CHAPTER FIVE – SYLVIE
“Ouch!” I winced when the seamstress prodded me with a needle.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “My fingers slipped.”
I looked down at the young girl with an understanding smile. “First wedding?”
“How did you know?”
“I’m a wedding planner,” I replied, tapping my nose. “I can smell it.”
She laughed quietly, switching her pin for the tape measure. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit nervous. I know this wedding is a big deal and I want to get it right.”
“What’s your name?”
“Monica.”
“Monica, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” I said softly, lifting my arms for her. “My sister is not a bridezilla. She’s not allowed to be one. She tried, and I hit her with a magazine.”
That was a true story. Two months after Julian had proposed, they’d both come to see me for a long weekend to start planning in person, and Hazel had tried to bridezilla my arse.
I’d grabbed the nearest wedding magazine, rolled it up, and smacked her on the head with it.
I’d always wanted to do that to a bridezilla. The problem was that doing it to someone who wasn’t my sister was highly unprofessional.
Actually, it might have been a little unprofessional to beat her with it, too, since she was technically a paying client. A heavily discounted one; but a paying client, nonetheless.
Thankfully, she hadn’t done it since. Except for one minor issue with her shoes, but I forgave her that. They were very pretty shoes and I, too, would have been upset that the wrong size was ordered right before that style was discontinued.
Let me tell you, finding those shoes was why I hadn’t had to pay for my part of her hen party to Paris. Julian had sent me the money for my part and Hazel’s part to thank me for making sure he never had to hear about the shoes again.
Hmm. In hindsight, maybe there was more bridezilla left in her than I’d thought.
“You hit her?” She sat back on her heels and stared up at me, two pins stuck between her teeth.
“Yes. I’ve always wanted to hit a bridezilla, but she’s the only one who was my sister.” I smirked. “Besides, Mrs. Michaels is going to look over what you’ve done, and if there are any minor issues, my grandmother is a master seamstress herself and will be able to fix it.”
“What if there are major issues?”
“Oh, I can’t help you there.”
She laughed again, and I could see the tension she’d been holding just wash away from her, and she got to work in a much happier manner than she had before.
Hopefully, I wouldn’t get stabbed with a safety pin again.
Those things were small, but shit, they hurt.
Thankfully, Monica managed to get through the rest of my fitting without stabbing me with her pins, and she unbuttoned the back of the emerald green gown before leaving so that I could get out of it without ripping it.
Thankfully.
I might have done that before.
Not with this dress, but a dress.
All right.
It was my prom dress. Now that had been an emergency sewing session with two days before the actual event. Nana might have held that over my head for a while.
I said goodbye to Monica and Mrs. Michaels and left the house. There was one more fitting to go for us all, and I wasn’t looking forward to that being all the bridesmaids.
Sometimes, you just couldn’t get over a girl stealing your boyfriend when you were thirteen, and it’d been killing me to be nice to Colleen Cates through this planning and my sister’s hen party.
Alas, she was one of Hazel’s best friends, and it’d been more than a little sweet from my perspective when she’d found out that I was the maid of honour.
Look.
You were never too old to be petty.
At least privately petty.
I got in my car and pulled away from the side of the road where I’d parked.
I had to go back home and call the caterers to confirm the final numbers for the wedding party as the RSVP time had just finished, and then I needed to make plans to meet Julian in a nearby town to make sure he and his groomsmen’s suits were perfect.
At that their ties were just the right shade of green.
Hazel had been adamant that they match our dresses perfectly, and yes, I did have a swatch of the fabric to make sure they matched.
I didn’t know how they wouldn’t.
Nana had sewn the ties, for goodness’s sake.
It was fine.
I had faith that it would be fine.
I stopped at the lights and blew out a long breath.
I was really missing my home office. I hated working from my bedroom or kicking my grandparents out of any room in the house.
Although it was technically mine, I didn’t know if it would ever not be “their” house to me.
It was the one they’d had my entire life, and given that they still lived there, it was still theirs.
In my mind, anyway.
Maybe they wouldn’t mind if I stole the formal dining room for the next few weeks.
We never used it anyway, and I’d make sure my stuff was out before Christmas so we could all eat there.
I checked the clock on the car. I had a lot of time before I had to call the caterers, so I took a right into the village instead of going straight home.
I wanted another one of those hot chocolates from the café, and Nana had mentioned how gorgeous Beth’s wreaths were from the florist shop, so I would stop by there and buy one for the front door since we didn’t have one.
I parked in one almost overflowing carpark as a chill ran through the air. It’d been a while since I’d really experienced proper snow, but the northern girl in me knew it was coming. I could taste it in the air—there was an iciness to it that said it was imminent.
And not that silly, floaty, dusty stuff we’d had yesterday when I’d been to the tree farm.
This snow would stick.
Maybe not for long and maybe it wouldn’t be enough for a proper snowman, but it would be real, thick flakes.
The warning of what was to come, if you would.
I adjusted my scarf around my neck, tugged my coat zip up a little higher, and trudged across the square to the café. There was no Thomas here today, thankfully, and I ordered my hot chocolate, a second for Beth, plus a big box of fresh cookies that I knew wouldn’t last five minutes.
I was eating the Maltesers one in the car.
Maybe a second one… or a third.
I was hungry, all right?
I looped the handles of the paper café bag over my arm and wandered through the village to Beth’s florist. I’d seen her beautiful door wreaths when I was in there yesterday going over Hazel’s wreath centrepieces, and I knew exactly which one Nana would love.
Especially after Gramps got his hands on it and made me thread some lights through.
A smile crept across my face, and I looked around at the street with an almost childlike wonder.
Castleton at Christmas really was something to behold, and it got even more intense as you explored.
Almost every store had a full-size Christmas tree in their windows.
Lights twinkled even though it was still light out, and for every store that had a life-size Santa, there was another with perfectly cut snowflake garlands.
The antique store had a beautiful Christmas village in their window that was more elaborate than the café’s; the clothing store next door had the perfect Christmas outfits on their mannequins; the old sweet shop that took pride in offering classic candies had a sugary display fit for a thousand sweet-toothed elves.
The art store and gallery had dainty fairy lights over the art frames that drew your eyes to them, and their brushes and paint sets were tied with little festive bows.
And the toy store…
Well.
That was a… cacophony of colour. That was the nicest way to put it.
I had a headache just looking at it.
I carried on down the uneven path until I reached the little alleyway that housed Beth’s florist shop. It was the cutest thing, and I paused for a moment to enjoy the festive display outside on the flattened cobblestones.
There were tiny fir trees, no bigger than two feet tall, perfectly decorated with the tiniest baubles and a bit of fake snow. They were surrounded by small wreaths and a couple of Christmassy bouquets.
I pushed the door open, thrilling at the little ting-ting the bell above it did. Beth was behind the counter writing in her order book, and she looked up at me with a beaming smile when she was it was me.
“Sylvie! Is there a problem with the centrepieces?”
“Oh, gosh, no.” I laughed lightly. “Sorry if I worried you, but I’m here on personal business.”
“Not at all. Does Hazel need anything?”
I shook my head. “Actually, I brought you this.” I held out the takeaway cup of hot chocolate for her. “Hot chocolate.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, wow. Thank you!” She took it gratefully. “I haven’t stopped all day, so I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome. Thank you for working so hard on Hazel’s wedding flowers. I know you’re really busy and I appreciate it so much, and so will she when she sees them.”
Beth grinned over the top of the cup. “Stop. You’ll make me fall in love with you.”
“Fall in love with who?” asked a familiar voice.
Any Christmas spirit I’d gained from my little walk through Castleton rapidly disappeared at the sight of His Grace, The Duke of Castleton.
Was there no escaping this man?
So what if I hadn’t seen him in ten years? That wasn’t a long enough break for me, clearly. Another seventy years would be about right.
Thomas’ gaze skittered over me. “Come on, Beth. You’ve got better taste than that.”
“Not if she’s spending time with you,” I shot back.
“She’s my sister-in-law. It’s one of those things.”
“At least she had the good taste to marry your sister over you.”
“And now I get it,” Beth said, breaking up our back-and-forth. “Emily did warn me.”
I eyed her. What was Thomas’ mother warning her about? “About what?”
“You two and your bickering if you were ever near one another. Something about a childhood feud?”
I glared at Thomas.
He glared right back at me.
“I don’t know about you two, but it just seems like a whole bunch of pent-up sexual tension to me.”
“Wash your mouth out with soap,” Thomas said sharply.
I snorted. “As if.” I met his gaze. “Although I am starting to wonder, given this is the second time in three days you’ve been where I needed to be. Three if you count the tree farm.”
“I own it. I don’t count it. And this is simply unfortunate,” he replied, turning his attention to Beth. “Is that all you needed?”
Beth drew her shoulders up to her ears and smiled the sweetest smile a woman could.
Thomas sighed. “What else do you need me to do?”
“There are some boxes that are pretty heavy that I don’t want to lift. Could you move them from the storage area at the back to the storeroom for me, please?”
“Why can’t you move them? Are you pregnant or something?” he chuckled.
Beth froze.
Uh-oh.
I knew that look.
I, too, froze.
What else was I supposed to do? Start singing a Christmas jingle?
Thomas looked at us both. “What? What did I say?”
Slowly, I shook my head. “You are so stupid.”
Beth swallowed and cleared her throat. “Don’t worry about it, Thomas. I’ll move them later.”
I stared at him. “If you don’t move those boxes, I will. And if I chip a nail doing it, I’m going to send you the bill when I get them fixed.”
“I don’t—” Thomas stopped. “Oh, shit. Beth?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Don’t. I just—it’s fine.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, and his broad shoulders visibly tensed through his jumper. “I’ll move the boxes.”
I had no idea what was going on here, but clearly, there was a big family issue I wasn’t privy to. I didn’t want to be privy to such a thing either, but Beth looked so forlorn that the human part of me couldn’t let it go.
She clearly needed a friend right now.
“Hey,” I said to her. “I have to call my sister’s catering company in about half an hour, but if you don’t mind me doing that, why don’t you join me for lunch? You look like you could use a break.”
Thomas shot daggers my way, but I wasn’t going to entertain it.
Not only was he dense, but he was being dense and mean to her.
Beth glanced at him, then quickly nodded. “I was about to take lunch anyway.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
She skirted past Thomas into the back, quickly disappearing through a plastic curtain.
“What are you doing?” he hissed at me.
“Don’t you speak to me like that,” I shot back, pointing at him. “I’ll forgive your denseness because you aren’t a woman, but the look on her face said she needs a friend, and the look on yours said you have no intention of being it.”
“Don’t get involved in this.” His voice was low, and a dark flash of annoyance crossed his face.
“I’m not getting involved. I’m taking my friend for lunch. Not that you have any business telling me what to do,” I shot back right as Beth swept the plastic curtain aside.
She dipped her head. “Would you mind locking the door when you’ve moved the boxes?” she asked Thomas softly.
His nostrils flared. “Of course not.”
“Thank you.” She slipped around the counter and stepped in front of me, heading for the door.
I touched my hand to her back and gave Thomas one last monster glare as I followed her out of the front door of the shop.
His responding glare followed me as I passed the window, but I simply slipped my arm through Beth’s and carried on walking.
Idiot.