If You Only Knew
Page 92
“Oh, hey!” Kimber cries happily. “Rachel! Hi, Jenny! Mom, this is Rachel Carver, one of my bridesmaids! And this is the amazing Jenny!”
I stand up and give Kimber a hug, press my cheek against Mrs. Brewster’s and shake Kimber’s mom’s hand. “I’m Rachel,” I say. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Allegretti.”
“Oh, it’s not Allegretti. It’s Puchalski. Kimber’s dad passed away when she was just a little thing, and after a while, I got remarried, but it didn’t work out, so... Well. Too much information, right? Anyway, it’s really nice to meet you. Call me Dorothy.”
Mrs. Brewster, as usual, is staring at the rest of us as if we’re toads.
I immediately like Dorothy. “Kimber’s told me a lot about you.”
“She’s my darling. My best friend, right, honey?”
“That’s right, Mom. So! Jenny, let’s get going, shall we?” Kimber sees the dress hanging against the wall, and her smile falters.
I look at my sister. Her face is...weird. She says nothing.
“Kimber, your hair!” I say to cover. “You colored it.”
“Yeah, well, I... It’s more appropriate, I think. You know. Brown instead of pink. Right?”
“I loved the pink,” her mom says, getting a glare from Mrs. Brewster. Dorothy raises an eyebrow in return. Good for her. About time someone didn’t lick that woman’s shoes.
“Would anyone like coffee?” Andreas asks.
“No, thank you,” Mrs. Brewster says. “Let’s get this done.” My sister breaks out of her paralysis.
“I’m Jenny,” she says to Dorothy. “Jenny Tate.”
Dorothy flinches, then smiles, though it seems weirdly pained. “Hi!” Her voice is hearty. “Dorothy.”
“We saw each other at the vet’s office that night,” Jenny says. “How’s your bird?”
“Right, right! He’s fine. Thank you. And your friend’s dog?”
“Also fine.” Jenny turns to the bride. “Come into the changing room, Kimber, and let’s see what you think.” She takes Kimber by the arm and steers her off.
“How have you been, Eleanor?” I use Mrs. Brewster’s first name, just because it irritates her. New Rachel doesn’t care. I’ve known the woman since I was five, for the love of God.
“I’ve been well,” she answers. She doesn’t ask how I am.
We wait, mostly in silence. Though Dorothy was initially friendly, she’s tense now. Then again, Mrs. Brewster could make a baby sloth feel tense. Dorothy cracks her knuckles, earning a twitch from Mrs. Snotty.
Then Kimber comes out, and the first word that leaps to mind is puritan.
Kimber smiles uncertainly.
“Oh, baby,” Dorothy says. “You look... Well, you’re beautiful.” Her eyes fill with tears.
“Is it okay?” Kimber asks, her eyes darting between the two mothers.
“It’s fine,” Mrs. Brewster says. “At least we can’t see those hideous tattoos.”
“How rude!” Dorothy snaps.
“And true,” Mrs. Brewster responds, icicles dripping from her tone.
We can’t see any skin, for that matter. The dress is not ugly, per se, but...well, it’s not my sister’s best work.
But Jenny is only looking at Dorothy. Which is weird.
“Jenny, will the actual dress have some detail work on it?” I ask.
“I think it should,” she says, snapping out of her funk. “The satin is stunning, but it’s a little plain, so I was thinking some crystal beading—”
“No. She’s getting married in my husband’s church, not Las Vegas,” Mrs. Brewster interrupts. “She should look as decent as possible.”
“What are you implying?” Dorothy asks, and again, I give her a point for going up against the bitchy old dragon. How Jared got to be so nice is thanks to his lovely dad, that’s for sure. “My daughter is decent. She could wear a sack and look decent.”
“If you say so,” Mrs. Brewster says. “But she’s marrying the son of a Congregational minister—”
“The son of a preacher man,” I say, referencing the old Dusty Springfield song, and Kimber’s face lights up.
“That’s our favorite song!” she says. “That’s how we met! I was singing at a bar, and—”
“As I was saying before you interrupted, Rachel, she should show some respect for the church and the family she’s marrying into.”
“And maybe you should show my daughter some respect, Eleanor,” Dorothy says.
Kimber wrings her hands, which are laden with silver rings and the one big honking diamond. “Mom, Mom, it’s fine. I love this look. It’s good. It’s beautiful.” She turns to Jenny. “It’ll be great, right?”
Jenny’s face softens. “Yes. You’ll be stunning, Kimber. I bet you ten bucks Jared cries when he sees you. I’ve been to a lot of weddings, and I can tell which grooms are going to cry.” She smiles, and I feel a rush of love for her.
God, I hate fighting.
She seems to read my mind and smiles at me, too.
We’ll be okay.
And though I can’t admit it—to Adam, because we’re trying to rebuild things, or to Jenny, because it wouldn’t help her forgive Adam—I wish I was the one who pushed Adam down in the street and called him names. Who stood there like a mother lion defending her young. Who was mad enough that the police thought she might do some harm.
I stand up and give Kimber a hug, press my cheek against Mrs. Brewster’s and shake Kimber’s mom’s hand. “I’m Rachel,” I say. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Allegretti.”
“Oh, it’s not Allegretti. It’s Puchalski. Kimber’s dad passed away when she was just a little thing, and after a while, I got remarried, but it didn’t work out, so... Well. Too much information, right? Anyway, it’s really nice to meet you. Call me Dorothy.”
Mrs. Brewster, as usual, is staring at the rest of us as if we’re toads.
I immediately like Dorothy. “Kimber’s told me a lot about you.”
“She’s my darling. My best friend, right, honey?”
“That’s right, Mom. So! Jenny, let’s get going, shall we?” Kimber sees the dress hanging against the wall, and her smile falters.
I look at my sister. Her face is...weird. She says nothing.
“Kimber, your hair!” I say to cover. “You colored it.”
“Yeah, well, I... It’s more appropriate, I think. You know. Brown instead of pink. Right?”
“I loved the pink,” her mom says, getting a glare from Mrs. Brewster. Dorothy raises an eyebrow in return. Good for her. About time someone didn’t lick that woman’s shoes.
“Would anyone like coffee?” Andreas asks.
“No, thank you,” Mrs. Brewster says. “Let’s get this done.” My sister breaks out of her paralysis.
“I’m Jenny,” she says to Dorothy. “Jenny Tate.”
Dorothy flinches, then smiles, though it seems weirdly pained. “Hi!” Her voice is hearty. “Dorothy.”
“We saw each other at the vet’s office that night,” Jenny says. “How’s your bird?”
“Right, right! He’s fine. Thank you. And your friend’s dog?”
“Also fine.” Jenny turns to the bride. “Come into the changing room, Kimber, and let’s see what you think.” She takes Kimber by the arm and steers her off.
“How have you been, Eleanor?” I use Mrs. Brewster’s first name, just because it irritates her. New Rachel doesn’t care. I’ve known the woman since I was five, for the love of God.
“I’ve been well,” she answers. She doesn’t ask how I am.
We wait, mostly in silence. Though Dorothy was initially friendly, she’s tense now. Then again, Mrs. Brewster could make a baby sloth feel tense. Dorothy cracks her knuckles, earning a twitch from Mrs. Snotty.
Then Kimber comes out, and the first word that leaps to mind is puritan.
Kimber smiles uncertainly.
“Oh, baby,” Dorothy says. “You look... Well, you’re beautiful.” Her eyes fill with tears.
“Is it okay?” Kimber asks, her eyes darting between the two mothers.
“It’s fine,” Mrs. Brewster says. “At least we can’t see those hideous tattoos.”
“How rude!” Dorothy snaps.
“And true,” Mrs. Brewster responds, icicles dripping from her tone.
We can’t see any skin, for that matter. The dress is not ugly, per se, but...well, it’s not my sister’s best work.
But Jenny is only looking at Dorothy. Which is weird.
“Jenny, will the actual dress have some detail work on it?” I ask.
“I think it should,” she says, snapping out of her funk. “The satin is stunning, but it’s a little plain, so I was thinking some crystal beading—”
“No. She’s getting married in my husband’s church, not Las Vegas,” Mrs. Brewster interrupts. “She should look as decent as possible.”
“What are you implying?” Dorothy asks, and again, I give her a point for going up against the bitchy old dragon. How Jared got to be so nice is thanks to his lovely dad, that’s for sure. “My daughter is decent. She could wear a sack and look decent.”
“If you say so,” Mrs. Brewster says. “But she’s marrying the son of a Congregational minister—”
“The son of a preacher man,” I say, referencing the old Dusty Springfield song, and Kimber’s face lights up.
“That’s our favorite song!” she says. “That’s how we met! I was singing at a bar, and—”
“As I was saying before you interrupted, Rachel, she should show some respect for the church and the family she’s marrying into.”
“And maybe you should show my daughter some respect, Eleanor,” Dorothy says.
Kimber wrings her hands, which are laden with silver rings and the one big honking diamond. “Mom, Mom, it’s fine. I love this look. It’s good. It’s beautiful.” She turns to Jenny. “It’ll be great, right?”
Jenny’s face softens. “Yes. You’ll be stunning, Kimber. I bet you ten bucks Jared cries when he sees you. I’ve been to a lot of weddings, and I can tell which grooms are going to cry.” She smiles, and I feel a rush of love for her.
God, I hate fighting.
She seems to read my mind and smiles at me, too.
We’ll be okay.
And though I can’t admit it—to Adam, because we’re trying to rebuild things, or to Jenny, because it wouldn’t help her forgive Adam—I wish I was the one who pushed Adam down in the street and called him names. Who stood there like a mother lion defending her young. Who was mad enough that the police thought she might do some harm.
