CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY

Idashed back to my apartment, hoping no one would waylay me with a question. When I rushed through the door, I stopped dead.

Zoey stood in the center of my living room in her white dress. She turned when she heard me and smiled her big smile. She was so stunning I thought I might burst into noisy, sleep-deprived tears.

I'd seen the dress before, but only with sneakers poking out underneath it when she found it or with a tailor bobbing around with pins in her mouth at a fitting. Never like this. The dress was a marvel, the definition of traditional, the word Zoey had said over and over throughout the planning process. It was white, of course, and perfectly fitting, showing off her curves and, through some kind of designer magic, lengthening her short waist. It was the perfect match of bride and gown.

Eloise had tamed Zoey's curls and woven flowers in her hair. Makeup had somehow wiped away the near-sleepless night and the tears. The woman I most often saw in a bandanna, with clay-spattered hands and paint under her fingernails, looked like, not a queen or a princess or a goddess, but like a woman who owned the day, who loved her life and couldn't wait for the future.

The photographer was snapping pictures, her smile as big as the bride's.

"You look so beautiful!" I hugged her, careful of her hair, the makeup, and the dress.

Livvie stood by the fireplace in a lavender gown that showed off her broad shoulders and trim waist. She was looking at Zoey and beaming like a mother hen. It hit me then like a blow to the chest. How much Zoey must be missing her mother.

Eloise, who had made Livvie and Zoey beautiful, was glaring at me, her hairdryer clutched in her hand like a gun. "You're late!"

"I'm sorry." I ran toward the bathroom. "I'm going to shower."

"No time!" Eloise shouted.

"I'm a very fast showerer."

"That's a lie!" Livvie called after me, but then she laughed.

I had to get the dirt of the long night off me. Eloise and her suitcase full of makeup could only do so much. I set a record for cleanliness and presented myself to her, my blond hair dripping. She tut-tutted but swung into action. I closed my eyes as she brushed and blew and for the first time since I'd entered my apartment, thought about what Amelia had told me. The sight of Zoey in her gown had pushed every other thought from my head. Whatever the truth of the matter, Zoey would treat Amelia as she had all along, with kindness.

I hadn't treated Amelia with kindness. I hadn't even really seen her or thought of her apart from Derek. She'd been Zoey's ex's plus-one. I'd put her in that box and left her there. Even after she'd made a point to say she too was an artist from Los Angeles. Even after I'd seen her deliberately turn her back on Kendall Clarkson at the cocktail party. Tom hadn't taken her seriously, either. It had to have been from tiredness. He was a better cop than that.

Eloise finished with my hair, which she'd pulled tight to my head and coiled in the back. I thought it suited me. The only thing was that, with no hair to frame it, my face looked even worse. I hoped she could work the same miracle with the dark circles and puffy eyes that she had with Zoey.

When I was done, Livvie and Zoey both exclaimed over the transformation. Even Eloise murmured that I looked all right. They helped me into my pale blue dress, maneuvering it around the hair and the makeup. The dress had been a bit of a debacle. Livvie and I might be sisters, but she looked like our dad, tall, broad-shouldered, with auburn hair and hazel eyes. I was petite and blond like our mom. It was ironic that Zoey and Amelia, who might not even be sisters, looked far more alike than Livvie and me. There was no way we were wearing the same dress. I'd gone for more coverage, a princess neckline, and a fitted waist. The same miracle worker who had altered Zoey's gown had fitted my dress, and it fell perfectly. I ran to my closet for my shoes and returned to model the full ensemble.

Eloise touched up my lipstick. The photographer took candid and posed shots of the three of us. "You all look wonderful," Eloise said. "I'll get my stuff later." I told her there was food in the kitchen. She'd have to wait for the Jacquie II to get home that night.

The photographer packed her equipment and left to prepare for the ceremony. The apartment was suddenly quiet.

Zoey poured champagne for Livvie and me and fizzy water for herself, and we toasted. "To your day," I said. "Your happy day."

Zoey smiled, not bravely or nervously, but with genuine, starry-eyed happiness. I began to believe that everything might be all right. She raised her glass. "I never had a family, and now I'm gaining Jamie's. He has two sisters and two sisters-in-law, but you two are the sisters of my heart. I will always love you."

The tears that welled in me were not from tiredness or nerves, but from love. Livvie put a knuckle to her eye. "Our makeup," she cried. And we all laughed, and hugged, ready to meet the day.

The ship's horn aboard the Jacquie II sounded, and the boat pulled up to the dock. "The guests are here!" We clinked again, and giggled and cried again, just like the bride and her attendants are supposed to.