Smooth as Silk, page 25
“Then, no. I forgive you, but I can’t put it behind me.”
Turns out, there were things worse than being tarred and feathered.
His expression went to weary. “I’ve had flings, too many to count, but I’ll have no more of it.”
She couldn’t move her feet, her mouth, or her mind.
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I can’t do it anymore. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Do you think I haven’t had flings?”
“No. I don’t think you have. You may think you have in hindsight, but I’d wager you always went into any potential relationship with hope for the future. Until me. I’m betting any prospect you considered in the past kept lists. And, as you rightly pointed out, that’s never going to be me. I don’t even have a pen.” There was nothing but kindness in his tone and eyes when he spoke. But then Robbie was a kind man—and, apparently, an intuitive one. It was amazing how right he was. “You see, Hyacinth, I find that I want a real relationship. A wife. Children.” He nodded in the direction of Jake and Evans. “I want what they have, what my mum and da have—though not so many children.”
“You can’t mean,” she said slowly, “that you’re offering that to me after this short time.”
He hesitated. “Maybe not, not yet. But I want the possibility. You can’t offer me that, and I can’t offer you a fling. That’s where we are, lass. No changing that.”
She was hollow, but he was right.
He looked as though he was going to speak, then stopped and shook his head.
“What?” She had to know what he wanted to say.
“Nothing.”
“Please.”
“All right. Much of the time, I’m not a wise man, but I’ve thought about this a lot. We’ve not talked about it since that night we drove back from Mississippi together, but I haven’t forgotten you had a tough go of it with your parents—what with them dying and not paying attention to the finer details of life. But, Hyacinth, you can’t make everybody you encounter pay for how your parents lived their lives.”
“They weren’t bad people. They loved me, and their neglect was never intentional.”
He nodded. “You said as much before. Just free spirits who didn’t make a lot of plans—unsuited to the way you’re wired up. Like me.”
She heard the words, but she didn’t process them—refused to process them.
“I have to see about some horseradish sauce,” she said.
Later that night, after the party was over, when she got in her car to head for home, a silver Corvette pulled behind her.
This time, she knew better than to hope.
He would see her inside and leave her with ten thousand Swarovski crystals to sew on to a silk taffeta skirt.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Robbie boarded the team bus and slipped into the seat beside Jake. They were headed to Nashville to play their old team, the Sound.
“Like the old days,” Jake said. “Traveling to a game by bus.”
“Not even close,” Robbie said. “At least I never rode a bus this nice in juniors or college.”
“It’s strange having another team so close.”
“I’m happy I can wake up in my own bed tomorrow.” Happy wasn’t the right word. A bed without Hyacinth wasn’t a happy bed, but he might as well get used to it. It had been a week now since he’d even seen her, longer since she’d been in his bed. At least four years.
“Too bad you can’t watch your star performance on that wedding dress show tonight. Did you DVR it?”
“I might stream it later.” Ah, hell. Who was he kidding with the emotional drama? There was no might about it. He’d probably watch it twenty times in a row.
“Evie set up to record it. She doesn’t trust streaming, says you never know when someone will take offense at something and they’ll take it down. Isn’t that ridiculous?” He smiled as if he found that the most endearing thing since baby lambs.
“That so? She’s not watching it when it comes on?” He would have thought Evans would watch with Hyacinth and Ava Grace.
“No. She’s coming to the game tonight.”
“In Nashville?”
“Yes, dunce. In Nashville. She’s coming to see me play.”
Must be nice. “Alone?” Maybe Hyacinth was coming with her. Sure, he’d told her not to, but Hyacinth did as she pleased, though it probably wouldn’t please her to come to his hockey game instead of watching All Dressed in White the second it aired.
“Yes, Robbie. Alone. In her car. Probably listening to a podcast. Or singing. She can’t sing a note, you know.”
“You should have gotten Glaz to let her come on the bus with us.”
“Seriously? Do you really think there’s a chance that would ever happen?”
“I guess not,” Robbie admitted.
“Anyway, did it occur to you that she might not want to ride on a bus with a bunch of hockey players?”
“I don’t know why not. We’re a fun lot. Me, especially.” He took his water bottle out of his backpack and took a drink.
“Evie isn’t always enchanted by our kind of fun. Junior high antics, she calls it.”
Hyacinth had once said something similar. “You should tell Glaz you’re riding home with Evie and that’s that. If we win, he’ll probably let you. You don’t want her out alone that late.” That’s what he would have done if it were Hyacinth.
“Not a bad idea. I like her company better than yours. I’ll think on it. Give me some of that.” He reached for Robbie’s water.
“Get your own.” But he handed the bottle over. “Don’t spit in it.”
“If you have to have a woman who’ll let you tell her she can’t drive herself where she wants to go, you are going to lead a sad, lonely life.”
Yeah, well. What else was new? “If you found one who’ll put up with you in all matters, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble.”
Though, come to think of it, for all that he annoyed her on every other level, Hyacinth had never seemed to mind when he followed her home. Considering she was out and about on her own all the time, it made no sense that he felt compelled to see her home when they were in the same place at the same time.
He could see it now. In fifteen years, he’d see her at the market with her three identically dressed, perfectly groomed kiddies—each equipped with a notepad, pen, and megaphone for shouting orders. After Hyacinth bagged her groceries in alphabetical order, he’d follow her home. The husband would catch sight of him and chase him, screaming, “Stalker!” The police would be called. It would be on The Face Off Grapevine. Glaz would throw him off the team.
Asinine thinking. He wouldn’t be living in Laurel Springs in fifteen years. Hockey was a young man’s sport and he wouldn’t be sticking around after he retired. Almost nobody had a career that long anymore. Now, in the old days... He halted his thinking. If he’d been speaking and Hyacinth were here, she’d be shouting about bunny trails and reeling him back in to the subject at hand. He needed to stop following her, but he didn’t know how.
He tuned back in to what Jake was saying.
“It’ll be good to see some of the Sound guys—Bryant, Jarrett, Emile, Thor.”
“Aye. And good to see them beaten into oblivion.”
“Maybe Emile will be off his game,” Jake said. “I hear Amy’s pregnant.”
“Probably just pump him up.”
Robbie’s stomach turned queasy. A baby. He loved babies—children and teens, too. He’d always assumed he’d have them, but had never imagined who their mother would be until now—and he needed to stop imagining that because it was off the table. Or, more true, had never been on the table. Just as well.
A whole forest would have to be sacrificed for the amount of paper it would take for Hyacinth to make baby lists. Ridiculous, she was about that.
But it was as endearing as baby lambs.
* * *
Driving up to Ava Grace’s palatial home always made Hyacinth want to run. But then she would remember Ava Grace was inside, and not someone who would treat her like she was out of their league.
Out of habit, she reached for her constant companion of late—the bag that contained her hand sewing. But there was no bag. The dress was done and gone. She’d cut it close, only finished the hem minutes before Jules, Shelia, and Leslie arrived for the final fitting. Hyacinth had had to stall while Brad and Patty steamed it.
Yet, she had been calm. Or maybe she’d been too exhausted to get “wound up,” as Robbie would have said.
Robbie. Alex and the women had been disappointed that he wasn’t there for the reveal shoot, but Hyacinth hadn’t cared. It wasn’t as if Trousseau was going to be a repeat venue for the show anyway. She had reminded them that he was, after all, a professional hockey player and she had already asked him to miss one practice for the show and hadn’t been inclined to do it a second time.
Consequently, what would be the last few minutes of the show had been anticlimactic.
The dress had been a perfect fit. A stunning Jules had cried and declared Hyacinth a miracle worker. Shelia and Leslie had cooed and tricked Jules out in the pearls and tiara she’d brought. Finally, Jules had sparkled for the camera, spread her arms wide as if she were embracing all of mankind, and performed the classic closing line like the Oscar winner she was, “And here I am. All dressed in white!”
Alex had yelled, “Cut,” and hadn’t even asked for a second take. After getting Jules in the dress, the whole thing had taken no more than twenty minutes.
Had Robbie come, they might still be there. He would have probably brought an ice cream truck, a pipe band, and an elephant.
Come to think of it, riding an elephant while eating ice cream might have been fun. She could tolerate a pipe band if she had to. Crazy thinking.
“Looks like it’s just the two of us,” Ava Grace said when she opened the door for Hyacinth.
At that, relief washed over Hyacinth. She had never wanted this watching party that Ava Grace had insisted on putting together. Humiliation was always best done alone, but Ava Grace could dig her heels in when she was of a mind to. Hyacinth had, however, been adamant that the guest list be severely limited.
In the end, it had worked out. Claire and Evans were in Nashville with the team, Patty had a family birthday, and Brad had gone to Atlanta to meet a friend at the last minute. But she had thought Skip was supposed to be in town.
Hyacinth asked, “Why no Skip?” She liked him fine, but didn’t know him well enough to relish sitting through this particular episode of All Dressed in White with him.
Ava Grace frowned. “He had to stay in Atlanta through the weekend.” She brightened. “But he’s coming in Wednesday in time for the gala.”
“And your hand will be a little heavier this time next week,” Hyacinth teased her.
“I do think you’re right. This is the year. Adele wasn’t supposed to tell me, but he called and asked her to get their grandmother’s jewelry from the safety deposit box.”
“I’m so happy for you, Ava Grace.”
“Let’s not talk about me. This is your night, and here I am making you stand at the front door. I’ve set us up in the library. It’s cozier in there.”
Hyacinth followed her down the hall, thankful that they weren’t going to the cavernous media room with the screen the size of a movie theater.
“Don’t expect too much,” Hyacinth said. “It didn’t go that well.”
“I’m expecting everything,” Ava Grace said as they settled in on the deep, butter soft sofa. “It’s going to be wonderful—you’re going to be wonderful.”
“Don’t count on it.”
There was a bottle of wine, some crackers, a brick of cream cheese with pepper jelly, and some cheese straws on a tray on the coffee table. Ava Grace removed the lid from a crystal dish of nuts and poured them each a glass of wine.
“Dorothea made a light supper for us to have after, but help yourself to a little nibble.”
As if she could eat. “Thanks.” She sipped the wine and waited for the death knell as Ava Grace turned on the television.
The show opened as it always did, with a shot of the outside of the featured bridal shop and a voice-over from someone the audience had never seen. It was bizarre after all her wishing and hoping—and pleading and harassing—to see Trousseau in that shot.
“Today we’re at Trousseau, a charming shop in a suburb of Birmingham, Alabama,” the familiar voice said. “Let’s see if owner Hyacinth Dawson can send our bride away today happy and all dressed in white, or if she’ll have to leave disappointed and still have nothing to wear for the most important day of her life.”
Most important day of her life? Really? What about birth? And the day it all clicks and she realizes she can read? Graduations? Giving birth? And come to think of it, what could be more important than the day she uses the bathroom on her own for the first time? That might be the top thing, right there. She wouldn’t say any of that to Ava Grace since that other important day was on the horizon for her.
“Does that ever happen on this show?” Ava Grace asked. “Do they ever leave without a dress?”
“Occasionally. It’s always awful—drama, crying, and handwringing. And that’s just from the shop owner.”
“Were you afraid that would happen?”
“No,” Hyacinth admitted. “But I should have been. It almost did.”
The show opened with Hyacinth opening the door for Reynolds, Jules, Shelia, and Leslie with the disembodied voice identifying everyone.
“You look great, Hyacinth,” Ava Grace said. “Is that a new dress?”
“Yes. The latest in a long line of shrouds.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” Maybe she’d rethink her work clothes. Sure, she needed to be subdued, but did she have to go to the extreme? Wearing some neutrals, with a few plain pastels thrown in here and there, would be a welcome relief.
Ah, the arrival of Robbie—and the noise in the room went up.
“Has Robbie got a cake?” Ava Grace gasped.
“Yes. And he made it. I guess we haven’t talked much.” That had been intentional on Hyacinth’s part, even after Jules’s dress was finished. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened with Robbie until she had to.
On the screen, the love fest ensued, accompanied by tight shots of the cake and all the exclamations over Robbie’s off the ice talent.
“Wow. I would not have seen that coming. He really made it himself?” Ava Grace said.
“Believe me, I didn’t see it coming either, but apparently he did; he borrowed the equipment from Kristin.”
“How sweet.” She grinned. “Amazing what he’s willing to do for you.”
For you. Funny that Ava Grace saw it that way. That was exactly what Robbie had insisted.
Next, there was a short segment of Reynolds and Jules sitting on stools holding hands and talking about how they met and Reynolds’s proposal—all with the magical Christmas decorations twinkling in the background. Nice, but standard stuff.
“Our decorations look great,” Ava Grace said.
“They’re perfect,” Hyacinth agreed. “Thanks to you. It was your vision.”
“Don’t sell Robbie short,” Ava Grace said. “He had some great ideas.”
Too late, too late, too late, her inward voice whispered.
Now, Reynolds was kissing Jules goodbye and it was time to get down to dress business—and the humiliation that was coming as sure as the sun was going to rise tomorrow.
It started out well enough. Hyacinth’s speech about showing Jules different dresses to get an idea of what she wanted was good. Professional and poised, even. The irony was, she hadn’t pulled different styles—only a different take on that same sheath over and over again.
But the worst was about to set in—Jules’s rejection of the dress and Hyacinth’s utter panic. But wait. What was this?
The camera homed in on Jules’s rejection, her interaction with Shelia and Leslie, and only switched back to Hyacinth and Robbie when they were presenting the slightly more elaborate, but still plain, sheath that was meant to buy time. It showed none of Hyacinth’s discomfort or long, silent pauses. Then Robbie clowned with the dress, pretending to be a game show hostess but, again, Hyacinth’s pained reaction wasn’t revealed.
Maybe humiliation wasn’t coming. Somewhere, she’d gotten the idea this show was going to be about her, picking apart all her flaws and incompetence. The audience didn’t care about her! And that was great news. They cared about the bride, especially since it was Jules Perry. And they cared about Robbie to a lesser degree, because he was unpredictable and funny. The All Dressed in White folks knew that and that’s what they were showing.
The scene with the tossing of the dresses was blessedly short. The show got the comic relief they wanted, a slice of Robbie’s charm, and none of Hyacinth’s reaction. They showed the moment where Hyacinth zeroed in on the style Jules liked and went from there to Jules trying on A-line dresses, without showing any of the downtime while Hyacinth gathered the selections. Alex had told her they would edit out the downtimes, but she had lost sight of that.
“You’re coming across just right,” Ava Grace said. “Knowledgeable. Professional.”
It was true. One might even say dignified and classy.
But she wasn’t out of the woods, not by a long shot. The worst moment of the day was coming and there was still plenty of time for her to look like a fool.
And here they were. Jules in a panic over wanting one skirt and another bodice, Leslie telling Jules to suck it up, Shelia suggesting that maybe they needed to go another way. That came across much more drama-filled than it had been.
None of this was about Hyacinth—until it was.
