Smooth as silk, p.24
Smooth as Silk, page 24
“If you want to talk, I’m right here.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
But he would never tell and he might as well face why. It was Hyacinth he was looking out for, more than Jake and Evie. He didn’t want them mad at her.
Robbie turned on the television. “How about some Sports Center?”
“Sure. Let’s see what they have to say about us getting our asses handed to us.”
Robbie had never had his ass handed to him twice in three days’ time before. One, he would come back from. The other, he wasn’t so sure.
* * *
Behind the closed doors of her workroom, Hyacinth sewed the final seed pearl on another silk organza rose and laid it on the worktable with the others. They were lovely, and this work would have been relaxing and satisfying, if not for the giant, invisible clock ticking above her head.
She’d constructed the skirt and had been working on the roses for two days now—ever since that ghastly day of scattered dresses, cake crumbs, and thoughtless words. Not for the first time, she wondered if it would be more efficient to carry on with completing them one by one or to make all the roses first and then go back and embellish them.
She hoped to be well into beading the skirt by Saturday—when she wouldn’t be watching Robbie at a home game against Detroit. Because he didn’t want her there. Ghosts of the times when he had wanted her swirled around her head.
Hand sewing gave a person time to think—too much.
There was a knock on the workroom door. Probably Brad trying to get her to eat again.
“Come in.”
“Hello, Hyacinth.” Not Brad, but Claire who stepped through the door.
Shock waves went through Hyacinth. It was only then that she realized she had not called Claire to report on the taping.
“Hello, Claire.” Hyacinth stood up. “I’ve been meaning to call to tell you how it went with All Dressed in White.” Not quite a lie. She would have if she’d thought of it. But she hadn’t. Claire had not crossed her mind since that awful day, though plenty else had—stuff that, unlike her relationship with Claire, didn’t affect her at all. She knew the Yellowhammers had lost to LA and Robbie had gotten a goal and an assist. She knew that if he’d kept company with a woman in California, The Face Off Grapevine didn’t know about it.
All that—and the roses—had taken a lot of energy, so there had been none left for Claire.
Claire would give her a pass; she deserved it. She had always been spot-on about keeping her apprised.
Claire nodded. “How was it with All Dressed in White? I can’t wait to see it.”
“Some good, some bad. Hopefully, the bad will end up on the cutting room floor.” Maybe admitting that there was bad would somewhat prepare Claire for what would be the mortification of the decade. “Jules wasn’t completely satisfied with a dress so I’m getting to make a skirt for the bodice she liked.”
Getting to? She could scarcely believe those words had come out of her mouth.
Claire smiled. “Hyacinth, that’s wonderful. I know how much you want to create. One step closer.”
That much was true, if only she could finish.
“I had no doubt it had gone splendidly,” Claire went on. “But I really stopped by to ask about the music for the party.”
Party?
Oh, fuck. Oh, damn. Oh, every bad word that hadn’t been invented yet. The party for Jake and Evans—the one that was supposed to happen after All Dressed in White was behind her, that was supposed to be fun, that she was supposed to leave from with Robbie.
That she was supposed to have lined up the music for!
The party that was tomorrow!
Her legs turned to water and she dropped heavily into her chair.
Claire looked concerned. “Hyacinth, are you all right? I realized this morning that you had not answered me when I emailed you yesterday to ask the name of the group you had booked. You always respond, even if it’s only to say you received the email.”
That was true. She did. Always. Every time, no matter what. But she had not received the email because she hadn’t read her email since the taping—never even thought of it.
Who was she? Who ignored their email in this day and age? Especially a business owner, who communicated almost exclusively with her clients that way?
She’d spent too much time with Robbie. He had rubbed off on her.
There’s no such thing as too much time with Robbie, a silent, inward voice whispered.
But too late, way too late for that. Too late for everything.
She’s coming unglued. Hyacinth had heard the expression, but never understood it and certainly never thought she’d live it. But here she was, glueless, clueless, and doomed to—to what, she didn’t know. Maybe just doomed.
She looked up at Claire. “Claire, I’m sorry. I forgot. It’s just that I’ve been so caught up.” She picked up a silk rose and waved it in the air like Claire was supposed to know what that meant.
“It’s all right, Hyacinth. Just tell me now who you found.”
“No. I don’t mean I forgot to answer your email. I forgot to book the music.” Kill me now!
“This isn’t like you, Hyacinth.” Claire’s expression was surprised, but her tone was kind. Concerned. Hyacinth wasn’t used to people needing to be concerned for her—like Robbie was concerned that she would get home safely.
That slapped her in the face again. She covered her eyes with her hands in an effort to escape.
“Hyacinth?”
Right. Claire. Music. The thoughts in her head were like jazz tunes, going off into twenty directions. Mother of pearl! Her head was full of bunny trails, with no one to get her back on track—no one but herself.
She had to concentrate.
“I’m so sorry. I was going to take care of it first thing yesterday, but I never even thought of it.”
“Did you have someone in mind?” Claire asked.
“I did. Do. I had plan A, B, and C.” Nobody ever had to follow up with Hyacinth. She didn’t need them. She had her lists, spreadsheets, and diagrams to keep her straight. But where were they now? Gone, like Robbie was gone.
“Calm down,” Claire said. “Maybe we can still get someone.”
A lifeline! “Yes. If they weren’t booked yesterday, they won’t be today. I’ll call.”
“If it doesn’t work out, well, I have decent speakers. I can make a playlist.”
Plan D? She could tell by the look on Claire’s face this was even worse than email invitations.
“Let me make some calls first.”
“Would you like me to do it?” Claire asked. “You seem to have your hands full.”
Full hands. Empty bed. Empty brain.
Empty heart.
“No,” Hyacinth said. Turning her obligation over to anyone, let alone Claire, would be the ultimate in failure. “I’ll make the calls. I’ll do it right now. And I’ll text you as soon as it’s taken care of.”
“If you’re sure,” Claire said.
“I am.” Hyacinth stood again.
“Then I’ll get out of your hair. Call me if you need help.”
When she’d gone, Hyacinth pushed aside the roses and opened her laptop.
Then part two of the nightmare hit. She would be expected to attend this party, hours and hours of time she couldn’t spare.
But she could get back to work as soon as it was over. She wouldn’t be leaving with Robbie.
That thought chased away all the panic inside her. Trouble was, emptiness replaced it—and she’d take panic over empty any day.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Robbie leaned against the wall of Claire’s crowded living room and sipped his scotch. Most of his teammates were in the dining room gathered around the food. He’d been headed there, too, before stopping to have a look around.
He knew Hyacinth would be at this party. She was one of the hostesses; it had said so right on the invitation. While he’d been prepared to see her, he was not prepared for her to float in looking like an angel.
And that wasn’t just starry-eyed talk; she really did look like an angel. She wore a filmy dress the color of rich cream that wouldn’t have been amiss in a nativity play. It hit her at mid-calf and had silver sparkles along the neck, sleeves, and waist that put him in mind of stars swirling about her.
All she needed was a halo and wings—though a halo would probably be lost in that magnificent hair tumbling around her face and shoulders.
He would do well to remember she wasn’t an angel, but that was hard now that his anger had gone, leaving him with only his hurt and longing. He supposed eventually the hurt would go away, too.
He hoped it took the longing with it.
He wished he didn’t remember how her hair smelled.
“Don’t you look magnificent in your kilt? And you looked almost as good on the ice this afternoon.”
Robbie turned to find Christine Champagne at his elbow. Sweet relief washed over him at the welcome distraction. He took her hand and kissed it. “Quite a compliment coming from the loveliest woman in the room.”
She laughed. “You’re very kind, but I think my new daughter-in-law has that distinction.”
Robbie followed her gaze to where Jake and Evans stood in the large foyer greeting well-wishers as they entered the house—but his eyes didn’t linger there very long. They were drawn to a whirl of cream and silver behind the happy couple.
Naturally, she would be in a whirl. She had a hand in giving this shindig. It would follow that she would be sorting appetizer picks by color or instructing the bartender to iron the paper napkins.
“Ah, there’s that smile,” Christine said. “The one I love to see.” He hadn’t realized he was smiling. “They do look so happy, don’t they?” She gestured to Jake and Evans.
He wasn’t likely to tell her it wasn’t the bride and groom who had made him smile, but a woman he was never going to have and ought not even want.
* * *
Despite the short notice, the party was overrun with people—Yellowhammers, people from around town, Jake’s and Evans’s families, and people Hyacinth suspected were party crashers, hoping for some good booze and food. They were getting it, too. Claire had not scrimped. In addition to the ever revolving waitstaff carrying trays of fancy little bites, there was a prime rib carving station, a sushi bar, and a selection of pasta. The star of the dessert table was a huge chocolate, tiered cake that wasn’t nearly as nice as what Robbie could have made.
And thanks be to God—literally—sweet music floated through the house. The Jazz Notes had not only been available, but happy for the job.
Hyacinth leaned in between Jake and Evans and said as quietly as possible, “Are you two doing all right? Can I get you anything? Refresh your drinks?”
“We’re fine.” Evans turned to smile at her. “This is a wonderful party, Hyacinth. Thank you.”
“Our pleasure.” It felt deceptive to accept thanks when she hadn’t done anything except nearly botch the music, but she didn’t have the energy to set them straight, and they didn’t care anyway.
“Show her your ring, Evie,” Jake said.
Hyacinth extended her hand to accept Evans’s. “You did get a ring. No more championship ring around your neck?”
“I gave it to her right before coming here,” Jake said.
He was awfully proud of himself for what it was. It was nice enough, but ordinary—a gold band with diamonds all around and not very big ones at that.
“It’s lovely, Evans.”
“Wait until you see,” Evans said excitedly. “It’s got a secret.” She slipped the ring off her finger and brought her hand to the pendant she wore—a huge diamond surrounded by four circles, all set with smaller diamonds. That was impressive, if it was real.
“Nice,” Hyacinth said. “Is that new, too?”
“It came with the ring.” And she popped the ring on the pendant, creating a fifth circle. “For when I have my hands in pie dough. Jake had it made.”
Boy, she’d pegged that wrong, but what else was new?
“It’s perfect for her, Jake,” Hyacinth said sincerely. “I don’t know if I have ever seen anything as thoughtful.”
And to think she’d thought there was nothing special about it. What would it be like to have someone willing to go to such lengths for you?
You mean like giving up a whole day to do a TV show just because you asked? She’d gotten used to that inward voice bitching at her night and day, telling her it was her own damn fault when she woke up lonely, and sneering at her when she went over how she could have done things differently, all the while chanting too late, too late, too late.
Claire chose that moment to appear like a genie out of a bottle. “All well here?” she asked. “Jake, Evans, do you need a drink?”
“No, thanks,” Jake said. “Hyacinth was just checking on us.”
“Good, then. Hyacinth, would you mind going to the kitchen and telling Renee the horseradish sauce is getting low?”
“Happy to.” Relieved for a task she couldn’t possibly make a mess of, Hyacinth made a beeline through the living room, only to have her progress impeded when a voice called her name.
“Hyacinth, darling.” It was Jake’s mom, and she was standing in a huddle with none other than Robbie in his full Scottish formal attire.
Hyacinth gave a little wave and tried to move on, but Christine Champagne was having none of it. “Come see me, precious.” She held out her hand.
There was nothing Hyacinth could do but close the distance between them and take her hand.
“It’s so good to see you again.” Christine kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry our visit was cut short at Thanksgiving, but I guess we have my impulsive son to thank for that.” She tried and failed to look disgruntled.
“It seems to be an impulse that suited all concerned,” Hyacinth said. She could feel Robbie’s stare bearing down on her. She needed to get away—away to attend to the horseradish emergency. But Christine still had her by the hand like a dog chained to a spike in the yard.
“This party is so nice. Thank you for doing it for them. You will come to the reception Anna-Blair and Keith are having when the hockey season ends, won’t you?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Let me go before I go jump off the roof or—worse—cry.
“I was trying to convince Robbie to come to us for Christmas, but I can’t get him to commit. See what you can do to persuade him. And you’ll come, too, I hope.”
“I, uh—”
“Oh, there’s my cousin Troy. I need to go.” At long last, Christine released Hyacinth’s hand, but not before she gave it a squeeze and said, “Now, I’m expecting you for Christmas, honey, and for you to convince Robbie. Marc and I have already called dibs on Evie and Jake and there’s plenty of room for you and Robbie, too. Robbie, I’ll see you later.”
And she was gone with a swish of silk and the subtle scent of her perfume.
“You should go to the Champagnes’ for Christmas,” Hyacinth said without inflection or emotion. “They want you there.” And didn’t everyone? She and Robbie probably wouldn’t have been together for the holiday anyway, considering the nature of flings.
He gave her a half smile. His face looked better, but wasn’t well by any means. How was that possible? It seemed years since she’d seen him.
“Was that your attempt to persuade me?”
She shrugged. “For some reason, I feel compelled to do what that woman commands.”
“Most do,” he said.
“Did it work?” she asked.
“I don’t know what I’m doing in an hour, never mind Christmas.”
She would have excused herself then, had he not spoken.
“How goes the frock, lass?” Lass. How could that one word, spoken as only he could say it, lift her heart and wreck her soul all in the same instant?
“Well enough.” The construction and roses were done, but it wasn’t hemmed and she’d barely started the beading. Five days before Jules flew in on the Fallon family jet and Alex swooped in from the North with his cameraman. Her heart raced.
“Will you finish?”
“Yes,” she said defiantly. “I might not sleep, and Brad is taking my bridal appointments so I may have some unhappy clients who expected to have me, but it will be done.”
He looked sad. “Lass, for what it’s worth, I meant well. I know that’s a broken record between us, but I did. I would never have done that—or brought the cake, or any of it—if I had known it would put you in distress. That’s not what I wanted for you.”
If she had been less tired, she might not have melted so completely. She badly wanted to touch him, but he’d told her to never touch him again. Was it possible she could change that?
“I know that, Robbie, and I’m only sorry I didn’t let myself see it at the time. The things I said to you—I am sorry. I can’t even say how much. And this isn’t like the last time I apologized to you. We both know I said what I had to so I could get what I wanted. Not this time. I’ve played what I said to you over in my head a million times and every time, I’ve hated myself.”
He studied her for a long moment. “Don’t you think hating yourself is a mite overkill?” He lifted one corner of his mouth. “If I say I forgive you, can you stop that particular bit of foolishness?”
She felt lighter than she’d felt in days. Maybe this could be over, after all. “Can we put it behind us?”
“By that, do you mean pick back up where we left off?”
It cost her to bare her soul, but there was only one answer. “I’d like that.”
“You mean with the fling, as you say?”
“Yes.” A million times yes, even if she never finished Jules’s dress and was tarred and feathered for it.
