Daughters of the Bride

by Susan Mallery

  She shook her head to chase away the memories. Right then, the doorbell rang.

  “Your handsome prince,” Jimmy said with a grin.

  “Be nice,” she told him. “I mean it.”

  “Will you spank me if I’m not?”

  “Stop it!”

  She opened the door. “Hi,” she said brightly.

  David stepped inside, then bent down to kiss her. In the nanosecond before his mouth touched hers, she heard a loud “Hey, David. How’s it hanging?”

  David straightened. “Jimmy. What are you doing here?”

  Jimmy held up his toolbox. “Changing out the garbage disposal. I’m handy that way. You two run along. I’ll lock up.”

  She shook her head. “You’re done. Get out of here.”

  Jimmy walked to the door and squeezed past her and David. “You’re welcome.”

  David carefully closed the door behind him. “A new garbage disposal?”

  “Yes. Want to check it out?” She drew in a breath. “Or are you asking if there was something else going on? David, I’ve known Jimmy my whole life. We’re friends and he’s my landlord. I have a lot of flaws, but being unfaithful isn’t one of them. If you can’t trust me, this isn’t going to work between us.”

  For a second she found herself wishing he would push back. Would make a fuss. Because then...well, she wasn’t sure what. She would break up with him? Did she want that? She honestly wasn’t sure.

  He put his hands on her waist and drew her close. “You’re right. I’m sorry. There’s something about Jimmy that gets to me, but that’s my problem, not yours. Of course I trust you. Sometimes I can’t believe my luck, but I trust you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He kissed her. A soft, sweet kiss that should have stirred her heart, but didn’t. What was wrong with her?

  “Ready for dinner?” she asked, drawing back just enough that he couldn’t kiss her again.

  “I am.” He took her hand in his and smiled at her. “Come on. There’s a margarita with your name on it just a few short blocks away.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  A margarita sounded good. And an evening with David, well, that would be fun, too. He was a great guy. She needed to remember that. David would never tell her she wasn’t good enough. He thought she was a prize. Compared to the alternative, being a prize sounded really good to her.

  * * *

  Rachel spent the Wednesday afternoon baseball game fuming. Heather not only hadn’t shown up, but she hadn’t even bothered to call. Which meant Rachel arrived with snacks but no drinks. She’d been forced to run to the store and buy water and juice packs for twenty boys. When she’d returned, there hadn’t been any close parking, so she’d had to lug everything nearly two blocks, which had taken her two trips. By the time she was set up, the game had already started and her lower back was throbbing.

  Ice, she promised herself. She would spend the whole evening icing her screaming muscles. She knew the price of ignoring the spasms. If she didn’t take care of the problem early, it would get worse, and she couldn’t afford to miss any work.

  She sat down by the team bench and handed out drinks as the boys requested them. When Ryan Owens scraped up his arm sliding into home plate, she was the one who brought out the first-aid kit and cleaned his wound.

  “Did you see?” the twelve-year-old asked excitedly. “I got a run.”

  “You did. It was fantastic.” She used first-aid wipes on the scrape, then applied a nonstinging disinfectant and a couple of bandages.

  “This will hold you until the game is over,” she told him. “Have your mom look at it when you get home.”

  Ryan nodded and returned to the bench, where he was congratulated for his run. Rachel shifted on her seat, wishing the game would end so she could go lie on an ice pack. But there were several innings to go. She dug in her purse for some ibuprofen and took two pills, then waited and endured. She saw her friend Lena up in the stands and waved. Greg was there, too, but didn’t seem to notice her.

  Nearly two hours later, Josh’s team had won. The boys cheered, then lined up to shake hands, like they’d been taught. Lena walked over.

  “We’re taking Kyle out for a celebration pizza. You and Josh want to come?”

  “My back’s acting up. I’m going to pass.”

  Lena’s mouth twisted. “I’m sorry. Why don’t we take Josh with us and bring him back afterward? That will give you some time to just relax.”

  “Would you? Thanks. That would be great.”

  “Need any help with the drinks or equipment?”

  “I’m good.”

  Her friend waved and returned to the boys. Fifteen minutes later nearly everyone had left the field. Rachel had three bags of trash, leftover snacks and water, along with five bats, three mitts and all the bases. Because Heather hadn’t shown up, and whichever parent was supposed to be responsible for the equipment had forgotten.

  Greg came up to her. “No Heather?”

  “No. She didn’t call or anything. I had to go get the drinks she was supposed to bring.” She stood up and did her best not to groan as pain shot through her back. “I’m going to always bring extra in the car from now on, just in case.”

  Greg frowned. “You’re hurting. Your back?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He ignored that. “Where’s your car? I don’t see it in the lot.”

  “I had to go shopping for the drinks,” she snapped. “When I got back, there weren’t any spots.”

  He held out his hand. “Give me your car keys. I’ll get it and move it closer for you, then help you carry everything. You need to get home and on ice.”

  She wasn’t sure why, but his offer annoyed her. Or maybe it was that he knew what was wrong. Or the whole situation with Heather.

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “You’re not. Let me help, Rachel.”

  “I can do it myself. I should just leave the equipment out here. Someone will steal it, but maybe the parent responsible will learn a lesson. Only, they won’t and I’ll be the bad guy for letting it happen. I have to do everything.”

  “Do you know who the parent is?”

  “There’s a list. I have it at home.”

  “Are you going to call them?”

  “What? No. That’s not my job.”

  “And you’re not going to say anything to Heather, are you?”

  “What’s the point? She doesn’t take this seriously. She knows I’ll pick up the slack and she takes advantage of me. I’m not even surprised.”

  Greg stared at her. “You’re not going to give me your car keys, are you?”

  “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  He shocked her by picking up her handbag and digging through it until he found her keys.

  “Hey! You can’t do that.”

  “I just did.”

  He walked toward the street. She watched him for a second, then walked slowly to collect the bases.

  Every step was agony. Pain shot down her right leg, and she was terrified that the muscles were about to seize up. She had muscle relaxers at home, along with the healing ice. But first there was this mess to clean up.

  By the time Greg got back, she’d stacked the bases and collected the forgotten equipment. He shook his head.

  “You couldn’t wait, could you? What the hell, Rachel? Why do you always have to be the martyr? It’s like you’re the only one who gets to be right and everyone else has to be—”

  He stopped talking.

  “I don’t think everyone is wrong,” she told him. “But sometimes they are. Like Heather is today.”

  “Yet you won’t confront her. You’ll simply stew about it. You’ll be snippy w
ith her the next time you see her and she won’t know why. She’ll think you’re a total bitch, but you get to have righteous indignation on your side. Then at some parent meeting someone will mention the team mother thing and you’ll get to be the one who always showed up.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. “You’re saying I’m wrong to be here on time, doing her job and mine?”

  “No. I’m saying you’re wrong for not calling Heather and telling her to get her butt down to the game.”

  “That’s not my style.”

  “You’re right. It’s not.” He turned and walked a couple of steps, then faced her again. “It’s never been your style. You are the queen of passive-aggressive.”

  “What?”

  He put his hands on his hips. “I always knew it, but I didn’t get what it meant. I never realized how it affected everything.”

  She sank onto the bench and stared at him. “You’re acting crazy.”

  “I’m not. I’m right, aren’t I?” He moved closer, then sat a few feet away and faced her. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Us and what went wrong.”

  “You cheated.”

  “Yeah, but it’s more than that. You’ve been mad at me for years. Because of how I acted. Because you had to be the grown-up in the relationship. I loved you, Rach, but I wasn’t ready to be a husband or a father. But there I was—playing at both.”

  “Leaving me with all the work,” she grumbled.

  “You’re right. I did leave you with everything. You couldn’t depend on me to support you the way you needed. And you sure wouldn’t ask for help. That’s the part that gets me. Why didn’t you ask?”

  He paused, as if waiting for an answer. Not that she had one. She’d liked the conversation much better when they’d been talking about his flaws rather than hers.

  “Do you think it’s about your dad dying?”

  “What?” she yelped. “Leave my father out of this.”

  “I know it was hard for you when that happened. You missed him, and your mom depended on you to take care of things. There was so much responsibility for you. So much more than you were equipped to handle. But you couldn’t ask for help.”

  How had he figured this out? She searched for an escape, but there was only her car and he still had her keys. It wasn’t as if she could simply limp away.

  “I don’t want to talk about this,” she told him.

  “You had to do everything,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “There’s a part of me that thinks you really like doing everything. I’m not sure if it’s a control thing or being the one who’s right or something else. But like today. You could have asked a dozen people to go get the drinks, but you didn’t. You had to do it all yourself, even with your back hurting.”

  Tears threatened, but she blinked them away. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Humiliation burned, but so did determination. And the latter was going to win.

  “Or with us,” he continued. “You should have reamed me a new one, but you didn’t. You simply endured my bad behavior. I played and you were the faithful, long-suffering wife. You got to be right, though, and you enjoyed that.”

  “You’re wrong,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her midsection. “About everything.”

  “I’m not. It’s taken me nearly two years to put together the pieces, but I think I have them now. I was wrong to cheat on you, Rachel. I knew the second I did it, I would regret it for the rest of my life. And I do. I was wrong and I’m sorry. I broke your trust and you were right to throw me out. I needed that and you deserved your pound of flesh. But you were wrong about a lot of other things.”

  He leaned toward her. “Here’s where it gets fuzzy for me. The asking for help thing. Is it that you really need to do it all yourself, or do you think you’re the only one who can do it right? Because I think that’s the key. Getting the answer to that question.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you treating me this way?”

  “Not to hurt you. I hope you can believe that. The thing is, I don’t think we’re finished. I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but I haven’t moved on, and I don’t think you have, either. We’re both in limbo. I keep thinking that if I can finally understand you, I’ll know what to do.”

  He stood and smiled. “Thanks for talking to me. This was really good. I understand a lot more now.”

  How nice for him. He’d laid her bare, talked about how awful she was, and now he felt better? Lucky him. She felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to crawl into a hole until the entire world went away.

  “I’m not going to ask if you need help,” he told her. “I know you’ll say no. I’m just going to do it. You sit here while I load the car. Then I’m going to follow you home and unload it. You just worry about yourself. I’ll take care of everything else.”

  She felt as if he’d slapped her. Of all the awful, mean, cruel things to say—that was the worst. Because he wanted her to believe in him. To trust him. To hand over control and let him run things.

  She’d tried that before. With him, with her mother, even with her friends. And she knew how it ended. With the other person letting her down and her all alone. It had always been that way and it always would be.

  He looked at her, then shook his head. “I can see you don’t believe me. It’s okay, Rachel. Now that I know what’s wrong, I can fix it. Maybe that makes me a fool, but I’ve got to try. You’ll see. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Famous last words, she thought grimly. A little bit like “I’ll love you forever.” She’d fallen for that one, too. And look where it had gotten her.

  7

  COURTNEY WHEELED HER cart down the path to the final room on her list. Unless a guest requested a special time for housekeeping, she had the option of cleaning the rooms in any order she liked. At the risk of being just a little weird, she’d saved Quinn’s bungalow for last.

  It was nearly one in the afternoon. She was tired, but happy. She’d stayed up until three to finish her marketing report and had sent everything to her professor. She had one more paper to write, then she was done for the summer.

  The thought of not studying for nearly twelve weeks was strange. She’d been going year-round since she’d started at community college. With all her general education requirements filled, she only had classes in her major left. And the last few she had to take weren’t offered in the summer.

  Not that she was going to be overwhelmed by free time. Her mother was getting married at the hotel in August. August 20, to be exact. Joyce had already made it clear she was putting Courtney in charge of the wedding. On the one hand, Courtney appreciated the fact that her boss had faith in her. Plus, handling an event that large would look good on her résumé. On the other, she suspected Joyce had an ulterior motive—to bring mother and daughter back together. Not that they were actually apart. They were more, um, casually involved in each other’s lives.

  She supposed that had always been the case. After her father died, her mother had been frantic to hold her family together and restart her husband’s accounting business. Then the bills had piled up and they’d lost their house. Maggie had been scrambling.

  Courtney got that. She respected all her mother had done. As an adult, she could look back and see how hard things had been. But as the youngest kid in the family, the one who was frequently overlooked and ignored, she couldn’t help still being resentful.

  For those reasons, and maybe some others, she and her mother had never been close. She could live with that. But, according to Joyce, she should make more of an effort. Something that wasn’t going to happen in the middle of her shift.

  She stopped her cart in front of the door to the bungalow and knocked. “Housekeeping,” she called loudly.

  She hadn’t checked the parking lot to
see if Quinn’s car was there. Not that she usually kept track of guests’ vehicles. Except in his case, it was pretty easy to tell. There was only one Bentley parked there.

  She was about to knock again when the door opened. Quinn stood in front of her, all tall and sexy in jeans and a—she blinked—Taylor Swift T-shirt.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a Swifty,” she admitted. “This changes things.”

  “I like the irony of the T-shirt.”

  “No one believes that.” She rubbed her temples. “Oh, God. Now I can see you dancing to ‘Shake It Off.’ My eyes! My eyes!”

  Quinn chuckled. The low, rumbly sound did odd things to her stomach. She, um, shook it off and reminded herself she was here to work.

  “Okay, time for me to clean your room. Move aside.”

  Quinn didn’t budge from the doorway. One brow rose. “Do you talk to all your guests that way?”

  “No, but you’re different.”

  “I have no doubt of that.”

  “I meant like family. Joyce and I go way back and you’re her grandson. So that makes you...” She wasn’t sure what.

  “An uncle?” he asked drily.

  “No. That seems a little creepy. We could be cousins.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Whatever our relationship, I need to clean your room.”

  “I’m good.”

  A voice in her head unexpectedly whispered that she was sure that was true. No doubt Quinn was very good. All that experience, not to mention rhythmic ability.

  “It’s my job to clean the rooms. It’s what I do here.” She smiled brightly. “You don’t want to keep me from my work, do you?”

  He studied her. “Not your destiny?”

  “No way. I have a plan.”

  “The college degree.”

  “Exactly. But to pay for that, I must work.”

  “Why a maid?” he asked.