Eternal Vows. Rochelle Alers

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СКАЧАТЬ chair. She ignored the conversations going on around her, luxuriating in the feel of strong fingers massaging her scalp. Every service was performed in precision like an assembly line. The highly skilled technicians knew exactly what to do, and there was no wasted motion. Her pedicure was completed when she sat in the chair with her hair slathered in a rich avocado-based conditioner under a plastic cap. Following the conditioning treatment, her hair was blown out and styled in a loose twist behind her left ear.

      Her eyes met Celia’s in the mirror as they sat next to each other. Celia’s raven curls were set on large rollers, and then blown straight, brushed off her face and pinned into a chignon on the nape of her long, smooth neck. Celia had decided to wear flowers in her hair instead of the traditional veil or headpiece, while Peyton had chosen pearl and crystal hairpins.

      Glancing at a wall clock in the glass and mirrored salon, Peyton noted the time. It was minutes before two. All that remained was a manicure and makeup. Although the invitations read four o’clock, Celia insisted the ceremony begin no later than four-thirty.

      The manicurist noticed her staring at the clock. “Don’t worry, Ms. Blackstone. Someone will be applying your makeup while I do your manicure.”

      * * *

      “What’s going on?” Celia asked when Peyton maneuvered into the driveway at Nicholas’s house. A woman dressed in a black pantsuit with a pair of oversize sunglasses perched on the top of her reddish-pink hair was shouting into a walkie-talkie at the top of her lungs. The color in her face went from pink to bright red in seconds. She beckoned them to get out of the truck.

      Peyton came to a stop, shifting into Park. “She has to be the planner.” Within seconds of getting out of the pickup two young women wearing similar pantsuits appeared as if out of nowhere.

      The woman stepped forward, extending her free hand. “I’m Danielle Lawson, the event planner. We’re working on a very tight time frame, which means you have to go with the bridal attendants who will help you get ready. The groom and best man are dressed, so we’re only waiting for you. By the way, you look very nice.” She put the walkie-talkie to her mouth. “Get someone here to move this truck to the parking area.”

      Celia and Peyton followed the two women around to the back of the house, entering through a rear door. A small storage room off the pantry had been converted into a makeshift dressing room. Both gowns, covered in clear plastic, hung from wall hooks and a full-length mirror was propped against one wall; the wedding flowers, boxes with shoes, lingerie and jewelry were set out on a cloth-covered table.

      The bridal attendants worked quickly and efficiently when they helped Peyton and Celia out of their clothes and into their wedding finery. Both women stared wide-eyed at themselves in the mirror as jeweled hairpins were secured in Peyton’s hair, while Celia’s attendant tucked tiny pink rosebuds into the ebony coil of the bride’s hair.

      Celia had chosen a platinum silk sheath with embroidered tulle, a sweetheart neckline, short cap sleeves, beading, sheer back and a sweep train. Peyton’s gown was similar, a darker gray and designed without the train. The simplicity of the gowns, hairstyles and dramatic eye makeup was perfect for a summer afternoon wedding.

      Slipping her feet into a pair of charcoal-gray silk rhinestone-studded sling-blacks, Peyton added four inches to her five-three height. Celia had decided on a pair of satin pumps with a lower heel in a becoming platinum shade. She’d admitted if she was going to be up on her feet for hours, she much preferred a two-inch heel rather than a higher one. Standing five-eight in bare feet, four inches would have put her at the six-foot mark.

      “Please hold out your left hand, Miss Blackstone.”

      Peyton complied, her eyes widening as Celia’s attendant looped a bracelet with princess-cut diamonds around her wrist, securing it with a double safety catch. Peyton looked at Celia. “We didn’t order this.”

      Celia’s dimpled smile was dazzling. “It’s my gift to you for being an incredible maid of honor.” She held up her hand when Peyton opened her mouth. “Please let me finish. It’s the least I could do for you, because you arranged and paid for the beauty makeover. You also got your cousin to agree to let Reverend Merrill officiate. And you’ve also kept me sane. So please be gracious and accept it.”

      She wanted to be gracious, but the weight of the white metal and the size of the stones in the bracelet probably cost more than some people earned in six months. “It’s exquisite, Celia. But it’s too—”

      “Please stop it, Peyton,” Celia implored, interrupting her. “Nicholas and I grew up with trust funds, and our parents taught us it’s gauche to talk about money.”

      Peyton’s smile did not reach her eyes. She may not have been a trust-fund kid and she hadn’t grown up dirt poor; however Celia’s gift was not only extravagant but also unwarranted. “Thankfully I’ve never been accused of being gauche,” she said under her breath as the attendant handed her Gavin’s double milgrain platinum wedding band. She put the ring on her thumb. She reached for Celia’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Gavin is very, very lucky. You are the perfect bride.”

      A fringe of long lashes concealed Celia’s eyes. “Thank you, Peyton. And you’re a beautiful maid of honor, a wonderful friend, and I hope one day we’ll become more than friends.” She leaned in close. “I’m willing to bet Nicholas won’t be able to take his eyes off of you tonight.”

      Danielle walked into the room, clapping her hands. “Ladies, we’re ready to begin. Maid of honor first, then the bride.”

      Peyton didn’t want to think about Nicholas. She’d begun to believe her fascination with him was due to his mysteriousness. She’d watched him interact with other people, and not once was she able to discern from his expression what he was feeling. If he had been angry or annoyed that emotion also remained hidden behind a facade of polite indifference. She rarely saw him laugh or smile. Dinner at the restaurant had been the exception and she wondered if it had anything to do with Celia’s presence. It was obvious he adored his sister.

      She wanted to forget the episode in the restaurant restroom when she confessed to Celia she was in love with Nicholas. Hours later Peyton realized she hadn’t been totally truthful about her revelation. She didn’t know how to explain to Celia that she’d mentally replaced Reginald with Nicholas in an attempt to emotionally exorcise a man whom she’d loved selflessly. A love he’d exploited and abused to fuel a life filled with deception.

      Picking up her bouquet of pink-and-white roses, Peyton lifted the skirt of her gown with her free hand and walked out into the afternoon sunlight, following the planner down a flagstone path to an archway covered with climbing pale pink roses. The plantings were mixed, roses set among perennials that created a riot of color. Beyond the arch was a wooden fence with a doorway.

      Danielle settled her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to open the door, but I want you to wait until I give you the signal to go through. The maid of honor will go first, followed by the bride.” A photographer stood off to the side snapping frames of pictures.

      Peyton, glancing over her shoulder, gave Celia a reassuring smile. She didn’t want to think about her own wedding day; she had been in love and believed when she’d married Reginald it would last forever. However, forever lasted a year and when her loving husband had called her to come and bail him out of jail her world came crashing down around her. She would’ve understood if he’d been arrested for DWI or DUI, but not solicitation. While she’d believed her husband was traveling on business, he’d actually been busy soliciting prostitutes.

      Her musings were СКАЧАТЬ