His father walked into her arms, onion and all, and planted a big smacker on her lips.
That's the only kind of love I'll ever settle for. That perfect, amused synchronicity and the passion still there after thirty years .
"The things she saysthey're not meant to hurt you. You know that, right?" Sydney's voice interrupted his musings.
"Yeah. I know."
"She's living in an interior world half the time, her brain trying to send signals through synapses that aren't always connected anymore. The blessing is that while she may be confused about why she can't access certain information, she's also flattening out emotionally so that it doesn't upset her like it does you. And a few minutes later, she forgets the troubling incident entirely."
"You've done your homework, haven't you?"
Sydney paused. "Yes. I have several books. I can write down the titles for you, if you'd like."
"What are you doing tomorrow?" Alex asked her, half because of Roman and half because he wanted to. "Do you have big plans?"
"No, why?"
"If you'll put up with a few errands, I'll show you around Fredericksburg and the Hill Country."
She seemed shocked. Then, to his amusement, she asked, "Why?"
"Jersey, you kill me. What d'you mean, why? You were nice. I didn't deserve it, particularly. Let me at least be hospitable, okay?"
"But"
"What else do you have to do?" You can't spend all day following your sister around, talking trash about Roman .
"Urn. Okay, sure."
"I'll even bring a different vehicle, just for you," he said with a chuckle, thinking about his accidental grab of her goods.
She must have been thinking of it, too, because she said, "That'd be great. I don't want to end up in your lap again."
"Heywomen fight to sit in my lap."
"You know, Kimball, one of the things I like about you is your modesty."
"And one of the things I like about you is your grace. Not to mention your tact." He wondered how long she'd badgered her poor sister before she'd agreed to take a pregnancy test. That took nerve. He couldn't really blame Roman for being annoyed.
She cleared her throat. "So. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yep. Around nine, okay?"
"Nine it is."
* * *
Chapter Nine
Sydney woke up early with a feline stretch and a yawn. She made coffee in the dinky little excuse for a pot with which Marv outfitted each of the Motor Inn's rooms. Knowing what it would taste like, she added both the flimsy filter packets, decaf and caf. Maybe then the stuff would be strong enough to be drinkable.
Syd thought again about what kind of story she'd need to fabricate for Marv. She was hot on the trail of Betty Lou, wrapped in a trench coat and dark shades? She'd tracked her to a nudist colony or a racetrack or a casino boat? Something along those lines.
She was definitely not going to tell him that his younger daughter was engaged, and that Syd herself was half playing hooky.
Running around with Alex today held definite appeal, since Syd was fast discovering that she had in-herited even fewer of Ma's girly genes than she thought. Julia was full of BS these daysshort for "Bridal Syndrome." If she heard another debate over white vs. ivory, pearls vs. sequins, or hat vs. veil she was going to throw a saddle on one of Uncle Ted's emus and ride screaming into the hills.
Sydney checked e-mail to see if there was anything urgent requiring her attention and groaned when she saw another one from Julia, with a reply from Kiki, and a brief two lines from the extremely busy Vivien, a divorce attorney in Manhattan. Syd wondered sardonically what Viv thought of all this.
Subject: Re: MY WEDDING!!!!!!!!!
Date: XXXXXXX
From: Crownjule
To: numbersgeek, [email protected], vshelton@kleinschmidtbelker
Hey, girls!
Ha, ha, Kiki, you are too funny. No, there's no bun in my oven, don't worry. 4 other weddings!!!!! That's a lot, but you'll agree that Roman's & mine is the most important! :)
I know you've been dying of curiosity, but I finally decided (well, 98.7 sure) on the primary flowers for the spray that will be behind the minister on the dais at the ceremony. (I'm still debating other flowers, but these, of course, are absolutely KEY.) Anyhoo, I'm going with South American or-chids. Only trouble is, they're impossible to find here in Fredericksburg. Kiki, could you be a dear and tell me who in town you think could track these down? I don't have a clue who to ask, and when I mentioned it to your mother, she didn't answer. Just asked what I had against traditional roses.
Roses! Sure, a few, maybe. But as my primary floral focal point? I don't think so! Roses are so last millennium!
Thanks ever so! J
Subject: Re: MY WEDDING!!!!!!!
Date: XXXXXXX
From: [email protected]
To: Crownjule, numbersgeek, vshelton
Hi, Girls,
Consider the problem of how to handle ALL the wedding details solved. The answer is Breckin Andrews! He runs an event planning business called With This Ring right there in Fredericksburg. This man had a chance to work full time doing floral arrangements for Elton John, but he chose to stay in his hometown and impart his impeccable taste on potentially tacky Texas brides. It's the ultimate in gay self-sacrifice. Think of this as QUEER EYE FOR THE STRAIGHT BRIDE.
Thank me later, Kiki
Subject: Re: MY WEDDING!!!!!!!!
Date: XXXXXXXXX
From: vshelton
To: Crownjule, numbersgeek, [email protected]
Julia, darling, you always were an incurable romantic. Congratulations.
Syd, how are you?
Kiki, this IS a touch awkward, isn't it? No hard feelings about me representing Walter in your divorce.
xoxoxo, Viv
A horrified laugh escaped Sydney. Julia's best friend had represented Kiki's ex-husband? If she couldn't talk her sister out of this, it was going to be one interesting wedding.
Syd showered quickly. Then she got out, snatched one of the sandpapery towels that Marv purchased by the truckload and loofahed off the water with it. Damn, the thing almost had teeth instead of fabric nubs. She could just about comb her hair with it.
Julia had argued with their father recently about the towels, but he dismissed her complaints by saying that the crappier his towels were, the less likely it was that guests would take off with them. That was Marv for youall about comfort and marketing.
She strode purposefully to her suitcase. Errands, huh? This time, Alex was not going to be able to laugh at her in a skirt and heels. Errands probably meant milking a couple of matronly mammals, or shooting their lunch.
Sydney chose a pair of shorts, a T-shirt and her hiking boots. She didn't bother with jewelry at all, and stuck her shoulder-length hair in a ponytail. Though she didn't want Alex to think she was primping for him, she did apply eye makeup (waterproof this time) and lip gloss. Anything else would doubtless melt off her face in the heat.
She headed out of her room and down the elevator. Maybe Julia would have bottled water somewhere.
Unfortunately her sister wasn't at the front desk, and wasn't picking up the phone in her room. Sydney figured she could get Alex to stop for a bottle of water somewhere on their way to do his mysterious errands. She peered out the smoked-glass door, but saw no sign of Alex, just some yuppie guy in a beautiful dark green Mercedes.
Sydney took another look. No way . But the guy who opened the door, the guy who got out in pressed khakis and a shirt with a collarwas indeed Alex.
Shit ! Sydney couldn't meet him looking like this. She turned tail and fled down the hallway, only to be stopped by his deep drawl. "Jersey, where you hightailin' it off to?"
Double shit . "I, uh, forgot my sunglasses," she lied.
"Really. You need two pairs?"
She looked down to find them hanging by an earpiece from her shirt. Triple shit ! "Oooohhhh. There they are. I looked for those things everywh
ere."
He lifted a brow and jingled his keys. "You ready to go?"
She looked him up and down, from his neatly parted hair to the expensive loafers on his feet. Where were his boots?
"Urn. Yeah." Reluctantly she walked toward him and out the door with him. She sank into the buttery leather passenger seat of the Mercedes and let the expensive German air-conditioning flow over her.
Alex got in next to her, smelling better than any man had a right to, and Sydney stared disconsolately at her hiking boots. "So what kind of errands are we running?"
"Today," Alex said, "we are going to make some attempts to market Emulsion, my aunt's homemade emu-oil face cream."
Sydney absorbed this. "Emu oil in face cream? Why?"
"It's great for skin. Heals burns, moisturizes and et cetera. It's in lots of skin care products now. You'd be surprised."
"Wasn't it just the other day that you were going to market emu barbecue sauce?"
"Yep." Alex started the car.
"And now face cream. Can I ask you a possibly rude question?"
"Shoot."
"If it's your uncle's emu ranch, why do you get stuck doing all the marketing?"
"It's complicated," Alex told her, as he waved to a familiar-looking lady with flaming orange hair. The woman peered intently at Sydney, who crossed her arms over her chest and stared right back.
"Who is that woman?"
"Thelma Lynn Grafton is not just a woman, Sydney." Alex lifted a brow. "Thelma Lynn is the high priestess of Fredericksburg gossip. She is a grapevine with legs."
"So that's where the rumor started," Syd muttered. "She didn't look like a person who was up to any good."
"Rumor?"
Sydney cleared her throat. "Uh, yes. For some reason there's this crazy rumor flying around that Julia is pregnant and that's why Roman's asked her to marry him."
"I wonder how that got started?" Alex sounded pensive.
Syd felt her cheeks heating. "I have no idea." She changed the subject. "So back to this marketing stuff. How is it complicated?"
Alex shot her an amused glance. "You Yankees are nothing if not direct, aren't you?"
Ill
Sydney shrugged. "Sorry."
"No, no, don't apologize. The complications with the emu operations arise because although it is, technically, my uncle's ranch, he's invested family funds in it. Yes, we reluctantly gave him permission, but let's just say that all the Kimballs have a vested interest in seeing the venture pay off."
"I see," said Sydney, though she didn't really see at all. If the rest of the family had thought it was a bad idea, why had they agreed to back it? "So what exactly is in this emu face cream?"
"Emu oil, which is known for healing skin conditions and burns. And other natural ingredients like lavender and honey."
"I'm not even going to ask how you obtain emu oil."
"So anyway"Alex avoided that topic"we're going to drop in at a couple of salons and spas and offer them a free sample."
"Can I see some of this stuff?"
"Sure. It's on the backseat."
Sydney turned around, and sure enough, there was a shallow box of twenty squat little jars. They'd been hand-painted, and lengths of grosgrain ribbon encircled their lids. She reached back and plucked one out of the box.
"Alex," she said suspiciously, "is this a baby-food jar?"
"Yes, I believe it started life that way, before Aunt Susie transformed it."
Shut up, Sydney. Don't say it . But her mouth opened of its own accord and told him, "They're, uh, cute. But you're not going to get anyone to take you seriously this way. They look too homemade."
"People around here like homemade," Alex said, after a pause.
"Maybe so. But you're going to want to sell this stuff outside Texas, right?"
"Eventually."
"Then you need better packaging. Professional packaging that will work in New York or LA. 'Cute' won't fly there, and the rest of the country follows the trends set in those two cities."
"I thought you were a numbers geek, not an advertising executive."
She shot him a dark look. "I've worked with clients who are small business owners. I have a client who owns a chain of salons and spas, for example. And I'd be happy to put in a good word for you, but I'll tell you right now that she won't touch anything that's packaged like this."
There was no mistaking the tinge of annoyance in Alex's voice now. "Well, I do appreciate your input."
Thinking that before she'd spoken, she should have at least looked at the stuff, Sydney twisted off the lid and peered at it.
Emulsion was a light, whipped substance that smelled of lavender, rosemary and lemon. That was good. The color was a little off-putting, though: a yellow taupe. Gingerly she poked an index finger into it and rubbed it against her thumb. It didn't feel greasyanother good sign. She scooped out a small amount and rubbed it into the back of her left hand. The stuff absorbed fairly quickly and did seem to soften her skin.
"Okay. In addition to packaging, you're going to have to change the color."
Alex's mouth dropped open and a short chuckle emerged. "More advice, huh? And why, Miz Sydney, do we need to change the color?"
"It's not attractive. You want women to open this stuff and fall in love with it. The 'emu' angle may already be a tough sell. You don't want anything else to make them hesitate."
Alex looked over at her, brows raised. "Wait a minute. I have seen women smear the most disgusting things over themselves in the name of beauty. Green goop, brown goop, white goop, grainy oatmeal-looking goop. Pink goop, tooand blue, sticky goop in their hair! Then there's the red goop on their lips and cheeks, purple and black goop on their eyes, and that so-called tanning stuff that turns 'em orange! And you're telling me that this yellowish stuff is bad?"
Sydney, laughing at his outrage, said, "Againit depends on the way it's marketed. Green is fine if it's an avocado- or cucumber-based product. The 'oatmeal-looking goop' you're talking about is probably a skin scrub or exfoliator, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, yellow is fine if you're playing up the lemony aspects of something, but I think you want to avoid yellow if you're talking about something that's been squeezed from part of a bird."
Silence. Then, "Big Bird is yellow," Alex reasoned.
"Big Bird is for kids. Big Bird does not appeal to harried women who are looking for something to renew and maybe spoil themselves with."
"Huh."
"Trust me. I'm one of those harried women. We work too hard, we worry too much, we want to relax. We want products that will make us feel young, free and pretty."
"Why can't something in a baby-food jar make you feel that way?"
"Alex." Sydney put a hand on his arm and leaned toward him earnestly. He sucked in a breath, disliking the fact that he liked the feel of her hand far too much.
"A baby-food jar is not enticing, even disguised. It's an everyday reminder of drudgery and drool and laundry. We want exotic, mysterious, elegant packaging that promises an undiscovered elixir, a beauty secret that can be exclusively ours for a price."
"Oh, please. Does that mean I should package my barbecue sauce in some kind of genie bottle?"
Syd shook her head and removed her hand. He missed its warmth immediately, irritating as that was.
"Absolutely not," she said. "For the most part, you're marketing barbecue sauce to men. You guys are different animals altogether. You'd want flames, peppers, action colors, maybe even an explosion."
"Half-naked women?" Alex asked.
"I'd draw the line at that," Sydney said, frowning.
"Why? They use sex to sell beer and car wax even the cars themselves. Scantily clad women sell sports equipment, coolers, fishing rods, boats and even vacations."
"Okay, I get the idea."
"So why not barbecue sauce?"
"Fine. I'll see if I can get my friend Donna to draw your sauce bottle nestled between a giant pair of breasts. The vixen they belo
ng to can be ducking her head to rip off the top with her teeth."
"Now that has possibilities," Alex said thoughtfully. "And it shows that she's limber." He grinned.
Syd shook her head in disgust. "See? Women want mysterythe keys to the universe. Men just want sex."
"Absolutely. Because for men, sex is the universe." His eyes gleamed and his teeth flashed very white. "So, Sydney, have I told you that you've got very cute knees?"
Alex thought she had cute knees? Nohe was kidding around. She rolled her eyes at him. "To return to the baby-food jar problem. I think we should talk to Donna right away."
"I've never even met this Donna person or seen her portfolio. Besides, she sounds expensive, and the biggest benefit of baby-food jars is that they're cheap."
"Are you sure about that? How long does it take your Aunt Susie to paint and pretty up each one? Her time is money."
"Aunt Susie likes doing it. And her time is free."
"Donna is a genius with degrees from Parsons and RISD."
"Well, she sounds entirely too big-city for the likes of us," Alex drawled.
"Not at all! She"
"Jersey, has it ever occurred to you that you're just along for the ride, and that we might not welcome your meduh, help?"
Sydney compressed her lips. He'd been about to say "meddling." She should never have opened her mouth, and while he had every right to rebuke her, it still stung. She'd only been trying to help.
"Well, I'm sorry," she said. "I just call things like I see them, and 'being along for the ride' is not really my personality."
"I'd never have guessed that." Alex's tone was dryer than Texas dust.
"You know what?" she flared. "Passivity never got anyone anywhere. Passivity is apathy, which shares a Latin root with 'pathetic' "
"Whoa. Where's all this coming from? Who are you mad at, Sydney?"
First Date - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 01] Page 8