A short, heavy breath of disgust came from the sink area. “A wedding won’t change the fact that she isn’t fit to be called a mother, Calder or no,” Emma declared, her thin body stiff with outrage. “If there was any justice in this world, she woulda known the pain of somebody takin’ her son from her long before now.”
Rollie scoffed, “Come on, Ma. She’s a Calder. Such a thing will never happen.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, little brother.” A hint of slyness crept into Lath’s smile. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that at all.”
“What do you mean?” Rollie asked, with an interest he wouldn’t have had a week ago.
Still smiling, Lath kept his own counsel and tipped the bottle to his mouth, downing another long swallow of beer.
Cat stood motionless in front of the tall cheval mirror, her fingers clasped around a pearl necklace. A tap at her bedroom door broke across her thoughts. Looking into the mirror once more, she raised the strand of pearls to her neck and checked to make certain her expression revealed none of the wild jittering of her nerves, then called, “Come in.”
The mirror reflected her brother’s image when the door opened. “Is Reverend Pattersby here? I thought I heard a car drive up.”
“He’s downstairs.” Ty came up behind her, his dark eyes meeting the green of hers in the mirror.
“I’m almost ready.” She fumbled with the clasp, then gave up before her already thin nerves snapped. “Would you fasten this for me? I seem to be all thumbs.”
“Sure.” He took the two ends from her, the work-roughened backs of his fingers brushing against the skin of her neck while Cat held the weight of her long hair up and away from it. “These are Mother’s pearls, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” She touched the front of them. “I always planned to wear them on my wedding day.”
She didn’t bother to add that she had always thought she would be marrying Repp. The memory of it clouded her eyes for a moment before she pushed it away and ran an assessing glance over her reflection. The dress she had chosen to wear was made of crepe de chine. The muted shades of teal and lavender draped and floated around her slender, curved figure. The design was simple and elegantly understated, but the effect was much more romantic than she would have liked. Given a choice, Cat would have grabbed something out of the closet and called it good enough. But the dress, like the ceremony, was for Quint’s benefit.
“Cat.” Ty’s hands shifted to the rounded points of her shoulders. “It isn’t too late to change your mind. If you do, I’ll stand with you.”
She thought about it for all of two seconds, then gave a small, sideways shake of her head. “No. I’ve agreed to this.”
When she would have moved away from him, his hands tightened to stop her. “Cat, there is only one thing worse than making a mistake, and that’s refusing to admit it. Ask me. I know.”
Turning to face him, Cat struggled to show him a calmness she didn’t feel. “I promise you this, Ty. If I discover this is an awful mistake, you’ll be the first one I’ll tell.”
“You’d better.” Despite the serious gleam in his eyes, his mouth quirked in a smile that disappeared under a corner of his mustache. “That’s what big brothers are for, you know.”
“I’m counting on that.” From the hallway came the clatter of feet running up the stairs, a familiar sound that was distinctively Quint’s own. “It sounds like Dad has sent up reinforcements to hurry me along.”
This time Ty didn’t try to hold her when Cat moved away from him. A second later, Quint pushed the door open and said, in a loud stage whisper, “Mom, everybody’s waiting for you.”
Seeing him clad in his dress pants, white shirt, and clip-on tie, his hair slicked in a neat side part, Cat knew her choice of dress had been right. Five years old or not, she did
n’t underestimate his powers of observation. If she had chosen less than her best, he would have noticed and wondered.
“Go tell them I’m coming,” she said.
“Okay.” Off he dashed with the message, leaving the bedroom door ajar.
Turning, Cat ran smoothing hands over the bodice of her dress, her nerves all raw and edgy again. She inhaled a quick, steadying breath. “Shall we?” she murmured, her glance ricocheting off Ty as she moved toward the door.
The ceremony was to take place in the den. There would be no flowers, no glow of candlelight, no horde of guests, no bridal bouquet, no wedding march, no veil for the groom to lift, no cake to cut, no pelting rice on the newlyweds. The lack of all that should have made it easier. It didn’t.
As she approached the set of double doors, Cat fought the urge to slow her steps. Entering the room, her glance went first to Quint, noting the look of pleasure that leaped into his eyes when he saw her. But it was the sight of Logan standing next to her father that halted her.
He was dressed in a dark suit, impeccably tailored to fit his wide shoulders without a wrinkle. The dark color of it pointed up the blackness of his hair and intensified the smoke-gray of his eyes. The suit changed his image, gave power and polish to his lean and chiseled features. The result was dangerously gorgeous.
Cat recalled Logan’s mentioning to Quint that he had worked for the government, a world where a suit and tie were common dress for a man. She was reminded again of how little she knew about him.
Ty shifted closer to her, touching her arm and murmuring in concern, “Cat.”
She walked forward with a falsely confident step, conscious of Logan’s eyes on her all the way. Deliberately ignoring him, Cat fixed her gaze on the minister.