Triple Love Score

by Brandi Megan Granett

  Danielle struggled to tow her suitcase behind her and issued a thinly veiled stream of expletives under her breath.

  “I’ll take that,” Miranda said. “Maid of honor at your service.”

  “Matron, remember?” Danielle said, handing over the suitcase. “And what’s the deal with that? I thought you said you guys weren’t an item. But all I see is him staring at you.”

  Omar’s mother saved her from answering the question. “Come girls, come. Yonca is waiting for you. Randa, you must try on the dress.”

  Danielle stood up a little straighter when Omar’s mother spoke. Selin was a woman who demanded attention, and tonight, in a midnight blue crepe pant suit dotted with matching seed pearls and heels higher than most Jimmy Choo’s, Miranda could see why. Selin was poised, beautiful, and smiling. This wasn’t the monster protecting her youngest son from the ugly American that Miranda had expected.

  “I’m glad you are here,” Selin said as Miranda passed her. “Dani needs to relax and enjoy this. She’s marrying my son. Why shouldn’t she be happy?” She said the last part loud enough that Danielle blushed.

  “Selin,” Danielle said softly, trying not to chide her almost mother-in-law too much.

  “Mother,” Selin said. “Please get used to that. No excuses. Yonca is in Miranda’s room already. We shooed the men to the attic.” And sure enough if you stopped to listen over the din from the kitchen, you could hear the laughter of strong men and the stomping of feet radiating down through the ceiling above them.

  “Turkish Super League,” Selin said. “Football. Omar’s father may not forgive him for getting married during the season, but the priest promises to keep the ceremony short tomorrow.”

  “Nothing short about a marriage. I’ll not hear of it. It should all be long. Bad luck to do less,” Yonca said. “Try this.” She thrust an emerald green pile of chiffon and satin toward Miranda. It reminded her of a 1980s prom dress. Miranda caught Danielle’s gaze. Danielle looked down at the bedspread and began picking at imaginary lint.

  “I couldn’t decide, so I let Omar’s cousin pick.”

  “His cousin?”

  “You met her at the airport. Jellie.”

  “But she’s twelve.”

  “And a junior bridesmaid. The only other bridesmaid. Someone needed to pick.”

  Yonca sighed. “Just put it on. Can’t fix it if you don’t put it on.”

  The word sculpture for this moment would use satin, lace, and somehow Molly Ringwald.

  But the dress wasn’t that bad. Nor did it need any fixing. The skirt fell right to the middle of her ankle at the most dainty spot. The satin bodice with sweetheart neckline and slightly off-the-shoulder long sleeves formed to her body like it was sewn on. She chose to ignore the skirt, an explosion of ruffled layers of chiffon with peaks and swirls like frosting on a cake. The crystals, all hand sewn as Yonca pointed out, dotted each ruffled layer every few inches, making ignoring the skirt a tall order. Bling, Miranda thought, she would need to add that to her word sculpture. And cousin. “Jellie will look great in this dress tomorrow,” Miranda said, gratefully changing back into her own clothes for the dinner party downstairs.

  C H A P T E R

  AFTER ALL THE GUESTS finally left the garden save for a few passed out in lawn chairs, Miranda and Scott surveyed the wreckage of the party. Selin picked through the piles of plates and discarded cups. She looked elegant even with a black plastic garbage bag billowing at her side.

  “Go,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hands. “I like this part best. Everyone is quiet, and I can finally enjoy the party. Omar and Roger will be back soon. They will help with the rest.”

  “But please, let us help,” Miranda said. She moved to pick up a pile of used napkins.

  “I’ll not have it. You are guests, and tomorrow is a very important day. First, the town clerk, then the church, and then the reception. Which, praise be, is being held in a catering hall.” Selin smiled at them. “Tomorrow night, I will be like that.” She pointed to an older woman in a pink suit snoring loudly in a lawn chair. “My youngest son, married.”

  “Married,” Scott repeated. It seemed to be one of his favorite words this week. Each time he said it Miranda felt her skin get hot like her entire body was blushing. The word sculpture that came to her mind was the sappiest yet. Married. Ideal. Love. Forever. Ambrose would want her to write that down. She could see his email in her mind chiding her about greeting cards for weddings. If her phone worked, perhaps Miranda could see those emails and send along some of these sculptures. But really, she didn’t want Scott to see them, especially not a humdinger like Married, Ideal, Love, Forever. Not yet anyway. Miranda hoped there would be time for that later.

  “Go,” Selin said again. “I’m serious. To bed.”

  Upstairs, they didn’t quite know what to do. Each stood on opposite sides of the bed, the same side they each had claimed the previous night.

  “I’m tired,” Miranda said. “Big day. First tumors, then a baby, now a party. And the lying by omission. It really takes a lot out of a person.”

  “Randa, stop.”

  “Stop, what?”

  “Being nervous. You don’t have to do this. And we aren’t going to do this.” He made a sweeping gesture over the bed. “I’ve had years to think about this. And I don’t expect things to just change in one day.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve waited this long. I can keep waiting.”

  Miranda sat down on the bed, kicked off her heels, and settled back against the pillow. Her whole body sank deliciously into the soft, feather bed on top of the mattress. Either the bed was that exquisite, or she was just that tired. “I wish I had known you were waiting. I know I was.”

  “You were?”

  Not even the comfort of the bed could hold her down. She bolted upright. “What did you think? I followed you around like a lost dog, oh, I don’t know, my entire life. All I ever got for it was you with one of Avery’s interns in a white bikini playing horse in the pool. In my own pool.”

  “That’s unfair. I couldn’t do anything about it. You weren’t even out of school yet. How would that have looked to our families?”

  “It’s just that I thought college would change things, and then it didn’t. And I knew I wasn’t ever going to be like the girl in the white bikini. When you showed up right before my twenty-first birthday, I thought something had finally changed. That you knew how I felt. But then you vanished; it felt like losing everything all over again.”

  “I lost, too, Randa. After I explained it to my parents, they refused to speak to me. My dad pulled some maneuver that cut off the trust fund from my grandparents. I lost my job with the firm, and I was in Oregon. It took five years and them finally meeting Lynn to soften up. They didn’t understand the whole thing with Lynn’s mother. No one did; everyone I tried to explain it to called me crazy. I couldn’t risk hearing that from you, too. No one understood.”

  “But you didn’t even give me a chance to try. What is the deal with Lynn’s mother? Who is she? Where is she? I don’t want to mess this up. Whatever this is. Or whatever it could be.”

  “How would things between us mess anything up? And I don’t see why Cassadee Parkins gets to have any more impact on my life than she already has had. Isn’t what I am doing already enough? Why does she come up in this, too?”

  “You’re a dad now. And I’ve been in Lynn’s place after my mom died, and Avery met Dad. I was already a teenager, so it didn’t matter as much, but it still hurt to see him so happy again with his arms around someone else. And that was after knowing exactly what happened to my mom. What if Lynn doesn’t get that chance? She’s young now, so she hasn’t pieced it all together, but what happens when she does? I don’t want her to blame me for any of this. I don’t want her to think I replaced her mother.”

  “How can you replace something that isn’t even there? Cassadee never even wanted to be there.”

 
“But do you know that for sure? Does Lynn know that?”

  “I think Cassadee’s actions speak for themselves. Lynn is only six. How could I explain any of that to her?

  “But do you talk to her about it?”

  “Why are we even talking about this? Miranda, I love you. I have since we were kids. I barely knew Lynn’s mom. Cassadee was just someone I fooled around with once. We partied together in college. When she got her diagnosis and Lynn was born, I was the only one out of the crowd clean enough to show up. I’m sure she calculated the money factor, too. She knew that thanks to my parents, I would never starve. What more can I say? I can’t say any of that to Lynn.”

  “How bad can Cassadee be if she knew to pick you?”

  “She didn’t know. She got lucky.”

  “Maybe she did know, Scott. Maybe she knew you were the best chance for Lynn. So far it looks like she’s right.”

  “Sure, sure. It all worked out. Lynn is my kid. I love her more than anything. Every cliché ever written about being a parent rings true to me. But there’s still other room in my heart, too, Miranda. Don’t think we can’t do this. I’ve waited too long to say these things to you.”

  “I know there is. But I don’t want to ruin this. It doesn’t seem right that Lynn doesn’t have her mother. I think it makes me miss my own mother too much.”

  “But it isn’t like that. Lynn doesn’t even know her mother.”

  “But she should, Scott. A girl needs a mother.”

  “I think you would make a great mother, Miranda.”

  “What?”

  “I saw you with Lynn. I saw the diary you bought her for Christmas. You met her once and understood her.”

  “That’s because she’s a great kid.”

  “She is. But you are great, too. I don’t mean today or next week or maybe even next year. But I am committed to this. I want this to work for me and you and Lynn. I thought about you all those years and seeing you at Thanksgiving reminded me how much I wanted to be with you, how long I waited until you were old enough, and that I missed my opportunity. I wish I had handled it better that morning, but it scared me. As much I say I wanted to speak up, I’ve been alone with Lynn so long I didn’t think it was possible to let anyone else in.”

  “You have no idea how many nights I stayed home just hoping that you would finally turn up again.”

  Scott settled down next to her, reaching over to pick up her hand. “Then what’s stopping you?”

  “Maybe just that, Scott. It’s been years. And now there are all these other considerations. And I don’t want to just ignore all that and be some stupid cliché of a woman who jumps at the first opportunity just because her best girlfriend is getting married. And Lynn matters to me, too, Scott. We have to do what’s best for her first.” Her whole hand tingled under his touch making the words hard to say and even harder to believe. But they were true. She had wanted him for so long that she couldn’t figure out if it was the wanting that kept her attention or the actual man.

  “Randa, you know it isn’t like that. I explained to you about your dad and waiting. And then Lynn and my parents. I have a reason for all of this. Can’t you just trust me?”

  “I used to, Scott.” She rested her head back down on the pillow but didn’t pull away her hand.

  “Baby steps,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  C H A P T E R

  ALARM CLOCKS BEGAN TO SOUND all over the house as the inhabitants and their guests began to ready themselves for the events of the day. Miranda’s own alarm clock came in the form of Danielle knocking on her bedroom door wearing a black tank top with Bride written in cursive across the front in rhinestones.

  “Gift from Jellie’s mom, Deniz,” she said, pushing into the room without an invitation.

  Scott, still not quite awake, struggled to get up. “Just let me grab a few things, and I’ll head up to Omar’s room.”

  “Good,” Danielle said. “You can wake him and be sure he is ready to go to the clerk’s office by eleven. We have a noon appointment, but you need to plan everything with an hour’s worth of delays. Turkish standard time, Omar tells me. He says I should just get used to it. Instead of getting used to it, I plan for it. He hasn’t figured it out yet. I told him we needed to be there at eleven.”

  “Very wife-like,” Miranda said. “You’ve been at this long?”

  Danielle pointed at Scott and then put her finger over her lips. When he finally left the room, suit bag and shoes in hand, she spoke. “Well, ten years of dating and the last five years of living here really cemented some key points in my game plan.”

  Miranda started to laugh. “You’re too funny. And wait a minute, where are you going to live? Now you guys really need to work that out.” Miranda asked.

  “Ah, well, that is a tough question.” Danielle walked over to Miranda’s luggage and began picking through the make-up bag. “Blue eye shadow? Really? People still do that?” she asked.

  “Yes, well, I just grabbed a bunch of stuff. It was kind of a last minute deal, you know. And hey, don’t change the subject. Is he finally going to move into your apartment?”

  “Omar got the promotion with a transfer.”

  “A transfer? Where? Tell me it’s not Turkey. Tell me you’re coming home.”

  “Well, not quite home. But Canada. An oil and gas exploration company. Engineering. They are even going to pay for us to relocate. But not until the summer. They want him to finish out a project here, and then start up the next one there. He found out last week but was waiting to tell me as a wedding surprise.”

  “Canada! You’ll only be a few hours away by plane. And with the baby, too. I’m happy for you, but I am happy for me, too. This really keeps getting better. I’m glad I’m here.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, too, but not glad enough to let you use blue shadow. Good thing I brought all my own make-up. Enough with this sappy stuff. Let’s get dressed.”

  “Fine, no more sappy stuff, but can I get one hug before we start?”

  Danielle stood still while Miranda wrapped her arms around her. She kept still for a few minutes until she finally returned the embrace. “I can’t believe this is all really happening,” she said. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  “I don’t want to talk about waiting,” Miranda said, regretting it immediately.

  “What? What are you waiting for?”

  “Nothing. Let’s not talk about that today. Let’s talk about your dress instead. Show it to me.”

  “Scott, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all you are going to say about it?”

  “No. Yes. For now. Seriously, I don’t want to think about that. I want to be a good friend and not a mess.”

  “You’re never a mess. Though I might enjoy seeing that. There were hints of it with that Ronan fellow, but you know, the phone didn’t give me the full picture of how regally screwed up you were.” Danielle opened the bedroom door and pulled in a suitcase and two dress bags. “And it’s dresses. One for the clerk’s office and one for the church.” The second dress bag billowed out so much that it looked like it contained a street vendor’s full stash of balloons.

  Miranda pointed at the bag. “Jellie?”

  “Worse, Deniz. Wait until you see it. It’s exactly like your dress only bigger. But don’t change the subject. What happened to Ronan? And what is happening with Scott?”

  “Ronan was just a thing, okay? I got carried away, then I went home for Christmas, and you called, and this happened, and Scott decided to come with me. Ronan blew a gasket. He wanted me to bring him instead.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Danielle unzipped the smaller bag to reveal a trim Chanel style jacket and skirt, in white with gold trim. It wasn’t something Danielle, whose wardrobe consisted of yoga pants and skirts bought from vendors in the parking lot of Phish concerts would wear, but anyone could tell it was beautifully made. “Selin,” she said. “That woman is just amazing. If they sa
y men marry their mothers, Omar is clearly confused on that point. I can’t even figure out how she gets a manicure to stay on for more than two hours let alone everything else. And get this, she’s also a chemical engineer. She stopped working when they moved back to Turkey for Roger’s job. She’s like Martha Stewart and Marie Curie combined. Omar says even when she worked full time she kept the house like this. What do I do? I teach English, under the table, and spaghetti with sauce from a jar is my signature dish. Let’s not even talk about vacuuming.”

  “There’s a learning curve. Maybe she will teach you how to cook.” Miranda couldn’t help but laugh again. “You’re going to be fine. You haven’t exactly hidden your true self from Omar. He’s had ten years of spaghetti. Maybe he likes it.”

  “Enough of this. You still didn’t answer me. Why didn’t you bring Ronan?”

  “Do I really have to answer that? It’s embarrassing.”

  “Embarrassing? Hold on a second.” Danielle yanked the zipper on the second dress bag. Layers of white satin and chiffon dotted with rhinestones spilled out and kept coming. With the bag finally on the floor, Miranda could see that the dress was indeed an exact copy of her own only times two. The skirt even had a flexible hoop built in, along with yards of crinoline to keep it encircling Danielle’s legs at the proper diameter all evening long. She held it up to herself and swung her hips back and forth. “See? Embarrassing! But when you have a week to plan a wedding because you think you are dying, you tend to go with the flow. And I flowed right into Barbie’s dream wedding gown.”