairs to the apartment.
Arianne lifted from the stool to follow when the phone rang. Missy disappeared from view, and Arianne reached for the phone. “Yesteryear Bridal Boutique. How may I help you?”
“Arianne, I’ve called four times in the last two weeks. Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
It took a moment for the voice to register. “Darcy? I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that you’d called. Is everything OK?”
“No, everything is not OK. I’m frantic. I’m getting married, and I can’t reach the seamstress making my dress.”
Missy. “I apologize. What can I do for you?”
“We…We’ve moved the date up.”
Was Darcy crying? “No problem. What’s the new date?”
“Mother insists on a Christmas wedding.” Sniffles.
Christmas? This was a big problem. Now Arianne was taking deep breaths. She sank onto the stool and rubbed a hand along her jeans. “What’s the exact date?”
“Christmas Eve.” More sniffles.
Arianne glanced at the calendar. The cider in her stomach was about to reappear. “Darcy, that’s only six weeks away.”
“Is that a problem?”
Yes. A gown of this caliber required hand-stitched detailing. With her being the only seamstress, with four bridesmaids to outfit, plus the flower girl, ring bearer, the miniature bride and groom…
“Arianne, are you there?”
“I’m here.” Her voice echoed in her ears, hollow and tunnel-like. “I wish I’d have known sooner. Are you sure you want a Christmas wedding? You don’t sound so sure. I know you’re under a lot of pressure in your position, but keep in mind this is your wedding. If you want to get married in the sunshine at Acadia National Park in June then that’s what you should do. You only get married once.”
Well, hopefully. She poured out her words thicker than corn syrup. No meddling socialite mother was going to ruin this for her.
“The date has officially been announced. And mother…Well, she’s already made arrangements for everything elsewhere. What I’m trying to say is: I won’t be needing your services anymore. I’m so sorry.”
A blast of wind hit the windows. Leaves scattered down the road, leaving town. She’d lost this account as fast as the clouds headed west. The room grew foggy. Her head swam. Was she having an out-of-body experience?
“I am sorry, Arianne.” Darcy’s voice cracked. “I have no choice. Mother says to keep the money I’ve already sent you for your troubles.”
Before Arianne could respond, the phone clicked.
This wasn’t happening. Any minute she’d roll over in bed and punch the snooze button. She’d wipe the sweat from her forehead, laugh in relief, and put this nightmare behind her.
After several minutes passed without the blare of an alarm, she hung up the phone, fighting back tears. Now what? Darcy was her security blanket. She had a meeting with the bank tomorrow. Huck had already signed a contract for his store.
Despair gave way to anger. If she’d received the message the first time Darcy had called, she may have been able to work something out. Instead, her irresponsible sister just cost her everything. Arianne twisted the bottom of her sweater in a death grip. She pushed to her feet and marched up the stairs. In the dim living room, Missy was sprawled on the couch with an arm covering her eyes. Tiny speakers dangled from her ears to her iPod. Arianne flipped on the lamp and yanked them away.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Missy sat up, blinking.
“How could you?”
“How could I what?”
“I just talked to Darcy Roberts on the phone, the governor’s daughter—my big client! She said she’s called four times to let me know she’d moved her wedding date and, thanks to her overbearing mother, would no longer need my services. I never got the messages!”
Missy rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I did tell you. I called Huck’s one night and told Emma to tell you. And I left you a note by the register the other day.”
“You left an important message with a four-year-old?”
“You were in the shower!”
Arianne looked around. Dirty clothes littered the floor, food wrappers covered the coffee table, and dust two inches thick coated the entire room. Missy had burnt her last straw. “You cost me my future.”
Well, in reality it was Darcy’s controlling mother’s fault, but someone was going to pay for this. If Missy had given her the messages, she might’ve been able to negotiate. “Darcy. No. Longer. Needs. My. Services.”
Missy lifted her chin. “It’s not my fault.”
“We’re not kids anymore, Missy. This isn’t like when you left my favorite doll too close to the campfire and melted her face off. This is life. I just lost a huge opportunity because you’re not responsible enough to relay a message. This was my chance.”
Missy jumped to her feet and ripped the iPod from the strap on her arm. “Do you think you’re the only person around here who wants to get out of this town? I have dreams, too, you know.”
She started for the door, but Arianne blocked her path. “It’s always about you isn’t it? Tell me, Missy. What would those dreams be?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” Missy sidestepped Arianne and gripped the door handle.
“I don’t get you.” Arianne rubbed her throbbing temple. “I swear, sometimes it’s like we’re not even sisters.”
Missy winced, and her eyes filled with tears. “Maybe we’re not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
After a slight hesitation, Missy said, “Forget it,” snatched her coat, and pounded down the stairs. Before Arianne could reach the landing, the bell above the door jingled, and Missy was gone.
~*~
The crunch of gravel reached Huck’s ears. He made his way out of the shed toward Arianne’s approaching car. She was gonna get a piece of his mind. What was she thinking coming home three hours late without so much as a phone call? Anything could’ve happened to her. A blown tire. Mugged. Finding the man of her dreams and running off into the sunset.
He stopped in his wobbly tracks. All those chick flicks she’d been subjecting him to were poisoning his brain.
By the time he half walked, half swayed to the car, Arianne was doubled over, retrieving her purse. Emma ran out the back door holding a DVD. “Mommy.” She threw her arms around Arianne’s legs. “Can we watch Dumbo?”
Arianne swallowed.
Huck nodded. “Sure, kid. You get it started. We’ll be in shortly.”
Emma skipped inside the house, slamming the screen door behind her. Arianne slumped to the back of the car and lifted the trunk without a word.
She pulled a pink box from the trunk and closed it. Her bloodshot eyes had makeup streaks around them. “I brought you dessert. The bakery in Stone Harbor is under new management, and I thought you’d like to try it.”
Huck wiped his dirty hands on the rag he’d been strangling. “You went thirty miles out of your way to bring me dessert?”
She shrugged. Her lower lip trembled. “You’re right. I went for me.”
“What happened? Why were you late?”
Her hand covered her mouth as full-blown sobs erupted like Mount St. Helens. She shook her head, unable to talk. He wasn’t good with tears.
Huck gripped the box and set it on top of the car. Without much coaxing, she fell into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her tears soaked his flannel shirt. He let her get it out, waited patiently, even though the cold air seeped through his clothes and started to numb his skin. He rubbed circles on her back until her sobs subsided to sniffles.
She pushed away and brushed her damp cheeks with her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come home and blubber on you.”
Home. He liked that. “What happened?”
“I had a fight with my sister.”
She’d made him worry for the last three hours over an argument with her sister? “If you women would handle matters like men do and punch each other, it’d be done and over with and you could skip all the drama.”
Arianne chuckled, swiping thumbs beneath her eyes. “As angry as I was at her, I considered that.”
He couldn’t picture it.
She grabbed the box and walked into the house. He followed and closed the door behind him, enjoying the warmth. He found Arianne in the kitchen with her palms on the counter, shoulders heaving. He itched to walk up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist.
He pocketed his hands. “I could be wrong here, but this seems like more than an argument with your sister.”
One hand flew up to cup her mouth. Her shoulders continued to shake.
“You want to…talk…about it?” Dumb question. She was a woman. Of course she did. They’d be here all night.
She laughed through her tears. “You don’t mean that.”
He scrunched his face in pretend pain. “Sure I do.” As long as she’d let him hold her close while she talked.
Arianne turned but hesitated. Did she doubt that he cared? Or did she still not trust him?
She looked down at her white socks and shook her head again, this time the gesture barely visible.
“I let you use my shirt as a hanky. You might as well tell me.” He wanted more than anything to make the wrong in her world right.
She stared at him as if he were a life preserver, but she was afraid to grab hold. She sniffed, swallowed. “Darcy Roberts, the governor’s daughter, fired me today.”
Huck pulled his hands from his pockets and stepped closer. “Why?”
She leaned her hip against the counter, and crossed her arms over her stomach. “They’ve decided on a Christmas wedding instead of next summer. She called me four times to let me know, but because of Missy I never got the messages.” She rubbed her forehead. “Darcy’s mother has taken over everything, and they’ve decided they no longer need me.”
“That’s illegal, isn’t it?”
Arianne gazed out the window. “Darcy paid the deposit which is non-refundable in a case like this, so she’s technically fulfilled the contract.”
Crap. He scratched his chin. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know.” Arianne took a deep breath and lifted her chin. Her soft blue eyes had turned to steel. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”
She stormed toward the living room.
“Arianne…” Huck grabbed her wrist.
She turned on him. “I’m true to my word. Come spring, I’ll move out of the shop, and you can go on with your plans. Then I’ll be out of your life and won’t hold you back any longer.”
“Don’t say things like that.” He didn’t want her gone from his life. Panic seized his lungs.
Jude’s wisdom filled his head. Compromise builds a strong relationship. Not that he wanted a relationship. Well, he did. Oh, he didn’t know how to define it, only that he didn’t want to lose her. “We’ll work something out. I’ll talk to Lamar and see what we can do.”
“Why?” Hungry eyes searched his for the right answer.
Because I love you.
The impact was as fierce as the Cadillac’s. When had this happened? Was it love? He wasn’t sure what love felt like. The woman had put a hex on him.
He cleared his throat. “I owe you for not keeping my end of the deal last time.”
The spark in her eyes dimmed. Wrong answer. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
She pulled away from his touch. “I need to stand on my own two feet. When Martin saw me struggling and offered the space rent free, it was an answer to prayer. But I can’t expect it to last forever. Maybe this is God’s way of telling me I’m in the wrong business.”
Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. “Maybe I’m not meant to have a happily-ever-after,” she whispered. Arianne rifled through the cabinet for a plate, opened the box, and pulled out a red whoopie pie. “Take what you like. I’m off to drown my sorrows in a hot bubble bath and carbs.”
She started for her end of the house.
“Your bathroom’s out of order.” And his only had a shower.
Arianne stopped and hung her head.
“I’ll call ‘em again. See what’s taking so long.”
She went back to the box, picked out the darkest iced brownie Huck had ever seen, added it to her plate, and disappeared into the living room with her desserts.
When a colony moves into a new home, they spray a particular scent from a gland on their abdomen to help lagging bees find their way.
—Bees: Tales from the Hive
22
Arianne heaved the last box into the trunk of her car. A spool of satin ribbon escaped and unraveled at her feet. She stomped her foot, picked it up, and spiraled the silky tape around the cardboard circle.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Emma peered around the car.
Arianne forced a smile. “Nothing, sweetheart.”
Except that Missy wouldn’t answer her phone, and at some point during the night had cleaned out her things from Arianne’s apartment.
She shouldn’t have been so hard on her sister. They’d had plenty of arguments over the years, but they never lasted more than a few days. Arianne was tired of being sucker-punched at every turn. Her life was like circling a barren wilderness with lookout points over a beach resort she couldn’t get to. Nowhere to cross. What am I doing wrong, Lord?
She threw the spool into the overloaded trunk and hoped the lid would shut.
“What are you doing?” Gravel flew as Huck kicked the brake on the Gator so hard it jerked him and the vehicle to a stop. His fleece-lined hoodie added to his bulk. She traced his broad shoulders with her gaze, his tender embrace from the other night branded on her skin.
He slid from behind the steering wheel and limped toward her. “What’s going on?”
She looked at the trunk then back to Huck, wondering what she’d done wrong. “Now that I’m back to work full-time and not designing anymore, I thought I’d take this stuff back to the shop.”
“You’re not leaving though…”
Was that desperation in his voice? His eyes?
“Yes, but I’ll be back.” Arianne studied him, her heartbeat speeding.
Huck shifted to see inside the trunk. His gaze roamed the contents and landed on her open sketch book. “Is this the dress you designed for Darcy?” He pulled it off the top of the pile.
Heat flooded her cheeks. No, it was her dress. “I set a match to Darcy’s sketch the day after she fired me. Those are some I’ve done for fun over the years. Nothing impor
tant.”
He studied the design for a few moments then fingered through the rest. His face revealed nothing.
“These are really good.” Huck turned to the next page. “I mean, I don’t have a clue what I’m looking at, but you’ve clearly got talent.” He looked them over again. “Have you ever thought about designing and selling your own dresses?”
She tugged the book from his hand and tucked it back into the box. “Only every day since I was five.”
“So why don’t you?”
She slammed the trunk lid, relieved when it locked into place. “That costs money I don’t have.”
He caressed her elbow. “Don’t give up on it.” Huck rubbed his palm over her upper arm and stepped closer, then let go. With an awkward gait, he sauntered back toward his vehicle, but not before she caught the tortured sheen in his eyes.
“You’re getting around well by yourself now. Sergeant Sandy deserves a medal.”
He stilled.
“See you tonight.” She got into the vehicle and closed the door, smiling. That sizzle and pop she felt whenever he was near wasn’t just in her imagination. Huck cared for her.
Arianne’s heart dove as she looked over the storybook house by the sea. Her storybook.
She turned around in the drive. Fog from the exhaust clouded the scene in the rearview mirror. Emma hummed in the backseat. Arianne didn’t know how to tell her daughter that after this weekend, they’d be sleeping in their old beds again.
~*~
The stack of towels that rounded the corner before Arianne did was Huck’s cue. He grabbed his knee and waited for her to come into view. He ground his back teeth and let out a long, exaggerated moan.
Arianne dropped the towels in a crumpled heap and rushed to his side. “What’s wrong?” She fell to her knees beside him. Her fingers gripped his wrists, and he wriggled in the kitchen chair, doing his best to convince her he really was in pain, though if he was, this isn’t how he would handle it. But she didn’t know that. She’d buy it.
How to Charm a Beekeeper's Heart Page 16