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The silence inside the SUV grew so heavy Summer couldn’t catch her breath. She’d flipped the radio station to upbeat Top Forty, but the mood remained dismal. Finally, after one too many songs about love everlasting or broken hearts, she surrendered and turned off the radio altogether.
“Hmmmph,” Mom interjected into the mausoleum on wheels. “I don’t understand couples today. Your father and I didn’t have these issues. We managed to stay married for twenty-four years without sneaking around or cheating on each other.”
Summer’s demeanor danced on a wire between depression and rage, strung over a boiling pit of shame. “Yes, but for at least half of those twenty-four years, Dad was usually in some other state or country with Lyn,” she retorted.
“All the more excuse for him to cheat.” Mom glared over the top of her blue-tinted cat glasses. “But he never did. Not like Brad.” Her disapproving stare shot to April. “Or Peter.” She sighed. “At least you didn’t have children, Summer. Honestly. Your father and I had such high hopes for you girls. Not one of you has anything good to show for your marriages.”
Summer winced and focused on maneuvering the curve of the exit ramp. Lyn looked down at her hands folded in her lap.
April, however, went on the attack. “You have two beautiful grandchildren from my marriage, Mom.”
If Mom heard April—which, since they were seated less than three feet apart, she must have—she ignored the comment.
“And now, April’s going to roll those dice again with Jeffrey.”
“His name is Jefferson,” April corrected. “Or Jeff. Not Jeffrey.”
“Whatever.” Mom sighed dramatically. “It would be nice if you had a recent example of a successful married couple to emulate. I always thought Summer and Brad were perfect. Now, I see I was wrong.”
Please, God, give me ten seconds to rein in my temper. Ten, nine, eight...
But Summer had become Mount Etna, churning molten lava beneath the surface. Today was only the ash of her misery magma. Soon she’d have to pretend she didn’t hear the sly whispers behind her back from friends and neighbors. She’d be forced to stand tall against the curious looks from merchants she dealt with on a regular basis.
Pulling to a stop at a red light, she stared at the car next to her. In the driver’s seat, a bald man with horn-rimmed glasses sipped coffee from a travel mug. He glanced at her, then quickly looked away. Had he heard the broadcast? Did he know she was Summer Jackson? Was there something about her that advertised her identity? If he recognized her, would he pity her?
Her stomach somersaulted, and she bit back a groan. She’d never wanted to be a celebrity. She’d grown up with a younger sister made famous on the ski slopes, then faced her older sister’s sudden propulsion into the spotlight on that television show where she met Jeff.
Okay, sure. Summer had experienced a few twinges of envy at the lure of the cameras and the articles in glossy magazines. But she hadn’t ever really wanted fifteen minutes of fame. And certainly not thanks to her husband’s infidelity.
Her insides flipped like a gyroscope. How in the world would she bear this humiliation?
Only April wouldn’t say anything. April, who had every right to crow since Summer had given her such a hard time when her marriage fell apart years ago. Lucky for her, the new and improved April, secure in love with her scrumptious doctor, wouldn’t dream of declaring, “I told you so,” or “You never should have married him.”
The way Summer herself had when their situations were reversed. April’s ex-husband, Peter, had rubbed her nose in his affairs for so long she probably needed rhinoplasty to remove the scars.
The light turned green, and she stepped on the accelerator. Bile burned her throat when she recalled her sanctimonious attitude over the years. She’d give anything to take back every mean-spirited remark. Because, now, she needed a friend in her corner, someone who’d understand what she felt. Who better than the older sister who’d not only waded through these treacherous waters, but had managed to find a successful, happy future on the other side?
“Maybe we should reschedule the dress shopping for a better day?” Lyn dared a sidelong glance at Summer.
Kaboom. Eruption time.
“Like when? The Apocalypse?” She pulled into the parking lot behind a large pink and blue Victorian house with three turrets that thrust out of the slate-tiled roof.
“I just meant that—”
“Look, we’re already here. The gowns are waiting. Let’s try to salvage something happy out of the day.” Anything to get the subject off her marriage and its imminent demise. With the Escalade in park, she turned off the engine and stepped out. Gravel crunched beneath her designer sandals.
April got out beside her and sidled close. “We don’t have to do this right now.”
In reply, Summer scaled the steps leading to the wraparound porch where wind chimes jingled on the early morning breeze. “Yeah, we do. Lyn’s only here for a few days, and we can’t move forward with the rest of the wedding plans until you’ve picked the bridesmaids’ dresses.”
“Bullcookies,” April retorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, Lyn’s in love. So, as long as Doug keeps his apartment in Manhattan, she’ll come down here any time I ask, and you know it. Bridesmaid shopping gives her an excuse to spend time with her main squeeze.”
Summer shrugged. “It’s not like I’m in any rush to go home now anyway.”
“Oh, Sum.” April sighed. “I’m so sorry.”
Summer strode toward the shop. “Me too.”
She yanked open the door, and the automatic sensors heralded her entrance with a digital version of Wagner’s Bridal March. Teeth gritted, she loitered in the renovated parlor near the antique curio cabinet. Inside the heavy glass doors, a dozen illuminated shelves displayed bridal headpieces glittering with pearls and crystals. April, behind her, toyed with a large, floppy hat piled high with white silk roses and lace ribbons.
Grinning, she slapped it on her head and folded the broad brim around her ears. “What do you think?”
“You’ll wear a hat like that over my dead body,” Summer managed to say through her tight teeth.
April immediately removed the hat. “Kidding,” she said as she placed the lace and silk monstrosity on the curved silver hat stand in the corner.
Her hand reached for another, this one even more garish with blinding yellow daisies along the crown.
“Don’t you dare,” Summer threatened.
Lyn giggled.
Mom simply stared around the space, frowning. “Where is everyone? I thought we had an appointment, Summer.”
As if summoned by the complaint, Katya’s assistant, a young man named Sergio, glided into the parlor. When he smiled, his teeth gleamed whiter than snow. The man probably spent every dime of his salary on dental bleaching and tanning salons.
“Mrs. Jackson, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” He pushed a wave of raven black hair from his golden forehead.
Lifting both of Summer’s hands to his lips, he allowed his melted chocolate eyes to lock on her face, then placed dry kisses on her knuckles.
Under normal circumstances, his insincere flirtations would have amused her. Too bad for Sergio, she’d had enough of flirtatious men today. She glanced over his shoulder at the crystal and brass wall clock behind him. At barely nine-thirty in the morning, the day had already careened down a shank spiral.
When she returned her attention to Sergio, his gaze had moved to her companions. In an accent thick with false French, he murmured, “Which of these lovely ladies is our bride?”
April, standing directly beside Summer, snickered. “He’s kidding, right?”
“‘Fraid not.” Summer removed her hands from Sergio’s oozing grip and pulled April forward. “This is April.”
“Avreeeeel...” He took her hands, repeated the kiss-kiss thing, then stared at the square-cut diamond on her left ring finger. “Verrrry niiiice. You pick this? Or he did?”
“He did.”
“Excellent,” Sergio replied as he turned the diamond in the overhead miniature track lights. “Strong. Sure of himself. And fully aware his bride is a rare find, eh?”
April flashed her Is-this-guy-for-real look.
On a nod, Summer turned to the other two women in their party. “Sergio, this is my younger sister, Lyn, and my mother, Susan.”
Sergio stepped away from April. “Of course. Ladies, a pleasure to meet you, as well. Katya will be with you all shortly. May I offer you a cold beverage in the meantime? We have an excellent array of waters—carbonated and spring.”
Summer silently polled the group and received head shakes in reply. “No, thank you, Sergio. We’ll just have a seat in the salon until Katya’s ready for us.”
“By all means.” Bowing, Sergio swept a hand toward the draperied doorway.
Inside the salon, a baby blue circular sofa sat in the center of plush, dark blue carpet. The walls, paneled in a whitewashed maple, pulled blues and pinks out of the wood furnishings, and gave the room a pending motherhood feeling that always left Summer stone cold and as empty as her womb.
Against the back wall stood a bank of dressing rooms, and beyond the salon, a room filled with mirrors waited to display a spectacularly-garbed woman at every angle.
While Lyn and Mom sat on the high-backed sofa, April paced beside Summer. Her sister’s hovering only served to make Summer’s nerves twitchier. After several runs back and forth across the floor, she finally grabbed April by the elbow. “Trust me. The dresses are perfect. You’ll love them.”
“I know that,” April whispered. “I’m just... thinking.”
Oh, boy. Summer could just imagine what April thought about right now. Probably reliving her past humiliations with Peter, which was soooooo contradictory to the way this day should unfold. Today was supposed to be fun, an opportunity to give April all the wonderful moments a bride deserved.
At last, Katya, petite with steel wool hair and burnished skin, sauntered in from her rear office. “So, the ladies are all here, yes? Let’s get started. Soon, we’ll have another deliriously happy bride.”
Another? No.
One would be nice, though.
♥
AFTER SUMMER DROPPED off Lyn and their mother, April sat in the passenger seat of the Escalade and watched the broken white lines on the highway whizz by way too fast. She wanted to console her younger sister, to help her sort through the jumbled emotions. After all, who else knew the pain, the humiliation, the self-flagellation Summer probably experienced right now? No one. Not the way she did.
Unfortunately, their friendship was too young, too tentative, to withstand a conversation of this magnitude.
She twisted the engagement ring on her finger. Summer had always enjoyed comparing her happy marriage to April’s miserable one. Now the tide had turned. April had the secure relationship, the nearly perfect man in Jeff. And Summer. She sighed. Poor Summer.
Should she or shouldn’t she? What if she made the wrong choice? What if Summer was mulling over whether or not to confide in her? What if Summer decided to pull over here on the Long Island Expressway and throw her out?
Well, if she got stranded, she’d have to call Jeff to come pick her up. Wouldn’t be the first time he had to bail her out of something stupid. And if she explained to him what happened—about Summer and Brad and Cliff Hanger, he’d understand. He always did. She smiled as her favorite four-letter phrase came to mind.
WWJD? What Would Jeff Do?
Simple. Jeff would tell her to extend the branch to her sister. Try to help. If Summer decided to leap, she’d have a handhold to grasp. If not, at least April would have done her best.
“Sum?” She dared a quick glance, read the dull defeat in her sister’s eyes. “Look, I understand if you don’t want to talk, but... well, I just wanted you to know I’m here if you change your mind. Not just right now, but later today, next week, next month. If you want to vent or cry or tell me what pond scum Brad is, I’m more than willing to listen.”
“Actually,” Summer replied, her tone brittle. “I’d appreciate it.”
Thank God. Her sister had grabbed the branch.
April nodded. “You okay?”
“No.” Summer’s sigh weighed more than a trainload of circus elephants. “I feel stupid and insignificant and humiliated and angry...”
“...And you wonder if the medical examiner can really detect arsenic during an autopsy,” April finished for her. “Been there, mailed the postcards.”
“What am I going to do, April? I don’t even have a real job.”
April leaned across the console and threw a light punch into her sister’s shoulder. “Sure you do. Rainey-Day-Wife could use someone with your organizational skills. It’s not glamorous, and we don’t stage the kinds of parties you’re used to planning. You’ll be dealing with kids.” She held up a hand. “I know, I know. You’d rather undergo double root canal. But it’s a temporary gig until you pick yourself up, dust off, and return to the nine-to-five business world you left when you married What’s-his-face.”
On a heavy exhale, Summer offered her a wan smile. “Thanks, April. You’re... God, you’re unbelievable.”
“What are sisters for?”