Smooth as Silk, page 15
“I appreciate that you gave up your Sunday morning to help me,” Hyacinth said.
“Happy to. I put the boxes of live garlands and wreaths outside the back door.”
Just thinking about it all made Hyacinth want to lie down and sleep until February. It wasn’t even noon and she was already exhausted. After the hockey game, the command appearance at Hammer Time, and searching for the leaked photos of Jules Perry’s original dress design, she hadn’t gone to bed until way after midnight. Then, she got up at six so she could pull dresses for Jules with the same clean lines and understated elegance.
Since Alex had nixed her talking with Jules, finding that design was the best she could do to prepare. She understood that they wanted the dress selection to be spontaneous and natural, but she didn’t do spontaneous and she didn’t know what natural was. Despite Alex’s assurances, she was worried. How could she not be, and how could she not get a head start with the leaked photos? The chore had worn her out, but she had six dresses that perfectly matched the look and two more that might do, but they had a bit of lace and beading that she suspected was too much for Jules’s taste.
She needed to find her second wind because Ava Grace would be here soon to decorate the shop for Christmas.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around and help?” Brad asked.
Hyacinth eyed the stack of boxed decorations that had to be in place before Trousseau opened tomorrow morning, and almost took him up on his offer. But Ava Grace had been adamant that Brad was not to stay. As the son of Fairvale’s household manager, Brad had grown up there, and he and Ava Grace were practically siblings. According to her, Brad always went overboard and would take elegant to gaudy when no one was looking.
“No, Brad. It’s enough that you hauled all this in and got the tree in the stand.” She stroked a branch of the eight-foot-tall Fraser fir. “We’ve got it from here. Ava Grace is coming as soon as she gets out of church. Go enjoy your afternoon.”
“If you’re sure. But I should warn you. Ava Grace’s style is a little on the Spartan side. Don’t be surprised if we have to bump everything up a notch or six to make it pop for the cameras.”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we have to.”
Brad looked out the door. “There she is now.” Ava Grace pulled her Jaguar into the spot beside Brad’s truck. “Can you believe she’s got the top down? It’s forty degrees.”
Hyacinth could believe it, which was one of the reasons she didn’t like to ride with her.
“You’re still here,” Ava Grace said to Brad as she breezed in the door, carrying the large wicker basket she always used to ferry stuff around. Ava Grace did not believe in sacks.
“I love you, too,” Brad said, and they air kissed as he made his exit.
“I can’t thank you enough for doing this,” Hyacinth said once Brad was gone.
“Nonsense. I enjoy it. I would have skipped church if I hadn’t had to teach Sunday school.”
“I needed to do other things this morning anyway.”
“We’ll get started soon, but we’re going to eat first.” She set her basket on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “I picked us up some shrimp and grits from the country club. I bet you haven’t eaten this morning.”
“That’s a bet you’d win.” As much as Hyacinth wanted to get this chore behind her, the food that Ava Grace was unpacking smelled wonderful. She sunk down on the sofa and accepted a paper cup of iced tea. It was her inclination to offer to pay for the food, but she knew from experience Ava Grace would have put it on her daddy’s tab and would refuse.
“If I know you, you didn’t eat last night either.” Ava Grace handed her a disposable bowl of steaming shrimp and grits.
Mother of pearl. Here it comes. “You do know me, but I did eat last night.” Hyacinth wasn’t above withholding information, but there was a point where evasiveness slid into a lie. “I had salmon at Hammer Time after the game.”
Ava Grace’s eyes snapped wide. “You went to Hammer Time alone?”
“No. Not alone.” She put a shrimp in her mouth and took an extra-long time chewing it. Digestion began in the mouth and one could never be too careful about gastronomic issues. “This is good.”
“Not alone?” Ava Grace was about as likely to let it go as she was to wear a burlap sack and go without makeup to a Junior League meeting.
“I went with Robbie McTavish—and some of his teammates.”
“Well, well, well...” Ava Grace grinned.
“Three holes in the ground.” Hyacinth knew what was coming. Ava Grace would see romance between a church mouse and a flea.
“You and Robbie.”
“No.” Hyacinth stabbed a shrimp. “It’s not like that.”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“I tell you, it’s not. You know how I told you Robbie’s going to be on All Dressed in White? The show stipulated that. No Robbie, no show. I had to promise I’d go to all the home games and then out to Hammer Time before he would agree.” Among other things. But Hyacinth wasn’t going into the Christmas Gala date. It was a date, wasn’t it? No matter. Either way, Ava Grace would see that as a guarantee that they were headed for the altar, or at least to bed.
“He must really like you.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Why else would he blackmail you into going out with him?”
“He wants to annoy me; it’s his hobby.” It struck her that that was a bit unfair. Last night had turned out to be pleasant—if confusing.
“I doubt that’s true,” Ava Grace said. “Even if it is, maybe he’s like an eight-year-old pulling a girl’s pigtails to get her attention.”
“No. You can’t put a romantic slant on everything.”
“No romance at all?”
“None.”
And that was almost true. Or maybe totally true. Who the hell knew? There was the walk home, the wine, the salmon. When he’d seen her inside her house, she’d thought he was going to try to kiss her. She was still trying to decide how she would handle it when he said, “Be sure to lock the door.” And those hands.
No way was she telling Ava Grace any of that. Best to change the subject. “The most interesting thing was Ariel. She was there with Able Killen, the captain.”
“Ariel, as in Evans’s assistant baker?”
“Same. She had a grilled cheese sandwich and she took tiny, tiny random bites of it all the way around. It was the weirdest thing. Then I realized she was—sculpting? I don’t know if that’s the right word, but she ate until there was nothing left except something that looked like the Yellowhammer logo. Then she ate that and started in on the other half. This time she made a heart and handed it to Able. He kissed her like she’d presented him with the Holy Grail. I thought they were going to have sex right there on the table.”
“Oh, my.” Hot damn. She’d finally distracted Ava Grace. “Do you think that shape eating is some sort of art? Do you suppose she learned it or made it up?”
“I don’t know. I could probably do the heart, but that Yellowhammer was impressive. I bet she had to practice. Maybe there’s a YouTube video.”
“Hey!” Ava Grace reached for an aluminum foil package on the table. “I forgot. We’ve got garlic bread. We could try—” She stopped abruptly and looked toward the front of the shop. “Well, well, well. Look who’s come calling.”
“Who?” Hyacinth asked but she knew, even before she looked around to see Robbie knocking on the glass door.
“Not interested, you say?” Ava Grace said.
“Stop it, Ava Grace.” Hyacinth stomped toward the door.
“When you weren’t home, I figured I’d find you here,” he said when she unlocked the door. “I don’t have any food and I have business. May I enter?”
So they were back to the old banter. Somewhat disappointing, but at least Hyacinth understood that—unlike their interaction last night.
“What are you? Some kind of vampire who has to be invited in?” To Hyacinth’s surprise, he was wearing pants—sweatpants, but pants nonetheless. His gray hoodie had a stain that looked like coffee.
“It’s a fair question,” he said. “Considering you banned me from here.”
“What’s this business you speak of?” She stood aside to let him in. “Don’t tell me you need a wedding dress.”
“I need to pay for one.” He glanced around and walked toward the seating area. “Hi, Ava Grace. I see you’ve got food. Don’t spill it on a dress. That will get you in trouble, and not ordinary trouble—Old Testament caliber trouble.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hyacinth didn’t tell you that I soiled a dress with ice cream?”
“Tell her? I most assuredly did not,” Hyacinth said. “You said I had to let it go. You said not to talk about it. And I haven’t.”
“Somebody had better tell me,” Ava Grace said.
“It won’t be me. Robbie can talk about it if he wants.”
Robbie cracked his knuckles and stood taller—getting ready for his audience. “Did you see the video, lass?”
Lass, lass, lass. Everybody was lass but her. Though she’d brought that on herself.
Ava Grace looked sheepish. “Yes. I did. A few times.”
Traitor! She’d probably laughed, too.
“During all that, I dropped my ice cream—mocha praline fudge, it was from Double Scoop.”
“I love that. Constance calls me whenever she makes it.”
The whole world was ice cream crazy.
“Anyway, a dress got in the way and the results were not what one might have hoped for.”
The dress got in the way? Hyacinth opened her mouth to point out that it wasn’t the dress that was at fault, but closed it again. She wasn’t supposed to talk about it, and she would not.
“That’s unfortunate.” Ava Grace put the top on her food. That was like her—to refuse to eat in front of Robbie when she had none to offer him.
“Unfortunate doesn’t begin to describe it.” Robbie plopped down in one of the club chairs. “This was like the Mt. Vesuvius of unfortunate.”
Hyacinth sat back down on the sofa and resumed eating. Let him bait her; let Ava Grace starve herself. She was going to eat and then she was going to decorate this shop—alone if necessary. No whining either—not even in her head. Tired, tired, tired! So what if she was tired? She was lucky she had work to do.
“It’s just a dress,” Ava Grace said. “It’s not like anybody died.” Ava Grace would think that. She lived in a world of stained glass, silver spoons, and caviar.
“That remains to be seen.” Robbie turned to Hyacinth. “I’ve come to pay for the frock.” He reached into the pocket of his hoodie and brought out his wallet.
Hyacinth was torn. The prideful part of her wanted to refuse payment, to insist she could take the loss, no problem. But the logical part of her knew how it was going to end. Robbie had a lion’s share of pride himself. What was it he’d said? I take responsibility and I pay what I owe. Also, it was an eight-thousand-dollar dress. Taking that kind of loss wouldn’t get her any closer to her goal.
She put her fork aside. “I’ll go check on the exact price.”
“No need,” Robbie said, opening his wallet. “I looked at the tag that day and calculated the tax.”
“Then I’ll get my iPad and card reader.”
“No need of that either.”
And to Hyacinth’s amazement—and horror—Robbie opened his wallet and began to peel off bills like they were playing cards.
“There.” He patted the stack of money. “Eight thousand, eight hundred dollars. Count it if you like.”
Hyacinth put her hands over her face and shook her head.
“Robbie. Robbie.” She waved her hands in the air, aware that she never waved her hands. “You can’t go around carrying that kind of money.”
“I’m not going around with it. I gave it to you.”
“But you had to get it at some point, I assume from the bank, right in plain sight. You can’t get that much money from an ATM. You couldn’t have gotten it yesterday or today. They’re closed. Please tell me you haven’t been walking around with nearly nine thousand dollars in your pocket since Friday.”
He widened his eyes and shrugged. “Well, a bit more actually, with my spending money.”
“You’re lucky somebody didn’t follow you and slit your throat.”
He leaned in toward her and her mouth went dry. “Slit my throat?” He stroked his neck. She didn’t want to remember how that neck had felt pressed against her face when they had danced—how it had smelled, like pine-scented soap with a little sweat mixed in. “Surely not.”
Surely not was right. She didn’t need to be thinking like this.
“You’re going to do what you’re going to do.” She picked up the money and shuffled it into a neat stack. “Ava Grace, do you think we should start decorating outside first? Since we can work on the inside after dark.”
Robbie perked up. “Decorating for Christmas?”
“Yes,” Ava Grace said. “Exactly what I thought. We’ll get the garland and wreaths up and go from there.”
Robbie stood. “Great. I’m in. Where’s your ladder?”
What? No. She was too confused to have him around—climbing on ladders, sweating, calling Ava Grace lass. Plus, she couldn’t ignore the disaster factor. These decorations did not belong to her and they had not come from the Dollar Tree.
“That’s all right, Robbie. We’ve got this,” Hyacinth said.
“Come now. You don’t want to miss out on an expert like me. I have decked the halls of Wyndloch many a time. Nobody hangs lights and garland better than me. I’m your man. And I fair love Christmas.”
“Great!” Ava Grace said before Hyacinth could protest further. “We’d love the help.”
She should put her foot down. Maybe she would have if she hadn’t caught sight of the stacks of boxes waiting to be opened and dealt with.
“All right.” With visions of broken ornaments, crooked garland, and tangled light strings dancing in her head, Hyacinth led him to the storeroom where the ladder was kept.
* * *
Ten hours, hundreds of ornaments, and thousands of twinkle lights later, Trousseau was a white and silver fairyland inside and out. The front window featured a bride in a dreamy, sparkling dress standing among snowy, fairy-lit trees, with woodland animals about. Robbie had been disappointed that none of Emma Frances Fairchild’s animals were animated.
Ava Grace frowned and adjusted a crystal star on the tree until it was facing forward. “There. That’s better.”
“It’s perfect,” Hyacinth said.
“Are you sure you’re happy?” Ava Grace asked.
“I couldn’t be happier. You’ve saved my life. I could never have afforded to buy these decorations, much less make all this happen.”
“It was nothing.” Ava Grace collected her floral wire, craft snips, and bits of ribbon and packed them in her basket. “My mother has a different theme every year. All I had to do was go to the attic and find the boxes labeled Christmas Gala 2009. Winter Wonderland.”
“We decorate the same every year at Wyndloch,” Robbie said. “Pine boughs and holly that we collect from the woods. Berries, ribbons and lots of lights. You have to get the lights distributed just so, without a lot of bright spots. You want a twinkle effect. Like the sky.” He gestured to the light-festooned garland around the window. “And you don’t want to see the strings. The lights are my specialty—or they were. My brother-in-law does them now. But not as good.”
He looked wistful and Hyacinth wondered how long it had been since he’d been home for Christmas and where he spent it when he didn’t go. When she’d put the Yellowhammer games on her calendar, she’d noticed they only paused three days for the holidays.
“I don’t know what we would have done without you, Robbie,” Ava Grace said.
Hyacinth had to admit it was true. Robbie had been fast and proficient without breaking anything. Too bad Hyacinth couldn’t claim the same. She’d broken a half dozen silver glass balls and a crystal snowflake. The snowflake debacle had occurred when Robbie, having ditched his hoodie, was on the ladder reaching over his head to hang garland. His T-shirt had ridden up just enough to show a narrow strip of muscled skin above his waistband. The snowflake had jumped from her hand.
She shook her head to clear it. There was a conversation going on here.
“I do appreciate all you’ve done, Robbie,” Hyacinth said. “You were a godsend.” It was only fair. “Come dawn, Ava Grace and I would have still been at it.”
“A godsend, you say?” He looked at her all warm. “Can’t say I’ve ever been called that before.”
“We’d better not let my mother get wind of your light-hanging skills,” Ava Grace said. “She’ll figure out a way to put you to work decorating for the gala.”
“Then don’t tell Claire,” Robbie said. “She, for certain, would send me over. I swear that woman will have us picking up trash on the side of the road before the season’s over.”
“She’s a force of nature.” Ava Grace picked up her basket with an eye toward the door.
Hyacinth had an eye toward the door, too. She might be able to wrap things up here and get in bed by midnight.
“I can’t thank you two enough,” she said.
“I’ve a mind to get a pizza,” Robbie said. “Would you lasses like some?”
No. She didn’t want a pizza. She wanted to double-check that the special-order veil that had arrived yesterday was the right one, take a shower, and go to bed.
But he’d called her lass. Sort of. And how could she say no, when he’d worked like a dog for her for ten hours?
