Chapter 9
As chance would have it, EV, taking advantage of a break in wedding detail duty, had decided to check out the gym, and was walking past the reception area when a familiar voice cut through the air like a knife. Every muscle in her body tensed.
“I told you, I don’t have a reservation, but you must have a suite available. It’s common practice to keep one open in case a VIP shows up. I’m here for a wedding.” EV could almost hear his eyes rolling in their sockets. “Lila LaRue’s wedding.”
Whatever murmured words Antoine’s counterpart behind the desk said, EV couldn’t hear, but the tone of them implied that Remy Vincent was not very important. To keep him from seeing her before she was ready to deal with him, EV ducked out of sight behind a fluted column just a second too late. The castle cat caught sight of his new favorite human and padded over. EV waved him away. The cat thoroughly ignored her efforts. Reaching down, EV lifted him into her arms where, purring loudly, he settled in. His presence gave EV a measure of comfort while she waited for events to unfold.
She listened to the five minute argument that ensued before he was finally offered a room he considered adequate. The condescending way he spoke to the hotel employee mimicked the tone he’d used with her during their last few weeks together. Time split into then and now. Her body wanted to cower; to respond to the ancient then, and slink away from it’s icy embrace. Two deep breaths wheezed through her before a sob tried to escape. EV clenched her fists, nails digging scarlet crescents into her palms. The pinch of physical pain cleared her head. She willed her shoulders to loosen from the bonds of tension gathered there.
That one conscious act triggered another—her jaw slackened; teeth aching from being ground together separated; the knot in her stomach slithered, unwound. A calmness settled over her like a shower of warm spring rain. The past only has power over you if you choose to grasp it tightly. Only by letting go can you remain anchored in the present.
Now pushed then off a cliff to dash upon the rocks of never again. Now was all that was left. Now she was free. EV ran up the stairs in a weightless rush.
* * *
She found Chloe and Nate on the couch, fused together like teenagers.
“Get a room.” Her voice startled the two of them apart.
“This is my room.” Frustration painted an sharp, stony edge on the words until Chloe got a good look at EV’s face. Something was different. It was subtle, but Chloe knew everything had changed. “What happened?” She sat up, breaking away from Nate, and leaned forward to hear.
EV slumped onto the nearly love seat-sized chair opposite the sofa. “Remy just checked in.”
Instantly, Chloe’s body tensed as she went on full alert. “Did you talk to him? Did he see you? Tell me.”
“No and no. I saw him, but he didn’t see me. I hid behind a column and listened to him act like a total asshat to the staff. He browbeat his way into a suite in the south wing.”
“That’s over near the end of the castle that hasn’t been fully renovated yet. It’s worse than the area Mom stuck Nate in.” Concern tilted Chloe’s head; she gave EV the once over to gauge her mood. What she saw settled the matter. Rock solid hands, relaxed shoulders, and a sense of calm. “You’re not freaked out.” Chloe jumped up to do a little booty-shaking victory dance. “Not even a little.”
“No, I’m…”
Before EV finished the thought, Dalton burst through the door. The second EV mentioned Remy’s name, Nate had grabbed his phone to shoot off a 911 text. Dalton must have been on his way there already to have gotten to the room so quickly.
He went straight to EV pulled her to her feet, and then rested hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?” The question was purposefully vague, because Dalton couldn’t ask the one he really wanted answered, which was: do you still have feelings for him?
Almost giddy with relief from the emotional baggage she’d dropped behind that column, EV nearly sang, “I’m fine—better than fine, actually. He’s going down, right?” She asked, plunking onto a chintz armchair.
It was Dalton’s turn to feel relieved. “Oh, yeah all the way.” He nudged EV over, slid into the chair beside her, and grabbed her hand for a quick squeeze before turning his attention to Nate. “What’s his next move? And how do we plan to counter it?”
“I’m betting he’ll start by contacting Lila—see what she has to say; get the lay of the land. Then, he’ll move on to setting up a chance meeting with EV. He’ll want an audience, so I’m thinking he’ll sweep in during dinner, lock eyes across the room. Fake surprise. Give her the old we really should catch up, let’s get together to talk about old times routine. I can’t imagine him coming up with anything more original than that.”
“He’ll be watching you closely to see your reaction. Do you think you can handle it? Be honest—and if you can’t, we’ll figure out another way.” Chloe’s first concern was for EV.
“Oh no. I’m fine. Trust me—he’s been out of my head for years; today just confirmed that fact. I’m all over it.”
“Okay, good. You two brainstorm.” Chloe waved a hand to indicate Nate and Dalton. “We’re going to go polish up the bait.”
Chloe laughed at the confused look on EV’s face. “Spa day, hit the salon, get you all dolled up. You’ll feel more confident when he gets a look at you and turns into a drooling idiot.” She laughed again when EV’s face fell. “Good grief, it’s not like I’m dragging you off to the torture chamber. It’s a mani-pedi and a facial. Come on. When was the last time you let anyone pamper you? Probably never. I’ll be right there with you, and we’ll charge the whole thing off to Mother’s room. She was going to insist, anyway. She’s occupied at the moment; let’s leave her out of it—trust me, it will be more pleasant this way. You could use a little smoothing of the nerves before we get to the dress-choosing portion of the wedding extravaganza, anyway.”
Before EV could utter another word of protest, Chloe had her by the arm and was pulling her out the door.
“You know I hate being fussed over.” Dalton heard her say, her voice fading into the distance.
He turned to Nate, “If he hurts her, I’ll…”
“We won’t let that happen.”
“Count on it. He doesn’t touch her. Period.”
* * *
The spa was located—appropriately, EV thought—in the castle’s former dungeon. “We don’t even have an appointment. There’s no way we’re getting in.”
Chloe tossed her an amused look, “My mother drops a fortune every time she stays here; they’d probably fly a flag with her face on it if she asked them to. Trust me, we’ll get the works.”
“Wonderful.” Sarcasm laced the word with poisonous intent.
“Oh, loosen up a little. It’s nice to be pampered once in awhile. You might like it.”
“See, that’s the problem. You act like I’ve never had a spa day before, and so will they. I’ll walk in there, and the minute they get a look at my hands, the head tilting will start.”
“The what, now?”
“You know, the sympathetic head tilt. Sometimes they even make that tsk noise. Then you can practically see the wheels turning while they try to decide what drastic measures I’ll need.”
Biting her lip, Chloe tried to stifle a grin and failed. “Bet they ask what you use on your face, though. Whatever is in that cream Thelma makes is magic. If you used it on your hands, you wouldn’t get the tilt-y head faces.”
They hit the bottom of the stairs where a pair of thick glass doors whooshed open as if on cue.
“Be nice.” Chloe hissed. “And try to enjoy this.”
For all her bluster, EV was looking forward to a couple of hours sans tension. Dalton showing up here with Remy practically on his heels put a few knots in her shoulders. Normally, she would have worked the kinks out on the big punching bag hanging in her bedroom. The castle boasted its own gym, just not one fully stocked to her tastes in exercise. Given the choice between running in plac
e or pouring her anxieties into a righteous beating on something, she’d go for the latter.
They stepped inside, where EV watched Chloe greet some of the staff as though it hadn’t been at least three years since their last meeting. After a round of cheek kissing, Chloe introduced EV, who got the same treatment.
As Chloe had predicted, schedules were immediately shuffled and EV was dragged into a whirlwind of peace and tranquility wrapped in terrycloth softness. The next three hours passed in a blur of sensations; hot stones, moist facial masks, slippery seaweed wraps, and the coolness of peppermint foot cream.
Every bit of tension had been soothed out of her by the time those glass doors whooshed open again.
The calm feeling lasted only until Chloe’s next sentence. “Now for hair and makeup.”
“I’d like to submit a formal protest.” EV knew it was pointless, but she tried anyway.
“Denied. Come on. It’s time you met Patrice.”
A second round of cheek kissing ensued while the staff assured Chloe she was putting them to no trouble. Another flurry of activity, and an absolutely stunning woman—wearing unrelieved black and clutching a rat-tailed comb with an end sharp enough to qualify as a weapon—circled her speculatively. A similarly-clad flock of underlings waited, each one poised to take action at their leader’s command.
Shock-white hair angled from the nape of Patrice’s neck to curve around blade-sharp cheekbones set high above a narrow chin. A fringe of white cut a line above sea green eyes that took in every detail of EV’s appearance.
Mild panic set in when Patrice reached out to sift a lock of sable strands through her fingers.
“Virgin.” she pronounced in a heavy French accent. “It is rare—unprocessed hair. Good color. You cut it yourself, no?”
“Well, I…”
“Do not lie. Patrice always knows.”
From behind her, EV heard a snicker and knew it was Chloe. She squared her shoulders. “Yes, I cut it myself.” Was this a trip to the Principal’s office, or a hairdresser?
“This you must not do.” Patrice circled a third time. “Shape is wrong. Those eyes, those cheekbones, you do them no favors.” She reversed, circling once more in the opposite direction. “Yes. I will fix.” Patrice clapped twice, sending her minions scurrying to do her unspoken bidding, while EV turned to burn Chloe with the force of her glare. Somehow, Chloe managed to keep a straight face while she nodded encouragement, but the second EV turned away again, she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
If fear of what Patrice planned to do to her hadn’t set EV on edge, she might have enjoyed the shampoo more. As it was, she suspected the beautiful young man who danced expert fingers over her scalp only wore those tight black pants to distract patrons from what lay ahead. It almost worked, too.
When tight-pants finished, he led EV to where Patrice waited next to the Chair of Doom. Even Chloe’s head swiveled to watch him leave the room.
Perfectly sculpted though they were, his buns were the last thing on EV’s mind as Patrice spun the chair away from the mirror and brandished her pointy-ended comb. The first snick of the scissors sounded like a gong, and EV jumped when Patrice commanded, “Relax. Trust me. I always give good hair.”
Since it was too late to turn back now, EV decided to give in. While hair slithered to the floor, Patrice said, “There is someone special, no? A man?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated.” Patrice shrugged. “Flimsy social media word, eh? Still, is better than boring.” Without looking, she passed off the scissors and comb.” A blow dryer slapped her palm with all the gravity of a surgeon being handed a scalpel. Five minutes later, It was over. Patrice spun the chair and EV finally got a look at herself.
“What do you think?” Chloe burst out. “I love it; you look amazing.”
EV turned her head from side to side to fully take in the new look. She’d lost at least half the bulk to choppy layers that skimmed her cheekbones and accentuated her eyes. Patrice was a genius—it was polished, yet artfully messy at the same time.
“It’s…Wow! Is that really me?”
“You will not cut it yourself again.” Patrice ordered.
“I won’t let her.” Chloe assured. The soft sound of a camera shutter clicked somewhere behind Chloe, and she could have sworn EV’s face brightened momentarily, as if illuminated by a quick flash of light. Glancing around, she noticed a few people milling about the waiting area, but nobody paying special attention to their conversation. Probably just some tourist taking a selfie, she thought, chalking up the unnerving feeling of being watched to a mere coincidence.
After a final round of cheek kissing, Chloe forced EV out the door.
“Okay, next we’ll get you a new outfit, and then we’ll have your makeup done.”
“Is this your subtle way of telling me I’ve been letting myself go?”
“No. It’s my in-your-face way of telling you that it’s okay to try new things. Plus, it’s fun to play dress up.” Taking time for a serious moment, Chloe added, “Besides, I thought it might help prepare you for what’s coming. I know it’s going to be tough on you, because there’s no way seeing him doesn’t dredge up the past. Think of this as putting up your shields.”
“Phasers on stun?” EV’s lips quirked.
“No darling, phasers on stunning. You’re such a nerd, though. I meant like armor for going into battle, but I guess your analogy works, too.”
“I’m going to be fine, you know. He no longer has the power to hurt me.”
“Then think of this as your reward. Either way, you’re getting new clothes, and it’s about time, too.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes? It’s not like I buy all of them at New Sage. I go into Portland and spend the big bucks on labels when I feel like it.”
“And when would that be? Twice a decade?”
“I hate shopping.”
Chloe considered a response, but finding none of sufficient scorn, she dragged EV into her favorite of the two boutiques.
* * *
Back in Ponderosa Pines, Lottie Calabrese paused in her perusal of new decorating ideas on Pinterest to open the email from Chloe when it hit her inbox with a ping. “Holy crow, would you look at that,” she breathed when the image of EV in her new finery popped onto the screen. Three keystrokes later, the email winged it’s way forward to her entire list of contacts in town—which included just about everyone.
In Ireland, Chloe timed it at just under two minutes before the image popped up on Facebook—evidence of what happens when a small town grapevine goes high tech.
* * *
Back in the suite, Lila paced across the plush white carpet in measured steps from the balcony doors through the small sitting area to the bathroom door, and then back again. Where were they? She had news—big news—and no one to share it with.
By the time Chloe pushed open the door, Lila was ready to burst.
“Where have you…?” Lila caught sight of EV; her eyebrows lifted, and she let out a low whistle. “I guess I can see where you’ve been.” She waved her hand in a circular motion to indicate EV should do a spin. “You look gorgeous, but I have big news.” Dramatic pause. “Remy’s here.”
When her words did not land with the expected amount of surprise, Lila’s face fell. “You already knew?”
Chloe and EV exchanged a look.
“I was passing through the lobby when he arrived.”
Against expectation, EV’s bald statement must have lacked a certain angst, because Lila frowned at her.
“What?” EV returned the frown. “I told you I got over him a long time ago. You still see us as a pair of dewy-eyed teenagers deep in the throes of first love. You bailed before things turned really ugly.” EV stalked over to a padded barstool facing into the suite’s galley-style kitchenette. After a few seconds, Lila retorted, “I had a lot of my plate at the time,” then joined her while Chloe pulled bottles of water from the fridge.
The subtext running under the conversation was about as subtle as a tornado in a trailer park.
EV had felt abandoned in her time of need, and so had Lila. Chloe was torn between wanting to give them privacy, and an intense desire to hear every tiny detail. Curiosity won out. She settled on the couch behind them and stayed quiet.
“I wish I’d gone ahead and taken that year off from college right after you lost Alexander. Probably would have saved us both a world of trouble.” EV said wryly, hating to bring Chloe’s late father into the conversation.
EV laid it all out for Lila—how Remy’s carefully constructed facade had developed cracks; how, during the college years, they’d fought bitterly. Finally, EV described the miscarriage, and how, after secretly burying their baby, Remy had walked away without a backward glance.
“This is a lot to take in all at once.” Lila drained the bottle of water; she took a deep breath. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?” Tears shimmered on her lashes.
“You had your own tragedy to contend with at the time. I didn’t want to add to your grief by sharing mine.”
“All this time,” the tears spilled over. “I thought…I’m not sure what I thought, but it wasn’t nice. You were so distant, and I had this little baby to raise all alone. I was so angry with you for being so detached when I needed you most.”
“That’s part of why you left Ponderosa Pines, isn’t it? I always thought it was just about losing Dad—not being able to face being there without him.” From behind them, Chloe voiced her thoughts.
“Saying it out loud would have made it too real.” EV admitted. “You know we’re two of a kind—always were. Control freaks more stubborn than one of Zellner’s prize mules.”
“But we still look damn good for our age.” EV toasted Lila’s observation with her plastic water bottle.
“I’ve got a confession to make.” Lila said.
“Another one? Should I have broken out the wine?” Chloe moved back into the kitchen section to rest her elbows on the counter. She wasn’t about to miss whatever was coming next.
Caught in the Frame Page 6