Daughters Of The Bride(85)

Courtney groaned. “Thanks for that slightly painful recap.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. We all have secrets. It’s just yours are more interesting than most.”

Their server arrived. They both ordered diet soda and promised to look at the menu. Not that they needed to, Sienna thought. They’d been coming to Treats ’n Eats since they were kids and pretty much had the offerings memorized.

“So what are yours?” Courtney asked.

“My what?”

“Secrets.”

There were so many to choose from, Sienna thought. Her ambivalence about David—although that might be more widely known than she suspected.

“My engagement to Hugh,” she said impulsively, then wondered why she’d gone there.

“What about it?”

“Why it ended.”

Her sister leaned toward her. “You said you realized when you got to Chicago that it wasn’t going to work.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. What really happened was, when I got to Chicago, Hugh decided I wasn’t good enough. I think his family had something to do with it, but in the end, he dumped me.”

Courtney stared at her. “You? He let you go? But you’re beautiful and smart, and WTF! Did he think he could do better?”

Hearing her sister’s outrage was both surprising and gratifying. “Thank you. That’s really nice. I like to think it was his loss, but at the time, I was devastated.”

“I’m sure. What an idiot. David knows you’re a prize, right?”

“Yes. He’s clear on that.” Her problems with David were different. Or maybe they existed entirely in her head. He was sweet and attentive. So why couldn’t she see them together for the next fifty years?

“My point,” Sienna continued, “isn’t about the engagement. It’s about secrets. We all have them. They make us feel safe. They get us through.”

“I was afraid everyone would tell me I couldn’t do it,” Courtney admitted.

“I would have.” Sienna raised a shoulder. “I thought you were...challenged.”

“Retarded,” Courtney corrected.

“We don’t use that word anymore, but kind of. When you were younger. But what you’re doing now is amazing. Not just because it’s hard to work and go to school, but because of what you had to overcome. There’s no way you could have gone through what you did and not have some emotional scars.”

Sienna had been thinking a lot about Courtney over the past several days, ever since the tasting dinner. She’d never thought about her sister’s life from her point of view. Not really. But to have been held back and then be so tall. It had to have been hard. Or even impossible. But here she was. A success.

“I’ve never said this before and I hope you take it in the right way, but I’m really proud of you.”

Courtney smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Sienna smiled back. “Good. Now, what happened with Mom? I asked her about the wedding cake and she couldn’t tell me anything beyond the fact that it’s pink. Did you really have a fight in Gracie’s kitchen?”

“Oh, no. That would be classy. We had a fight on the street. In front of the neighbors.”

Sienna grinned. “That’s my girl. Tell me everything.”



Courtney carefully wiped down the bathroom counter before double-checking that she’d left the correct number of towels. She scanned the room for any supplies she might have forgotten on a tabletop or nightstand, then walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. She turned toward her cart and jumped when she saw Joyce hovering in the hall.

They hadn’t really seen each other since the tasting. Joyce looked older and tired—as if she hadn’t been sleeping.

“Hello,” Courtney said politely, then reached for her clipboard to make her notes on the cleaning.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Of course. Let me return the cart to the utility room and I’ll be right down to your office.”

Joyce twisted her hands together. “Courtney, don’t.”

Courtney tilted her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m your boss.”

“You are my boss.”

“We’re friends, too. I care about you. Maggie and I have always gotten along, but you and I have a much closer relationship. I don’t want to lose that.”

You should have thought of that before, she thought angrily. She had to concentrate on pressing her lips together to keep from saying something she would regret.

“You’re still mad at me,” Joyce said helplessly. “Please don’t be. I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to start trouble between you and your mother.”