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“Luke got rid of it.”
“Hope he burned it.” She counted off on her fingers. “The ring, the dishtowel, and the flies yesterday…that all happened since you bought the veil?” At my nod, she grimaced. “That veil’s spooky.”
****
The three-hour drive flew by as we discussed wedding plans, and when Rosie parked at the bridal salon, I turned toward her. “Except for Luke, you’re my closest friend. Would you be my Matron of Honor?”
“I’d be honored.” Rosie leaned across the seat to hug me, then opened the car door. “Come on. Let’s make this the best wedding ever!”
I tried on all lengths of veils, from twelve-inch blushers to knee-length mantillas. I weighed simple tulle against beaded lace, but finally settled on a waist-length, fifty-four-inch, sheer chiffon veil.
The saleswoman steered us toward a colorful array. “And your colors are…?”
“Rosé and Champagne.”
“We have twenty off-white shades, from ghost white and white smoke to flax and vanilla. The hue differences are subtle, but ivory and ecru might be the closest matches to Champagne.” The woman selected two from the assortment. “Which do you think would work better?”
“I had no idea off-white came in so many shades.” I fingered the fabrics as I eyed the faint contrast of colors. “Ivory.”
“Excellent choice. Now, how will you accessorize your veil?” The saleswoman stared at my head as if imagining the options. “Will you wear a glitzy hair comb, fresh flowers, a crown, or a bow?”
“I don’t know.” I blinked. “What do you recommend?”
“For this veil, I’d suggest a hair comb.” The woman led us to a display case of chic bridal clips and combs.
I wrinkled my nose at the pearl and rhinestone confections. “These are too chichi—definitely not me. We’re getting married in a vineyard.”
“Vineyard…” The saleswoman nodded knowingly. “In that case, what about a transparent plastic comb but with a bridal hair vine?” She took out a wiry accessory, intwined with pearls, crystals, and silver leaves. “The beauty of these vines is their versatility. You can mold them around any hairstyle you choose.”
“I love the leaf motif.” I ran my fingertips over the spray of leaves. “Do the leaves come in other colors than silver?”
“Gold or rose gold.”
I grinned. “Rosé gold!”
****
As she started the car, Rosie turned toward me. “My niece recommended a new restaurant nearby. Want to try it?”
“Sure.” Ten minutes later, I followed her into a narrow noodle shop. A wooden counter stretched the length of the dining area and offered a clear view of the kitchen’s open plan.
“Maeve?” An oddly familiar voice thundered from the back.
Cody? I tensed, recalling our last encounter.
He rose from his booth, his tall frame silhouetted against the restaurant’s light.
I glanced at the door, then turned toward Rosie. “Maybe we should—”
“Maeve, how good to see you.” As Cody strode toward me, he touched my arm, invading my personal space. “What are you doing in El Paso?”
His gaze never leaving my face, he reminded me of the dynamic man he had been once.
I swallowed, debating how to tactfully answer.
“We’re shopping for her wedding veil.” Rosie came to my rescue.
He blanched. “You’re getting married?”
