Читать книгу His Christmas Bride - HELEN BROOKS, Helen Brooks - Страница 6

‘SO WHAT are you going to wear?’

The children had been fed, read to and were now fast asleep. The stuffed shoulder of lamb Blossom had bought ready-prepared earlier that day was cooking gently in the oven, and Greg had instructions when to put the roasted vegetables in to join it. She had bought a raspberry trifle for pudding, so that was simple enough. Having bathed, and with her wet hair turban-style in a handtowel, Blossom was standing looking at her meagre wardrobe when Melissa drifted into the room.

‘I thought you were sitting having a glass of wine before dinner!’ Blossom accused. ‘Relaxing with your husband?’

‘I was. I shall be again soon. So, what are you going to wear tonight?’ Melissa repeated.

‘There’s not a lot of choice.’ When Greg had called to say Melissa had been rushed into hospital, Blossom had grabbed whatever was handy and stuffed it willy-nilly into a suitcase. ‘I only brought two dresses with me. I’ve got jeans and shorts and T-shirts, of course. And a pair of trousers I bought last year.’

Melissa dismissed these with a wave of her hand. ‘I like that dress,’ she said, pointing to a cream-and-caramel flowered frock with spaghetti straps. ‘Those colours look good on you.’

The dress was fine, but she hadn’t brought anything to go with it, and although it was July the evenings could still turn chilly when the sun went down. When she voiced this, though, Melissa’s eyes lit up. ‘Wait there.’ She was back in two minutes, holding a cream ruche-cashmere cardigan and a pair of high wedge-heeled mules in the same colour. ‘Bought these a couple of weeks ago to go with a pink dress I’m wearing for a wedding next month,’ she said happily. ‘You can borrow my diamond bracelet and studs, too, they’d look perfect with this.’

‘I can’t wear these when you haven’t even worn them yet,’ Blossom protested. ‘What if I spill something down the cardy?’

‘When you’ve been an absolute angel, shooting down here and looking after everyone for days on end? I think so,’ Melissa said firmly. ‘Ooh, and I’ve some gorgeous nail varnish, “opal fire”, to set those mules off. Twinkling toes and all that.’

‘Melissa, this isn’t a date.’ If she had been feeling panicky before her sister had come in, she felt a hundred times worse now.

‘I know, I know,’ Melissa said soothingly. ‘But you can’t go out with a man like Zak and look anything less than perfectly turned out. Not with the sort of women he’s seen with.’

Funny, but that didn’t help.

At eight-twenty-five Blossom was ready. She had sent Melissa downstairs a long time before this; her sister had been in danger of reducing her to a gibbering wreck.

Blossom stood staring at herself in the bedroom mirror. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken such trouble with her appearance, but it had been worth it. The divorce had robbed her of her self-confidence so badly she’d only wanted to melt into the woodwork when she’d gone out since then. And that wasn’t like her. From a child she had always been the chatty, adventurous one, probably to compensate for not matching up to Melissa in looks, although she hadn’t realised this until all the heart searching since Dean had left her. But tonight she didn’t look too bad. Pretty good, in fact. Passable, at least.