Tapestry of Trust (8 page)

Erica dogged his steps. “As long as I’m here, I might as well look around.”

Charlie tossed her a weary glance. “Haven’t you already bought them a gift?”

“Of course.” She shot him a smug grin. “From one of the specialty shops at The Arboretum. I don’t shop at places like this.”

Then why are you here?
He kept that thought to himself. Best to leave it alone.

One quick glance around and he knew he was in over his head. Literally. From floor to ceiling, shelves lined the walls, stocked with linens, knick-knacks of all sorts, not to mention small kitchen appliances, countless selections of dinnerware, and every other domestic gizmo known to man. More homey junk than he ever envisioned.

For a moment, he was tempted to head back to his truck. He glanced at Erica. Her face was scrunched up, and she popped a fist on her hip. “How would someone even find their way around this store?”

A lot of help she’ll be. Charlie shrugged. “There must be a map somewhere.”

Blowing out a breath, he checked around. Only a maze of aisles stared back. He scratched his head and studied the list in his hand. Two pages of possibilities.

“May I help you, sir?”

Help?
Yep, that’s what he needed. He glanced in the direction of the voice.

“I’m looking for a shower gift.”

“A wedding shower gift, Charlie.” Erica glared at him. “You have to be more specific.

Charlie restrained from rolling his eyes. “OK. A wedding shower gift.”

The portly woman finished plumping a tiger striped throw pillow and walked toward Charlie. He tried not to stare, but one look at the sales woman’s leopard print outfit, and he couldn’t help thinking she could have doubled for one of the pillows she’d been sorting. Clearing his voice, he forced the distraction aside. “I have this registration list. I think that’s what this is.”

“Gift registry.” The clerk, whose nametag read
Betsy
, stopped in front of him and proffered her hand. “Can I see the list?”

Charlie handed it over, feeling a bit awkward for shower shopping in the first place. As a youngster, he remembered his mother attended some, but never his father. Something new in the world of weddings, he guessed.

“This way.”

Charlie, with Erica at his heels, followed the salesclerk around a bin of plastic utensils. “We’ll start with the bathroom accessories.” Raising her arm, she pointed to somewhere in the distance.

Great,
a tour of the store. Even better than a map. She ushered them through the layaway section and down a narrow, soap-scented aisle. Rubbing his nose, Charlie glanced to the right, then the left. From Texas-shaped sinks to
His and Hers
monogrammed robes, the shelves were loaded with possibilities. A field day for shopaholics, he’d bet. Which didn’t include him.

The clerk pointed out each registered item and gave a detailed description, including color options and availability. He’d never heard anyone talk so fast. Before he processed the data, the woman walked on, moving non-stop like a wind-up toy.

“Wait up lady, I’m in heels.” Erica squealed from behind them.

Charlie shook his head, not having any trouble keeping up with Betsy.

From the aisle they were in, Betsy doubled back around the corner and motioned Erica forward.

Erica caught up, giving both Betsy and him a look of disgust. “You’re not being much of a gentlemen, Charlie.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come.” Charlie whispered, not wanting to make a scene. “But as long as you’re here, let me know if you see anything Mark and Kate might like.”

Erica beamed. “And you didn’t think you’d need me.”

Brother.
“Just tell me when you see something. OK?” He hissed under his breath.

“Is this your first shower?” Betsy glanced back over her shoulder.

“Yes. First one.” Charlie nodded.

The sound of high heels clicking against the tile floor kept time with his steps.

“Actually, we were both invited to another. But he refused to attend.”

Erica cast him a dark glance.

He averted her stare and didn’t comment. He would have declined this time if Isabelle hadn’t been involved.

After they wove in and out of several more aisles, with Betsy pointing out several more items on the list, she stopped and gestured to a display to her right. “These are self-watering planters.” Her eyes glinted. “Since the bride and groom haven’t made a specific selection, you can choose the one you like.”

Laughing, Erica stared at the happy-grow hippo and frog planters. “They have these on their list?”

Pressing her lips together, Betsy plunked her fists on her hips.

Charlie put his hands in his pocket and tried not to cringe. “Betsy, how many more items are on that list?”

“We’re almost done.” Her dark brows lifted. “Unless, you’ve already decided on something?”

He glanced at Erica, hoping for once she could help him out.

She shrugged. “Nothing yet.”

He figured as much. “Maybe you better show us the rest.”

Betsy took off walking again. Finally at the far corner of the store she halted again. Stepping up to a display at the end of an aisle, she ran her hand along the edge of a box. “OK. This is the last item on the list. A waterfall relaxation fountain. Once the spray is turned on, you’ll be transported into a state of tranquility.” She knotted her hands under her chin as her eyes, too big for her face, twinkled. “Do you own one?”

Charlie cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t even know why I’d need one.”

Her dark brows went together in what he took as a frown.

“I’m sure they’re nice though,” he quickly amended.

Too late. Betsy mashed her lips, handed him back the list and crossed her arms. “Any questions?”

“Yes.” Erica piped up.

Now Charlie did cringe. He never knew what to expect.

“That relaxation fountain, does it really work?”

Betsy eagerly nodded. “Absolutely. Perfect for a romantic evening at home.” She waggled her eyebrows at Charlie.

Charlie shot up a hand. “Hey, just looking for a shower gift. I’m not in the market for one myse—”

“I’ll take one.” Erica grabbed a box off the shelf. “The bride and groom would probably like one too.” She smiled that wicked smile at him.

He looked away.

If he understood nothing else, he knew this would be his last wedding shower. He tugged at his collar, and reminded himself he didn’t have to attend. Something he’d considered until visions of Isabelle arose in his mind. He studied the list closer. “So that fountain thing, everybody likes it?”

That brought a smile to Betsy face. “Yes. One of our best sellers.”

Charlie rubbed his jaw, trying to decide. He never imagined shower shopping to be so mind-boggling. Glancing at his watch, he sighed. “Do you by any chance have a gift card?”

Outside Erica stood in the middle of the parking lot hugging the box. “Charlie, since we don’t know exactly where we’re going, we should drive together.”

Was she kidding?
“You have a GPS. That’s what I’ll be using.” Charlie continued to his truck, holding a
Kitchen Comforts and Cozy Bath
wrapped box with a gift card inside.

****

Hearing the stove timer buzz, Isabelle grabbed hot pads and pulled the last baking sheet from the oven. She blew back a wisp of hair, thinking she’d never cooked so much in her life. Guests better show up hungry. She arranged another batch of hors d’oeuvres on a silver platter.

“The food is finally finished.”

Busy at the sink, Mrs. Johnson looked up. “Excellent, dear. I’ll get the ingredients out for the punch.”

“Sounds good.” Isabelle grabbed the trays. She carried them to the dining room and placed them on the corner of the table, savoring the heavenly scents. She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped back to survey the spread. Perfect.

She spun around and headed back into the kitchen. “Everything looks wonder—” The words died on her tongue as Mrs. Johnson poured fruit-juice and ginger-ale into the punchbowl.

“Uh, didn’t you want the punch on the dining room table with the food?”
Can’t leave the woman alone for a moment.

Mrs. Johnson plopped citrus pieces into the sparkling punch. “Don’t these look nice floating on top?” Several heartbeats and a handful of lemon slices later, her gray head snapped up, and her hand flew to her throat. “Oh my, you’re right. We should have filled the punch bowl on the dining room table. I’m sorry dear. Please do be careful not to spill any on the floor. The housekeeper just mopped.”

“No problem.” Isabelle chuckled and picked up the heavy bowl. For the last two hours she and Mrs. Johnson scurried around the house, decorating, moving furniture, and finishing up the cooking. Now, everything was ready. No small feat, considering Kate’s other bridesmaids weren’t able to arrive early enough to help.

Careful not to jiggle the glass bowl too much, Isabelle carried it to the table, holding her breath as citrusy punch splashed over the sides and onto her knuckles. She placed the punch on the linen cloth and wiped her hands on her apron. She breathed relief and turned, nearly colliding with Mrs. Johnson.

Carrying Isabelle’s donated vase of flowers, Mrs. Johnson barely batted an eye. “These will make a lovely centerpiece.”

Isabelle nodded but didn’t comment. Better here than at her house.

“Dear, could you arrange the chairs on either side of the family room? You know, girls on one side, boys on the other.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Isabelle grabbed one dining room chair after another and carried them into the family-room. She positioned them, adding an armchair to each row, only to nick her ankle with one of the wooden legs. Biting her tongue, she hobbled around a second, rubbing the injured spot when she heard the doorbell ring.

Mrs. Johnson appeared in the room, tugging her blouse in place. “Did you drop something, dear?”

Straightening, Isabelle shook her head. “No, I just hit my—”

“Good, I’m glad everything is under control. Would you mind finishing up the dishes? I need to welcome the guests.”

Isabelle didn’t mind and would have said so, if given the chance. Before she could reply, Mrs. Johnson was out of the room and scuttling down the hall. “No problem.” Isabelle muttered with a smile.

Standing at the sink, Isabelle reached for another dirty pot and caught a glimpse of her fast-fading nail polish.
Lovely.
Shaking her head, she dragged the pot into the soapy water and started scrubbing. Her nails didn’t matter. This was Kate and Mark’s day, and...Mrs. Johnson’s.

Laughter from down the hall poured into the kitchen. Isabelle rinsed the last pan just as Abby, one of the bridesmaids sailed into the room.

“Sorry, I couldn’t get here sooner. What can I do to help? Mark, Kate, and some of the guests have already arrived.”

Isabelle laid down the dishcloth and tossed her apron on the back of a kitchen stool. “Nothing. We’re good.”

“Then let’s get the party started.” Abby led the way into the family room, where eight guests mingled in a tight circle.

“Isabelle.” Kate caught her in a hug. “Everything looks great.”

Isabelle opened her mouth to respond but shut it when she felt a presence at her shoulder. Mrs. Johnson skittered around her and gave Kate a kiss on the cheek. “Are you ready for a wonderful party?”

“Yes.” Kate glanced from Mrs. Johnson back to Isabelle. “Thank you both for all your work.”

“Dear, you’re welcome.” Mrs. Johnson folded her hands together at her chest. “Marriage is a special celebration. I just want you and Mark to have the most wonderful memories.”

Isabelle swallowed the rising lump in her throat. Too bad she couldn’t clone Mrs. Johnson.

“The games.” Mrs. Johnson, gasped, spinning around toward Isabelle, a panicked look on her face. “Dear, I don’t see game-sheets or pencils on the chairs.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.” Isabelle exchanged glances with Kate then nodded at Mrs. Johnson. “I’m on it.” She wormed her way back into the kitchen for the supplies.

As maid of honor, Isabelle knew how Cinderella felt. Finishing chores instead of mingling with the guests. Although, unlike Cinderella, there would be no Prince Charming in her future.

Sighing, she started back to the family room in time to hear the tail end of Mark’s latest introductions. “Everyone, these are some of my classmates.”

“One of Mark’s friends asked if you were here.” Mrs. Johnson caught Isabelle by the arm in the hallway. Isabelle didn’t need to guess who would be standing in the next room. Of course, Mark had invited his classmates. Why hadn’t she considered that? Better question: why hadn’t Kate told her?

Isabelle swung back to Mrs. Johnson, shoving the pencils and paper into her hand. “Do me a favor. Put these on the family room chairs.”

“Sure dear but don’t you want to know who asked about you?”

“No.” Isabelle barked then softened her tone. “I mean, I know who it is.”

Mrs. Johnson’s brow crinkled then. “Sounds like someone you’re not interested in.”

More perceptive than Isabelle thought. “Correct.”

“That’s a shame. He seems nice, and he’s quite handsome.” Mrs. Johnson
squeezed Isabelle’s shoulder.
“You know time is of the essence. The good men go fast.”

Isabelle coughed into her fist to cover a groan. She didn’t like the twinkle in Mrs. Johnson’s eyes. Or the wedding bells chiming in her own head.

“You just think about that, dear.” Mrs. Johnson shot her a wink over her shoulder as she pranced down the hall.

Nope.
Thinking was dangerous.

Isabelle took a steadying breath and peeped around the corner, expecting to see Charlie’s infamous grin. Instead her attention rested on the woman beside him. Blonde, beautiful, and dressed in a black slinky dress. Apparently his girlfriend hadn’t read the invitation stating wedding shower and not cocktail party.