Tex groaned, his forehead resting on the tabletop in front of the salt and pepper shakers. “Can you two ladies take it outside? Some of us are trying to die with dignity. Where is that dang coffee?”
Al nodded off, leaning on his elbow. Craig pushed a glass of water to Emerson. “Here,” he said, “you’re going to need this. Right, Pete?”
“Okay, fine, I’ll tell him,” Pete huffed.
“You’ll tell me what?” Emerson asked.
“Well,” Pete began, “you know how the documents for the Hockenheim production were all in German?”
Emerson nodded. “Yeah?”
“Automatically, it made me think Olivia would be perfect for the job. She was looking for something different outside the automotive racing industry. It just seemed like a good idea to offer her the position.”
“Okay. You were right. She was a good choice. She does great work.”
Martin snickered. “Oh is that what you call it? Work?”
“Shut up Mart,” Emerson shot back. “What’s your point, Pete?”
Pete ran his fingers through his dreads. “Remember the last Christmas? We had a bunch of extra tickets…to that Nutcracker or whatever thing at the theater?”
“Uh-huh.”
Pete shifted uncomfortably, looking at Craig for support, but not getting any from the chickenshit. “Okay, so like last Christmas, Ella invited you…except that got scuppered, but she had this idea the other day…well…she told us all we had to, so then since we had to, we noticed it seemed like it could, you know, work out because you have…uh, uh, considering how you…it’s obvious you’re… All right let me just be totally honest and say…” Pete swallowed, “we’ve all been cooperating with the bride…well, not Justine, and Kim isn’t really you know on board. She’s not afraid of Ella. In fact my wife told us we were all a bunch of dipshits for playing along and swi—”
“Oh, for the love of God, just tell him the bride’s newest demand so we can eat in peace!” Jason whipped off his sunglasses.
Pete glared at Jason, continued the story, and Emerson felt his eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “Your sister is a certifiable fucking nutjob!” he shouted, throwing up his hands and clipping the pot of coffee a waitress had clutched in her hand. The pot flew upward, arching out of her hand, and it bounced on the linoleum-tiled floor without breaking, coffee splashing rich mahogany puddles all over the nearby table and chairs.
Tex whimpered piteously.
After the bride’s breakfast, Ella retired to her suite for half a day of pampering and preparation. Olivia kept busy overseeing all the last-minute details to ensure everything fell into place with the precision set forth in the wedding scrapbook.
Periodically, right in the middle of a task, her mind remembered the breathtaking feeling of Emerson’s body moving on hers and girlish giddiness overtook her actions. She paused as she signed a delivery slip for a wedding gift because a spiral of delight started just below her breasts and radiated throughout her body, twirling pleasantly out the top of her head, the tips of her fingers and toes. She caught herself before she sighed again, and signed the form, licking the corner of her mouth as if to catch any lingering taste of him that breakfast and toothpaste hadn’t washed away.
By eleven-thirty, the kid from Finucci’s Pasticceria delivered the proper, white-iced Siena wedding cake. The fresh flower arrangements and bouquets arrived just after noon and by two the bridesmaids were upstairs taking turns having manicures that left them with matching red fingernails.
Out in the rose garden, white chairs were tied with ribbon and arranged in short rows for the ceremony. A long roll of white carpet was unfurled to make a path from the terrace to the domed, stone gazebo. The altar beneath the gazebo was adorned with pink roses that matched the cake and the simple fat bouquet Ella would carry. The weather had cooperated and a cool breeze off the lake kept the day from becoming uncomfortably warm.
Late in the afternoon, the other three girls had congregated in Ella’s room to watch her have her hair done by Javiera. Olivia watched for a few minutes, but she had no time to participate. She directed the musicians to the garden and boathouse, confirmed the caterer could accommodate the special last-minute dietary needs of a guest, and ensured everything was indeed onion free.
Ninety minutes before the ceremony, she ran upstairs and peeled off her sweaty blue shorts. She showered for a second time that day, missing Emerson’s company. She swept up her hair into a loose twist, applied the barest amount of make-up, and dressed in her bridesmaid gown.
As rigid as she was about this day, it had been kind of Ella, a veteran bridesmaid several times over, to allow her maid of honor to choose her own dress. She hadn’t cared what color Olivia wore as long as the dress was strapless. The gown she’d chosen was a rich violet, the bodice was fitted to push her breasts up naturally, and the skirt was straight with an offset slit that reached the middle of her right thigh. Olivia secured the side zip before she adjusted the amethyst pendant at her neck and inserted matching drop earrings. Finally, she slipped her feet into the painfully high shoes Ella insisted she wear. Finished in a record twenty minutes, she stopped in Ella’s room to check on the progress of her hair and found four women sitting in fluffy pink bath towels, helping themselves to Javiera’s hair products and beauty equipment. The ethereal music of Enya played on the room’s stereo.
Things were right on schedule.
Satisfied, Olivia gave a nod to busy Javiera and went downstairs, the balls of her feet already smarting in the three-inch stilettos.
At four, Nathan the photographer pulled up to the house in his station wagon. At four-thirty, guests began to arrive. Olivia and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas welcomed them and led them out to the terrace for drinks and canapés. By five, it was all systems go. Olivia went out onto the terrace to make sure the household staff circulated drinks to guests.
She spotted Emerson in the open doorway. Her heart performed an elaborate ballet as she went to him. He was busy chatting with a tall, silver-haired man in a charcoal suit. Pete once said something about Emerson’s suits reeling in the chicks, and it was true. Female guests stared at the self-confessed one-time geek, nudging each other to appreciate the sight. Not that Emerson noticed. He was engrossed in his conversation with the older gentleman. She couldn’t place the man, but there was something familiar about him. He smiled at her over Emerson’s shoulder.
Emerson knew she was there. He paused mid-sentence, turned, took her hand, and drew her forward, up the step into the open doorway. His eyes traveled up from her feet to her face. “Uh-oh,” he said, “you’re going to outshine the bride.”
“I better not.”
“You can’t help it. I mean you look, well there’s just no other word for it, spectacular.”
“You look pretty spectacular yourself.”
“Yeah, it’s the tux.”
“Is that what it is?”
“Well, that and these shoes.” He glanced down at his feet.
“Shiny.”
“Better than last night’s?”
“We’ll see when you dance in them.”
“You wanna dance now? I like dancing barefoot. How ‘bout y—”
“Soo,” the silver-haired gentleman poked his head between them, “is this another member of the wedding party?”
Emerson slid an arm around her waist. “Dad, this is Olivia Regen, the maid of honor.”
Olivia extended her hand. “Hello,” she said and smiled into eyes as green as Emerson’s.
“Hi, Carlton Maxwell.” He shook her hand warmly and held onto it as he spoke. “It’s a pleasure, Olivia. I hear you’re responsible for this event. It’s a beautiful spot. I don’t suppose you could have found some kind of wedding job for an uncle, could you? Uncles never get to have any fun at these things. We went to my other nephew’s wedding—remember that one, son? Anyhow, would you believe it was a booze-free wedding? It seems the bride wanted it that way out of deference to an aunt who was a recoveri
ng alcoholic…”
Olivia started laughing.
“Dad. Dad,” Emerson pulled Olivia from his father’s grasp. “Give her back her hand, come up for air and give her a chance to process the information.”
“I’m sorry. She’s pretty just like you said, and pretty women make me nervous. Do I ever shut up around your mother?” Carlton leaned toward Olivia. “I talk in my sleep too. Every night I lie right there beside Lucy Maxwell and blah blah blah blah blah. Oh look there’s your cousin Little Henry. Henry! Hen-ry!” He peered around Olivia and waved. “Little Henry? Didn’t he get chubby! Why didn’t anyone tell me he got so—Henry, come give your uncle a big manly hug!” Carlton stepped around Olivia to embrace a rotund teenager.
Emerson slipped his arms around her and held her loosely. “Dad’s a retired librarian. Eight hours of quiet a day, over thirty-five years, had quite an effect. And if you’re wondering, I take after my mother, who had to develop a loud voice to be heard over the top of my dad’s auctioneer-like nattering.”
“He’s great.”
“I think so too.” He dipped his head beside her ear. “I haven’t seen you for hours, and you’re all I’ve thought about.” His lips brushed her cheek, and when her hand came up to touch his face he caught it, pressing a kiss into her palm, feeling her quiver the same way he was.
“You amaze me. Either you say the wrong thing completely or find something so absolutely perfect you stir up butterflies I never knew I had.” Olivia’s voice came out in a hushed tone. “I’m going to go mushy here, Emerson. For the last couple of months I’ve barely had enough current running through me to keep me charged. I didn’t know that until I met you. Actually, I didn’t know that until this morning. When you race cars, you’re trained to have an instant response to an action. That’s what you learn to do when you race. It’s reflex that keeps you at the front and what prevents you from crashing. You learn to trust your reflex, your instinct, but what I really needed was to trust you. I haven’t trusted anyone in such a very long time I forgot how. It may be silly, but regardless of how long I’ve known you, I’m more than just a little in love with you.”
She kissed him very delicately, but it was full of every kind of promise, and Emerson’s toes curled up inside his shoes. He ran a finger along one of the artfully placed stands of hair that curved around to frame her face and a feeling so intense, so pleasurable it was almost painful, stitched across his heart and clobbered his ability to speak.
“Wait here for me. I have to go back upstairs to see how Ella’s faring.” Olivia squeezed his hand
Emerson had no choice but to watch her walk away, his zigzagging stomach floating around with exhilaration. Across the terrace, Pete waved at him with a smirk. Kim looked stunned. Jason cocked his head, raising his wine glass in a toast.
Light on her feet, Olivia skipped inside, moving toward the grand foyer and main staircase. A smattering of wedding guests milled around downstairs, a few having a look around the beautiful house to admire the decor. One young woman, a lithe blonde in bright yellow was poking around near the bottom of the stairs, opening drawers in the little beech desk, fingering a vase of fresh irises, plucking china figurines from a display cabinet and turning them upside down as if she were checking for a price sticker on the bottom.
For a second, Olivia’s lighter-than-air feeling almost vanished.
Karl sidled up beside the willowy blonde. “Zat one looks like you, Schatzie,” he said and pointed to a figurine of a swan.
The blonde huffed.
“Vat’s wrong now?”
She made another petulant sound.
“Miss you your little toy?” Karl spoke to her as if she were a child, his hands sweeping over her breasts as he pulled her backward against his body. “Here ist it,” he said.
Olivia swore under her breath. No matter what direction she took, Karl would spot her. She watched him press his hips into the girl. He still had the same bag of tricks and lines; he’d used that one on her after the first time they’d slept together. She couldn’t believe she’d once found it amusing or erotic. It didn’t seem like the blonde was very impressed either.
Karl turned slightly and his eyes settled on Olivia. He thrust the girl away and broke into a handsome smile. “Olifia. You look so pretty.”
The girl went back to inspecting the figurines.
“Well, you’re here. That’s…nice.” Olivia tried to sound sarcastic, but the fact of the matter was she didn’t give a rat’s ass that he was here or that the blonde’s tits were hanging out the sides of her dress.
“Bitte, Olifia,” Karl moved toward her as she continued her line to the staircase. “I mochte mit you sprechen.” Two steps up, he caught her hand.
Olivia stopped and shook her head. “I don’t really want to talk to you.”
“Bitte, one wort.”
“It was never just one word with you, Karl. It was a lot of words. And then even more words. Words from you mean nothing. Enjoy the wedding.” She turned to face him, on a level height with him. She couldn’t deny his eyes were the prettiest blue, but she preferred green eyes, like Emerson’s. She patted her ex-husband’s shoulder. “When your girlfriend is finished pricing things, go out on the terrace and have a drink. Bye now.”
She continued up the steps and the blonde whined, “Who was that?”
Rapping once on Ella’s door, she let herself inside. Instead of assisting the bride with the final adjustments of her gown, the other bridesmaids were intent on looking after themselves.
Suzanne had chosen to go with pantyhose instead of wearing undergarments beneath her satiny jade gown. The skirt of the dress was hitched up to her waist; her buttocks exposed clear through the nylon hose she was busy trying to yank into place. The gusset was too low. “I think I might have your hose Mimi,” she said with a frown.
“No, sweetie, I’m wearing nude stockings. See?” Mimi checked her hemline the mirror to see if she was stepping on the bottom of her turquoise gown. “They stay up on their own and look pretty sexy too.”
“Are you here to make sure we pass inspection, Olivia?” The lipstick at Justine’s mouth paused. “You know,” she said, “I’ve got some really good concealer if you want to borrow it to cover up your scar.”
“Oh, for shit’s sake, Justine, when are you going to quit being such a catty bitch?” Ella groaned, her hands full of tulle. “Olivia looks beautiful.”
Justine ignored the scolding and went on applying lip color. “Sooze, you airhead, those hose are hipsters! They’re not supposed to come up to your waist so stop trying to get them there.”
“Can’t you be…” Agitated, Ella engaged in a struggle with her veil, which had bunched up and caught on the tiny seed pearls lining the décolletage of her princess-style dress.
It was time to shoo the preening and primping bridesmaids from the room. “Okay, ladies,” Olivia clapped her hands. “This is Ella’s time to meditate and your time to go downstairs and have a glass of champagne!”
Shoulders snapping back, her breasts thrusting upward in a candy pink gown, Justine saluted. “Should you check under our fingernails for grease before we go?”
“Honestly, Justy, what’s the matter with you?” Suzanne scowled. “You had your crack at Emerson and he wasn’t interested. Let it go and move on.”
Justine gave Olivia a smile as sweet as shoo-fly pie. There was bright red lipstick on her teeth. Mimi shook out the bottom of her dress. Suzanne gave up trying to pull her hose any higher and yanked them off, tossing them on Ella’s bed. Their self-absorbed fussing ended and they left the room.
“Well, they’ve been about as useful as a sack of squirrel crap,” Ella said with a sigh.
“You said it, not me.”
“I give up. Can you fix this damn thing for me?”
“Of course.” Quickly, Olivia unhooked the seed pearls from the delicate lace of the veil. “You seem very calm. I’m surprised.”
“Nothing else is going to go wrong now. It
’s just the walk up the aisle and I’ve gone over it in my mind for so long I know it’s going to turn out perfect. I’m in a happy, tranquil space now, just like you are. You know, Craig thought you and Emerson would get along.”
“So Craig knows now?”
“It would hardly be fitting if I started my marriage with secrets.” Ella’s smile was sly. “Everybody knows.”
“You know what? You can take photos and sell them to whatever magazine you want, kick the door down and take all the digital footage you want. I don’t care. I don’t care who knows.”
“That must have been some really great sex.”
The memory of his sandpapery face rasping against her breast, how his breath hitched in his throat and the way his green eyes looked when their bodies had locked together sent an almost illicit rush of exhilaration through her. Olivia shook her head, giggling. “A day at the beach and ice cream rolled into one.”
Ella clucked her tongue. “And to think it happened at my wedding!”
“It certainly makes up for Karl coming.”
“Oh, Karl.” Ella sighed. “He was up here a few minutes ago.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I forgot how charming he can be. Justine pretty much climaxed when he kissed her hand. You should have heard her.” Ella took off Justine’s breathiness perfectly, “Oh my, I just buttered my bikinis!”
Olivia snickered. “I bet he was very continental in his genuinely fake way. You should see the canary he brought with him.”
Free of her veil, Ella fluffed her dress and watched the fabric flutter. “Actually, he was rather emotional.” She set a soft hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “He told me he still loves you and I don’t think he was lying. I could see that torch was still lit up behind his eyes. That man loves you so hard.”
The laugh that burst from Olivia’s chest was earsplitting. Hilarity coursed through her nervous system and popped from her pores the same way mirthful tears spurted from her eyes. She’d ruined her mascara and in another second she’d probably wet her pants. “Y-you believed him?”
Driving in Neutral Page 22