Meg handed her a margarita in a frosted glass. “On the rocks. No salt. Is that okay?”
“Perfect. Your home is gorgeous. ”
“Home. ” Meg laughed. “That’s funny. I never think of it that way, but it is, of course. Thanks. ”
That was it. This wasn’t a home. It was a really nice hotel suite. Definitely four-star, but cold. Impersonal. “Did you decorate it yourself?”
“You’re kidding, right? The last thing I chose for myself was the wedding gown with parachute sleeves. I hired a decorator. German woman who didn’t speak English. ” She set out the plates. “Here. Let’s eat out on the deck. ” She carried her plate and drink outside. “We’ll have to sit on the floor. The decorator chose the most uncomfortable outdoor furniture in the world. I returned it all and haven’t found the time to buy new stuff. ”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Seven years. ”
Claire followed her sister outside. It was a beautiful night. Stars everywhere.
As they ate, silence fell between them. Meg said a few odd, awkward things, clearly designed to break the quiet, but like seawater in a rising tide, the silence always returned.
“Did I thank you for the gown?”
“Yes. And you’re welcome. ” Meg put her empty plate down on the deck and leaned back.
“It’s funny,” Claire said. “It’s loud out here at night—between the traffic and the ferry horns and the railroad, but it still feels . . . empty. Kind of lonely. ”
“The city can be that way. ”
Claire looked at Meghann and, for once, she didn’t see the harsh, judgmental older sister who was always right. Neither did she see the older sister who’d once loved her so completely. Now, she saw a pale, rarely smiling woman who seemed to have no life apart from work. A lonely woman who’d had her heart broken long ago and now wouldn’t allow herself to believe in love.
She couldn’t help remembering the old days, when they’d been best friends. For the first time in years, she wondered if that could happen again. If so, one of them would have to make the first move.
Claire took a chance. “Maybe you’d like to come stay at my house for a few nights, while you’re planning the wedding. ”
“Really?” Meghann looked up, obviously surprised.
“You’re probably too busy. ”
“No, actually. I’m . . . between cases right now. And I do need to spend some time in Hayden. Getting stuff ready, you know. I have a meeting there tomorrow, in fact. With the wedding consultant. But I wouldn’t want to intrude. ”
Big mistake, Claire. Incredible Hulk big. “It’s settled, then. You’ll spend a few nights at my house. ”
FOURTEEN
MEGHANN PARKED THE CAR AND STEPPED OUT ONTO THE curb. She checked her instructions again, then looked up the street.
Hayden shimmered in the warm, lemony sunlight. People drifted across the street and along the boardwalks, gathering now and then in gossipy circles, waving to one another as they moved on.
Across the street, standing all by herself, was a magenta-haired teenager wearing pants that would have been big on Shaquille O’Neal.
Meghann knew how that girl felt, the outsider in this pretty little town. The girl who didn’t fit in. Trailer parks, Meghann had learned early on, were always on the wrong side of the tracks, regardless of where they’d been built. And when your clothes were wrong and your address was even worse, you were always treated like a slut, whether you were or not. Sooner or later—and with Meghann, it had been sooner—you gave in and started being what everyone already thought you were.
No wonder Mama had never stopped in towns like Hayden. One tavern and four churches? I think we’ll pass this burg right on by. She liked the kind of place where nobody knew your name . . . where nobody knew how to find you when you snuck off in the middle of the night, with three months’ back rent due.
Meghann walked two blocks, then turned right on Azalea Street.
Her destination was easy to spot: a narrow Victorian house painted canary yellow with purple trim. A sign hung askew on the white picket fence out front: Royal Event Planning. There were glittery roses all around the pink letters.
Meghann almost kept walking. There was no way that someone who painted with glittery paint could plan a classy wedding.
But it was Claire’s day, and she wanted a small, casual wedding.