Daughters Of The Bride(43)

Courtney was already at a table when she got to the hotel restaurant. She waved Rachel over. Rachel took a second to admire how good the bangs looked before crossing the room. Courtney stood and hugged her gently.

“How are you feeling? Is your back better?”

It took Rachel a second to figure out what her sister was talking about. Then she remembered the lie she’d told so she could leave the engagement party early.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I must have tweaked something, but it’s all better now.”

“Good.”

Rachel ordered black coffee and an egg white omelet with vegetables. She figured she might as well take advantage of her resolve while she could. Maybe she would lose a few pounds in the process.

“Did I miss anything exciting?” she asked when the server had left.

“No. David’s proposal was the highlight.” Courtney wrinkled her nose. “Or lowlight, depending on your point of view.”

“I know. What was up with that?” Rachel leaned toward her sister. “Do you think anyone else noticed Sienna’s panic? It was bad. She so didn’t want to say yes.”

“Oh, God. It was horrible. I mean he’s a nice guy and all, but I never thought they had chemistry.”

“He must assume they do. This is engagement number three.”

Courtney eyed her. “You’re kind of liking her pain, aren’t you?”

“What? No. Of course I want my sister to be happy. Maybe David’s the one.”

“You really think that’s possible?”

“I honestly have no idea. Sienna’s hard to read.”

Rachel supposed that in most families, siblings connected on different levels. She and Courtney had been the close ones. Maybe because they were so far apart in age. With their mom gone a lot—working and going to school—Rachel had stepped in where she could. It had made sense that she would help with the baby in the family.

She’d done her best, Rachel told herself. She’d worked hard to teach Courtney all that she could. But she’d never been able to help her with her schoolwork. For a long time, Rachel had assumed the fault was hers—that she wasn’t doing it right. When Courtney had been held back, Rachel had been devastated, knowing she was the reason. Finding out her sister had a learning disability had been a relief. And on the heels of relief had been guilt for being glad it hadn’t been her fault.

No wonder she liked to control everything, she thought grimly. If she messed up, there was no one to blame but herself. Not that she was admitting Greg might have been right about a few things.

Courtney’s phone chirped. She glanced at the screen and groaned. “She remembered.”

“Who?”

“Mom. Last night at the party, she said she’d been thinking a lot about the wedding. She didn’t want to keep bothering Joyce, so she was going to run everything through me.” Courtney held out her phone so Rachel could read the text.

I want swans not flamingos. And a pink cotton candy machine.

“When did she want flamingos?” Courtney asked.

“Last night she talked about wanting swans, but the color was wrong.” She held up her hands. “I told her I wouldn’t color their feathers, so we discussed flamingos.”

“Oh, joy.”

The server returned with their coffee. Courtney grabbed on to hers with both hands. “Does she mean the cotton candy machine itself is pink or just the cotton candy?”

“You’re going to have to ask her.” Rachel took a sip of the hot coffee and sighed. “Did you know that she didn’t get to plan her wedding to Dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“Grandma Helen said she was too young to make those kinds of decisions and did everything her way. At least that’s what Mom told me. She had all these ideas that have been stored up inside of her. Waiting. Now some forty years later, she’s determined to have the wedding of her dreams. I tried to explain that her tastes may have changed just a little, but she doesn’t want to listen.”

“Did I say ‘oh, joy’ before, because I was thinking it.” Courtney looked at her. “I’m handling the wedding.”

“What do you mean? I thought Mom was talking to Joyce.”

“Oh, she has her meetings with Joyce, but I’m the one doing it. I did the engagement party. All of it. From the tents to the placement of the bar to hiring the DJ.”

“I thought you worked as a maid,” Rachel blurted before she could stop herself.

“I do, but I fill in when I’m needed. I’ve served in the restaurant, been a bartender, worked the front desk. A year ago, our wedding planner got food poisoning the night before a huge wedding. I stepped in and handled the day. Since then I’ve been planning some events when needed. Because this is a family thing, Joyce thought it would be easier if I did it. I’m not sure who it’s supposed to be easier for, though.”