“What’s so wrong about him? I mean, he’s different, but—”
“Different? No. Different I could accept. Maybe. But that boy’s been nothing but a stain on his family name for years. We finally got her away from him, and now he’s moved on to you? Well, at least you said the date didn’t go well. We don’t have to worry about you seeing him anymore. Thank heavens.”
We finally got her away from him?
Sylvia took her arm and steered her toward the car again. “At least you have Deanne’s wedding to look forward to. There will be several eligible bachelors there, if you’re looking. Do you remember Stephen Davis, who we introduced you to at Deanne’s graduation? I was so impressed with him. And he seemed to like you. He’ll be one of Tyler’s groomsmen. He’s coming in from Yale. Isn’t that wonderful? Candy, I want you to find someone like that, someone with a real future. Maybe Deanne will pair you with him in the recession, and you two can get to know one another better.”
Candace kept her jaw resolutely closed, but ice slid down her spine. Indeed, she remembered Stephen Davis who had been at Deanne’s graduation with Tyler. He’d also been the one she’d told Brian about, the only other guy who’d ever had his hands on her body, and not with her permission.
She had another flash of remembrance. That guy had been obnoxiously arrogant, but somehow he managed to charm the pants off any and all parents. Hers had loved him from the moment Tyler introduced them. Her mom had been giving her that nudge-nudge-wink-wink look even then.
Candace smirked. He hadn’t been able to charm her pants off. And he’d reacted violently.
But she already knew better than to try to explain to her mother what had happened with that guy. Sylvia would turn it around and make it her fault, somehow.
She could hear it now. What did you do to tempt him? You were probably dressed like a whore, like all you girls are fond of doing these days. Her mother had actually uttered words to that effect once, about a girl who’d accused a family friend’s son of date raping her. Candace didn’t see why she would be any different.
“I like Brian a lot,” she said, without much hope. “One date didn’t go exactly well toward the end, but we had fun. If he wanted to see me again—”
“Absolutely not, and if I have to call Alexander to tell him to keep that boy away from you, I’ll do it. Poor man. Evan turned out so well…oh, why couldn’t he be the one you liked?”
How Brian would love being called “that boy”, as if they were all still in high school. “Mother, Evan is married. And he’s almost ten years older than me.”
“Age doesn’t matter. Yes, I know he got married. Pity. And to Todd Jacobs’s ex-wife, who’s not even from here. I just think he could have done better. Courtney Miller was such a nice girl, and from a good family, too. Her poor mother was devastated when she and Evan broke up.”
With a heavy sigh, Candace plopped down in the car seat and slammed the door shut. “You seem to forget Evan threw her out because she cheated on him.”
“Well, now, we all make mistakes, dear. We mustn’t judge.”
Mistakes! Mustn’t judge? Ugh! Candace wanted to grab the nearest sharp objects and jam them into her eardrums so maybe she wouldn’t have to listen to any more of her mother’s hypocritical BS. No use in explaining that Evan was, by all accounts, wildly in love with his wife and deliriously happy with their new baby, oh, no. How dare he dump a traitorous fiancée to marry a perfectly nice and lovely woman whose only crime was not sharing quite the same status in the community as he?
Candace would’ve described that question as sarcastic. It would’ve been legitimate and worth pondering to Sylvia.
She should have known better than to mention Brian. Despite his family name, he bucked convention and held up a middle finger to “status in the community”. He didn’t give a damn, and people like that confused and frightened her mother.
Today was shaping up to be the most trying day of her life. She was going to lose it, absolutely freaking lose it. Her control was stretching thinner all the time.
Deanne met them for lunch, and Candace groaned inwardly at seeing the lithe Barbie doll personified walking toward them in the restaurant, wearing a blinding smile. “Aunt Syl!”
Actually, Candace mused as she watched the two collide with air-kisses, “Barbie doll” wasn’t entirely apt. Unless it was “Southern Belle Barbie” or something. She’d always thought Deanne should walk around wearing huge, airy hats and petticoats. She had that look about her. Fresh, blond, busty…and of course there was that beguilingly sweet drawl Candace suspected she’d cultivated to perfection. It could go from syrupy to satanic in a heartbeat.
Sighing, she rubbed a hand over her face, certain her lack of a full night’s sleep was registering there. She knew she was sporting evil dark circles and carried the aftereffects of her earlier tears in her red-rimmed eyes. She was surprised her mother still wanted to be seen with her.
“Candy! You look…great. I’m so glad you’ll be in my wedding.” Deanne’s mouth was smiling warmly at Candace as she took her seat, but none of it reached her assessing, judgmental eyes.
Do I look like I was up trying to get laid all night and failing miserably? Good.
“Don’t mind her weepiness. She had a bad date last night,” Sylvia announced as she snapped her menu open, her mouth drawn into a tight, lipsticked slash across her face. She spat the word “date” as if it was dirty.
Jesus Christ. A series of curses that would’ve made Brian proud lit off in her head. If Deanne found out who it was, she would go straight to tell Michelle, and while she knew her cousin would find out eventually if she and Brian ended up together—yeah, right—she wasn’t ready for that information to get back to her yet.
Deanne looked sympathetic, but Candace couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. The inevitable question followed. “Who are you seeing?”
“Um…no one, apparently. I’d rather not say right now, if you don’t mind.” Candace shot her mom a glance and found Sylvia glaring at her over the top of her menu. She dropped her gaze to her own and thought about how not hungry she was.
And then Deanne dropped a bombshell. “Oh, Aunt Syl, I invited Michelle to eat with us and come to the fitting. She’s just running a little late. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t. I haven’t seen her in weeks, it seems. But she’s so very busy with school, the poor dear.”
I’m so very busy with school too, Candace grumbled inwardly. I’ve never been your poor dear.
Okay, she was feeling entirely too sorry for herself. Her freaking cousin was coming, and Candace could still taste Brian’s lips, still feel his fingers lodged inside her, still hear his erotic enticements in her ear to tell him all her fantasies…
“Hi, everyone!”
Blowing out a breath, Candace stood to face her ravishing cousin and waited her turn to give her a hug. When Michelle finally enveloped her in a cloud of perfume and chestnut brown hair and soft bosom, Candace held on tight for a second longer than she needed to.
“Hey, there, little cuz. Where’ve you been lately?”
“Here and there,” Candace said, trying to sound bright and not as if she was about to burst into tears any second. She’d been a freaking moron to tell her mother about Brian. Stupid stupid stupid…
Michelle stepped back and her brown eyes—the same gold-flecked color as her hair—roved over Candace’s face as concern filled her expression. “Oh, honey, are you okay? You haven’t been sick, have you? You don’t look like yourself.”
No, and she didn’t feel like herself either. Her mother was watching her like a hawk. Just waiting to hint at the bit of news she was privy to? If she said anything about Brian, anything at all, Candace was going to throw a glass of water in her face and tell Deanne to hell with the wedding. She was in no mood for their crap.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Better shape up in the next couple of weeks,” Deanne chimed as Michelle and Candace took their seats across from each other. “You’ll go with me and the girls for a spa day next week. We’ll get manicures, pedicures, facials…the whole thing.”
“I’m so glad you’re in,” Michelle said to Candace. It was probably the first genuine thing that had been said at this table. “We’ll have a good time. And we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Candace replied, trying to pour some truth into the words. She’d love to catch up with Michelle, but preferably some other way that didn’t involve a crappy pastel bridesmaid’s dress and dyed pumps and hanging out with a bunch of people she couldn’t stand. She’d have to train herself to walk in the shoes so she didn’t wind up face down on the floor of the church.
Michelle turned to her sister. “So you never told me why Becky’s out. What happened?”
Candace picked up her water glass to take a sip, thinking this was probably going to be a riot.
Deanne rolled her eyes heavenward, lifting her hands for emphasis as she bellowed: “She got a tattoo!”
The mouthful of water Candace was in the process of swallowing jammed in her throat and came back up. Frantically, she grabbed one of the heavy linen napkins and pressed it to her lips, certain she was turning beet red as she tried to catch her breath. Michelle was grinning knowingly at her, but Deanne and Sylvia were both too caught up in their horror over the situation to notice.
“It’s on her upper back. Right here.” Deanne indicated the spot on her left shoulder blade. “I said, ‘Rebecca! Oh my God! The dresses are off the shoulder. I can’t have you walking down the aisle like that! It’s trashy.’ I mean, you’re all wearing up-dos. That thing will be right out there for everyone to ogle.”
Sylvia was shaking her head as if being faced with all the suffering in the wide world. “How dreadful. Those things are hideously unattractive.”
“Oh, Aunt Syl…” Michelle began indulgently. She’d always been so much better at dealing with Candace’s mom than Candace herself. She was so easygoing about everything, taking it all in stride. Of course, that was the best way to survive in this family. “They’re the norm now. You might as well face it.”
“I will not. People are ruining their bodies with those wretched things. Candace Marie, if I ever hear of you—”
“Aunt Syl, before you say anything, don’t forget I have three.” Michelle was laughing, having a great time. “Of course, you don’t date a tattoo artist for over a year and not walk away with a few souvenirs.”
“What did he do, hold you down and tattoo you against your will?” Deanne asked. A dreamy smile—remembrance?—spread across Michelle’s lips and there was no denying the flush that crept up her cheeks. Her entire demeanor had softened.