Smooth as Silk, page 17
Maybe he ought to tell her the idea he’d had to give her a way out. He hadn’t thought it all the way through, but that had seldom stopped him in the past, so why now?
“You don’t have to do this, lass.”
Her head snapped up in surprise. “Do what?”
“This show, not like this.”
“No, I don’t have to. There aren’t that many things in life we have to do, but I’ve told you about my goals. I love my shop. But I want to create.”
“Do something for me. If you could be doing anything—anything—in the world on that Wednesday, what would it be?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on. It’s not hard. If you had a wish and could wish up your life for that day, what would you be doing? I’ll tell you what I’d be doing. I’d be getting on a plane headed to LA to play the Angels.” And I’d be with you.
“That is what you’re doing. After taping the show.”
“Not about me. What would you be doing?”
She closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, they were sparkling with happiness. “Okay. I’d be in my workroom, making a wedding dress of my own design while other people mostly ran Trousseau. But I would have some bridal appointments on my calendar because I’d have at least two assistants to help with the sewing and embellishments. I never want to go to an ivory tower. I love my brides.” A little of the sparkle went out of her eyes. “But I can’t do that, so I’m doing the next best thing. I’m pursuing my short-term goal that’s a step toward my long-term goal.”
“I’m not saying don’t do the show and I’m not trying to get out of it. You’re committed. I’m committed. But you don’t have to live and die by it. We could just have fun and get Jules in a pretty dress. You can have your long-term goal right now.”
“And how is that? Do you have a wish tucked into the waistband of your kilt?”
“Sort of. You could let me help you.”
Her mouth went hard and he knew he’d said it all wrong.
“You mean give me money?”
“No, no.” He waved like jazz hands at half-mast. “I put it poorly. I mean, you could let me invest. All legal, with a share of the profits coming my way. And I swear to you it has nothing to do with what passed between us last night and what might happen between us in the future. Nothing, lass. I have invested in small businesses in my village back home—a tearoom, a wool shop, and a craft beer pub. And I promise you, there has been nothing romantic between any of the proprietors and me. I saw hardworking, talented people with a dream. And that’s what you are, lass. And I have to say, it was a right smart move for me, too. Those investments have served me—and them—well.”
Some of the thunder went out of her face. “Thank you for the compliment, but no.”
“Claire is an investor,” he pointed out.
“Claire owns the building and went looking for me. I’ve given her what she asked for—a nice, up-to-date bridal shop to replace one that was stuck in 1992. I have to get to the next level on my own.”
He didn’t always know when to quit, but this time he did.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“The offer doesn’t have an expiration date.”
“I appreciate it, but no.”
“All right.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “When you’re all fancy, with dresses in Paris and the like, I will have to say to folks, ‘I tried to be part of that, but she wouldn’t have me.’”
For once, the right words had come out of his mouth, because her smile was like a sunrise.
He reached across the table and took her hand again. “So, tonight?”
“It’s coming.” She nodded.
“How about we go downtown Birmingham and get some food? Then find a neighborhood with some nice Christmas lights?”
She smiled. “Do you promise, if you see lights that aren’t hung to your liking, that you won’t go on private property and try to fix them?”
“Aye. It will be hard, but I can make you that promise—though it won’t be a question of if. Most assuredly, there will be improvements that should be made.”
They sat quietly for a moment, their hands still intertwined.
Then, she did the most amazing thing. She turned his hand over, raised it to her mouth, and kissed his palm.
Who knew such a simple thing could bring his manly parts to attention so fast? He found himself wishing she would lick where she had kissed.
Yes. This was going to be a sweet journey.
Chapter Seventeen
The dining room of the historic Laurel Springs Inn had an old-fashioned, elegant, country-club feel to it—not that Hyacinth had been to many country clubs. But along the way, she’d had occasion to attend the wedding receptions of a few particularly special brides who had included her, and the food was never much to write home about. Probably country clubs cared more about liquor and golf than food. Lots of people ate at the inn regularly, but for her and Memaw, it had been a strictly special occasion place—and that’s how she still thought of it.
Or she had until last night, when she’d learned a whole different level of special occasion.
The place Robbie had taken her—Sideboard—was definitely not what she would have considered a Monday night impulse. When he’d suggested they get some food, she’d pictured driving until they ran up on some barbecue or Italian. But no. Seems Robbie had gone online and picked the place—even made a reservation, something that seemed out of character for him. They weren’t dressed for it; she knew it the second she saw the valet parking, but Robbie didn’t care. He walked in wearing his kilt and light-up shoes like he owned the place and five more just like it. Nobody blinked. She wasn’t sure if it was because they were hockey fans and knew who he was or because he was just that sure of himself. She was rather proud of herself for taking it in stride. That wasn’t something she’d had a lot of practice at, but recognized she’d better get used to if she were going to spend time with Robbie.
After all, he had meant well. And her grass-fed-locally-sourced-salted-with-unicorn-tears plate of food had been amazing. For once, she hadn’t worried about the price of the food. She couldn’t. There hadn’t been any prices on her menu.
“Hello, Hyacinth,” Lila Cokesberry said. Miss Lila had been the hostess at the inn since the Earth cooled. Memaw had sewed for her and Hyacinth still did her alterations. “You’re meeting Ava Grace for lunch?”
“Yes, and Evans. We’re having a little celebration. Evans got married.”
Lila frowned. “I heard. I was surprised she married one of those hockey players. She couldn’t have known him long.”
“Actually, they grew up together.”
“Well. That’s good, anyway. Those hockey people sure are a boisterous bunch. We get a lot of the families here for the games, and those boys are always underfoot when their people are here. We’ve even got one living in the Bryant suite full-time. Though I have to say, he’s quiet. Doesn’t give us any trouble. Just eats his food then goes about his business.”
No doubt; Lila ran a tight ship.
“Ava Grace said we’d be by the French doors overlooking the terrace. I’ll just make my way back.”
“Yes. She was very specific. She brought her own centerpiece. I had to move what we had on the table. Not that I minded.” Miss Lila sighed loud and long.
When Hyacinth reached the table, she found that Ava Grace had not only brought the centerpiece—a nosegay of pink sweetheart roses lying on a silver tray with pearls scattered around it—but had set up a crystal cake stand with pink and white petit fours.
“Wow,” Hyacinth said. “I didn’t know they’d let you bring your own dessert.”
“They do, if you don’t ask,” Ava Grace said. “Evans hardly ever eats dessert, but she does like a petit four.”
Hyacinth would never have had the nerve to do that. She laid her gift on the table. “Ava Grace? Is this your china and silver from home?”
“Maybe.” She smiled a half smile, reached into her basket, and brought out some crystal glasses. “I only brought waters and iced teas. I figured we wouldn’t drink wine since we all have to go back to work.”
All this made Hyacinth wonder why they hadn’t just had this lunch at Ava Grace’s house—but she knew how this had evolved, knew how Ava Grace’s mind worked. First, she would have thought of the flowers, which led to the full centerpiece. Then, she would have decided petit fours would be nice and, of course, they called for the cake stand, which made her think of the dishes. And on and on. Given another day and she would have had a wicker table and chairs brought in.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Hyacinth asked.
Ava Grace straightened a pink linen napkin that had been folded into the shape of a heart. “No, I think that’s it.” She picked up her basket. “I’m just going to stash this in the cloakroom.”
Hyacinth slid into her seat. She knew she should put her napkin in her lap, but she hated to mess up the table.
“Now,” Ava Grace said when she returned. “I’ve directed the kitchen to plate our food on clear plates and treat the china dinner plate like a charger.”
“What? You didn’t bring the food?” Hyacinth asked.
“No, but I ordered for all of us—smoked salmon and brie tarts, cranberry pink arctic salad, and sesame dill muffins. Do you think that’s okay? I tried to call you last night to ask what you thought, but I couldn’t get you.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She had turned off her phone in the restaurant and didn’t remember until this morning. Robbie had insisted on driving through Cook Out for eggnog milkshakes to have while looking at not one, but two, decorated neighborhoods—one classic and elegant and one that looked like a neon jungle. “Because you ought to have eggnog when looking at Christmas lights.” They had laughed and laughed. Eggnog kisses were sweet, as was the time on her sofa later—but confusing. How was it possible to want something so much, but not feel ready for it? From all indications, Robbie wanted things to go further, though he had not pushed her. In fact, he seemed happy with the status quo. But how long would that last? What if she still wasn’t ready before his patience gave out? Not that he had shown any signs of impatience. The trouble was she’d never slept with anyone who wasn’t a Could’ve Been Maybe.
“So is it all okay?” Ava Grace asked.
Good question. Maybe Ava Grace could give her some insight. She’d been with Skip for years. She searched for the right phrasing.
“I almost added some crostini for an appetizer, but that seemed like a lot.”
Mother of pearl! Ava Grace was talking about the food, and Hyacinth had almost given herself away. She had to get Robbie and the sex question off her mind.
“It sounds delicious, Ava Grace, and just enough. And you know what? If we want something more, we can order it.” Robbie had taught her that last night when he’d pronounced the food at Sideboard tasty, but skimpy, and ordered a second entrée.
“Oh! This is so nice!” Evans appeared beside Ava Grace.
“It’s the bride!” Ava Grace and Evans landed in an embrace and Hyacinth rose to join them. There sure was a lot of hugging going on lately.
They had been settled in their seats no more than forty-five seconds before their food and iced tea appeared. Ava Grace had a talent, for sure. Hyacinth just wasn’t so sure it was for selling antiques.
“So, tell us about New Orleans,” Ava Grace said.
Ava Grace, are you nuts? They were on their honeymoon. They didn’t see New Orleans. In fact, I don’t know why they went.
“Well,” Evans said, “we stayed at the Bourbon Orleans. I’ve always wanted to stay there. It’s supposed to be haunted. We didn’t see any ghosts, but we did take a ghost tour.”
A ghost tour? Really?
“I took Jake to meet my instructors from culinary school. We went to the Mardi Gras museum and the French market. Rode the streetcar down to the Garden District. Oh! We took a cooking class.”
“A cooking class?” Ava Grace sounded aghast—and why not? Who took a cooking class on their honeymoon? “You, of all people, do not need a cooking class. I, on the other hand, could use one. Or twelve.” Ava Grace sipped her tea.
“But it was fun to cook with Jake,” Evans said. “Besides, now he knows how to make crawfish etouffee and bananas Foster. That will come in handy. Other than that, we did a little shopping, ate a lot of good food, and danced in every bar on Bourbon Street.”
“You sure packed a lot into two days,” Hyacinth said.
“It was so fun,” Evans said. “We’re going back when the season’s over. We might stay a week. There’s so much to do.”
Apparently sex had not been utmost on their minds. But, then, they’d been sleeping together for a while. Maybe they were tired of sex. She sure had gotten tired of it with her Could’ve Been Maybes. Though, with Robbie, things felt different; maybe that was typical of an interlude.
“Enough about me.” Evans took a bite of her tart. “What’s been going on with y’all?”
“Nothing exciting for me,” Ava Grace said. “Just work and helping my mother get ready for the gala.” She gave Hyacinth a sly little smile. “Hyacinth, however, has been a busy little bee. She has quite a lot to report.”
“I do?” She wasn’t sure she was ready to go into this.
“Sure,” Ava Grace said. “You haven’t even told her about All Dressed in White.”
Right. There had been no time. “Trousseau is going to be on All Dressed in White.”
“Hyacinth!” Evans said. “This is huge! Tell me all about it.”
“The video—you remember the video?”
“Hard to forget.”
“Well, Jules Perry found herself in need of a wedding dress. She saw the video and asked to come to Trousseau. So it’s happening. A week from tomorrow.”
Evans’s eyes widened with each word Hyacinth spoke. “I’m so proud of you.” She leaned over and hugged Hyacinth. “And to think, you thought that video was the end of the world.”
“I got lucky,” Hyacinth admitted.
“Tell her the rest,” Ava Grace urged.
“The rest?”
“Tell her who’s doing the show with you.”
“Oh, that.” Hyacinth split her muffin and buttered it. “Robbie.”
“Robbie McTavish?” Evans said.
“Yes. How many Robbies do you think I know?”
“Well, I don’t know, Hyacinth. I don’t know everybody you know. And the last time I checked in, you were pretty mad at him.”
“It wasn’t exactly my idea.”
“Whose idea was it, then?” Evans asked.
“To be honest, it wasn’t so much an idea as a requirement—by Jules and the All Dressed in White people.”
“But he agreed to do it?” Evans said. “I told you he was a good guy.”
“The agreement didn’t come easy and it didn’t come free,” Hyacinth said. “He was pretty mad at me, too.”
“He’s charging you?” Evans gasped. “Money? That doesn’t sound like Robbie.”
“Not money,” Ava Grace chimed in. “But he had some demands. She can’t talk about the chocolate ice cream and the ruined dress ever again. Plus, she has to go to all the Yellowhammer home games and out to Hammer Time with him after.”
And the gala. Not going to point that out.
Evans parted her mouth and dropped her eyes, like she was trying to work something out. “He blackmailed you?”
“Blackmail is such an ugly word.” Seemed like she’d had this conversation before.
“He must really like you to blackmail you into going out with him,” Evans said.
“That’s what I said,” Ava Grace said. “And, Evans, you should see them together. He helped us decorate Trousseau for Christmas. It’s all fire and ice, get away from me, come here. Eyes snapping. Everybody blushing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Well.” Evans touched her pink napkin to her lips. “I didn’t expect to come home to this, but I love you both, so what a gift.”
“Wait,” Hyacinth said. “Hold on. It’s not like that.”
“Then how is it?” Evans asked.
Excellent question.
“It’s exactly like that,” Ava Grace said. “Own up.”
How could she own up, when she didn’t know what she was owning up to?
“Who are you now, Ava Grace?” Hyacinth said. “Some kind of Match.com oracle?”
“Have you seen him since we decorated?” Ava Grace said, like she knew the answer.
“We had to get together to talk about All Dressed in White. Yesterday. After practice. It was business.”
“And come to think of it, last night? When I couldn’t get you on the phone? It wasn’t dead, was it?”
Hyacinth took a long drink of her tea. “It was no big deal. We got something to eat and looked at some Christmas lights.”
“Ah, Christmas lights.” Ava Grace and Evans nodded and said it together.
“I bet you held hands while you drove around.”
She would neither confirm nor deny. “Look.” She laid her hands—along with her cards—on the table. “I don’t know what’s going on with Robbie and me. We’ve spent some time together, yes. But we’re very different. We had a date. I don’t know if there will even be another. Can we just not make a huge deal of this? Can you, please, not tell anyone—and Evans, that means Jake, too, especially Jake—that there’s something going on with us? Because I don’t know that there is.”
“Sure,” Evans says. “I’m not one of those women who thinks she has to report every little detail to her husband. But don’t expect me to stay quiet about it to you.”
“That would be too much to hope for.” Hyacinth sighed. It was hard to say if she was sighing or hugging more these days.
