Читать книгу You Say It First - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 10
ОглавлениеNICK REFUSED TO look at himself in the mirror. He figured if he didn’t see the whole image, he wouldn’t get a picture stuck in his brain. It might be the coward’s way out, but he was comfortable with that.
Alan hadn’t been kidding about the Regency costume. He was wearing some kind of pants that ended just below his knee, along with long socks that looked suspiciously like stockings. He had on weird, fancy black shoes, a white fluffy shirt and an embroidered cropped coat. To be honest, the whole thing freaked him out.
He stepped into the hallway and headed downstairs. He found Pallas in the main ballroom, doing a last-minute check for the ceremony. Rows of chairs had been set up, with a long center aisle. There were flowers and candles. Sunlight streamed in through the stained glass windows.
She smiled when she saw him. “Don’t you look handsome.”
“I look like the male version of an umbrella drink,” he grumbled. “You have to swear not to tell either of my brothers. Or take pictures. I’ll never live it down.”
Her hazel eyes danced with amusement. “Feeling a threat to our masculinity, are we?”
“You have no idea.” He took in her simple, dark blue dress. It followed the lines of her body, without being too tight. The floor-length fabric moved with her. The sleeves were long, the neckline scooped, but modest. “You look nice.” He nodded slowly. “Era appropriate without calling attention to yourself.”
“That’s what I’m going for,” she admitted. “Today is all about the bride. And the wedding, but mostly the bride.” Her mouth twitched. “Lucky for you, Atsuko isn’t performing the ceremony.”
He swore. “She does that?”
“Fairly often. She gets into character and has great costumes. But the bride brought in her own officiant. You get to be anonymous, and I am Lady Pallas, of no particular importance.”
He studied her. “Pallas is an unusual name.”
The humor returned. “It is. From the Greek. Pallas is the daughter of Titan. Some accounts say she was a childhood playmate of the goddess Athene, who later accidentally killed her. Rumor has it Athene felt really, really bad so she had a statue created of her. That’s where we get the Palladium from. It stood in the temple of Vesta.”
“I haven’t met your mother, but I have a hard time believing she would have chosen Pallas. Was it a family name on your dad’s side?”
“Oh, no. I was supposed to be called Alice. But Grandpa Frank took it upon himself to fill out the birth certificates for my brother and me. David became Cade and Alice became Pallas. According to several aunts who were there, my mother was furious when she found out, but she felt that changing the names to something else would cause a scandal, so here we are.”
“Interesting. So you defied her from birth.”
Pallas laughed. “Not me, exactly, but I’m happy to take credit.” She pulled up her sleeve and glanced at her watch. “We are close to start time. Alan will show you what to do. Basically you’re there to help carry the bride’s train.”
“I thought that’s what the flower girls did.”
“No, they scatter rose petals in front of the bride. You’re doing the work. I promise the train is much lighter than carrying the actual bride.”
The bride hadn’t been that heavy, so he wasn’t concerned. “I’ll go find Alan. He’ll enjoy telling me what to do.”
“He always does.”
Pallas hurried off. Nick watched her go before he turned toward the stairs. He hoped she didn’t take her mother up on her offer of a bank job. He couldn’t imagine Pallas sitting behind a desk. She was in her element at Weddings in a Box. Where else could she play dress-up and create memories?
He found Alan in the men’s dressing room with two other guys he didn’t recognize, all dressed in costume.
“There you are. My favorite courtier.” Alan waved him close. “You’re very handsome. The ladies will swoon. Now let’s talk logistics. The wedding party is huge.”
He paused for dramatic effect. “There are fifteen bridesmaids and fifteen groomsmen, along with three flower girls. The parents have all remarried, so we have two moms, two stepmoms, two dads and so on. You three will go downstairs and stand by the doorway, so guests can see you. Some will want to take your pictures. Smile for the camera, gentlemen.”
Nick held in a groan. He’d wanted not to have his outfit memorialized in any way. Hopefully none of the guests knew his brothers or figured out what he did in his day job.
“I’ll be in the bride’s room, making sure everyone is calm. When the bride is ready, we’ll meet her in the hallway,” Alan continued. “We will walk behind her, carrying her train. When she reaches the groom, we walk back down the aisle.”
He pointed at Nick. “You’re free to go after that. I’m part of the scenery and these two will be serving. Everyone clear?”
Nick nodded and joined the other two guys out by the entrance to the ballroom. The reception would be held outside. One of the advantages of the desert was that rain rarely got in the way of outdoor plans. With the afternoon temperatures barely hitting eighty, the weather couldn’t be more perfect.
Nick smiled at the guests and posed for a few pictures. When it was time, he and the other guys went to join Alan behind the bride. The older man was in his element, guiding the bridesmaids into place and offering words of encouragement.
Alan was a natural at this, Nick thought. He wondered why Gerald had left his business to Pallas instead of his former lover. Had they had a falling-out? Or was there another reason?
“Take that side,” Alan said, pointing to the edge of the train. “We will lift as one. Our beautiful Tiffany will set the pace. Come on, darling. I can’t wait to see the look on your soon-to-be husband’s face when he sees you. What a prize. He’s a lucky, lucky man.”
Tiffany flashed him a grateful smile before starting for the wide, tall open doorway. As they walked into the ballroom, he saw the panels were in place and the candles had been lit. There was a fairy-tale-like quality to the space. While this wasn’t his style, he could see the appeal.
As they moved down the center aisle, he glanced at the panels. They were magnificent and added lots of ambience, but he couldn’t help thinking they were outdated. Maintaining them was going to be an ongoing project. He would have to talk to Pallas about switching to lightweight frames with custom paper inserts instead. They wouldn’t cost much and she would be able to personalize the services even more.
They reached the end of the aisle. He waited for the signal from Alan, then lowered the train to the floor before turning and walking out with the other guys. When they reached the foyer, Alan and the other two courtiers headed for the catering area while Nick went to change back into street clothes.
By the time he was downstairs again, the ceremony was well under way. He circled around to the courtyard and saw the tables had been set for the reception. There was a dance floor, several ice sculptures and at the far end, a fifth wheel trailer.
He walked toward it, taking in the faux shutters and the silk plants that made it look a lot more like a tavern than a trailer. Fake wooden fencing hid the tires. There were wooden benches out front and several barrels, along with twinkle lights and what looked like a couple of Maypoles. He spotted Silver. She had on a dress much like Pallas’s, only hers was deep violet. She waved when she saw him.
“I heard you helped with the train,” she said. “I’m sorry I missed you in costume.”
He shuddered. “Let’s not talk about it. I’m trying to pretend it never happened.” He motioned to the decor. “You’ve done a great job.”
“I can fake just about any wedding Pallas can offer,” she said. “It only takes a few items to create an illusion.” She pointed to the blackboard up on the wall. “Signature drinks are described there. Some couples only want that plus beer and wine while others go all out with an open bar.”
“What’s happening with this one?”
“Open bar all the way. Don’t think about being on the road tonight.”
“I’ll stay in.” He looked around. “I like this. How you all create a special world. The bride and groom are going to have unique memories.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“Not your style?” he asked.
“No way. I don’t see myself getting married, but if I ever did, I would so elope.”
“Vegas?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m more an island paradise kind of girl.”
He briefly wondered what Pallas would want for a wedding. Something formal or would she, too, want to—
Back the truck up, he thought, stunned by the question. He barely knew the woman. Why would he care what her wedding dreams were? The most he was interested in was to take their kissing to the next logical level—or ten. That was as much as he did. Ever.
“You okay?” Silver asked.
“Yeah. Fine. I just remembered I have to be somewhere. I’ll see you.”
He took off as quickly as he could without breaking into an actual run.
It was those ridiculous stockings, he told himself. They’d messed with his head. He was going to spend the rest of the afternoon with a piece of wood and his chainsaw. Because that was what men did.
* * *
DESPITE HER DEGREE in finance, Pallas didn’t enjoy the number side of her business. Going over the bank statements always depressed her. At the end of the month, bills due came perilously close to cash in. No matter how she tweaked and massaged, there just wasn’t much left over.
She supposed that was better than having nothing left over, or worse, a negative balance, but still. She wanted to make Weddings in a Box a success. To do that, she would have to invest in the company, and without money, that was going to be a challenge.
She studied the list of services offered. Raising prices was always an option. She just wasn’t sure it was a good one. After all, she had competition. Not only in town, but in other destination spots. She didn’t want to price herself out of the market.
She told herself she was still incredibly lucky. Thanks to Gerald, she now owned her own home. She had Weddings in a Box and plenty of determination and energy. She would figure out how to grow things and—
Or she could sell.
She tried to push away the thought but it refused to budge. Probably because selling was a legitimate option. Her mother certainly expected her to. Maybe someone else would do a better job. Maybe someone else would have better ideas or hey, an influx of cash.
Talk about a depressing thought. She saved her latest data, then closed her accounting program. She didn’t want to sell. But if she didn’t, she couldn’t go work in the bank and hadn’t that always been her dream?
She supposed the truth was, after so many years, she wasn’t exactly wild about the bank job anymore. Maybe she’d never been—maybe it had all been about belonging. Which was way too much to contemplate after looking at her bank statements.
She went downstairs, locked the front door behind her and started toward the river. It was nearly noon. She would take a walk, get some lunch and clear her head. If that didn’t work, there was always ice cream.
She crossed the pedestrian bridge but instead of turning toward her favorite Thai take-out place, she turned left and found herself in front of Willow Gallery.
She’d been there a handful of times, mostly for various social events or fund-raisers. She wasn’t exactly gallery clientele. Her home decor consisted of framed posters and garage sale finds. But she had to admit, the art in the windows was stunning.
On the left was a painting of a flower. It was huge—maybe four feet by four feet—done in every shade of yellow imaginable. From what she could tell, the painting was heavily textured, as if the artist had used a palette knife to apply the paint instead of a brush. And she might be totally wrong about that, she thought with a grin. What she knew about how to create a painting could fit on the head of a pin with room for directions to heaven.
Tucked in a corner was a smaller piece—also floral. But this one was created with torn bits of paper and featured more of a field of reds and oranges rather than any single bloom. Pallas smiled as she recognized Natalie’s work.
In the other window was a large vase of tulips, although to call it that was like saying Mount Everest was a big pile of rock.
The flowers, each created individually, hung down over the mouth of the vase in a cascade of reds and oranges and pinks. The stems were perfect, as were the leaves, and the petals were just imperfect enough to be real. There had to be dozens of them, forming the arrangement. The vase was simple and elegant, a swirl of gold and white and silver, and the entire piece from vase to stem to petal, was created from glass.
She didn’t know how it was possible. The flowers looked as if they would flutter in the lightest breeze. She supposed that was the genius of the work.
She walked into the gallery. There were more glass pieces on display, along with several wood carvings. She studied a large one of a nearly life-size ballet dancer up en pointe. Her arms were so graceful, her hands and fingers perfect in every detail.
“That’s one of Nick Mitchell’s creations,” Atsuko said as she came out of her office. “He’s my latest find. The one I shared with you. Hello, Pallas. I don’t usually see you in here.”
“I know. I’m checking things out.”
They hugged. Atsuko was a slim, fifty-something woman with short dark hair and beautiful features. She dressed like a fashion executive, had elegant jewelry and favored thigh-high boots—even in summer.
“Nick’s great,” Pallas admitted. “He’s helping restore the panels at Weddings in a Box.” She raised one shoulder. “He swears it’s an interesting project while he’s waiting to hear on the commission in Dubai.”
“I’m sure it is. Nick enjoys the unusual.” Atsuko motioned to the various items on display. “Have a look around. Oh, Natalie is probably going to want to take her lunch soon, if you two girls would like to hang out.”
“Thanks. I’ll go find her.”
Atsuko smiled and retreated to her office. Pallas moved closer to the dancer and desperately wanted to touch the smooth surface. Instead she tucked her hands behind her back, terrified that a “you break it you bought it” policy would mortgage her future for the next fifty years.
She walked around the girl and admired the lines of her body. Everything about her spoke to movement—from the turn of her raised foot to the forward thrust of her chin. Pallas could see the shadow of her ribs, the muscles in her calves. She had trouble imagining how Nick had seen this beauty inside of a block of wood. What must it be like to be so talented?
