Pinpoint (Point #4) (23 page)

Violet nods in approval. “That’s my girl.”

The weight of a muscular arm curls around my shoulder, a hard body sandwiching me to one side and Violet to the other. “Iris, would you mind if I stole Violet?” I glance up at Cameron, grinning down at me with his notoriously mischievous glint.

“By all means.”

He drops a brotherly kiss on the top of my head then releases me. One arm remains tightly wound around Violet, anchoring her to his side. A sigh builds in my chest. The romance gets me every time. I watch Cameron usher my sister past the other party guests who attempt to drag them into the conversation. They move through the crowd and disappear into the kitchen. Frowning, I wonder where they’re going.

“Where are they sneaking off to?” Stella Baccino, Violet’s close friend and the hostess of tonight’s party, arrives at my side with a hint of floral perfume preceding her. I glance at the curvy dark-haired woman and lift my shoulders in a shrug. “He was mysterious. I don’t think she knows either.”

“Cameron is a closet romantic. Can I get you something to drink? You’re empty-handed.”

“Thank you, Stella, but I’m fine. Not much of a drinker.”

“Not even a soda? Coffee?” Stella winces. “Ouch. I just realized I sound exactly like my mother, badgering you to eat something. I’m sorry. I’ll lay off.”

I laugh a little. “No worries.”

Stella takes a sip from a champagne flute, her humongous solitaire emerald engagement ring winking at me underneath the twinkle lights Violet hung around the room. My sister insisted on decorating for the party, and despite Stella’s argument, Violet always wins. Earlier today, she transformed Stella and Blake’s urban mansion into a wonderland of delicate lighting, lush white floral, and shimmery linens.

“Have you set a wedding date?” I ask Stella.

“Not quite. Maybe you can help me with this.”

“Me?” I ask in shock.

“Don’t look so surprised. I consider you to be a friend, Iris.” Stella and I are about the same height. When she nudges me with her shoulder, our bodies align.

There go my cheeks again, a flush spreading across them. “I consider you a friend, too.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if you realize that I genuinely like you. Even if Violet hadn’t introduced us, I would have wanted a loyal person like you as a friend.”

“Stella . . .” For some reason, tears sting at the corners of my eyes, seeking release. I sniff and blink firmly to force them back. I needed to hear that tonight.

Noting my emotional response, Stella plows forward. “Back to how you can assist me in the tricky matter of setting a date for my wedding.”

With a watery smile, I urge her on. “I’m all ears.”

“As you know, Violet can be stubborn. For example, we spent all of November arguing about this party. Blake and I wanted her to be a guest, but she argued and bartered until I relented and allowed her to decorate. When my wedding comes, I want her to be part of the festivities, not working them. And that goes for you too,” she says noticing that I’m opening my mouth to respond.

With a sheepish grin, I shake my head. “Okay. Got it. No friends with double duty as staff.”

“Exactly. You and Violet were busy almost the entire night. And I am grateful, please don’t misunderstand me. That night was magical, and I had a truly wonderful time. But I want to celebrate
with
you, not while you are working. It already made our engagement party weird. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely.”

Stella sighs unhappily. “It won’t make sense to your sister. Like you, she’s such a giver, and I don’t know how I can convince her otherwise. How can my bridesmaid also be the wedding planner? That’s too much. Selfishly, I want her spending time with me during these milestones. You two are more than friends; you’re family.”

“Oh, Stella.” I place my hand on her shoulder. “That’s exactly how Violet feels about you. That’s why she’ll want to throw you your dream wedding.”

“I know.” Obvious distress marks her features.

“What about a happy medium to satisfy both parties?”

Stella nibbles on her lower lip but starts to look hopeful. “I’m listening.”

“Violet could plan your wedding, rehearsal party, and whatever other events that may need the Expertly Planned touch. Then, during the actual event, she could hire an additional couple of staff members to run the activities. She could be at your side, and she’ll only check her phone occasionally instead of every two minutes.”

Stella continues to chew on her lip, mulling over my suggestion. “That could work,” she says to herself. “Of course, I would insist on paying anyone she hires. On that, I won’t budge. Manipulation isn’t really my thing, but maybe you can be there when I talk to Violet. If you support my side, we may have a shot at swaying her.”

“In the end, we all want the same thing.” Stella meets my eyes and a charged moment passes between us. I feel it then—her genuine affection. My lips tip upward, and I release a tension I didn’t realize I was holding in my shoulders. Little by little, I’m building a life here, finding my way, and reinforcing the decisions to leave the life I knew behind in Winter.

Violet sits at my right, swiping through her phone while I drum my fingers nervously on the table. “Your stress is stressing me out,” she mutters. “They’re going to do wonderfully.”

“I wish I could be in the kitchen.”

“I knew you would crack under the pressure.” Violet and I both look up to see Oscar standing above us, his full lips twisted into a teasing smile. Sandalwood swirls around me. I want to close my eyes and inhale the scent until it consumes my senses. But that doesn’t fit with the friend thing Oscar insists on, so I do my best to hide my inner thoughts from him. Oscar either ignores whatever’s written on my face or doesn’t see how badly I still want him because he continues talking as though I’m not obviously emotionally and physically lusting after him. “Relax, Iris. Everything’s fine.”

“I can’t help but worry about them. They’re my kids,” I explain with an unapologetic shoulder lift.

Oscar’s dark brown eyes soften. His hand twitches at his side as if he wants to reach for me. But then all the softness disappears, and his jaw tightens. Used to his swaying emotions, I ignore the shift. “Come on. Let’s go say hello.” Eagerly, I jump to my feet and practically dart through the length of the restaurant and into the kitchen.

“Iris! Get outta here. You’re supposed to be surprised.” London frowns at me. In an instant, I know that by showing up while they are scrambling around the kitchen, I’m doing the thing I promised myself that I wouldn’t do—disrespecting my students.

Slapping a hand over my eyes, I take a step backward. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Mama bear instincts are overpowering my good sense. Get back to work and pretend that this never happened.” Since my eyes are closed, and senses are thrown off by the cacophony of sounds and smells in the kitchen, I don’t realize Oscar stands directly behind me. When I spin around, I get my wish. My body collides with his, and for the briefest moment, I’m lost in the flat planes of his chest, his scent, and the memories of what it was like to be with him, albeit fleetingly. Instinctively, my fingers curl around his taut biceps to balance. The crisp white button-down wrinkles underneath my hands, but I don’t release my grip. I tilt my head back, meeting Oscar’s amused eyes.

“Something wrong?”

“You were right. I need to let them be.”

“Guests are beginning to arrive. Let’s greet them.” Reluctantly, I release my hold on Oscar. With a flat palm, he pushes the kitchen door open to allow me to exit ahead of him. His fingertips find my lower back, searing my skin with their innocent touch. I wish I didn’t respond to him this way, but the reaction is out of my control.

Back in the dining room, a few people are beginning to arrive. My sister stands with the other Mariposa servers. Oscar told me that they’re being paid to be here tonight, though they all volunteered to come.
Tax write-off
, Oscar said. That’s a convenient cover-up; underneath, I know Oscar inspires loyalty from his employees and a generous boss.

Hand still resting on the small of my back, Oscar and I move together toward the adults filling the empty dining room. From the corner of my eye, I notice my sister standing with Bruce and, to my pleasant surprise, his recently found girlfriend, Amanda. They’re all here to volunteer tonight, too. From her vantage point, my sister gets a great view of Oscar and me. Violet stares at the two of us with raised eyebrows.

Confused, Violet? You and me both.
Affixing a bright smile isn’t difficult when I see a woman who looks remarkably like Michael. There’s no shyness and no prickling sensation in my hands—no anxiety to speak of. Maybe Oscar’s presence has a calming effect on me, or maybe I’m becoming more self-confident. I put physical distance between us, leaving him behind to greet the woman I assume is related to Michael.

The next hours fly by. On this night, I’m fluttering around the guests as I’ve seen my sister do during events. It’s strange. An odd mixture of serenity and electricity fills me. It’s as if someone pulled the curtain back and showed me what I do well. Discussing things that interest me, like baking and my students, unlocks the wire typically keeping my mouth shut. I know then, know it down to the tiny bones in my pinky toes, that my career must change. I am meant to be working with food.

This moment. Right now. I’m awake. Soaring. I get it.

Later in the evening when I am sitting with Amber and her grandmother, my sister slips into the empty chair next to me.

“Amber, Sierra, I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Violet.”

“Geez, you two are sisters? You look completely different,” Amber, ever honest, says bluntly.

Not the least bit offended, Violet answers. “You’re right. She’s the beautiful one.”

“Nah, I think you both are good looking.”

Sierra, Amber’s grandmother, shoots her granddaughter a reprimanding look. “Were you raised with no manners?”

“What?” Amber asks with faux innocence. “They both are pretty.”

Unable to hold back my laughter, I slap my hand on the desktop and start giggling. My sister leans against me, joining in my humor. “Amber, don’t ever change.”

“I have to say, the caramel cupcakes were my favorite part of the entire meal. Don’t tell anyone,” Violet says with a conspiratorial wink.

“Right? Iris taught them to us. She showed us how to make the best shit.”

“Amber!” Sierra and I cry at the same time.

“You know the rules,” I say sternly.

Amber has the grace to look uncomfortable. “Sorry. But it’s true. I’m glad I got stuck in your class. It’s not cool that I can’t take it again next semester.”

Her admission stuns me. It was obvious Amber softened toward me over the semester, but I didn’t realize the extent to which she valued our time together. Darn it. I’m tearing up again. No matter what, I’ll always be a softie. That’s one thing I can’t change about myself.

Violet turns to look at me, her expression full of pride. “Iris is the younger sister, but most of the time, she’s the one doling out advice and being the teacher in our relationship. I’m glad someone else got to reap the benefits of spending time with her.”

Shoot. A tear sneaks out the corner of my eye. I dip my head down to swipe at my face with my pointer finger. “Stop complimenting me. My head won’t fit through the door at the end of the night.”

“Does she always talk like this?” Amber asks my sister.

Lifting my head, I shake it with exasperation. “Don’t deny you love my idioms.”

Violet slings an arm around my shoulder, tucking me against her side. “My sister is a goof, but that’s why we love her.”

Tonight, I feel love from every corner of the room. And as the evening waxes on, I can’t dismiss the toothy grin from my face. Each of my students hugs me good-bye.

I can’t wait until the start of the next semester in two weeks. I can’t wait to support Michael at his baking competition. I now have a purpose.

“That was a blast,” Violet says later when we climb into our shared car. There was no special good-bye with Oscar because Violet hung close to me once all the students and their guests left. Violet’s in the driver’s seat, directing us on the ten-minute drive home. “I’m truly impressed, Iris. Those kids genuinely love and admire you. Not to mention that they can cook.”

“It was a night I don’t think I’ll soon forget, and I’m already looking forward to the next one. Oscar says he has a dinner every semester. He told me to keep my calendar open for the end of next semester.”

“Speaking of Oscar . . .” Violet eyes me slyly, but I don’t bite. “The guy couldn’t keep his eyes off you. And what was with the body language? I saw him touching your back.”

“We’re friends,” I say testily. “And Oscar was raised by parents who believe in chivalry.”

“He’s not very chivalrous to me,” Violet mutters suggestively.

There goes my good mood. I sigh sadly. “It doesn’t matter what it looks like. Oscar only wants to be my friend.”

The streetlights cast Violet’s features in shadows, but I’m able to make out her worried expression. “Sounds like there’s more to this story.”

“We’ve hung out a few times—only as friends,” I hurry to add. “And he made it clear that we would never be anything more. Work is his most significant relationship.”

Violet scoffs. “That’s bogus. Oscar got the look when he stared at you.”

“What look?”

“The swept away look. Like you literally knock him off his feet.”

My heart falls to my stomach. “Even if he looks at me that way, he’s fighting it. I don’t think I have the energy or the desire to battle against his will. Like someone else I know, he can be stubborn.” The smile falls flat when I try it.

Violet shoots me a sympathetic look. “Okay. I won’t push this. Stubbornness is a trait I’m familiar with. Just ask Cameron.”

My laugh sounds rusty because really, I just want to cry.