Vision in White
Page 11
“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay, so I tell her go with Number Three. It covers a lot of the details, has room for upgrading. It has a lot of options included. And she should take the buffet because it’s friendlier, and encourages mixing.”
“You’re good.”
“Absorbing facts and text is easy. If she asks me to help her decide on bouquets, I’m bolting.”
“I respect that.” She handed him the coffeepot. “They don’t need me at this point. Take this back, say your piece. And remind her to let me know what dates work for the engagement portrait.”
“You’re not coming back with me?”
He looked a little panicked. She gave him a quick pat on the cheek. “Bright side. One less woman in the mix. I’ll see you around, Carter.”
He stood where he was a moment as she walked out, and left him with the coffee and the binder.
CHAPTER THREE
SKIPPING OUT A LITTLE EARLY GAVE MAC ENOUGH TIME TO answer calls, log in appointments, then add a selection of the latest photos to the website. Since the rest of the afternoon—what was left of it—was free, she decided to spend it doing a last pass of the New Year’s Eve wedding shots.
The phone annoyed her, but she reminded herself business was business and picked up. “Mac Photography at Vows.”
“Mackensie.”
Mac instantly closed her eyes, mimed stabbing herself in the head. Why didn’t she learn to check the readout, even on the business line? “Mom.”
“You haven’t answered any of my calls.”
“I’ve been working. I told you I’d be swamped this week. Mom, I’ve asked you not to call on the business line.”
“You answered, didn’t you? Which is more than you did the other three times I called.”
“Sorry.” Just roll with it, Mac told herself. Rolling with it might get it over with quicker since there was no point in telling her mother she didn’t have time to chat during work hours.
“So, how was your New Year’s?” she asked her mother.
There was a single catchy breath that warned Mac a storm was coming.
“I broke up with Martin, which I’d have told you if you’d bothered to answer my calls. It was a horrible night. Horrible, Mac.” The catchy breath became thick with tears. “I’ve been devastated for days.”
Martin, Martin . . . She wasn’t sure she could conjure a clear picture of the current ex-boyfriend. “I’m sorry to hear that. Holiday breakups are tough, but I guess you could look at it as starting the new year with a fresh slate.”
“How? You know how I loved Martin! I’m forty-two years old, alone and completely shattered.”
Forty-seven, Mac corrected. But what was five years between mother and daughter? At her desk, Mac rubbed her temple. “You broke up with him, right?”
“What difference does it make? It’s over. It’s over, and I was crazy about him. Now I’m alone again. We had a terrible fight, and he was unreasonable and mean. He called me selfish. And overly emotional, and oh, other awful things. What else could I do but break it off? He wasn’t the man I thought he was.”
“Mmmm. Has Eloisa gone back to school?” she asked, hoping to switch the topic to her half sister.
“Yesterday. She just left me here in this state, when I can barely get out of bed in the morning. I have two daughters. I devoted myself to my girls, and neither of them will make the effort to support me when I’m emotionally shattered.”
Since her head was already starting to throb, Mac leaned over to lightly bang it against her desk. “The semester’s starting. She has to go back. Maybe Milton—”
“Martin.”
“Right, maybe he’ll apologize, then—”
“It’s over. There’s no going back. I’d never forgive a man who treated me so shabbily. What I need is to heal, to find myself again. I need some me time, some quiet, a place to detox from the stress of this ugly situation. I’ve booked myself a week at a spa in Florida. It’s just what I need. To get away, out of this awful cold, away from the memories and the pain. I need three thousand dollars.”
“Three—Mom, you can’t expect me to cough up three grand so you can go get facials in Florida because you’re pissed at Marvin.”
“Martin, damn it, and it’s the least you can do. If I needed medical treatment would you quibble about paying the hospital? I have to go. It’s already booked.”
“Didn’t Grandma send you money last month? An early Christmas—”
“I had expenses. I bought that horrible man a TAG Heuer, a limited edition, for Christmas. How was I to know he’d turn into a monster?”
She began to weep, pitifully.
“You should ask for it back. Or—”
“I would never be so tacky. I don’t want the damn watch, or him. I want to get away.”
“Fine. Go somewhere you can afford, or—”
“I need the spa. Obviously, I’m strapped financially after all the holiday expenses, and I need your help. Your business is doing very well, as you’re always happy to tell me. I need three thousand dollars, Mackensie.”
“Like you needed another two last summer so you and El could have a week at the beach? And—”
Linda burst into tears again. This time Mac didn’t beat her head against the desk, but simply laid it there.
“You won’t help me? You won’t help your own mother? I suppose if they put me out on the street, you’d just look the other way. Just go on with your own life while mine’s destroyed. How can you be so selfish?”
“I’ll transfer the money into your account in the morning. Have a good trip,” she said, then hung up.
And, rising, she walked to the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of wine.
She needed a drink.
WITH HIS BRAIN NUMB FROM NEARLY TWO HOURS OF TULLE, roses, headdresses, guest lists, and God all—and his system overhyped on coffee and cookies (damn good cookies), Carter walked back to his car. He’d left it parked closer to Mac’s studio than the main house. Because of that geographical choice, he’d been given the assignment of dropping off a package that had been delivered to the main by mistake.
As he carted it under his arm, the first thin flakes of snow began to swirl. He needed to get home, he thought. He had to finish a lesson plan and fine-tune a pop quiz he planned to spring at the end of the week.
“You’re good.”
“Absorbing facts and text is easy. If she asks me to help her decide on bouquets, I’m bolting.”
“I respect that.” She handed him the coffeepot. “They don’t need me at this point. Take this back, say your piece. And remind her to let me know what dates work for the engagement portrait.”
“You’re not coming back with me?”
He looked a little panicked. She gave him a quick pat on the cheek. “Bright side. One less woman in the mix. I’ll see you around, Carter.”
He stood where he was a moment as she walked out, and left him with the coffee and the binder.
CHAPTER THREE
SKIPPING OUT A LITTLE EARLY GAVE MAC ENOUGH TIME TO answer calls, log in appointments, then add a selection of the latest photos to the website. Since the rest of the afternoon—what was left of it—was free, she decided to spend it doing a last pass of the New Year’s Eve wedding shots.
The phone annoyed her, but she reminded herself business was business and picked up. “Mac Photography at Vows.”
“Mackensie.”
Mac instantly closed her eyes, mimed stabbing herself in the head. Why didn’t she learn to check the readout, even on the business line? “Mom.”
“You haven’t answered any of my calls.”
“I’ve been working. I told you I’d be swamped this week. Mom, I’ve asked you not to call on the business line.”
“You answered, didn’t you? Which is more than you did the other three times I called.”
“Sorry.” Just roll with it, Mac told herself. Rolling with it might get it over with quicker since there was no point in telling her mother she didn’t have time to chat during work hours.
“So, how was your New Year’s?” she asked her mother.
There was a single catchy breath that warned Mac a storm was coming.
“I broke up with Martin, which I’d have told you if you’d bothered to answer my calls. It was a horrible night. Horrible, Mac.” The catchy breath became thick with tears. “I’ve been devastated for days.”
Martin, Martin . . . She wasn’t sure she could conjure a clear picture of the current ex-boyfriend. “I’m sorry to hear that. Holiday breakups are tough, but I guess you could look at it as starting the new year with a fresh slate.”
“How? You know how I loved Martin! I’m forty-two years old, alone and completely shattered.”
Forty-seven, Mac corrected. But what was five years between mother and daughter? At her desk, Mac rubbed her temple. “You broke up with him, right?”
“What difference does it make? It’s over. It’s over, and I was crazy about him. Now I’m alone again. We had a terrible fight, and he was unreasonable and mean. He called me selfish. And overly emotional, and oh, other awful things. What else could I do but break it off? He wasn’t the man I thought he was.”
“Mmmm. Has Eloisa gone back to school?” she asked, hoping to switch the topic to her half sister.
“Yesterday. She just left me here in this state, when I can barely get out of bed in the morning. I have two daughters. I devoted myself to my girls, and neither of them will make the effort to support me when I’m emotionally shattered.”
Since her head was already starting to throb, Mac leaned over to lightly bang it against her desk. “The semester’s starting. She has to go back. Maybe Milton—”
“Martin.”
“Right, maybe he’ll apologize, then—”
“It’s over. There’s no going back. I’d never forgive a man who treated me so shabbily. What I need is to heal, to find myself again. I need some me time, some quiet, a place to detox from the stress of this ugly situation. I’ve booked myself a week at a spa in Florida. It’s just what I need. To get away, out of this awful cold, away from the memories and the pain. I need three thousand dollars.”
“Three—Mom, you can’t expect me to cough up three grand so you can go get facials in Florida because you’re pissed at Marvin.”
“Martin, damn it, and it’s the least you can do. If I needed medical treatment would you quibble about paying the hospital? I have to go. It’s already booked.”
“Didn’t Grandma send you money last month? An early Christmas—”
“I had expenses. I bought that horrible man a TAG Heuer, a limited edition, for Christmas. How was I to know he’d turn into a monster?”
She began to weep, pitifully.
“You should ask for it back. Or—”
“I would never be so tacky. I don’t want the damn watch, or him. I want to get away.”
“Fine. Go somewhere you can afford, or—”
“I need the spa. Obviously, I’m strapped financially after all the holiday expenses, and I need your help. Your business is doing very well, as you’re always happy to tell me. I need three thousand dollars, Mackensie.”
“Like you needed another two last summer so you and El could have a week at the beach? And—”
Linda burst into tears again. This time Mac didn’t beat her head against the desk, but simply laid it there.
“You won’t help me? You won’t help your own mother? I suppose if they put me out on the street, you’d just look the other way. Just go on with your own life while mine’s destroyed. How can you be so selfish?”
“I’ll transfer the money into your account in the morning. Have a good trip,” she said, then hung up.
And, rising, she walked to the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of wine.
She needed a drink.
WITH HIS BRAIN NUMB FROM NEARLY TWO HOURS OF TULLE, roses, headdresses, guest lists, and God all—and his system overhyped on coffee and cookies (damn good cookies), Carter walked back to his car. He’d left it parked closer to Mac’s studio than the main house. Because of that geographical choice, he’d been given the assignment of dropping off a package that had been delivered to the main by mistake.
As he carted it under his arm, the first thin flakes of snow began to swirl. He needed to get home, he thought. He had to finish a lesson plan and fine-tune a pop quiz he planned to spring at the end of the week.
