His Family. Muriel Jensen
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siblings, he’d taken pride in being as unlike them as possible. Their father had died when he was in high school. He’d tried to quit school, tried to run off to the city, but Killian, with Sawyer’s support, had dragged him back and made him stay. That episode had both deepened his respect and increased his resentment.
He was so confused about his relationship with his brothers that it was his senior year in college before he forgave them for taking over his life. He’d become a team player as far as anything that involved the family went, but his resistance to whatever his brothers wanted him to do or be had become habit. He loved them, but he wasn’t staying. On some level that he couldn’t quite explain or even really understand, he didn’t belong here.
Weird, he thought as he continued to pack, that he could see China staying more than he could see himself doing so.
THE BRIDAL DEPARTMENT of Abbott’s West on Manhattan’s Upper West Side was another place China would have never expected to find herself just a month ago. The new buyer for the department was obviously eager to help Cordie—the boss’s wife—and Sophie find the perfect dress. Tina Bishop was a leggy blonde with very short hair that complemented her fine-featured face and big blue eyes. These eyes studied Sophie, then the other three. She disappeared into the back of the store.
She came back with three dresses wrapped in plastic sleeves draped carefully across her arms. She hung them on a hook near the mirrors as China and her companions crowded closer.
“You should show off that waistline,” Tina advised, pulling the wrapper off the first to reveal an ivory affair with a beaded bodice, long sleeves and a billowy floor-length chiffon skirt.
Sophie grimaced. “It’s lovely,” she said apologetically, “but I was thinking of something much less…fussy. This is a second wedding for me and I’m hardly a girl any—”
“What?” Cordie swatted Sophie’s arm. “Have you been in the hospital’s drug cabinet?” Sophie was an ER nurse at Losthampton Hospital. “You’re not getting married in a gray suit, and that’s final.”
Sophie swatted her back. “That wasn’t my intention. I just don’t think lots of chiffon and heavy beading is called for. I’m hardly—”
“If you say you’re hardly a girl,” Chloe interrupted, “I’ll be forced to swat you, too.”
Tina caught China’s eye and grinned as the Abbott women squabbled. “In effect,” Tina said, “this is their store, so I have little choice but to let them duke it out. Do you know what style she had in mind for you bridesmaids? What color?”
China shook her head, even as she felt the stirrings of an idea. “I imagine you carry Lauren Llewellyn?”
Tina visibly warmed at the mention of the designer’s name. “She deals exclusively with the Abbott stores in the city.”
China drew the buyer slightly away from the still-quarreling group. “I’m a personal shopper in Los Angeles, and I recently helped a wedding planner in Belmont Shores find the dresses for the bride and her party from Lauren Llewellyn’s fall collection. It was very thirties. The Gatsby Girls, I think she called it. Are you familiar…?”
Tina was nodding before China could even finish. “You’re right. But there was no wedding dress, as I recall.”
“No, but there was an ivory tea-length dress with a wide, ruffled…”
Tina snapped her fingers and disappeared.
Chloe, Cordie and Sophie stopped arguing and turned to China in alarm.
“What happened?” Cordie asked. “Where did she go?”
China sat on a powder-blue banquette that faced the mirrors. “To call the police, I think. Something about it being store policy when patrons come to blows and it’s pretty clear there’s not going to be a sale involved…”
Three flushed faces frowned at her.
She smiled. “Okay, she went to get another dress. Perhaps if we all sit down and behave ourselves, she’ll show it to us.”
They collected around China on the long sofa, Cordie frowning at her teasingly. “You sound just like an Abbott.”
China laughed. It wasn’t really funny, but she had to get over the sadness of it. “Well, now that I know I’m not one, I can push you around without fear of retribution.”
Chloe leaned toward her with mock seriousness. “You must always fear me, ma chère. And you are family whether you want to be or not. Just like Campbell.”
Tina was back in a few minutes with the very dress China had in mind. A rich ivory chiffon, it had a draped neckline and split flutter sleeves. Sophie gasped as Tina held up the hanger and splayed the tea-length, asymmetrical hem of the skirt over her other arm.
“It’s perfect,” Sophie breathed.
“Llewellyn is the finest ready-to-wear designer working today,” Tina said. “Before you try it on, would you like to see what she has in mind for your bridesmaids?”
“She?” Sophie asked, then turned to Tina as she gestured at China. “How did you know about this dress, China?”
“I’m a personal shopper at home,” she replied, then explained about the Belmont Shores wedding. “The bride had the wedding planner at her wits’ end. She was a friend of mine, and I happened to remember seeing the dresses in Llewellyn’s fall collection.”
Tina put the ivory dress on the hook, then returned with a dress of similar cut, with the same neckline and sleeves, but with a diagonal ruffle that ran from hip to knee and matched the asymmetrical hem. It was also chiffon.
“It’s perfect!” Cordie said, touching the ruffle. “What colors does it come in?”
“We have it in jade, persimmon, dusk and dawn. Dusk is a sort of purply-blue, and dawn is pink to dark lavender. If you want the two in different colors, I’d say dusk and dawn. Dusk for Cordie. It’ll be perfect with your hair.”
“Go!” Chloe ordered. “Go try them on while Tina helps me find something for the mother of the bride.”
“Mom,” Cordie said, “you’re the mother of the groom.”
Chloe shrugged. “Her mother isn’t here, so I am mother of the entire wedding. Go!”
Cordie, Sophie and China disappeared obediently into the fitting rooms with the dresses Tina brought them.
China shucked her Long Island whites and pulled the filmy fabric on over her head. She cursed Kezia’s good cooking when she had to wriggle through the snug-fitting lining of the bodice. She avoided the mirror as she tugged the also-snug skirt down over her hips and let the bias-cut folds of fabric fall to just above her ankles.
She could plead for a looser style, she thought, which would probably be better for Cordie, anyway. Or some kind of filmy tunic to cover…
She turned to the mirror, wincing against what she was going to see…then decided quickly her reflection wasn’t bad at all. She didn’t have Sophie’s ethereal good looks, maybe, or Cordie’s ebullience, which made her look good in anything.
But apparently all the physical labor she’d done in the orchard had countered the extra calories she’d consumed at the table. The fabric clung to her breasts, her rib cage, her waist and her hips, and—if she sucked in her breath—was even flattering. The skirt rippled around her slender ankles as she kicked off her comfortable slip-ons and stood on tiptoe to see where the hem-line would fall when she wore heels.
“How do you look?” Sophie’s voice shouted over the tops of the roofless dressing rooms. “I’m quite gorgeous!”
“Me, too!” Cordie said from the room in between. “Well, except for my belly.”
“Pregnant bellies are gorgeous,” Sophie called, sounding euphoric. “You won’t believe how