You Say It First. Susan MalleryЧитать онлайн книгу.
impressive.
Natalie was a petite brunette with big brown eyes. She also had her own style, but while Violet was cutting-edge chic, Natalie was more bohemian with an Earth Mother chaser. Her glasses were bright red, her maxi dress a patchwork of color. She wore a necklace made of metal shapes that were probably rescued from the local recycling center and each of her brightly painted toes sported a different geometric design.
Pallas got everyone drinks. Natalie had brought brownies, which meant they would have plenty of sugar to finish their meal. Always a good thing. She’d barely finished filling glasses when the final two arrived.
Wynn was a curvy woman with long black hair. Her mixed-race heritage had gifted her with killer cheekbones and a dark olive complexion. She was a couple of years older than the rest of them, with a ten-year-old son. Silver was tall and true to her name, a platinum blonde. Her wild streak was reflected in both her tattoos and her career choice. Silver owned a fifth wheel trailer she’d converted into a traveling bar called AlcoHaul. The party on wheels was popular with brides, not only because Silver was good at her job but because she got into whatever theme the bride had requested—dressing in costume, tailoring the drinks menu and frequently dazzling with the perfect signature cocktail.
Mini cheesecakes were added to the dessert collection. Everyone got a glass of sangria before heading out to the patio. When they were seated, Violet turned to Pallas.
“I have a lot of ideas for the black-and-white wedding. Easy ways we can transform the courtyard without spending a lot. I’ve been working on modifications for the servers’ outfits, too.”
Pallas groaned. “Why did I agree to her idea? It’s already going to be a nightmare.”
“It’s going to be great,” Violet told her. “Different is fun.”
“Different is more work.”
Silver raised her eyebrows. “There’s that go-to spirit we all love.”
“Sorry.” Pallas sipped her drink. “I’m grateful for the work. It’s just...she wants everything black-and-white, including the horses pulling the carriage. We have a limited horse selection. When I explained that, she asked if they could be painted.”
Wynn laughed. “I hope you told her no.”
“I did.”
The black-and-white wedding was an unfortunate offshoot of the regular princess wedding that Weddings in a Box offered. At first Pallas had thought that adding the black-and-white part would be no big deal, but she was starting to have her doubts. The wedding menu of services existed for a reason. There were certain things that were available and that was it. Going too far, going “out of the box” made events too different. Although even as she thought the words, a part of her whispered she was sounding way too much like her mother. And that was so not a place she wanted to go.
“She’s having to make do with the horses we have,” Pallas continued. “The linens were easy, as were the flowers.”
“Black roses?” Silver asked drily.
“White flowers with black vases.”
“Are you going to make a black cocktail?” Carol asked Silver. “There are a lot of white drinks, but black ones?”
“I have some ideas. We’ve been emailing.” Silver grinned. “You owe me, Pallas. I’ve steered her away from some of her more outrageous ideas.”
“Then I owe you forever.”
Violet pulled a small cloth bag out of her quilted jacket pocket.
Carol sighed. “Seriously? Again?”
“They’re beautiful,” her sister told her. “And it’s interesting.”
“Only to you.”
Pallas secretly agreed with Carol. She loved Violet and appreciated the other woman’s ideas and help with the costumes, but Violet was obsessed—with buttons. Not just any buttons. Antique ones. The older and more ornate, the better. Even more scary—she actually made money selling them to designers around the world. Violet was known to be a great button dealer—if that was the description for what she did. She had contacts everywhere. Mostly elderly women who went into family attics and flea markets where they bought buttons on her behalf.
Violet opened the bag and turned it upside down. Eight glittering buttons rolled onto her palm. They were deep blue and edged in gold.
Wynn leaned closer. “Oh my God! Are those sapphires?”
“Uh-huh, surrounded by eighteen karat gold.” She smiled impishly at her sister. “See. My buttons are fun.”
“If you say so.”
Pallas chuckled. “I’m going to put the quiches in the oven. I’ll be right back.”
She headed for her kitchen. Natalie came with her. “Can I help?”
“You can keep me company.”
“I’m good at that.”
Pallas set the small quiches on a cookie sheet, then set the tray in the oven. She leaned back against the counter.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Natalie nodded. “Of course. What?”
Pallas hesitated. “Nick Mitchell is working for me. He’s restoring those wood panels we use for backdrops. They’re in pretty bad shape.” She raised a shoulder. “I looked him up online and he’s this gifted, successful artist. I’m not sure why he’s helping me out. I’m not paying much and this is way beneath his abilities.”
Natalie grinned. “You do realize you didn’t actually ask a question.”
“I’m not sure what it would be. I guess I want to know if I should be worried or something.”
“You shouldn’t. I don’t know Nick very well, but I’ve known his brothers a couple of years now and they’re both good guys. Crazy artists, but decent men. As for Nick being better than the project—if he doesn’t think so, I would say go with it. I’ve seen Mathias spend two days on a vase that will sell for fifty dollars because he needs to get it exactly how he wants it, and don’t get me started on Ronan. Talk about a guy who needs to chill out. They take pride in their work, and when something captures their attention, they’re all in.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
As they walked back out to the patio, Pallas told herself she would do as Natalie suggested—in other words, shut up and be grateful. She smiled to herself. She was very lucky when it came to her friends. They were there for her and kept her grounded. As she took in the walled garden, the pretty house, and thought about her business, she once again thanked Gerald for giving her a wonderful life.
NICK SANDED THE sliver of wood so the point was sharper, then used tweezers to carefully put it into place. This time the fit was perfect. The restoration of the panels was painstaking work, but worth it, he thought. Something this beautiful deserved to be made whole again.
“Do you have a second?”
He looked up and saw Pallas in the doorway. Not a surprise—this was her business and from what he could tell, she was in the office every day. However, right now something was very different and every cell in his body noticed.
Instead of her usual work uniform of jeans and T-shirt, she had on a long dress. But not just any dress. It was low-cut, with a tight, black leather corset over a white short-sleeved puffy blouse and full, black-and-white vertical strip skirt that fell to the floor.
She had curves he hadn’t noticed before—the kind of curves that got a man to thinking about touching and tasting. While he’d known that Pallas was female and someone whose company