When Girlfriends Chase Dreams (45 page)

Missing the sharpness of the turn causes the truck to run over another curb, and this time it leaves Emily laughing harder than the other times. “Girl, where did you learn to drive?” she says, effervescent. “This is classic. So wish I had a video camera to film this.”

“Doesn’t your cell have one?” I try really hard not to have the back wheels run over the same curb, so I significantly decrease my speed, my hands white-knuckling the wheel.

“Yeah, right,” Emily spits out. “I’ve got the oldest mobile in the world. You know me, I’m not even a mobile kind of girl. A used, old phone that makes calls and that’s about it is enou— Oh, shit!” Emily immediately bursts out into a fit of hysterics as the truck’s rear launches a bit off the ground. “Claire, you seriously suck as a driver.” She can’t keep from laughing.

“Oh pooey,” I say as I finish hopping the same curb for a second time. “Damn.” I look in the rearview mirror. “I tried really hard not to hit it.”

“
Twice!
” Tears are springing to Emily’s laughing eyes. “Don’t know how you can hit the same curb twice, Claire, but somehow you manage.”

“There,” I say proudly, stopping the truck in front of the house. “Home, safe and sound.”

“And who would have guessed? We’re not in a wreck!”

“I can drive just fine, Em. It’s this damn truck, that’s all.” I scrunch up my face. I’m not even going to attempt parking this hulk in the drive.

I shut off the engine as Emily pops open her door and looks down. “Is five feet close enough to the curb, Claire babe?”

I stick my tongue out at her and hop out. “Let’s take in what we can carry
without
breaking anything,” I say. “And the boys can get the rest when they’re home from work.”

“You know, all horrible driving skills aside,” Emily kids, “that was pretty fun. I didn’t fear for my life at all.”

“Ha. Ha. Here you go.” I pull down the back door, then toss her the house keys. “See? You can have adventure right here with me and this truck, Em. No need to run to the other side of the world to seek thrills.”

***

I see now why girls have standing appointments at nail salons. I’ve just gotten my bridal manicure, and my nails look so much better. I didn’t want to do any acrylic, fake nails, because knowing me I’d break one off before the ceremony, and the classy look I’m going for would just be flushed down the toilet. Better to get a clean little buff and polish job, with the cutest French-style tips painted on in a pearlescent gloss. It’s very chic! Even got a pedi to match. Yup, I feel like a total princess. Or should I say Bride Queen?

All signs point to there being a humongous wedding in less than forty-eight hours. Allison’s plane has landed, and I’m on my way right now with Lara to meet with her to chat about any last-minute wedding details. Can you believe that?
Last
-minute details? Wow. Soon I’ll really be Mrs…. Er, wait. Well, soon I’ll be
known
as Mrs. Conner Whitley!

The home office is as packed and chaotic as it’s ever been, with seemingly endless boxes of dishes, flatware, glasses, and other highly breakable items. I kind of waited until the last minute to get these items on order, so I’m pretty sure that’s why the home office is a temporary storage space. But Allison told me not to fret at all. Now that she’s in town, all I need to focus on is getting to my hair and makeup appointments at the right times, slipping into my wedding gown, and showing up.

Conner said all the suits are in the right hands, including those of his twin brothers, Daniel and George, who have just arrived in town all the way from Europe this afternoon. I asked Conner how he’d managed to fix his missed appointment and reschedule (really, I
so
thought we were doomed on this one!). He said that Chad ironically had been commissioned to do a mural for the shop owner a few months ago. A call in with a friendly favor and
voilà
, trouble be gone!

Things seem to be falling into place, and that’s really quite baffling when you take into account all of the ridiculous obstacles. Sure, I’m mowing across town in a big-ass truck. Sure, I’m already secretly married and therefore have little to no stress about this upcoming wedding. Sure, my insane family is trickling into town, as is Conner’s equally, if not more insane family. Everyone will converge together—all nearly three hundred guests—in one location for one very big day.
 
And just when I feel my chest tighten and the wedding noose start to pull, all I have to do is look into Conner’s eyes, share a smile or a kiss or simply a silent moment, and know that it’s all worth it. It’s all worth marrying (for the second time) the man of my dreams.

“So how is the bride-to-be?” Allison asks as Lara and I join her at a corner table at The Cup and the Cake. I give a quick wave to Sophie, who’s rapidly wiping clean some tables and chairs.

“I’m doing fantastic,” I tell her excitedly.

“Everything’s going so well,” Lara says. “And poor Claire can
finally
get rid of this darn brace.” She points at my bandaged wrist. “You know how that goes, Mom.”

“Oh, tell me about it!” Allison empathizes. “Been there and done that. You feel like you’re half-capable.” She shakes her head. “But, of course,” she adds with a smile, “when you want something bad enough or really have to get things done, you don’t let some pesky annoyance like that stand in the way.”

“Totally!” I say.

“Bet you’re so relieved you won’t have to wear it at your wedding, though,” Lara adds.

I shrug. “You know, I don’t really care.”
After all,
I think,
I
did
wear the eyesore for one wedding already.
“Obviously, yes, I’m glad I won’t have to wear it, but brace or no brace, nothing can ruin my wedding day.”

“Glad to hear it!” Allison says with a clap of her hands. She rubs them together swiftly. “Now, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we? I’m sure you’ll be wanting those boxes from the Emporium out of your hands ASAP. Consider them taken care of.”

Allison unbuttons her black, three-quarter-sleeved suit jacket. I stifle a small giggle, because Lara is wearing almost the exact same jacket, except hers has one button instead of two. Career women—like mother, like daughter.

“What do you say?” Lara asks, crossing her hands on the table and looking at me. “Mom and I can take the boxes off your hands when we’re done here?”

“Oh!” I exclaim. “Sure. Whatever. I’m flexible.”

Once we order our coffees, we immediately begin to chat about all of the remaining details: the rehearsal and dinner tomorrow, what time I can arrive at church to get ready, and the photo sessions, including a “first look” that Allison convinced me to do, where Conner and I will have a special “just us” moment to see each other before the wedding, and we’ll get to do our bride and groom shots.

Everything really does seem to be in control, and so long as Conner’s parents don’t run for the hills when they see the church, and so long as my dad doesn’t piss my mom off with whatever bimbo he’ll drag along on his arm, I think we’ll be good. Oh! That reminds me!

“The ring bearer!” I set my cappuccino down onto the saucer. Lara tries her best to stifle a laugh when I say the words, almost blowing out a stream of her coffee from over the lip of her teacup.

“Your Jack Russell, correct?” Allison asks.

“Yes. Conner says he’s been training him, but…” I cast an unknowing glance at Lara, and she’s still trying to keep from laughing. “I’m not so sure about it.”

“Because the church doesn’t allow pets inside?”

“Oh, allow or not, that’s besides the point.”

I’ve already made it abundantly clear that somehow Schnickerdoodle will make it into that church. He’s very well trained, so it’s not like the church really has anything to worry about. I know they have their rules, but I have my dreams. Schnicker has to walk down that aisle as our ring bearer—so long as Conner actually did train him.

Sophie then brings over a fresh black coffee and places it in front of Allison, taking away her empty cup. “Any teacakes?” Sophie quietly interjects. She makes a sheepish expression, sorry for interrupting. “On the house. My first batch here, so if you want to be my guinea pigs…”

“Pigs and teacakes,” Lara says, looking up and over her shoulder at Sophie. “Both in the same sentence? Might want to work on your sales pitch, there.” She gives Sophie a puckish smile. “But yes, bring out the cakes.”

“I’m game, too,” Allison says. “This is the most darling little café, by the way, Sophie. You must be so proud.”

“Well, all the help from the best friends in the world made it not so difficult,” Sophie says. “That’s a yes to some teacakes all around?”

I hold up my hand and tell her that I’ll have to pass. I know. Crazy! But I need to diet for my wedding, and two days before the wedding is still sufficient time to say that yes, I did go on a wedding diet.
 

Sophie pads off behind the counter, and I proceed to tell Allison that Schnickerdoodle is still expected to walk the aisle. “But as a backup, I think I’ll just have the best man hold the rings.”

“Great idea. Simple backup plan,” Allison says. “And if the church finds out about the dog being brought in there, then you’ll want that backup plan anyway.”

“Mom, you sure you’re not, like, going to get into serious trouble about signing off on this dog-in-a-church-against-the-rules thing?” Lara looks at her mom bemusedly.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” I say casually.

Sophie sets a plate of teacakes in the center of the table. “Ohhh, spend an extra couple of years in purgatory,” she answers, overhearing our conversation.

“Whatevs,” I dismiss. I sip at my drink. “Schnicker’s in. We’ll deal with trouble later if it presents itself.”

Sophie makes a
tsk-tsk
sound, hands on hips. “Well, suit yourself silly one.” She casts about the table. “Can I get anyone anything else?”

“I’m good,” I say.

“Me, too,” Lara says.

“Everything’s great,” Allison says, chipper. “Just send the bill my way, darling.”

“Allison,” I start.

But before I can say another word, she holds up a hand and says, “No client of mine is buying her own coffee.”

Hmm,
I think.
Maybe wishing for a Franck wasn’t
that
unrealistic after all.

“Well, thank you,” I say.

Allison withdraws a large, black day planner from her bag and pulls it open, revealing a rainbow of Post-Its and lines upon lines of reminders, appointments, and checklists. She begins to jot something down on one of the few blank lines.

I sneak a look at Lara, who’s looking at me over her teacup with eyes that say, “Now you see where I get my workaholic attitude from?” But also eyes that say, “You and your wedding are in good hands now. No worries.” And, well, I’m feeling pretty worry-free, I have to tell you.

Everything is going fabulously and nothing can dampen my spirits. I’m on cloud nine! No storm can rattle—

Wait a minute! I drop by teacup onto its saucer, a clang reverberating in the air for a few seconds. No. Way!

“Lara,” I whisper, pulling myself as close and low to the table as possible. “That’s her!” I clap my hand to my cheek. “
Her!
”

“Who?” Lara’s eyes widen. “Who’s here?” She casts about but I rapidly tap her hand to get her attention.

“Don’t be so obvious,” I say in hushed tones. “She just came in.”

“Hi!” the familiar and grating high-pitched valley-girl voice rings out. I try my hardest not to gawp, but I can’t help myself. Of all the people. Of all the places!

“Who, who?” Lara hoots. Allison, now curious, joins in with the chorus of owl calls.

“It’s
her
,” I say, feeling myself beginning to seethe. “The wedding coordinator from hell.”

“Melissa?” Lara gasps in a whisper.

“That’s right.” I give a single, hard nod of my head. “The bitch!” I turn to Allison and add, “Pardon my mouth.” Allison smiles and shrugs it off.

“The bitch,” I then repeat, “who sued me!” I look back at Lara, eyes wide as saucers. “Sued me for breach of contract. Can you believe it?” My voice is beginning to cross the whisper level.

“You know,” I say after there’s a long pause. My eyes follow Melissa as she struts on her long legs across the café floor—
my
café! All right, not really
my
café, but, well, yeah! This is my hangout with my girls. Bitches are
not
welcome, definitely not the type who try to take you to the cleaners. “I’m going to give her a piece of my mind,” I say.

Melissa takes a seat at a table clear across the room, joining a spirited looking girl, about my age, with that familiar stack of bridal magazines piled high before her. Such a familiar (and heartbreaking) scene. This poor bride has no idea what she’s in for! I’ve got to do something about it! Not just in the name of getting even, or having my last word, or saying my part, but I have to give the best piece of bridal advice
ever
to a girl in need!

I push back from the table and stand up, Lara’s hand instantly gripping my good wrist. “Claire,” she says in a pleading tone. “Don’t do anything that’ll, you know,” she looks around, “be bad for business.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, shaking free from her grasp. “I know
exactly
what I’m doing.”

I take a deep breath, tug on my shirt, and stride up to the table where Melissa and the bride are in shared fits of giggles.
Ugh!
I think as I close in on them.
It was like yesterday I was this poor sap.

“Melissa,” I say in a cheerful voice, smiling the broadest and most fake of smiles. “Funny crossing paths with you here.” I make a cursory survey of the room. “I thought for you it was Starbucks this, Starbucks that.”

Melissa looks like she’s seen a ghost. Her face has somehow managed to turn from its bronze-tanned glow to a ghastly shade of white, her cheeks developing a deep crimson color. She swallows long and hard.

I turn to the bride, who looks rather thunderstruck, and say, “Hi, I’m Claire.” I hold out my hand, smiling genuinely now.

“Mindy,” the bride says in a soft-spoken voice. She shakes my hand.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your meeting here,” I say to her, fanning my hands over her stack of magazines. “I used to be a client of Melissa’s, that’s all. Thought I’d pop on over.”