Sweet Dreams. Stacey Keith

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      Cassidy took a visible breath and appeared to steady herself. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

      Seeing how nervous her sister was, Maggie said, “Know what you need? Just a teensy bit of champagne. Jess, do you mind?”

      Jessica dashed out of the room while the rest of the bridesmaids gathered around Cassidy to exclaim over her gown. Shy, self-effacing Cassidy was the last woman on earth to enjoy being looked at, but at least she hadn’t locked herself in the bathroom the way Maggie and April had thought she would.

      Jessica rushed back into the room with a champagne flute filled to the brim. “Here you go.”

      “Whoa there.” Maggie swiped the flute, poured half in the sink, took a sip for herself, and then handed the rest to Cassidy. “Don’t chug.”

      But as she watched her sister do battle with her nerves, Maggie kept thinking how two people in love never saw it coming. They stood in front of a minister and said “I do” and had no idea what it felt like to watch love turn into fury. How shared dreams could be chipped away, bit by bit, until there was nothing left.

      “Aunt Maggie, can I ask you something?” Lexie asked.

      “Ask.” Maggie smiled indulgently. Lexie was always the answer to her own crabbiness.

      “Grandma said you hate weddings. She said you call them…” Lexie frowned, clearly trying to remember. “Oh, yeah. ‘Overrated costume dramas for people who don’t have a clue about life.’”

      Conversation stopped. Cassidy gazed at her over the rim of her champagne glass and Maggie felt herself flush to the roots of her hair.

      “Grandma says a lot of things,” Maggie told her. “But if there were ever two people who could make it work, Mason and your mom are at the top of the list.”

      “Gosh, I feel so much better now,” Cassidy murmured.

      “Well, I think weddings are rad,” Darlene said. “Especially this one. It gives me hope because, let’s face it, you can’t date in this town without everyone knowing your business.”

      The collective groans echoed Maggie’s own beliefs on that subject. Dating in Cuervo was a group sport. But then, you couldn’t go to the corner grocery in shorts and a pair of espadrilles without someone talking about you behind your back.

      For some reason, Jake slid through her mind. Jake who was clearly not from Cuervo.

      While everyone shared their dating horror stories, Maggie sat for hair and makeup. She listened, thinking maybe the best way to “date” in Cuervo was with someone you never expected to see again. Was that so wrong? That way, nobody knew about it. And if they didn’t know about it, they couldn’t trash-talk you. Get in, get out, no fuss, no muss, no strings, no hurt feelings, no gossip, no—

      “Maggie, Mom wants to see you,” April said from the doorway. She stopped. Blinked. “Well, don’t you look amazing?”

      She did? Maggie finished wiggling her foot into a pink satin slipper and turned around to see herself in the mirror. With her hair in a loose chignon, all spiraling tendrils and artfully woven baby’s breath, she looked like one of those eighteenth century ladies who read poetry under a silk parasol. Her skin had never been more radiant. The smoky eyeshadow played up the darkness of her eyes. Maybe weddings weren’t so bad after all.

      “You’d better hurry,” April told her. “The guests are starting to pour in and Mom is having a come apart.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      Maggie hurried. She found her mother with Cousin Jeanette and Jeanette’s two kids inside the barn. A member of the catering staff stood on a ladder lighting candles while another one propped up enormous floral displays on the makeshift altar. The whole place smelled like wax, old wood and the itchy, too-sweet smell of roses. At this rate, the entire ceremony would be punctuated by sneezes.

      Cousin Jeanette held the baby on her hip and scolded her boy, Michael, who sat scowling in his tux. Priscilla knelt beside the kid, batting at his lapel with a sponge. Clearly, little Michael, who was the ring bearer for the wedding, had been rolling in the grass.

      “I told him to wait outside while I changed the baby,” Jeanette fretted. “Next thing I know, I come out and he’s on the ground with the dog.”

      Michael had his arms crossed. His lower lip jutted out dangerously.

      “Mom, let me see if I can get those stains out,” Maggie said.

      “What took you?” Priscilla said, eying her testily. “I’ve been out here fighting for my life, not that anyone cares. The wedding is completely ruined. Your Aunt Carol decided to wear white after I specifically told her not to and I informed the wedding planner that there weren’t going to be enough shrimp puffs. Guess what? There aren’t enough shrimp puffs.” She heaved herself up, straining the seams of her tailored jacket. “Now the ring bearer is covered in grass stains and it’s going to take a sandblaster to get those things off. Lord in heaven, if that doesn’t qualify as a disaster, I don’t know what does!”

      Maggie gently pried the sponge out of Priscilla’s hand. “Everything’s going to be okay, Mom. Really.”

      “Did you hear even a word I said? In one hour, four hundred people are going to be stuffed inside this barn, many of them movie stars from Hollywood, and here we are, off like a herd of turtles.”

      “Breathe.” Maggie put her arm around Priscilla’s shoulders. “April’s going to take you to the bar and get you a nice refreshing spritzer.”

      “That’s your solution—get the Mother-of-the-Bride a spritzer?”

      “Yes. Then we’re going to go with my earlier suggestion, which is to take the table cloth off the kids’ table, put down butcher paper and provide crayons.”

      “We can’t do that. It’s going to look like a daycare!” Priscilla had an expression of sheer horror on her face. Clearly all she could think about was that a bunch of Hollywood stars she knew from gossip magazines were going to see that she had a kids’ table full of tacky crayons.

      Maggie drew her firmly away. “We have to give the kids something to do besides get in trouble, don’t we? You can put a boy in a tiny tux, but that doesn’t make him any less of a boy.”

      Priscilla harrumphed. She patted her hair back into place. “Maybe I will have that drink.”

      “Come with me, Mom,” April said. “Let’s get you a shrimp puff, too.”

      Maggie turned back to Cousin Jeanette, who seemed visibly relieved that Priscilla was gone. “I’ve never seen Aunt Priss so worked up,” Jeanette said.

      “It’s the celebrity thing. She takes that stuff really seriously.”

      “She told Michael if he didn’t act right, she was going to tell Santa not to bother stopping by next year.”

      Poor Michael. As he sat fidgeting in the chair, he looked like any other adorable, tousled-headed little pirate who was trying really hard to behave. “Tell you what,” Maggie said to him. “Give me that jacket and we’ll go inside, okay? If you can СКАЧАТЬ