Daughters of the Bride

by Susan Mallery

  While she hadn’t technically seen him since they’d gotten back from LA on Friday, she’d known that she could at any second. He was still living at the hotel. At some point they were going to have to deal with each other, but she wanted to put that off as long as possible—mostly because she had no idea what she was going to say.

  She was more than confused—she was lost. She knew she missed him. A thousand times a day she thought of something she wanted to share with him. She wanted to see him and be held by him. At the same time, she was furious that he’d changed the rules. They were supposed to have fun together—nothing more. They were supposed to be lovers, then move on. Falling in love wasn’t part of the deal.

  She didn’t want to love anyone. It didn’t go well. Look at her mother, her sisters. Love was a disaster. Love hurt. She didn’t want to be hurt. It was better to be alone. She’d decided that a long time ago, and the decision had served her well. She’d been happy. Until Quinn.

  She missed him. Missed how he looked at her, how he moved. She missed his stupid Taylor Swift T-shirt and how he’d made her learn how to walk in high heels. She missed his take on the world, how he loved Pearl and Sarge and his grandmother. She missed his posse, his smile, his laugh and his unshakable confidence.

  How could someone that amazing love her? To quote a movie from another generation, she wasn’t worthy. But thinking she wasn’t good enough pissed her off, too. She might not be as amazing as him, but she still had good qualities. She was smart and funny and ambitious. Okay, sure, there was some fear and she might have commitment issues, but no one was perfect.

  She was, she had to admit, an uncomfortable combination of sad, mad and afraid. Hence the flu symptoms.

  She finished her last room and returned her housekeeping cart to the linen closet on the main floor. She was doing only about a third of her normal cleaning schedule because there was a wedding this weekend, not to mention two conventions over the next week. After that was her mother’s wedding, then three blissful days of almost nothing, then a wedding every weekend until the end of September.

  Thinking about work made her feel marginally better. Her almost cheerful mood lasted until Kelly waved her over and said, “Joyce is looking for you. She wants you in her office right away.”

  Uh-oh. Her boss had found out about Quinn.

  “Thanks,” Courtney said, feeling her stomach drop to her toes. This was going to be bad.

  She squared her shoulders and walked directly to Joyce’s office behind the reception area. The door was open. She knocked once, then entered.

  “Kelly said you were looking for me.”

  Joyce looked up from her computer and nodded. “I was. Please close the door.”

  Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Courtney did as she was told, pausing only to pat both Pearl and Sarge. The dogs were on a small, furry chaise that Joyce had bought for them. Sarge had a sock.

  Courtney took the seat across from her boss and told herself that, whatever happened, she would be fine. She’d been taking care of herself for nearly a decade. She had skills, a modest savings account and the will to survive.

  Joyce slipped off her reading glasses and folded her hands together on the desk. “It is completely ridiculous that you continue to act like this,” she began. “You are not a maid, Courtney. You haven’t been for a long time. You’re managing multiple events and acting as an assistant manager. That’s more valuable to me than you cleaning rooms. I want to hire three more maids and put you on as the event coordinator full-time.”

  Joyce’s expression was stern. “I don’t know what you have in your head that you have to keep cleaning rooms, but it has to stop right now. I have a business to run. I’m your boss. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

  That was it? They weren’t going to talk about Quinn?

  “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

  “I’m sorry to have to be stern, but there we are,” Joyce continued. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses, but you won’t. I thought after you got your AA, you would realize that there was more for you to do here. But you’re still hiding. You’re still afraid. You’ll do the work, but you won’t take the title. Why is that?”

  Even though they’d been talking about completely different things, Joyce’s words reminded her of that horrible conversation with Quinn. He’d talked about fear, too. Hers. She’d always seen herself as tough—was she wrong in that?

  “I appreciate your faith in me,” she said slowly. “Thank you for being blunt. You’re right. I should be committed to one job or the other. I love planning weddings and the other events. Thank you for the opportunity to do it. Thank you for having faith in me.”

  Joyce’s stern expression didn’t change. “Was that a yes?”

  Courtney blinked. “What? Of course it’s a yes. Yes, I want to be the events planner. Full-time. I’ll miss cleaning toilets, but I’ll get over it.”

  Joyce smiled. “I’m glad to hear that because I’ve already hired the new maids.”

  “What if I’d said no?”

  “I’m afraid I would have had to fire you.”

  Courtney was glad she was sitting down. “For real?”

  “I love you, child, but every bird needs to leave the nest. You weren’t flying before. Now you are. I’m proud of you, Courtney. You’ve accomplished a lot. Everyone’s afraid at one time or another. The trick is not letting the fear control you.”

  * * *

  Rachel put in the last bobby pin and reached for the hair spray. The updo flattered her mother’s features. Maggie had decided on a short veil anchored by a comb.

  “When the ceremony is over,” Rachel said as she put down the can of hair spray, “I’ll be able to pull the pins. The curls will stay in and you’ll have a more casual look for the reception.”

  “I love it. Thank you, darling.”

  They were in Maggie’s large bathroom for a practice hairstyle session. Her mother stood and walked over to her closet, then looked back over her shoulder. “Not a word to your sisters. I want them surprised.”

  “I promise.”

  Rachel was used to dealing with brides and their idiosyncrasies. She was usually one of the first nonfamily members to see the dress. Often she did a practice run on hair and makeup, and at the end the bride put on the dress to check the look. With her mother, she’d only created the hairstyle. She’d done Maggie’s makeup countless times before.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to zip me up,” her mother called.

  Rachel stepped into the closet and pulled up the zipper, then quickly retreated to the bathroom so she could get the full effect.

  Her mother stepped into the room.

  “Oh, Mom. You’re beautiful.”

  The dress was perfect. The lining was pale pink and strapless, but the sheer ivory lace overlay came up to her collarbones. The same overlay created long sleeves and fell to the tea-length hem. The bodice was fitted with the skirt flaring out. It swayed and moved with every step.

  Her pumps were hand painted with a pink floral pattern and the date of the wedding in the design.

  “My bouquet is white with hints of green, so it will show up against my dress. You girls are carrying pink flowers.”

  Rachel sighed. “You’re stunning. It couldn’t be more right for you.”

  Maggie’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you so much. Now help me unzip this. I don’t want anything to happen to it before the wedding.”

  Once Maggie was back in her shorts and T-shirt, she and Rachel went out to the kitchen. They sat across from each other at the glass table. Her mother had promised lunch in exchange for the practice session.

  “You’ve been very good to me,” her mother said. “I’ve always been able to lean on you.” Maggie poured them each a glass of iced tea from a pitc
her on the table. “Maybe a little too much.”

  “Mom, I do hair for a living. I want to help.”

  Her mother looked at her. “I’m talking about when you were little and your father died. Finding out about what Courtney kept from me has gotten me to thinking. I was so desperate back then. So frightened. Phil died and then I lost the house. If Joyce hadn’t taken us in, we would have been in a shelter. I had nothing and I didn’t think I could hold it together. I depended on you to help me. But you were just a little girl.”

  “I was scared, too,” Rachel admitted. “Helping you gave me something to focus on.”

  “I was drowning and you saved me.”

  “That’s a little dramatic.”

  “Maybe, but it’s true.” Her mother leaned toward her. “Tell me I didn’t ruin you forever. Tell me I’m not the reason you and Greg split up.”

  “Are you stressed about the wedding? You’re acting kind of strange.”

  “I’m serious. Did I destroy your marriage?”

  Rachel thought about all that had gone wrong. Her inability to ask for what she wanted or accept help of any kind. Greg not being mature enough to handle the responsibility. They had been in love, but love hadn’t been enough.

  “We were young and made a lot of mistakes,” she said. “That’s why we split up.”

  Had her mother’s actions formed parts of her character that had contributed to the failure of her marriage? Maybe, but saying that wouldn’t help anyone. She and Greg were responsible for what had happened—no one else.

  “And now?” her mother asked.

  “We’re friends. We like each other again.” Maybe there was more, but she wasn’t sure. “I’ve forgiven him. That feels good. We have Josh.”

  “Do you want more?”

  “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But that scares me. I’m not sure I could handle losing him a second time.”

  “Why would you have to? You’ve learned a lot and so has he. Maybe this time it will last forever.”

  That was nice to think about. Being with Greg again. Giving their marriage a second chance. And while she thought they were headed in that direction, she wasn’t sure. Because neither of them had actually said the words—or made the offer. She knew why she hadn’t, but what about him? Which brought her to her biggest fear. That she was the only one considering trying to make it work again.

  29

  SIENNA POURED ANOTHER glass of wine and passed it to Courtney. Her sister cradled it in her hand. They were outside in Sienna’s backyard. The night was clear and still warm. Music drifted to them from a neighbor’s house.

  “I just don’t know,” Courtney was saying. “About Quinn. He said he loved me. I can’t wrap my head around that. What does it mean?”

  “Not to state the obvious, but I’m guessing it means he loves you.”

  “What am I supposed to do with that?”

  “Do you love him back?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. No. I’m not sure.”

  Sienna held in a smile. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only mentally twisted Watson sister. “Let’s try an easier question. What don’t you like about him?”

  Courtney sipped her wine. “Nothing.”

  “There has to be something.”

  “He can be bossy, but it’s always in a nice way, and I can’t think of anything else. He’s successful, he’s kind, he loves his grandmother and her dogs, he cares about people, even though he pretends he doesn’t. He’s talented. I’m sure the other women in his life would be furious to know he’s finally ready to settle down and I’m having a freak-out. My life could be in danger.”

  Sienna laughed. “Just don’t tell them.”

  “Believe me, I won’t. I’m so confused.” She put her arm on the table and her head on her arm. “Tell me what to do.”

  “I’m the wrong person to be giving advice. I’m equally confused, but for different reasons.”

  Courtney straightened and looked at her. “You don’t love David, do you?”

  Sienna hadn’t expected that. “Of course I do. Why would you say that? He’s—” She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. The truth was there—it had been there for a long time. Probably from the beginning. “I don’t love David.”

  She gulped some wine, then continued. “I tried to tell him before. I tried breaking up with him. He said it was because I was scared. That Dad’s death had scarred me, but that I was the one for him. He said he’d waited for me.” She drank more wine and waited for her gut to tell her what to do. “Oh, God. I have to break off the engagement.”

  Courtney patted her arm. “You’re so brave. I admire that.”

  Sienna stared at her. “I can’t break up with him.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “He’s out of town until Mom’s wedding. Literally. He’s on a business trip, then he’s going to go see his family for a couple of days. He’ll fly in late Friday night. I can’t break up with him over the phone. That would be horrible and tacky. Plus, I have to give him back the ring.”

  She glanced at her hand, then pulled it from her finger and tossed the ugly ring on the table. “I want to break up with him and I have to wait over a week. I have to talk to him on the phone and I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Breathe,” Courtney instructed. “Just breathe. It says a lot that you want to face him in person. That’s very mature. As for the phone, he’ll be busy. You can be busy, too. Text rather than talk. That will make things easier.”

  “You’re right. I can do this. It’s fine. I’m fine.” She swallowed more wine. “I’m also going to be drunk, but I’m not driving. How are you going to get home?”

  “I may have to crash on your sofa.”

  “Of course you can. Let’s do that. I’ll order a pizza, we’ll open another bottle of wine and deal with the disaster our love lives have become.”

  “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

  Sienna looked at her sister. “You’re not happy.”

  “I miss Quinn.”

  Sienna waited.

  Courtney grimaced. “I know, I know. I’m an idiot. A wonderful man loves me, and I send him away because I’m scared. It’s what I did with my job. Hiding behind what was safe. Am I hiding again or being sensible?”

  “You’re hiding.”

  Courtney rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to think about that before you answer?”

  “Sorry, no. Look, it’s always easier to see what’s wrong with other people than with ourselves. You knew I didn’t love David. I know you care about Quinn a lot more than you’re willing to admit. So what are you going to do about it? Be brave or be stupid?”

  “Ouch. Are those my only choices?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Sienna had to admit she was feeling pretty damned smug. She didn’t have to deal with her crisis for over a week. So it was easy to tell other people what to do.

  “Do I have to decide tonight?”

  “It would probably be best if you didn’t.”

  “Then I won’t.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  * * *

  The new recording studios were currently empty, but soon they would be filled with equipment. Soundproofing had been added to make sure that no outside noise got in, and no inside noise got out. Upstairs were offices, workrooms and a large kitchen/living room area. Writing and recording took time and energy. Sessions could go well into the night. People needed access to food and a chance to unwind.

  For a couple of days, Quinn had toyed with the idea of putting in a couple of bedrooms, where artists could crash between sessions, but he’d decided against it. The sofas in the living room were enough. Access to a bedroom was only going to cause trouble with the nonmusical partners.

 
“It’s totally rad,” Peter said, his voice filled with awe. “I can’t wait to record here.”

  “Me, too,” Collins added.

  “The equipment gets delivered next week,” Wayne told them. “State-of-the-art. Quinn picked it all himself.”

  “So if you don’t like it, you know who to blame.” Quinn pointed to the stairs. “Be careful when you go up. It’s not finished yet.”

  He didn’t want his most successful band getting injured by falling through a wall or down stairs.

  “We should be up and running by the middle of September,” Wayne told him when the guys had disappeared upstairs. “Just let me know when you’re ready for me to start looking for a house for you. I’ve heard good things about a local real estate agent. I’m going to get in touch with him.” Wayne looked momentarily uncomfortable. “Should I, ah, talk to Courtney about the house?”

  Quinn knew there would come a day when hearing her name wouldn’t be a big deal. When he wouldn’t feel the fist to the gut or a drowning sense of loss. Eventually, he would be able to be pragmatic. No big deal. They’d had a good time and then it had ended.

  “What?” Wayne demanded. “What happened?”

  “We’re not together anymore.”

  His retired marine assistant actually flinched. “You didn’t say anything.”

  “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “And now?”

  “Still don’t.”

  “What happened?”

  Quinn told himself not to take anything out on Wayne. Nothing was his fault. “I told her I loved her and she ran. Literally. It was impressive.”

  “She’s scared.”

  That was what he thought, too. Given her past—all she’d been through—she wouldn’t trust easily. Wouldn’t want to take the risk. She’d been so angry at his declaration. He knew that fear lived behind the anger, but that didn’t make being without her any easier.

  “She’ll come around,” Wayne told him.

  “Not so far.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “On the way home from LA. I told her in the car.” He grimaced. “Not my most romantic moment.”