The Wedding Tree (25 page)

hope

I
peered at my reflection in the highboy in Gran's bedroom as I fastened the single strand of pearls around my neck, then turned toward Gran, my arms out. “How do I look?” I asked.

Gran clapped her hands from her seat in the rocking chair, beaming like a wrinkled cherub. “Oh, you're beautiful! You look just like Audrey Hepburn!”

I moved to the cheval mirror in the corner and eyed myself. Wearing Gran's vintage black sheath with my hair in an updo, I did, indeed, look like I belonged in an old movie. “All I'm lacking are elbow-length black gloves.”

“I have some, if you'd like to wear them,” Gran volunteered.

I was tempted, but I didn't want to push “vintage” into “dressed for a costume party.” “Thanks, but I'd better pass.”

“Oh my, don't you look pretty!” said Nadine. The aide had worked late, largely, I suspected, to see me off on my date. She turned to Gran. “I have your dinner ready.”

We helped Gran up and onto her walker. She'd no sooner gotten settled in the kitchen than the doorbell rang.

I hurried to answer it. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Matt standing there, wearing a fitted dark suit, looking, as Gran would say, “handsome as all get-out.”

He seemed appreciative of my efforts, as well.

“Wow!” he murmured.

I felt my face heat under his gaze. “It's Gran's dress. I didn't pack anything for a big night out when I came to town.”

“You look amazing.”

“Tell your young gentleman to come in here so I can see you together,” Gran called.

“I feel like I'm going to prom,” he murmured.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“What for?” He took my elbow and grinned. “I just wish I'd brought a corsage.”

Gran clapped her hands again as we entered the kitchen. “Oh, what a fine-looking couple! I wish I could see straight so I could take a picture.”

“I can take one,” Nadine offered.

Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. He put his arm around my waist, and we both smiled.

“Now take one of us with Miss Addie,” he said.

“Oh, I'm better off behind the camera than in front of it,” Gran fussed, but she seemed pleased as we circled around the table and posed on either side of her.

“Thank you for being so sweet about all that,” I said once we'd escaped the house and gotten settled in his car.

“No problem,” he said, backing out of the drive. “Reminded me of my mom, insisting I bring my prom date by the house so she could see her.”

“Where are your parents?”

He shifted gears and pulled the car onto the street. “They lived in Houston. That's where I grew up. Mom died of breast cancer while I was in college.”

My heart went out to him. “I'm sorry. That had to be rough.”

“Yeah, it was. Especially on Dad. They'd been married thirty-two years.”

“How is he now?”

“Great. He remarried a few years ago and lives in Australia.”

“Australia!”

Matt nodded. “My sister married an Aussie, and when Dad went to visit them, they introduced him to a widow at their church, and, well, the rest is history.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Not really—once a year or so. We Skype a lot, but Dad's the quiet type. Never has much to say.”

“Are you and your sister close?”

“Yeah. She's crazy about the girls. She and her husband have been trying to have kids for years, but so far, no luck. They're thinking about adopting from Russia or China. I've been looking into the legalities for her.”

Matt was a real family man, I thought—the kind of guy whose roots ran deep, who knew the meaning of commitment. Too bad we were both on the rebound, headed in entirely different directions. I'd just accepted a fabulous job in Chicago, and he had a ways to go to get over his wife. If we'd met at another point in our lives, maybe . . .

He turned into the civic center parking lot, stopping my thoughts from jumping off a dangerous cliff. He parked the car, killed the engine, then drew a long breath.

“Dreading seeing Jillian?” I guessed.

He nodded.

“We could blow this off and go somewhere else,” I suggested.

“I thought about that, but I invited some friends to join us at the table.”

“Well, I know it doesn't feel like it, but we're doing Jillian a favor,” I said softly. “I wish I'd found out right away that Kurt was more interested in my maid of honor than in me.”

Matt looked at me, surprised. “Is that what happened?”

I nodded. “I caught them together.”

He shook his head. “You were married to an idiot.”

His indignation flattered me. “I'm the one who felt like an idiot, not seeing it sooner. It felt like a double whammy, being betrayed by my husband and my best friend.”

He gazed at me for a long moment, his eyes warm. “A lot of people would just shut down after something like that.”

“Oh, I did.”

“You seem fine now.”

I lifted my shoulders and grinned. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

He grinned back and reached for my hand. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For making me feel like less of a jerk.”

“Anytime.”

We climbed out of the car and headed inside. I spotted Jillian the minute we walked under a bower of silk flowers into the dimly lit hall. So did Matt.

“Oh, man. She's wearing Christine's dress,” he murmured.

“Really?” It was a beige silk dress with rhinestone shoulder straps. “It looks great on her.”

“Don't you think it's weird?”

I lifted my shoulders. “I'm the wrong person to consult. After all, I'm wearing my grandmother's clothes.”

He laughed and my answer seemed to placate him, but, yeah, I thought it was a little odd—especially if Jillian had planned to wear that on a date with Matt.

We headed to the bar, then circulated around the room. I was delighted to see Kirsten—and even more delighted to learn Matt had invited her to join us at his table, along with Aimee and her husband. The five of us hung together as we made our rounds of the room.

When I spotted Jillian again, a tall, lanky man was earnestly talking to her.

“Who's that?” I asked Kirsten.

“Phillip Mitchell, the new senior physics teacher at the high school. Looks like he's
ver-y
interested in Jillian.”

“Let's ask him to join us at the table,” I suggested to Matt.

“Good idea.”

Jillian polished off her drink and reached for a glass of wine from a passing waiter as we approached.

“Hello, Jillian,” I said, mustering my warmest smile. “You look beautiful.”

“Love your dress,” said Kirsten, not knowing its history.

“Thank you.” Jillian's gaze traveled to Matt, who was making small talk with Aimee's husband and Phillip. She drained half her glass in a single swallow.

“You smell wonderful,” Aimee said. “What scent are you wearing?”

“Happy by Clinique,” Jillian replied.

Aimee's brow puckered. “Wasn't that Christine's perfume?”

“Last time I checked, she didn't have an exclusive on it.” Jillian downed the rest of her wine, then set her empty on the tray held by the still-hovering waiter and reached for another glass. “I've always loved it.”

“Yes, but smell is most closely related to memory,” Aimee said earnestly. “It might be painful for family members.”

“I was family, too.” Tears sprang to Jillian's eyes. “Does anyone care how painful it is for me?”

Jillian was slurring her words. Oh, dear—she'd drunk too much, and it was still nearly forty minutes before dinner. I worriedly watched as she took a long pull from her fresh glass. Aimee noticed, too. “Let's go someplace private to talk.” She turned and touched her husband's arm. “We're all going to the powder room.”

“I've never understood why women always have to go together,” he said with a good-natured grin at Matt and Phillip.

I thought maybe I should stay back, but Kirsten grabbed my arm and pulled me along.

Fortunately, the ladies' room was empty. Aimee pulled a tissue from a holder on the counter and handed it to Jillian. “I didn't mean to hurt your feelings,” she said gently.

“I know. No one does it intentionally.” Jillian dabbed her eyes. “It's jus' . . . well, everyone worries about Matt and the girls and
Mom and Dad, and I lost a loved one, too. She was my sister and my best friend, and I loved her as much as anyone.”

“We all know how close you two were,” Kirsten said.

“Well, here's something you probably don't know. Do you have any idea how hard it always was, being in Christine's shadow?” Jillian wiped her nose. “She was the oldest, so she always got first choice, first dibs, first shot at everythin'—and everythin' she tried, she was great at. I didn't want to compete, so I just tried to be different, even though I liked a lot of the same things she liked.” The tears were really flowing now, just pouring down her face. “My whole life has been like Opposite Day to whatever Christine did. Even now that she's dead, I can't do the things I like if she did them first.”

Kirsten patted her back. “Oh, Jillian, sweetie, you can do whatever you want.”

“No, I can't! Not without being compared and judged.” She let out a sound that was half sob, half hiccup. “I always wanted to lighten my hair, but Christine was blond, so I didn'. When I finally did a few weeks ago, my mother said I shouldn' try to copy Christine. And I've always loved this perfume, and . . .”

She dissolved into weeping.

“I'm so sorry, Jillian,” Aimee said softly.

“You know what?” Jillian said bitterly. “I wish it was me who'd died.”

“Oh, Jillian, you can't mean that.” Kirsten cast me a worried look over Jillian's bowed head.

“I do. I sometimes wonder if my parents—and Matt and the girls, of course—wish I'd been the sister with the aneurysm.”

“You can't think like that!” Aimee said.

“I can' help it.” Her voice was low and ragged. The slurring was getting worse. “What they don' know is, I would have traded spots with Christine in a heartbeat. I would gladly trade the rest of my life to have two beautiful children and the love of a man like Matt for even a few years.”

We all exchanged concerned glances. “Honey . . . I think that wine hit you hard,” Aimee said.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Kirsten asked.

Jillian shook her head. “I couldn'. I was too upset. I thought Matt was going to be my date, an' then I found out he didn' even know it was an event people bring dates to.”

Kirsten looked at me. Apparently Jillian either thought Matt and I were just friends, or she was in complete denial. “Why don't I go get you some crackers,” I suggested, feeling like an interloper.

“Oh, I couldn' possibly eat. I don' feel so good. I'm dizzy.” She put her hand on her mouth. “An' quizzy.”

“Why don't I drive you home,” Kirsten offered.

“But I don't want to miss . . .” Jillian cut off mid-sentence to make a staggering dash to a toilet stall.

“Go pull your car around to the kitchen entrance,” Aimee told Kirsten. “We'll take her out the back door.”

matt

I
pulled my car into my own driveway and killed the engine, then realized I was operating on automatic pilot. “I should have stopped next door to let you out at your grandmother's place.”

“It's a short walk.” Hope smiled at me. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“No—thank
you.
” Conversation between us had flowed like water at the fete—easy and effortless, spreading in all directions. We'd talked about everything from work to football, from science to movies. We'd danced, and although I'm not much of a dancer and avoid it when I can, I'd loved the slow songs, because it had given me the chance to hold Hope in my arms.

The only glitch in the evening had been Jillian's sudden disappearance—and even though I felt mean admitting it, that had been a relief. Hope had explained what happened, and I was glad that Kirsten had stepped up and handled it. I would have felt obligated to take Jillian home myself if I'd known about it.

As it was, everything had worked out. Kirsten had taken Jillian home, persuaded her to eat something, then made it back to the fete in time for dinner.

“Before you agreed to go with me, I'd kinda been dreading this evening,” I told Hope. “But as it turns out, this was the best time I've had in a long, long while.”

She smiled, her eyes warm. “Me, too.”

I leaned toward her, intending to kiss her. Before our lips could make contact, though, the porch light flared on and Peggy stood in the open doorway. “I thought I heard your car,” I heard her call.

Apparently, there was the downside of having your former mother-in-law as a babysitter, I thought darkly.

“Hi, Peggy.” Hope opened her door and gave a little wave, not giving me a chance to round the car and open the door for her. I climbed out of the car and walked to Hope's side.

“Did you have a good time?” Peggy asked.

“Wonderful,” Hope said.

“Jillian called and said she'd had to go home sick.”

I wondered what else Jillian had said. “Yeah. How is she?”

“She said she's better.”

“Good,” Hope said.

“Did the girls behave?” I asked.

“Oh, they were little angels. They went to sleep very easily.”

“Great. Peggy, if you don't mind staying for just a moment, I'd like to walk Hope home.”

“Oh, sure, dear.”

The door closed. I walked Hope down the sidewalk, then up the steps to her grandmother's lit porch. We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. Her eyes were soft and warm, her parted lips an invitation.

I put my hands on her waist and drew her to me. She leaned in, and my mouth met hers.
Soft
—her lips were soft and velvety, warm and exciting. Her arms wound around my back. I deepened the pressure, then felt her stiffen.

“Peggy's looking out your living room window,” she whispered.

With a heavy sigh, I opened my eyes, only to see Adelaide's neighbor on the other side, Mrs. Ivy, peering out her blind. “She's not the only one watching us.”

Hope laughed, opened the screen door, then turned the knob on the wooden one. “Well, good night,” she said, disappearing inside.

I blew out another heavy sigh and turned around. Across the street, Griff was peering out the window, as well. Irritated, I lifted my hand in a wave. He awkwardly waved back.

I walked to my home and opened the door. “Thanks for babysitting, Peggy,” I said.

“You're welcome, dear. It's always a pleasure.”

She picked up her purse, but made no move toward the door.

“I'll walk you home,” I said.

“Oh, no need. I called Griff, and he's watching for me.”

“Oh, so it's
you
he was watching for. Were you two exchanging hand signals?”

She had the grace to blush. “Matt, dear—Hope is a very sweet girl.”

I nodded. I could tell a “but” was coming.

“You need to be careful, though, dear.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I don't think she's a serial killer or anything.”

“No, of course not. She's a wonderful artist—the girls' room is just looking spectacular—but she's only here for a short time. And if you get involved with her, the girls will get attached, and . . .” Peggy pulled her sweater tight around her shoulders. “Well, it would be hard for them to have another loss.”

I tamped down a rush of annoyance. Why did everyone think they had the right to get all up in my business?

“And Jillian . . .” Peggy continued.

Oh, boy. Here it came.

“Well, this is none of my business, but Jillian thought the two of you were going out tonight, and the fact you brought Hope—well, frankly, it upset her.”

I ran my hand across my jaw. “Yeah, I picked up on that. And I apologized. I didn't realize she thought it was a date. Because the truth is, Peggy, I just don't see her that way.”

“Well, maybe in time . . .”

“No.” I cut her off abruptly. “It's just not there.”

She shifted her purse to her other arm and nodded. “Well, honey—all Griff and I want is for you to be happy. You deserve nothing less. But the girls want a mother, and every woman you date, well, they'll cast her in that role.”

The woman the girls were currently casting was Jillian, and I
wasn't
dating her, but I didn't want to put Peggy in the middle of things.

“I would hate for them to get their little hearts broken,” she said.

“As far as Hope's concerned, you're worrying about nothing, Peggy. They're well aware that Hope is just here temporarily. But quite frankly, I think they need to get used to the idea of me dating.” I opened the door. “Thanks again for watching the girls.”

“It was my pleasure. It always is.”

“Next year, I'll hire a sitter so you and Griff can come to the fete, too.”

She flicked her wrist. “Oh, there's nothing that would have dragged Griff away from the ball game on TV tonight. And I love spending time with the girls.”

“They love spending time with you, too.”

“I'm so glad you moved to Wedding Tree.”

I nodded. “It's worked out pretty well.” For everyone, I thought as I closed the door, except for Jillian. And quite possibly me.