“I know, and I tell myself the same.” She hated,
hated that the tears burned again, and this time filled, this time spilled. “Most of the time I feel just that way. So what? But other times ...”
“It’s insulting to Del as much as you.”
“Maybe. We’ve never really talked about if we’re serious, or if we’re looking to make what we have long-term. It’s really just about the moment. Most of the time I’m good with that, fine with it, because the moments are really good. But other times ...”
“Do you think he’s with you just because you’re available?”
“No.” She brushed impatiently at the tears. “No, of course I don’t.”
“Do you think it’s just about the sex for him?”
“No.”
“Or that he’s given a single thought to the fact that your last name doesn’t have the same cachet as his?”
Laurel shook her head. “Emma, I know when I’m being stupid, but even knowing it doesn’t always stop someone from being stupid. I wish I didn’t have this vulnerable spot, and God knows I wish I hadn’t let Linda poke her sharp stick right into it. But it’s there.”
“We’ve all got them.” Emma covered Laurel’s hand with hers. “Especially when we love somebody. That’s why we need girlfriends.”
“She made me cry. How weak is that? I would’ve gone up to my room and blubbered over it if you hadn’t stopped me. When I think of how frustrated I’d get with Mac when she’d let Linda push her around emotionally.” She blew out a breath.
“The woman’s poison.”
“Damn right, she is. Well, at least I kicked her off the estate.”
“It’s my turn next time.You, Parker, and Mac have all had yours. I want a shot.”
“Only fair. Thanks, Emma.”
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah, I feel better.”
“Let’s go take that swim.”
“Okay.” Laurel nodded briskly. “Okay, let’s go drown my pity party.”
LATER, STEADIER, SHE SETTLED DOWN IN HER OFFICE. HER PAPERWORK could use some attention, she decided, and since she had some time on her hands, it might as well get it.
She took care of her filing, invoicing, bills, with Bon Jovi for company. Then shifted over to check out some of her suppliers’ websites.
She needed more pastry bags, cake boxes, pastry boxes, maybe some new transfer sheets. Liners, she thought, and paper doilies. After dealing with the necessities, she started to study tools and display items she really didn’t need—but might be fun to play with.
Icing at Vows’ budget could handle a few toys, she decided. Plus she could use some new crimpers, some new chocolate molds, and God, she really wanted that double guitar cutter.
Her practical side made her sit back, stew over the price. But when they finished with her new storage area, she’d have room for the bigger cutter. It would be practical, really. She’d be able to cut twice as many petit fours, chocolates, ganaches as she could now. And it had four frames.
She could put the one she had now, the one she’d bought used, on eBay.
Hell with it. She deserved it. But even as she clicked Add To Cart, she jumped in guilt when Mac said her name.
“God, don’t sneak up on me when I’m spending money I really don’t need to spend.”
“On what? Oh.” Mac shrugged when she saw the bakery supply site. “Tools, we all need them. Listen, Laurel ...”
“Emma told you.” Laurel heaved out a breath. “You’d better not be here to apologize for Linda.”
“I’m allowed to be sorry.” Mac stuffed her hands in her pockets. “My first reaction was to call her and ream her, but that only gives her attention. Which is what she wants most next to money. So I’m going to ignore it, and that way she gets nothing. Which will piss her off. A lot.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, but since I’m going to ignore it, I have to be sorry—and you have to let me.”
“Okay, be sorry.” Deliberately Laurel looked at her watch, counted to ten. “Now, be finished being sorry.”
“All right.You know what I wish? I wish I didn’t have to invite her to the wedding. But I do.”
“We’ll handle it.”
“I know. Maybe a miracle will happen and she’ll behave herself. I know,” Mac added with a half laugh when Laurel cast her eyes to the ceiling. “But as a bride I’m allowed the fantasy.”
“She’ll never understand you, or us. That’s her loss.”
“It really is.” Leaning down, Mac kissed the top of Laurel’s head. “I’ll see you later.”
Whatever crumbs of self-pity remained were swept away as Mac left.
All done with it, Laurel thought, and bought herself a brand-new double guitar cutter.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LAUREL WASN’T SURE WHERE THE IMPULSE CAME FROM, BUT SHE followed it to Del’s law offices. Though she rarely visited there, for personal or legal reasons, she knew the setup.
The front door of the dignified old town house opened, as she deemed it should, to a dignified foyer. That angled into a pretty reception area, with leafy plants in copper pots, antique tables, generous chairs, muted colors warm with the flow of light.
Offices maintained privacy for clients behind thick old doors, lovingly restored, and time-faded rugs highlighted the deep tones of the wide-planked floors.
Del, she knew, appreciated the mix of the dignified and the warmly casual.
She stepped out of the sweltering heat into the cool where Annie, a woman she’d gone to school with, manned the desk and its computer.
Annie shifted, and her professional smile spread to a friendly grin. “Laurel, hi! How are you? Haven’t seen you in months.”
“They keep me chained to the oven. Hey, you cut your hair. I love it.”
Annie tried out a little head toss. “Sassy?”
“Absolutely.”
“And best, it takes about two minutes in the morning.”
“So, how are you otherwise?”
“I’m great. We should have a drink sometime soon, and catch up.”
“I’d like that. I brought something for Del.” She lifted the bakery box she carried.
“If it’s anything like the cake you made for Dara, I just gained five pounds looking at the box. He’s with a client. I can just—”
“Don’t interrupt him,” Laurel said. “I’ll leave it with you.”
“I don’t know if I can be trusted.”
With a laugh, Laurel set the box on the desk. “There’s enough to share. I had to come into town, so I just brought these by before I—”
“Hold that thought,” Annie told her as her phone rang. “Good morning, Brown and Associates.”
Laurel wandered away while Annie handled the call, taking a casual study of the art on the walls. She knew they were originals, and from area artists. The Browns had always been serious patrons of the arts, and involved in local interests.
It occurred to her she’d never given much thought to how Del had set up his practice. After his parents died, she remembered now, and shortly before they’d formed Vows. They’d probably been among his first clients, now that she thought of it.
She’d been working at the Willows, keeping her own finances afloat while Vows took its first events. She’d been too busy, she supposed, and too damn tired to think about how Del must have been juggling his own fledgling practice, the details of his parents’ estates, the legalities of Vows as a business and a partnership.
They’d all been scrambling like mad with plans, obligations, test runs, part-time work to fill the coffers. But Del had never seemed rushed, had he? she asked herself.
The Brown cool, she supposed. As well as that seemingly innate Brown confidence that whatever they outlined they’d make work.
They’d grieved together, she remembered. Hard, hard times. But the grief and the hard had acted as another kind of glue, fusing them together.