Sweetest Mistake (Nolan Brothers #2) (15 page)

“Wh-why not?”

A shadow seemed to settle around him. “Did you buy milk?’

She went to the fridge and retrieved the gallon. Handing it to him, she reached for the bread loaf and started to work the twist-tie. Two slices toasting, her mind poked at the fact he hadn’t answered her.

At the stove, he poured the egg mixture into a skillet and raised the heat by turning the knob a notch higher.

“How long have y-you been a cop?”

He sliced an onion in half. “Ten years.”

Nearly the same amount of time she’d been her mom’s full-time caretaker. She wondered if his last ten years had been as trying as hers.

“Do y-you like it?”

“Parts of it.” His knife hit the wooden cutting board with neat ticks.

“What parts?”

His mouth quirked. “The power.”

She snorted. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth while he made more cuts through the heap of diced onion.

“You know, you’re kind of a big deal around here.”

“Am I?” A dangerous edge crept into his tone.

“Y-you know you are. They say you’re a hero.”

Lethal green eyes crashed into her. “The parents of a dead fifteen-year-old might disagree with you.”

The words, delivered like ice, froze her heart, but the wounded anguish that slashed across his face devastated her. Like a lifetime of torment had piled into that singular, brief moment. With her words, she’d brought that moment to him, and she’d regret it until the end of her days.

Then, as quickly as it came, the pain evaporated. He tried to pull the charmer’s mask back into place, but only managed a scowl.

The ticking of the toaster’s timer filled the silence until, without a word or even a spare glance in her direction, he set the knife aside, turned his back and walked out of the house, letting the door bang shut behind him.

She stared after him while her heart constricted in her chest and her mind raced to puzzle out what she had done to cause his reaction. His discomfort with the topic was evident, yet she’d pushed on, and had hurt him with her careless words.

Her stomach gave a sickening wrench.

Though she’d been doing it all her life, she despised disappointing people. Her dad. Her teachers. Her mom’s doctors. In the end, she’d even let her mom down. She should be used to it by now.

The toast popped and she startled.

She scraped butter over the bread and laid it on a tray with a banana, a muffin, and a glass of orange juice.

At the top of the stairs, as she contemplated whether she should knock or leave the tray in the hall, Max’s bedroom door swung open.

He strode into the hallway wearing jeans and the T-shirt of a rock band Emily didn’t recognize.

She pulled up short. “Good m-m-morning…”

The greeting died on her lips when she saw the backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Y-you’re leaving?”

He shoved a hand through his brown-blond hair. “Yeah, I gotta go. We’re all set for next month?”

She nodded. “November second.”

“Great.” He moved past her.

She retreated down the steps behind him, but he’d reached the front door before she achieved the bottom step.

His hand on the doorknob, he twisted toward her. “Uh, thanks.”

“Sure,” she muttered as he disappeared into a ray of sunlight.

Suddenly alone, again, in the cavernous estate, the quiet menaced. In the living room, the antique clock’s pendulum swing resonated with thunderous noise. She plopped down hard on a step and stared at the tray of food in her lap. With a heavy sigh, she picked up a slice of toast and bit into it.

She was wondering if Luke was okay and how her world had flipped on end so quickly, when an odd scent tickled her nose.

The eggs!

The screech of the smoke alarm punctured the air.

Labor Day came and went, marking the official end of summer and, thus, tourist season. It also concluded Emily’s first full month living on the island. Two weeks had passed since Luke walked out on her, and the image of his face, twisted with agony, haunted her still.

She’d had the window fixed only days before a cool north wind blew over the island. Nonetheless, that morning, she awoke with an ominous scratchiness at the back of her throat.

Still snuggled beneath the covers in bed, she sipped on ice water, the frigid liquid soothing her sore throat, and peered at the laptop balanced across her thighs. The inn’s webpage was displayed on the screen and she fiddled with the positioning of the logo she’d created.

On the nightstand, her cell phone jingled with an incoming text. She opened the message from Mina.

Meet you out front in an hour?

Emily suppressed a groan. Over a week ago, she and Mina arranged to go to the bridal shop in town and pick out dresses for Mina’s wedding next month. It was the last thing Emily wanted to do at that moment, but according to her Internet research, it was her job to make sure the bride was happy, even if that meant she must lie, cheat, or kill to achieve the feat.

An hour later, she met Mina in the driveway, a smile plastered on her face.

Tucked among the row of brick and mortar buildings lining Main Street, the bridal store boasted turn-of-the-century charm and connected to the chic clothing boutique next door.

A tinkling bell sounded when they passed through the entry. A pretty, dark-haired woman Mina appeared to know greeted them and showed them to a cream-colored room at the back of the store decorated with plush carpeting and brocade satin wallpaper.

The woman, Isobel, had smooth mocha skin, wide gray eyes, and a soft smile that put Emily at ease.

“I’ve pulled some gowns for you both to take a look at. Let me know what you like and what you don’t like.” She motioned to the white and ivory gowns on a rollaway rack.

Mina went in the other direction, to the rack with a rainbow array of dresses.

“I love this color.” She held up the skirts of an emerald gown that reminded Emily of Luke’s eyes. “What do you think?”

Emily offered her cousin a weak smile and nodded.

Mina selected several gowns and Isobel herded Emily behind the dressing curtain.

The first dress, a navy taffeta sheath, wouldn’t fit over Emily’s ample hips, and the second, in a deep burgundy silk, clashed with her bright hair. Isobel helped Emily into the emerald gown, a strapless A-line silhouette, and threw back the curtain.

Emily made her way in front of the mirrors. Beneath the store’s harsh lighting, her skin appeared pale, pasty even, and dark shadows dwelled beneath her eyes. The dress, made of a soft crepe fabric, seemed to cling to her imperfections, and even brought to light a few she didn’t know she had.

Just then, a petite brunette with a straight nose and catlike eyes swept into the room.

The air squeezed from Emily’s lungs while she gaped at her aunt, Vivian. Her resemblance to Audrey was so strong that for just the briefest moment, Emily thought her mom had walked into that bridal shop.

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Mina spoke through clenched teeth. “All the way from Traverse City?”

Vivian blinked at her daughter. “When you told me you were coming, I had to be here. This is the biggest decision of your life.”

“It’s really not,” Mina said. “Not even close.”

Vivian’s gaze turned to Emily.

“Mom, you remember Emily, don’t you? We started with her dress.”

Vivian’s green-gold gaze lingered over Emily’s face a moment, and then traveled lower. Her nose wrinkled. “That dress does nothing for you, dear.”

She turned to the rack of dresses and in one brutal sweep, rejected half the gowns outright, and sent Emily to the dressing room with three more to try on. The first gown she declared gaudy, and the second she deemed too tawdry. Emily wasn’t sure what the difference was between gaudy and tawdry, and in her opinion both gowns were pretty, but the last thing she wanted to do was engage with Mina’s mom.

So she slunk behind the curtain to change into the next dress. Tension built between her temples and her head started to ache by the time she stood in front of the trio in a dusty-purple ball gown with a fitted bodice.

Vivian tipped her head to one side and studied her. “The color is flattering to your skin tone, but you look like a cupcake. I’m afraid this one won’t work either.”

Indeed, the puffy tulle skirt overwhelmed Emily’s short frame. Disappointment twisted her face into a frown. She’d hoped this one might meet Vivian’s approval, as the boning in the bodice pushed her boobs high and made her adequate cleavage appear downright abundant.

Isobel chewed her lip and pondered Emily’s reflection in the mirror. “I wonder if we remove some of the layers of tulle, maybe you won’t look so much like a cupcake.”

She stuck her hands beneath the skirts and started to pull fabric toward the back of the gown. As Emily watched in the mirror, Isobel changed the shape of the dress from a bulbous ball gown to an elegant A-line.

“Oh, that’s pretty.” Mina fingered the tulle. “Do you like it?”

Emily considered her reflection. “I do.”

Three pairs of eyes swiveled to Vivian.

With a firm nod, she approved the selection. “Now, let’s make sure she doesn’t overpower the bride.”

Mina paled while Emily darted toward the curtain wall and out from under their scrutinizing gazes.

Vivian issued her directives to Isobel. “No mermaids and no ball gowns. They’ll only make her look wider than she is. Lace or beading in small doses only, and under no circumstances should she wear anything strapless. She needs more support, and a sleeve will help conceal that little extra under the arms.”

“This one’s pretty.” Dread filled Mina’s voice.

“Oh, darling, no. You’ll look like one of Rose’s doilies. Besides, that shade of white washes you out.”

When Emily emerged from behind the curtain, the trio was clustered around the rack, discussing the merits and drawbacks of each gown. Her limbs heavy with exhaustion, she sank into an armchair to wait.

She found her gaze drawn repeatedly to Vivian, so similar to her mom in appearance. So opposite her in personality. Sorrow squeezed like a painful knot inside her chest.

Only two gowns passed Vivian’s inspection and Isobel quickly herded an increasingly dejected-looking Mina behind the curtain.

Vivian perched on the edge of an armchair next to Emily. “I’m not sure about this plan of yours to have dinner at the house,” she called to Mina. “Shouldn’t we find something nicer?”

“Noah and I are together because of the house.” Mina’s voice carried through the curtain. “We want to celebrate there.”

Vivian heaved a martyred sigh into the air. “Maybe I’d better have a look. See if I can make it work.”

A sneeze tickled the back of Emily’s nose and erupted.

“Emily’s taking care of everything,” Mina called. “She planned the grand opening, and it was perfect.”

Vivian’s critical gaze swung to Emily.

Amidst a honking blow into a Kleenex, Emily froze.

Vivian turned her head back in the direction of the curtain. “What are you doing about flowers?”

“Emily’s already picked them out.” Mina’s words sounded strained, as though she held her breath. “What are they called again, Em?”

“Ranunculus.” Emily folded the tissue and tucked it into the pocket of her sweatshirt. “Wi-with brunia and seeded eucalyptus.”

Vivian frowned.

“And wh-white lilies,” Emily added.

The lines eased from Vivian’s face. “Well, you have to let me do something.”

With a whoosh, Isobel swept back the curtain and Mina appeared before them in a corseted A-line with delicate off-the-shoulder sleeves.

Vivian took one look at her and said, simply, “No.”

Mina accepted the rejection without flinching. “You’re helping me with my dress.” She yanked the curtain closed. “You don’t need to do anything more than that.”

“I could use y-your help w-with the menu.”