Tapestry of Trust

by Mary Annslee Urban

  Kate’s sigh snagged Isabelle’s attention. She glanced up and met her friend’s swollen eyes. “Find anything?”

  “I’m searching.”

  Another sigh and Kate blanched even paler, accentuating the orange in her hair.

  Isabelle stifled a chuckle at her pitiful friend. Kate wouldn’t have been concerned about conditioning her hair if not for the shower tomorrow, and look how her efforts had paid off— with tangerine hair. Once again, a nightmare more than a dream.

  She snapped her laptop shut. “OK, we need toner. The beauty supply store is open until seven.” Isabelle hurried to the door. “Come on.”

  Kate, still looking a bit shell-shocked, ambled over. “Are you sure? I don’t want my hair looking worse.”

  Like that was possible. Isabelle spared Kate the thought as she shepherded her out of the apartment. “We’ll read the directions carefully. Worst case scenario, your hair will turn purple.” A little more vogue, in Isabelle’s opinion.

  Kate halted at the end of the walk. “Pur-ple?”

  Before more tears escaped Kate’s eyes, Isabelle grabbed her by the elbow and guided her toward the car. “I said worst case. We’ll be fine. That’s what directions are for.”

  ****

  The next morning, Isabelle slammed the car door and trudged back inside the apartment for the last of the shower supplies. Exhaustion racked her body. They were up until three in the morning fiddling with Kate’s hair, looking for shower games, and preparing food.

  “How do I look?” Kate pirouetted into the room and dipped into a curtsy.

  Still amazed at how four bottles of toner, a cup of cider vinegar and one of Kate’s own conditioners had done the trick, Isabelle nodded. By midnight, Kate looked like her old self again. Now dressed in a white crepe skirt and matching vest, Isabelle thought Kate looked every bit a magazine version of a glamorous bride-to-be. “Simply lovely. Are you coming early with me?”

  Kate flashed her nails. “My manicure is at noon. I’ll be there about two. Let Mark’s mom know, will you? Otherwise, she’ll be bugging me while my nails are drying.”

  “I’ll do it. See you there.” Jerking her purse off the kitchen table, Isabelle was on her way out the door when Kate intercepted her.

  “Are you wearing those?”

  Isabelle followed Kate’s gaze down to her feet, still cozy inside pink and white sneakers. “I guess they don’t match, do they?” Distraction, the culprit again. She dropped her things on the sofa and hurried into her room.

  Stretching, she pulled high-heeled sandals from the top shelf in the closet. After slipping them on, she couldn’t resist a quick peek in the mirror. Her sundress hit just above the knee and the black sash at her waist matched the shoes perfectly. She re-pinned a fallen wisp from her upswept hair, then propped her hands on hips. She twisted from side to side. Not too shabby. Although she had no one to impress.

  Now properly dressed, she gave Kate a hug on her way out the door. “See you there.” She turned and glimpsed the flowers on the entryway table. “I almost forgot about those. I thought we could use them as a centerpiece.”

  Kate walked over. “They’re beautiful. Who are they from?”

  Isabelle crossed her arms, still disappointed about receiving flowers instead of an assistant. “I guess this is the school’s way of saying, ‘Sorry, no help this year.’”

  “Really? I don’t recall any other teacher without an aide getting flowers.” When Kate’s eyes narrowed with the same speculative glare as Becky, Isabelle’s heart sank.

  Something didn’t feel right. She plucked the tiny card off the plastic clip. Becky probably delivered them to the wrong classroom. She started to open the envelope then halted. Unless… Charlie?

  “Isabelle. Read the card.”

  “I don’t have time. I’ll read it later.” She tossed the card on the table and swooped up the vase of flowers.

  Kate picked the card up. Before Isabelle could snatch it back, Kate started reading.

  “Isabelle, Sorry about everything. Let’s talk. Love, Charlie. P. S. Tell Humphrey hello.” Kate’s eyes narrowed. “You never have filled me in about you and Charlie.”

  Nor would she. Isabelle clutched the vase closer. “Kate, I better leave before Mrs. Johnson calls.”

  “You know, Mark told me Charlie’s a nice guy.”

  Isabelle sent Kate her best glower.

  Kate didn’t take the hint. “Isabelle, give him a chance.”

  “I don’t think his girlfriend would appreciate that.”

  “Girlfriend?” Kate’s eyes rounded. “Are you sure?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Isabelle, I...” Just like that, color drained from Kate’s face. Loyal to the core.

  Isabelle waved a hand. “I know. He’s a creep.”

  “Isabelle, about today…”

  “I know. I better go.”

  “Yeah.” Kate shrugged. “I suppose you better.”

  7

  Charlie stood beside his truck and narrowed his eyes at the storefront, Kitchen Comforts and Cozy Bath. A much bigger store than he imagined, but he was game. He pocketed his keys and crossed the parking lot.

  Ready to push through the door, he stopped mid step when someone yelled, “Wait up, Charlie.”

  He turned to find Erica, dressed in a black slinky dress, tottering toward him as fast as her high heels would let her. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I told you I’d help you pick out a gift for the bride and groom.”

  “And, I told you no. Besides, I thought you decided not to attend.”

  “I changed my mind since everyone else in our graduate class will be there.”

  Great. “But since I don’t need your help, I’ll see you at the shower.” He took a step then pivoted back. He held up a finger. “By the way, why were you talking to my mother about us?”

  Erica narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I? We’re almost like family.”

  Charlie inhaled a steadying breath. “Almost is the key word, remember that. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep my mother out of our issues. It only gets her hopes up for something that will never happen.” And makes his life miserable.

  “Mothers do know best, Charlie.”

  Charlie swallowed a snort. Now she sounded like his mother. “My mother’s opinions have no influence on my personal life. Remember that, too.” He turned and pushed open the glass doors.

  Erica dogged his steps. “As long as I’m here, I might as well look around.”

  Charlie tossed her a weary glance. “Haven’t you already bought them a gift?”

  “Of course.” She shot him a smug grin. “From one of the specialty shops at The Arboretum. I don’t shop at places like this.”

  Then why are you here? He kept that thought to himself. Best to leave it alone.

  One quick glance around and he knew he was in over his head. Literally. From floor to ceiling, shelves lined the walls, stocked with linens, knick-knacks of all sorts, not to mention small kitchen appliances, countless selections of dinnerware, and every other domestic gizmo known to man. More homey junk than he ever envisioned.

  For a moment, he was tempted to head back to his truck. He glanced at Erica. Her face was scrunched up, and she popped a fist on her hip. “How would someone even find their way around this store?”

  A lot of help she’ll be. Charlie shrugged. “There must be a map somewhere.”

  Blowing out a breath, he checked around. Only a maze of aisles stared back. He scratched his head and studied the list in his hand. Two pages of possibilities.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  Help? Yep, that’s what he needed. He glanced in the direction of the voice.

  “I’m looking for a shower gift.”

  “A wedding shower gift, Charlie.” Erica glared at him. “You have to be more specific.

  Charlie restrained from rolling his eyes. “OK. A wedding shower gift.”

  The portly woman finished plumping
a tiger striped throw pillow and walked toward Charlie. He tried not to stare, but one look at the sales woman’s leopard print outfit, and he couldn’t help thinking she could have doubled for one of the pillows she’d been sorting. Clearing his voice, he forced the distraction aside. “I have this registration list. I think that’s what this is.”

  “Gift registry.” The clerk, whose nametag read Betsy, stopped in front of him and proffered her hand. “Can I see the list?”

  Charlie handed it over, feeling a bit awkward for shower shopping in the first place. As a youngster, he remembered his mother attended some, but never his father. Something new in the world of weddings, he guessed.

  “This way.”

  Charlie, with Erica at his heels, followed the salesclerk around a bin of plastic utensils. “We’ll start with the bathroom accessories.” Raising her arm, she pointed to somewhere in the distance.

  Great, a tour of the store. Even better than a map. She ushered them through the layaway section and down a narrow, soap-scented aisle. Rubbing his nose, Charlie glanced to the right, then the left. From Texas-shaped sinks to His and Hers monogrammed robes, the shelves were loaded with possibilities. A field day for shopaholics, he’d bet. Which didn’t include him.

  The clerk pointed out each registered item and gave a detailed description, including color options and availability. He’d never heard anyone talk so fast. Before he processed the data, the woman walked on, moving non-stop like a wind-up toy.

  “Wait up lady, I’m in heels.” Erica squealed from behind them.

  Charlie shook his head, not having any trouble keeping up with Betsy.

  From the aisle they were in, Betsy doubled back around the corner and motioned Erica forward.

  Erica caught up, giving both Betsy and him a look of disgust. “You’re not being much of a gentlemen, Charlie.”

  “Hey, I didn’t ask you to come.” Charlie whispered, not wanting to make a scene. “But as long as you’re here, let me know if you see anything Mark and Kate might like.”

  Erica beamed. “And you didn’t think you’d need me.”

  Brother. “Just tell me when you see something. OK?” He hissed under his breath.

  “Is this your first shower?” Betsy glanced back over her shoulder.

  “Yes. First one.” Charlie nodded.

  The sound of high heels clicking against the tile floor kept time with his steps.

  “Actually, we were both invited to another. But he refused to attend.”

  Erica cast him a dark glance.

  He averted her stare and didn’t comment. He would have declined this time if Isabelle hadn’t been involved.

  After they wove in and out of several more aisles, with Betsy pointing out several more items on the list, she stopped and gestured to a display to her right. “These are self-watering planters.” Her eyes glinted. “Since the bride and groom haven’t made a specific selection, you can choose the one you like.”

  Laughing, Erica stared at the happy-grow hippo and frog planters. “They have these on their list?”

  Pressing her lips together, Betsy plunked her fists on her hips.

  Charlie put his hands in his pocket and tried not to cringe. “Betsy, how many more items are on that list?”

  “We’re almost done.” Her dark brows lifted. “Unless, you’ve already decided on something?”

  He glanced at Erica, hoping for once she could help him out.

  She shrugged. “Nothing yet.”

  He figured as much. “Maybe you better show us the rest.”

  Betsy took off walking again. Finally at the far corner of the store she halted again. Stepping up to a display at the end of an aisle, she ran her hand along the edge of a box. “OK. This is the last item on the list. A waterfall relaxation fountain. Once the spray is turned on, you’ll be transported into a state of tranquility.” She knotted her hands under her chin as her eyes, too big for her face, twinkled. “Do you own one?”

  Charlie cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t even know why I’d need one.”

  Her dark brows went together in what he took as a frown.

  “I’m sure they’re nice though,” he quickly amended.

  Too late. Betsy mashed her lips, handed him back the list and crossed her arms. “Any questions?”

  “Yes.” Erica piped up.

  Now Charlie did cringe. He never knew what to expect.

  “That relaxation fountain, does it really work?”

  Betsy eagerly nodded. “Absolutely. Perfect for a romantic evening at home.” She waggled her eyebrows at Charlie.

  Charlie shot up a hand. “Hey, just looking for a shower gift. I’m not in the market for one myse—”

  “I’ll take one.” Erica grabbed a box off the shelf. “The bride and groom would probably like one too.” She smiled that wicked smile at him.

  He looked away.

  If he understood nothing else, he knew this would be his last wedding shower. He tugged at his collar, and reminded himself he didn’t have to attend. Something he’d considered until visions of Isabelle arose in his mind. He studied the list closer. “So that fountain thing, everybody likes it?”

  That brought a smile to Betsy face. “Yes. One of our best sellers.”

  Charlie rubbed his jaw, trying to decide. He never imagined shower shopping to be so mind-boggling. Glancing at his watch, he sighed. “Do you by any chance have a gift card?”

  Outside Erica stood in the middle of the parking lot hugging the box. “Charlie, since we don’t know exactly where we’re going, we should drive together.”

  Was she kidding? “You have a GPS. That’s what I’ll be using.” Charlie continued to his truck, holding a Kitchen Comforts and Cozy Bath wrapped box with a gift card inside.

  ****

  Hearing the stove timer buzz, Isabelle grabbed hot pads and pulled the last baking sheet from the oven. She blew back a wisp of hair, thinking she’d never cooked so much in her life. Guests better show up hungry. She arranged another batch of hors d’oeuvres on a silver platter.

  “The food is finally finished.”

  Busy at the sink, Mrs. Johnson looked up. “Excellent, dear. I’ll get the ingredients out for the punch.”

  “Sounds good.” Isabelle grabbed the trays. She carried them to the dining room and placed them on the corner of the table, savoring the heavenly scents. She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped back to survey the spread. Perfect.

  She spun around and headed back into the kitchen. “Everything looks wonder—” The words died on her tongue as Mrs. Johnson poured fruit-juice and ginger-ale into the punchbowl.

  “Uh, didn’t you want the punch on the dining room table with the food?” Can’t leave the woman alone for a moment.

  Mrs. Johnson plopped citrus pieces into the sparkling punch. “Don’t these look nice floating on top?” Several heartbeats and a handful of lemon slices later, her gray head snapped up, and her hand flew to her throat. “Oh my, you’re right. We should have filled the punch bowl on the dining room table. I’m sorry dear. Please do be careful not to spill any on the floor. The housekeeper just mopped.”

  “No problem.” Isabelle chuckled and picked up the heavy bowl. For the last two hours she and Mrs. Johnson scurried around the house, decorating, moving furniture, and finishing up the cooking. Now, everything was ready. No small feat, considering Kate’s other bridesmaids weren’t able to arrive early enough to help.

  Careful not to jiggle the glass bowl too much, Isabelle carried it to the table, holding her breath as citrusy punch splashed over the sides and onto her knuckles. She placed the punch on the linen cloth and wiped her hands on her apron. She breathed relief and turned, nearly colliding with Mrs. Johnson.

  Carrying Isabelle’s donated vase of flowers, Mrs. Johnson barely batted an eye. “These will make a lovely centerpiece.”

  Isabelle nodded but didn’t comment. Better here than at her house.

  “Dear, could you arrange the chairs on either side of the fa
mily room? You know, girls on one side, boys on the other.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Isabelle grabbed one dining room chair after another and carried them into the family-room. She positioned them, adding an armchair to each row, only to nick her ankle with one of the wooden legs. Biting her tongue, she hobbled around a second, rubbing the injured spot when she heard the doorbell ring.

  Mrs. Johnson appeared in the room, tugging her blouse in place. “Did you drop something, dear?”

  Straightening, Isabelle shook her head. “No, I just hit my—”

  “Good, I’m glad everything is under control. Would you mind finishing up the dishes? I need to welcome the guests.”

  Isabelle didn’t mind and would have said so, if given the chance. Before she could reply, Mrs. Johnson was out of the room and scuttling down the hall. “No problem.” Isabelle muttered with a smile.

  Standing at the sink, Isabelle reached for another dirty pot and caught a glimpse of her fast-fading nail polish. Lovely. Shaking her head, she dragged the pot into the soapy water and started scrubbing. Her nails didn’t matter. This was Kate and Mark’s day, and...Mrs. Johnson’s.

  Laughter from down the hall poured into the kitchen. Isabelle rinsed the last pan just as Abby, one of the bridesmaids sailed into the room.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t get here sooner. What can I do to help? Mark, Kate, and some of the guests have already arrived.”

  Isabelle laid down the dishcloth and tossed her apron on the back of a kitchen stool. “Nothing. We’re good.”

  “Then let’s get the party started.” Abby led the way into the family room, where eight guests mingled in a tight circle.

  “Isabelle.” Kate caught her in a hug. “Everything looks great.”

  Isabelle opened her mouth to respond but shut it when she felt a presence at her shoulder. Mrs. Johnson skittered around her and gave Kate a kiss on the cheek. “Are you ready for a wonderful party?”