At the Drop of a Hat (2 page)

“Ariana, what a pretty name,” I said. I gave her my most winning smile. “It suits you. Do you and Harrison go a long way back?”

Harry raised his eyebrows, no doubt surprised that I hadn't used his nickname. Well, just like he didn't know that I liked the name “Ginger,” he also didn't know that I considered “Harry” my personal name for him and I really didn't want to share it.

“Not at all, just a few rugby seasons,” Ariana said. She and Harrison exchanged a smile. “My fiancé, Stephen, plays on the same league team, and when I said I wanted to get my mother's hat fixed for our wedding, Stephen asked Harrison about Mim's Whims. I was thrilled to find out you're still here.”

She put the old hatbox on the counter. “I was hoping you might be able to help me. My mother's hat needs some refurbishing and since it originally came from this shop . . .”

“Let's see what we've got here,” Viv said. She gestured to the box. “May I?”

Ariana gave her a quick nod and Viv eagerly pried the lid off. Nested amid layers of pale tissue paper was a wide-brimmed white confection. Viv carefully reached into the box and gently pulled the hat free.

I gasped. It was beautiful: a wide-brimmed, white silk hat swathed in tulle with a large silk bow and a lush organza rose nestled in the center. As Viv lifted it, a long organza train fell down from beneath the bow and spilled over the brim. Fee reached out and pulled the train free—it was long and delicate with embroidered edges. Even I could see our grandmother's handiwork all over it.

“Oh, Mim,” Viv said. Her voice sounded wistful and I knew just how she felt. To hold something our grandmother had made over thirty years ago brought her right back to us.

The sweet scent of lily of the valley filled my nose. I glanced at Viv at the same moment she glanced at me.
Mim.
It was the distinct scent Mim had always worn. I glanced around the shop as if expecting her to appear, but of course she didn't. Still, she was here, or the essence of her was here. I was sure of it just as I was sure she wanted Viv to restore the hat.

“I'd be happy to try and fix the hat,” Viv said. “No, I'd be honored.”

“Are you certain?” Ariana asked. “There's been some damage.”

Viv examined the hat. A vee formed in between her eyes as she examined the fabric of the hat.

“Dupioni silk?” Fee asked.

“Yes,” Viv said. She ran her fingers over the silk, examining the stitches.

“How is that different from other silk?” Harrison asked. I could have hugged him for asking what I wanted to know but hadn't asked because I didn't want to look dumb.

“Dupioni silk is a crisp type of silk,” Viv said. “They use a fine silk in the warp and uneven thread from two different cocoons, sometimes in different colors, in the weft.”

“And here I thought I'd understand what you were talking about,” Harrison said with a shake of his head. “Please excuse me, ladies, while I go play with numbers, which make much more sense to me. Ariana, give my best to Stephen and tell him I'll see him on the pitch.”

“I will,” Ariana promised.

Harrison turned and strolled to the workroom in the back of the shop. As I watched him walk away, I admired the broad shape of his shoulders under his sweater and the way his dark brown hair curled at the nape of his neck. He was an annoyingly handsome man.

“All right, Scarlett?” Fee asked.

I glanced away from Harrison to find all three of them looking at me.

“Absolutely. Why?” I asked.

“You sighed,” Viv said. Then she grinned and added, “Longingly.”

“Really?” I asked. I ignored the heat I could feel warming my face. “I must be hungry.”

“But not for food, yeah?” Fee asked and then laughed. Viv joined her but Ariana gave us all a confused look.

“Ignore them,” I said to her. I rolled my eyes. “They're just teasing me. I mean Harrison, really?”

“I don't know,” Ariana said. “I may be getting married to his teammate in a month but even I can see he is quite dishy.”

Now my face was flaming hot. Subject change now.

I forced a smile. “So you're getting married? Congratulations. Is that why you want the hat refurbished?”

Ariana's face grew somber. “Partly. You see, my mother passed away when I was in school. My father's new wife”—she paused and made a pained face—“gave away my mother's wedding dress to charity when she was clearing out her things, so this is all that I have of hers and I was really hoping to wear it at my own wedding.”

A glance at Viv and Fee and I knew from their sympathetic expressions that they felt Ariana's sadness as deeply as I did.

Viv turned the hat around in her hands. “There are some tears and discoloring in the silk. In order to fix it, I may have to remove large sections of the original material.”

“But you think it can be done?” Ariana asked.

Her hopeful expression had me holding my breath as I waited for Viv's answer. I so wanted Ariana to have her mother's hat on her special day.

“Yes,” Viv said. She gave a decisive nod. “I can do it.”

“Oh, that's wonderful!” Ariana cried, and she clapped her hands together. Then her face fell. “I am on a bit of a budget, however.”

“Not to worry,” Viv said. “Before I do any of the work, I'll get you an estimate. We'll make it work within your budget.”

“Thank you,” Ariana said. She glanced at the watch on her wrist and her eyes widened. “Oh, I have to go. I work for a solicitor in Kensington, Mr. Anthony Russo. He'll throw a wobbler if I'm late getting back.”

“Here, give us your phone number and we can text you the estimate,” I said. She was looking anxiously at the door and I didn't want to hold her up longer than necessary.

She quickly jotted down her number and I walked her to the door. I retrieved her coat from the rack and held it open for her.

“Thank you,” she said. She glanced back at Vivian and the hat and asked, “You'll mind it well, won't you?”

“As if it were my very own wedding hat,” Viv promised with a smile.

Ariana puffed a sigh of relief, cried her thanks one more time, and hurried back out into the lead-bottomed day. As the door shut behind her, a draft of cold and wet snuck in and splashed against my black tights. My black ankle-high boots and purple knit dress were no defense against the damp, and I hurriedly closed the door after her.

“She's going to make a lovely bride with this hat on, yeah?” Fee asked.

“I wonder what her gown looks like,” I said.

I love weddings. I love everything about them: the brides, gowns, tiaras, flowers and all that goes with them, well, all except for the groom. As I mentioned, I was off men for at least a year and thoughts of men in tuxedos were not helpful, so I found it better just to focus on the bridal portion of things. Luckily, at Mim's Whims, we were mostly about the bride.

“We'll have to ask,” Viv said. She was considering the hat, turning it over in her hands.

“Maybe she'll order all of her bridesmaid's hats through us,” Fee said. She gave us a hopeful look as she left the front of the shop and headed back to the workroom to finish her latest project.

“Assuming she hires us to fix the hat,” Viv said. She was still examining the inside, running her fingers over the stitching. She glanced up at me. Her smile was wistful. “I hope she hires us. I love the idea of restoring one of Mim's hats to its original glory.”

I glanced down at the beautiful silk and organza and ran my fingertip over the same stitches Viv had.

“I get the feeling Mim wants you to,” I said in a soft voice.

“Me, too,” she whispered back. “No matter how much Ariana can afford, I think we need to make this happen.”

“Agreed,” I said.

Of course, everything seems like a great idea when you have no idea what you're getting yourself into.

“It's the third message I've left for her this week,” I said. “If the wedding is in a month, she needs to give you time to get the work on the hat done.”

It had been several days since Ariana had been in with her mother's hat. Viv had done the estimate right away and I had called Ariana at the number she'd given us but hadn't gotten a call back. Viv had instructed me to be flexible with the cost, but since I hadn't heard from her, I hadn't even had the opportunity to haggle.

“Maybe she's caught up in so much wedding stuff, she hasn't had time,” Viv said. “You know how brides are.”

It was true. We did a lot of wedding hats, from the bride's veil to the bridesmaids' hats, the mothers and the guests. It was very lucrative. And yes, we had dealt with our share of hysterical brides. Ariana hadn't seemed like that, though.

“I'm locking up,” Viv cried over her shoulder as she crossed the shop to the front door.

“Excellent,” I said. “We have to be over at Andre and Nick's before the show starts. Nick said he's feeling inspired.”

“I can't believe they have us watching
The Great British Bake Off
,” Viv said as she came back. “Between us we can barely boil water.”

“I think Nick is smitten with Mary Berry,” I said. “Besides I am crushing ridiculously on the chef from Devon, what's his name—Trevor, no, Trey, no . . .”

“Travis,” Viv supplied. “Travis Manfred.”

“What?” a voice squawked from behind me. I turned to see Harrison standing in the doorway to the workroom. “Ginger, you're crushing on that mangy git? I wouldn't let him fry me an egg.”

I smiled. I couldn't help it. I got a perverse pleasure in riling Harrison. I tossed my hair over my shoulder and tried to look nonchalant.

“I can't help it if he has the dreamiest blue eyes,” I said. “Don't you think so, Viv?”

“Oh, no, you're daft if you think I'm getting in the midst of this,” she said. She turned and narrowed her eyes at Harrison. “Correct me if I'm wrong, however, didn't you say you were only joining us because you thought the dark-haired girl was quite fit.”

I frowned. I might be from the States, but even I know that when a British man calls a girl “fit,” he is not talking about her exercise capacity; rather, he thinks she's hot.

“How very shallow of you, Harry,” I said.

“Bloody double standard you're working there, Ginger,” Harrison said.

I ignored him. I'm very good at that, just like I can pretty much tune out any words I don't want to hear or not see things I'd rather not. Probably that's why my last relationship was a
CATASTROPHE,
in all caps.

All joking aside, I was in no shape to date anyone possibly forever. No, it was much better to drool over an amateur chef as he baked his way into fame and fortune.

“Come on, you two,” Viv called from the workroom. “We're going to be late!”

*   *   *

Our friends, Nick Carroll and Andre Eisel, lived several shops down Portobello Road from our hat shop. The lower half of their place housed Andre's photography studio and they lived in the two floors above much like Viv and me, except Nick and Andre are a couple instead of cousins. Oh, and Nick's a dentist.

Lucky for us, they love to entertain, because Viv and I do not. So it was understood that we would bring the wine and dessert when they invited us to dinner, which happened about once a week and usually on
Great British Bake Off
night.

It helped that Nick thought of himself as a great undiscovered chef, and in all fairness, he really was skilled. It goes without saying that he was the one who liked to watch
the show
the most. I half expected him to enter the running every time the applications were open.

The way he yelled at the bakers, “Bloody hell, use the whisk! The whisk!” or “By all that is holy, how can you call that a reduction? It's reducing me to tears, I tell you,” it was more fun watching him than it was the show.

“What did you pick up for dessert?” I asked Harrison as we walked down the street.

He was carrying a large bakery box, and just the sight of it made my stomach growl.

“Pecan tarts from Paul Rhodes Bakery,” he said. “They are amazing.”

“Hmm. Are you sure you don't want me to taste test one, Harry? It would be bad form to show up with a marginal dessert.”

“I'm quite sure, thanks,” he said. “And it's Harrison.”

I gave him my best grumpy look. He did not appear swayed in the least.

“Do we know what Nick is cooking tonight?” I asked Viv.

“No, which is why you are carrying red wine and I am carrying white,” she said. We passed the main entrance to the studio and stopped in front of a small side door. Viv turned the handle and it opened. Harrison held the door and waited for us to enter first.

“Hello? Anyone home?” I called up the stairs.

“Scarlett, is that you?” Andre's head appeared over the banister above. His smile was a white slash against his cocoa-colored skin. He was wearing a form-fitting periwinkle silk shirt, and the diamond stud he wore in one ear winked at me in the overhead light.

“Yes, it's me and I found two strangers and invited them to join us,” I teased. “Is that all right?”

“Did they bring dessert?” he asked.

“And wine,” I replied.

“By all means, show them up,” he said. “Oh, and lock the door behind you, would you?”

“Done,” Harrison called from behind me.

The three of us trudged up the stairs just in time to hear Nick in the kitchen.

“Three cups of broth? I only have two! Dinner is ruined!”

“Sounds like there's a drama happening in the kitchen,” Andre said. “Make yourselves at home and I'll see if I can use my sous chef magic to calm him down.”

We put the wine and the bakery box on the side table in the dining room and made our way to the living room, where the stereo was on and playing David Gray.

I glanced out the large windows onto the street below and noted that it was raining again. I followed the path of a raindrop down the window with my finger. I felt as if I hadn't seen the sun in forever.

“Why so glum, Ginger?” Harrison asked as he moved to stand beside me.

“I honestly don't think I can take much more of this rain,” I said.

“It could be worse,” Viv said. “It could be raining cats and dogs and then there'd be poodles everywhere.”

Harrison snorted while I gave her my best unamused face. It really is a good one. I've practiced it in the mirror.

“They said it would keep raining for another week, but I drought it,” Harrison quipped. This time Viv busted up. I refused and gave them both my frostiest look.

“Well, you are in merry ol' England,” Harrison cajoled. “We are rather known for our precipitation.”

“You're right,” I said. Then I teased, “I'm beginning to think it was a pour choice.”

They both blinked at me.

“Aw, now that was a good one. Get it? ‘Pour' choice instead of ‘poor' choice, you know, because it's pouring out.”

Harrison patted my shoulder and Viv gave me a sympathetic look. I knew they were teasing me. It was a bit of a game between us, but it made me more determined than ever. One of these days I was going to unleash a pun that they couldn't help but laugh at.

“Crisis averted,” Andre said as he rejoined us. “But I'm glad you brought two bottles of wine. We might need them.”

“Is that a dig at my cooking?” Nick asked as he followed Andre into the room.

“No!” Andre quickly assured him. “I was referring to the tension in the
Bake Off
, you know, Scarlett is rooting for that Trevor fellow.”

“Travis,” Viv and I said together and I heard Harrison huff out a breath.

“Now don't be sullen just because he's more talented than what's her name,” I said.

Andre and Nick both turned to look at Harrison and he lowered an eyebrow at me.

“Prudence Chatham,” he said. “You know very well what her name is.”

“Doubtful,” I said. I took the wineglass that Nick proffered and kissed his cheek in greeting. “She doesn't have dreamy blue eyes.”

“No,” Nick agreed. He brushed the bib of his purple apron and used his ring finger to smooth one of his blond eyebrows. “I'd say she's a bit peaky looking, like a strong wind might carry her off.”

“A bit ferrety if you ask me,” Andre added. “All nose and teeth.”

I made the mistake of sipping my wine when he spoke and started to laugh, making the wine almost shoot out my nose. I covered my face with my hand while I coughed and laughed and coughed.

“Laugh it up there, Ginger,” Harrison said. “We'll see who's laughing when my ferret beats Mr. Dreamy Eyes.”

“Oh.” Nick rubbed his hands together. “Do I hear a wager in the making?”

Harrison's bright green eyes met mine. His gaze positively sizzled with nefarious intentions.

“What do you say, Scarlett?” he asked. “Do we have a bet?”

“That depends,” I said. “What did you have in mind?”

My voice came out low and husky, inviting all sorts of midnight naughtiness. I watched Harry's Adam's apple bob when he gulped.

Damn it. I was at it again. I really needed to find the shutoff valve for my flirtatious streak. But honestly, I didn't want to. This celibacy thing was really beginning to cramp my style.

Harrison cleared his throat as Viv, Andre and Nick swiveled their heads between us like they were watching a tennis match. When Harry's gaze met mine, the look he gave me scorched. Wow!

Okay, so dreamy blue eyes had nothing on Harry's magnetic green gaze. I shook my head. It didn't matter. I was staying single and not letting Harrison or anyone else lure me into the miserable world of dating, bad relationship choices and heartbreak. Jaded much? Yes, I am.

I glanced at Viv, hoping to silently communicate my distress at the situation. Call it cousinly intuition or what have you, she got it right away.

“I suggest the wager be in line with what you're betting about,” she said. “Since you're betting over a cooking competition, the loser has to make a meal for the winner.”

“Oh, dear, I'm obliged to hope Scarlett wins then,” Nick said.

“Why's that?” Harrison asked, looking offended.

“Because Scarlett can't toast bread, never mind cook. Truly, mate, I'm looking out for you by hoping you lose,” Nick said and then he burst out laughing as if the idea of me cooking a meal was too preposterous for words.

“I think I'm offended,” I said. I held out my hand to Harrison. “I'll take that bet.”

The grin he gave me was pure mischief, and the feel of his large man hand closing around my smaller one made me go just the tiniest bit weak in the knees. I locked them in place, refusing to be swayed by any misplaced surge of hormones. It was only natural to react to a man since my libido had been on lockdown for longer than I could ever remember.

“Excellent,” he said. He looked as if he thought victory was his, and then I realized that an intimate dinner for two was a victory for him in that it moved us into an area that was almost date-like. For me, it was a loss because it was going to test my strength of character on the whole staying single thing, which frankly was proving to be more challenging than I'd anticipated.

Before I let go of his hand, I looked him right in the eye and said, “Just to clarify, the loser makes dinner, at least three courses plus dessert.”

“Agreed,” he said, still smiling.

And then I lowered the boom. “For all five of us on a date to be determined.”

“What?” Harrison gaped, but it was too late. Andre and Nick cheered the suggestion, and Viv looked at me with a knowing smile. Yes, I suspect she knew exactly what I was up to, avoiding being alone with Harrison for as long as I was able.