Chapter 13 Cindy #2
She turned to him, not surprised he’d found her. It was like he had radar when she was upset. He leaned to kiss the top of her head, the way he always did when he could sense her composure was tearing at the seams.
“You okay?”
“No,” she said, honest and light in the same breath. “Yes. I don’t know.”
“Pick one,” he teased gently.
She turned to look around them, seeing the empty chairs squared into tidy rows, the sweep of glass gleaming around the mountains, the ghost of the trellis.
The platform looked naked without it. There was so much room suddenly—room for air, light, and doubt.
“I can’t believe you moved it,” she whispered, an ache pressing behind her sternum. “I know how much you wanted it there.”
He shrugged, playing it off, but she felt the little ripple of unease under his calm. “Just did what had to be done.”
“Still.” Her voice caught. “Thank you.”
MJ appeared in the doorway, cheeks pink from the kitchen’s heat and the guests she’d just plied with cookies and cocoa.
“Did the royal motorcade leave?” she asked.
“Not one minute too soon,” Jack said gravely.
MJ looked around with cautious hope, and her shoulders dropped at the sight of the empty platform. “So, the rumors are true.”
Cindy braced for disappointment—MJ loved that trellis, too—but her sister’s eyes grew soft and bright at once, and she nodded slowly.
“That was brave,” she said, looking at Jack. “I know what it means.”
“What it means,” he said, with that same wave-it-off ease that didn’t fool either of them, “is we’re going to give the other two venues a run for their money. My girl doesn’t like to lose.” He punctuated that with a kiss on Cindy’s nose. “And I love my girl. I gotta go cool down Copper.”
With that, he slipped past MJ and out the door.
Cindy stood a moment longer, then exhaled and looked at MJ. “You doing okay?”
“Mm.” MJ came all the way into the room and put an arm around Cindy, guiding her to the chairs. “It smells nice in here.”
“The only thing she didn’t want to change, MJ. Look at the drapes.”
“Who closes off a view like that?” MJ asked with a face of pure disgust.
“Someone who thinks they should control lighting.” Cindy shrugged. “It’s easier than light time.”
“Invented by us.” MJ laughed and tightened her arm around Cindy. “You know something about Jack?”
“That he’s wonderful?”
“Yes, that. But, whoa, that man loves you.”
Cindy sighed, because sometimes she just couldn’t believe how much. “It knocks me out.”
“Please remember that this is your wedding week, little sister.”
Cindy nodded, her heart a mix of gratitude and nerves. “I know.” Then she eyed MJ, catching something weird in her voice. “Everything okay with you?”
MJ didn’t answer, but when she turned her face to Cindy, something had slipped. Like her optimism—bright, steady, unflappable—had a nick in it.
“I’m fine,” MJ said, too quickly, then shook her head, laughing at herself. “No, I’m not. I’m being dramatic. I’ll stop.”
“Don’t,” Cindy said, taking both of MJ’s hands, warm from the kitchen. “Please. Be dramatic with me.”
MJ stared at their hands, her thumb smoothing across Cindy’s knuckles. “He’s not coming back, is he?” she asked, very softly.
The question darn near hollowed Cindy out.
“I don’t know,” she said, honest enough and kind as she could make it. “I don’t know, MJ.”
“I keep telling myself he’s dealing with something. Maybe it’s a big, noble, ridiculous mess and when he drags himself out of the tunnel, he’ll come straight here and throw his arms around me and say, ‘Oh, how I’ve missed you, Mary Jane.’”
Cindy’s heart cracked from the words and the look of longing in MJ’s eyes.
“And every time the front door opens, my heart…it just—” She pressed her hand to her chest. “It still jumps.”
At the first row of chairs, they sat down like a couple of guests at someone else’s wedding.
“I’m sixty-three,” MJ said, her voice oddly matter-of-fact. “I know I’m not old-old. I’m lively. I can go up and down three flights of stairs without an ache and make breakfast for a full house of hungry guests. But sometimes, I feel like…is that all there is, Cin? Is this it?”
Cindy closed her eyes, knowing that feeling of isolation and disappointment so, so well. She had ten years of them after Jack left. How had she held on? What advice could she give her sister?
Of course, she knew the answer and hoped it would be enough.
“MJ,” she said softly, “even if you never held a man’s hand again, you have Gracie and Benny and Nicole and Red and me. And now Jack. You have family, which is everything you need.”
She huffed out a breath, nodding before whispering, “I guess I got my hopes up.”
“You were born with your hopes up,” Cindy said. “It’s the thing I love most about you.”
“But I started…imagining.” Her voice cracked. “I shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, MJ.” Cindy slipped an arm around her and pulled her in. “You are so loved and needed and treasured. This whole world would be dimmer without you. And, honestly, if he doesn’t know that, then…”
“I read his letter again last night,” MJ admitted. “I kept rereading the line that said, ‘When I come back, it’ll be as a simple man who fixes pipes and wants to court a classy, gorgeous, good-hearted woman the way a proper gentleman should.’”
“Talk about romantic,” Cindy said on a soft laugh.
“And then I dreamed about George.”
“Oh, MJ. George would have loved the guy. Don’t forget he gave us a million dollars!”
MJ lifted a hand, then let it fall. “I’d give it back to have what you and Jack have,” she confessed. “Don’t hate me for saying that.”
Cindy squeezed her tight. “Hate you? I love you more than anything in the world. And I understand. And I want that love for you.”
They sat awhile, shoulder to shoulder, silent for a long time. Then someone dinged the bell in the kitchen and the front door opened and they heard Jack and Nicole’s laughter…and life moved on at Snowberry Lodge.
“Do you think that diva is going to pick us for her social media stuff?” MJ asked, always the one to slice a situation down to a few key words and nail it every time.
“I don’t know. I hope so. But if not…”
“Cin?” Jack’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Where’s the woman I’m going to marry and make happy for the rest of my life?”
Cindy winced at the comment, squeezing MJ a little hard.
“If not,” MJ said, “you’ve already won your own lottery.”
And all Cindy wanted to do was share some of those winnings, just like Matt Walker had said he wanted to do.
As they rose and walked out, Cindy closed her eyes and prayed so hard that that man didn’t break her sister’s heart. Because if he did, she’d…
She’d pick up the pieces. That’s what they’d always done for each other and that would never change.