On the drive home last night, when it was dark and the music was low, Zach had asked his father whether there was any chance he and Kristin might get back together if she didn’t marry Donnie.
“Zach, it’s not a matter of us getting back together. We never were together except long enough to make you.” Then he made a sort of strangled laugh, like he couldn’t quite believe it happened. “That’s how special you are, you know. A tiny window of opportunity opened in this vast bleakness, and two unhappy people found a way to bring a little joy to each other. And you were the result.”
Zach had never heard anyone except a teacher talk so philosophically, and he hadn’t known what to say. Eventually, his father turned up the music on the CD player, as if he felt uncomfortable.
“Thanks, sweetie,” Jenny said when they were done decorating the arch. “Tucker, Lara, let’s go find your daddy so Mommy can help Auntie Kristin get beautiful.” She pushed the ladder into Zach’s hands and smiled. “Will you put this away for me? Your mother has always preferred the natural look, but that won’t do for today.”
Zach smiled. The way Jenny said it wasn’t a put-down. Both of his aunts seemed to care about his mother, and Zach liked that. It almost made the move to Gold Creek worthwhile.
As he carried the ladder to the shed behind the empty garage, he pictured his exchange with his mother last night. Zach had been shocked by her appearance. Her face was bright pink, as if she’d scrubbed it in an effort to keep him from seeing how miserable she was, but the redness in her eyes and the way her bottom lip trembled told him she’d been crying.
After talking to her, he’d made up his mind never to fall in love. It just wasn’t worth the pain.
“I know what you’re thinking,” a voice said as Zach rounded the corner by the gate.
He nearly jumped out of his skin. How could someone as old and rickety as Ida Jane sneak up on him? “Huh?” he said, playing dumb. It worked with most adults.
She just gave him a knowing look and motioned him closer. He liked Ida, even if she sometimes made him uncomfortable. She was soft, and her smell reminded him of a basket of potpourri his mother used to have. It had gotten spilled during one of their moves.
The thought made his throat feel as if he’d swallowed a bunch of razor blades. And something suspiciously like tears formed in his eyes. He would have bolted, but Ida latched on to his hand and wouldn’t let go. Who knew old ladies were so strong?
“Let’s sit down. Out of the way. Before someone runs us over.”
Her cane made a crunching noise on the pebbled path. She held on tight with her free hand. He helped her sit down on the curved redwood bench. “Your mama taught you such nice manners,” she said. “I’m so proud of her. I wonder why she doesn’t know that.”
She sounded puzzled, and Zach sat down, thinking he might be able to tell Ida why his mother was the way she was. But before he could speak, she said, “Your mother was so tiny when she was born we almost lost her. The nurses kept a round-the-clock watch. I sat by her little isolette and prayed like I never prayed before—or since, I’m ashamed to say.”
She closed her eyes a moment, then said, “Growing up, she was always behind the other two girls, but Kristin never gave up.” Ida smiled as if she was seeing the little girls playing in front of her. “She was sweet and pretty and people made allowances for her—teachers, coaches. Nobody wanted to see her fail. At anything.”
Zach wasn’t sure he understood the point of the story.
“Most times that kind of pampering spoils a person. It makes them smug or cocky, but with your mother it was just the opposite. She didn’t believe she could do anything on her own. Without help. And she never really had to—until she went away.”
Zach decided to ask the question that had been bothering him for weeks. “What would have happened if she hadn’t gotten knocked up…I mean—”
Ida’s cackle made him look around nervously. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to share. “Who knows? But if you ask me, getting pregnant was the best thing she could have done. It got her out of the nest, and even though I would have helped her if I’d known about you, your mother felt she had to raise you alone. To prove something to herself.”
She looked at him and nodded as if something just made sense to her. “She might never have done that if you hadn’t come along.”
Surprisingly, Zach felt better than he had all day. All month, in fact. He looked at Ida Jane and smiled. “Do you think this wedding is going to work out?”
She blinked several times. “Wedding?” she said, suddenly looking around in confusion. “But Jenny and Josh already got married. Didn’t they?”
Zach had heard his mother and her sisters talk about Ida getting old and forgetting stuff. There was a name for it, but he couldn’t remember what they said to do when she dipped out. He looked around for help, but nobody was near. With his heart in his throat, he squeezed her hand and said, “Kristin and Donnie are getting married today.”
He felt the tension leave her—as if someone had let the air out of a balloon. She smiled, her eyes a bit watery. “Oh, good. They’ve loved each other forever.”
Zach wanted to believe her, but how could he trust anything she said? She was a sweet lady but she was so old.
“TEN INVITATIONS,” Kristin cried, batting Jenny’s hand away. The tip of her finger connected with the hot curling iron, and she yelped. “That’s all we gave out. How did ten invitations multiply into that—” she pointed to the activity in the backyard “—that Cecil B. DeMille production?”
She popped her smarting finger into her mouth and continued to stare at the crowd that seemed to grow each time she blinked.
Jenny grabbed a hunk of hair and twisted it up to Kristin’s scalp. Kris sighed. “Why are you doing this to me? I have more curls than Harpo Marx.”
“I’m taming the beast. Sit down and let me work,” Jenny ordered, using the curling rod as leverage to get Kris back to the stool in front of Ida Jane’s vanity.
Kris slumped in a pout. “This is crazy. How did word get out so fast?”
In the mirror, she saw her sisters look at each other. “Well, I did tell a couple of people to come,” Jenny admitted. “Old friends who I knew would be hurt if we left them out.”
Andi nodded. “Me, too. And Ida called a few.”
“You let Ida near a phone?” Kris wailed.
Jenny took a deep breath and grabbed Kristin by the shoulders. “Face it, Kris. You’re a Sullivan triplet. Of course people want to see you get married.”
Kris’s stomach felt as if someone had scoured it with bleach. She appealed to Andi for help. Andi was the pragmatic one; she’d find a way to salvage the situation before it got out of hand.
Andi reached into the pocket of her loose-fitting aubergine silk suit and produced a delicate lace hankie, which she used to dab her eyes. Sniffling, she said, “It’s going to be perfect. The sun is shining and it’s warm and the flowers are so you…oh, it’s perfect.”
Kris would have shaken her head, but Jenny was mauling another section of hair. Her already turbulent emotions gathered at the base of her skull, causing the steady pain to throb.
“Girls, I need a moment alone,” she said. “Please.”
Jenny administered a cloud of hair spray before leaving. Kris didn’t even glance in the mirror. She rose and walked to the window again. The parking lot was almost full. She dug her fingers at the source of her pain and rolled her shoulders to try to ease the tension.
Suddenly, a hand brushed her fingers away and two thumbs applied a solid, warm pressure to the spot. “Are you okay?” Donnie asked softly, his breath close to her ear. “Headache? Or cold feet?”
She closed her eyes, unable to stop the sensations of pleasure that enveloped her like a hug. The pain in her head disappeared as the smell of him—a woodsy cologne and fresh air—filled her senses. Her hands dropped to her sides. “Both. But I’m doing better now,” she mumbled.
His si
gh caressed her shoulder where the scooped neckline of her dress revealed bare, white skin. “Good. It’s turning into a circus out there. I came to warn you.”
“Is Gloria here?” She tensed, but he splayed his hands against her shoulders and massaged until she relaxed.
“No. Both Gloria and her son have shown commendable restraint, whereas my ex took one look at the size of the party and decided to stay.”
His cheerful teasing made her step away and turn to face him. He quickly averted his eyes. “Technically, you’re a bride and I’m a groom.”
She took his face in her hands and made him look at her. “This is getting way out of hand, Donnie.”
His eyes narrowed just a fraction, then he smiled. A Donnie smile. “It’s Gold Creek, Kris. What did you expect?” He looked at her tenderly. “Are you still okay with Sam announcing my candidacy today? The campaign consultant he hired thinks it’s a great idea.” He lowered his head and pressed a soft sweet kiss to her lips. “If you don’t like it, tell me and I’ll cancel the plan.”
After one last quick glance out the window, she sighed. “No, it is a great opportunity.” She looked at him. “Do we have enough food?”
Again, he smiled. “Everyone brought food. And tables. And chairs. And coolers full of beer.”
She had to grin, too. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a party.”
He offered her his elbow. “Shall we go?”
For the first time, Kris looked at him, from head to toe. She inhaled sharply. “Oh my gosh, Donnie, you look gorgeous.”
He was dressed in a western-style tuxedo with a skinny black tie, pearl buttons and black cowboy boots. His hair looked as though Jenny might have gotten hold of him, too. The waves were right out of a fashion magazine.
He threw back his head and laughed. “Well, thank you. I didn’t want to be completely over-shadowed by my bride, but I don’t think I was successful. All eyes will be on you.”
His look made Kris regret the trouble she’d given Jenny over this dress—a tea-length ivory lace gown with seeded pearls across the bodice. “It’s too fancy,” she’d argued when Jenny had demanded they buy it. “It’s too much money.”
Jenny had insisted on paying for it. And Jonathan and Andi had offered to cover the cost of the reception. “We want you to be as happy as we are,” Andi had said with a gushiness that was so not Andi.
“Oops, I made you cry,” Donnie said, pulling her to Ida’s bed—a Queen Anne platform with a lace coverlet. “Let me get you a tissue.”
He presented her with a whole box then waited while she dabbed her nose and eyes. Jenny had insisted on makeup today, too. “At the risk of more waterworks, I need to tell you something,” Donnie said, pulling up the dressing-table stool so they were sitting eye-to-eye.
She swallowed noisily. “Is this about last night?”
He nodded.
“Are you sorry we did it?”
His head moved from side to side, never taking his eyes off her. “Then what?”
He took a breath. “I love you, Kris. Always have. Probably always will, but you were right last night.”
Kristin bit her lip, tasting lipstick.
“I couldn’t admit the truth to myself until this morning,” he continued. “I love this town and I don’t want to see it destroyed by greed and corruption. I can’t wait four years. Even if it means I wind up broke and unemployed, I have to try now. Are you absolutely certain you want to go down that road with me?”
His smile was so real and honest she wanted to kiss him, but she knew better than to start something that might lead to more than they intended.
She sat up straight and took a deep breath. “I’m through traveling, Donnie, but I think Andi’s right. Given the choice between business as usual and a fresh, honest voice in government, people will pick you. You’re going to win and I’m going to be the sheriff’s wife. How cool is that?”
He rose and held out his hand. “Pretty cool.”
She studied his face—the face she’d loved since childhood. In his eyes was a gratifying look—full of hunger and desire. She smiled and tapped his nose and said, “Sorry, Charlie, we have business to take care of today.”
She slipped off the bed and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress.
“We’ve still got some time before the ceremony,” he said, his voice deep and sexy.
She shook her head, then ran her tongue across her bottom lip for good measure and walked away.
Stifling a giggle, she bumped into her sisters in the hall. “Are you ready? People are getting antsy,” Jenny said.
“Yeah, the beer’s getting warm,” Andi added with a wink. “Where’s the groom?”
Kris looked over one shoulder. “Oh, he’ll be along in a minute. Last-minute jitters.”
Her sisters looked at her, then each other. But they had no time to say anything because a second later the groom-to-be walked out of Ida’s bedroom.
Jenny swooped down on him. “Places, everyone. It’s show time.”
DONNIE EMPLOYED what he called his game face as he circulated among the many guests and party crashers who milled about the bordello’s garden. The smokers were clustered just outside the fence in the parking lot—a sort of wedding tailgate party. So far, an hour and a half after the ceremony, he was still nursing the same glass of sparkling cider. He didn’t want a drink—he wanted his wife.
My wife. No matter how many times he said the words, they didn’t seem real. He’d been married once and knew what it was to have a person who shared your name, your bank account, your bed. But he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to share those things with Kristin.
And no matter how many times he reminded himself of the practical reasons for this marriage, his heart still swelled with pride when he looked at her. So lovely, so bright and full of joy. Her body language spoke to people, he decided, watching the way she bent over to hug Lillian Carswell. And a minute later, she was laughing, head thrown back, when Pascal Fournier plopped her down on his knee and wouldn’t let her go. His brother, Waldo—a giant of a man at six-five, three hundred ninety pounds—shook with laugher when Kris bussed Pascal’s cheek.
Kris’s playful flirting was never a come-on. Men loved her, but so did their wives. And her hidden assets would soon be in his bed, he thought, recalling their night of passion.
“You’ve got a dreamy look in your eyes,” a soft voice said, taking him by surprise a minute later. “Bored to tears or thinking about all those boxes of mine to move?”
Too embarrassed to admit where his fantasies had led him, he lied. “I was thinking that it was too bad your cousins couldn’t make the wedding. Then I was thinking about Ireland, which led me to think about Italy. Remember when we planned to hunt down my father’s ancestors?”
“I do,” she exclaimed. “Wasn’t there a Grimaldo who worked for Ghirardelli when he opened his first store in Hornitos?” When he nodded, she added, “Imagine where your family might have been if he’d moved to San Francisco instead of marrying your great-grandmother—a miner’s daughter from Scotland.”
It left him speechless that she could recall that kind of detail about his life.
“Look,” she said, lifting a basket of party favors—clusters of pastel-colored Jordan almonds wrapped in white netting and tied with white ribbon.
Kris reached into the basket and offered him one. Donnie shook his head with a barely suppressed shudder. Pastel almonds reminded him of his first wedding. He’d munched down a couple of handfuls before some undercooked pork got the best of him. He’d been ill for two days. For some reason, he could eat pork again, but the taste of Jordan almonds still haunted him.
“Please,” she begged in a hushed tone, “Lillian made them. She must have spent hours putting them together and tying them—and she has really bad arthritis. I spend half of each massage working on her hands.” Stepping close to him, she added in a whisper, “Personally, they’re too sweet for me, but it was very thoughtful. We need to pass them o
ut to all the guests.”
With a secret wink she added, “Or we get to keep them.”
Donnie put down his glass and took the handle of the basket from her. “Your slightest wish is my command, Mrs. Grimaldo. By the way, in case you didn’t hear me earlier, you are amazingly beautiful. Every man in the place is jealous of me.”
Her blush made him smile.
After the last of the almonds were distributed, Donnie looked around for his son. Sandy had planned to leave with Lucas after the wedding, but Donnie had put his foot down. “He’s in school, Sandy. He can’t afford to miss any more days. I’ve already heard from one of his teachers that he’s falling behind. He might even need a tutor.”
She’d argued, but finally agreed to postpone her flight to L.A. another day so she could spend it with their son. She was going to take Lucas to her cabin as soon as the wedding reception ended.
Lucas was sitting near the serving table, and by the number of empty cola cans in front of him, hadn’t moved since he’d been released from duty in the greeting line. Donnie had asked him to serve as his best man. And while Lucas had complied, he obviously hadn’t enjoyed the experience.
Zach had walked his mother to the flower-festooned arch with conspicuous pride, his head held high. He wore black trousers and a long-sleeved white shirt. His skinny tie had Star Trek images on it. Almost as tall as his mother, he looked older than his years. Donnie had overheard a number of comments about what a handsome boy he was becoming.
Handsome, but prickly. So far, he’d kept to himself, just like Lucas.
Donnie spotted Bethany in a severe black dress. She separated from a group of sheriff’s employees and approached him. “You clean up pretty good for an old man,” she said, her eyes alight with laughter.
“You look nice, too—for being in mourning.”
The Comeback Girl Page 17