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Saturday morning she went through her fabrics and sketches and realized that she didn’t have what she needed to make herself the dress she’d wanted, and rather than rush things, she’d relax and wear the pale pink bridesmaid dress she’d worn for Mandy’s June wedding. With her hair pinned up and her makeup on, she’d look pretty and elegant and no one would even know it was recycled from Mandy’s wedding.
At noon, Charity headed over to the Graff with all the decorations for the Gallaghers’ tree. The tree itself would be waiting for her in the ballroom already anchored safely in its stand.
Decorating took longer than she anticipated simply because she was on the event committee and there were lots of questions that kept popping up, which required her to get off her ladder and make calls and talk to other committee members. At the same time, it was rewarding being there as the trees were decorated and the tables were set and gradually the historic ballroom was transformed into a glittering winter wonderland.
In between fielding calls and helping make quick decisions, Charity was up and down the ladder adjacent to her eight-foot tree, wrapping the strings of miniature baseball lights around the branches, and then hanging each of the two dozen red- and blue-colored balls, before adding the silver and gold stars, and then finally, each of the signed cards in their plastic sleeves. She had twelve other special “ornaments,” too, like the three bobble heads, four small navy helmets bearing Quinn’s number that had been giveaways at the stadium over the years, and adorable miniature baseball bats. She added wide red wired ribbon through the tree boughs before topping the tree with Quinn’s signed glove and ball. Around the base went the tree skirt made of pennants and red velvet pieces.
Charity stepped back after she’d finished everything and studied it hard, being as hard and critical as possible, and then she grinned. It looked amazing. It really did. She’d made the right decision focusing on the tree and the gala as this baseball-themed tree mattered far more to Quinn and the community than whatever she’d wear tonight.
Charity returned the ladder to the hotel staff, said goodbye to Sadie who was just finishing her tree, and drove home to shower and change because Quinn would be picking her up in less than two hours.
Amanda was at their family home when Charity arrived.
“What are you doing here?” Charity asked, as Amanda followed her into their old bedroom and closed the door. “Was there a problem with your dress? Is there something up with Mom and Dad? What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m not allowed to come home anymore?” Amanda asked sitting down on the side of the bed.
“Yes, but the timing is highly suspect.” Charity chewed on her lip. “Don’t tell me Alice is back—”
“She’s not. Relax.”
“Then why aren’t you home getting ready?”
“Because I’ve come to do your hair.”
“My hair?”
“I’m a hair stylist. That’s what I do for a living.”
“Very funny, ha-ha.”
“I’m considered one of the best in all of Crawford County.”
“I’ve been calm all day, but now I’m about to lose my mind.”
“Don’t. Because I’m here to get you ready for the party.” Amanda rose and went to the closet. “I’m not exactly a fairy godmother, but consider me the next best thing.” She pulled a garment bag from the closet. The silvery-gray garment bag was from an exclusive Seattle department store. “Quinn was worried that with everything going on you hadn’t made yourself anything to wear tonight, and so he picked out something for you just in case. He had it sent to me to keep it a surprise. I approve of his choice, by the way. I think it’s very glam, very beautiful, and very you.”
“When did he do this?”
“Tuesday or Wednesday, I think.”
“While we were having that big fight?”
“I don’t think he was having a big fight,” Amanda answered. “I think you were fighting with yourself and then you figured out that pride is stupid and fear is even stupider—”
“I don’t think that’s a word.”
“Stupider most definitely is. Because you were there, but you saved yourself, returning from that tortured, dark place you go when you’re afraid, so that you could wear this.” Amanda unzipped the garment bag and drew out a long black semi-sheer lace dress featuring black sequin florals. She gave it a little dance on the hanger, her smile smug. “If this isn’t a Charity Wright dress, I don’t know what is. Boat neckline. Long sheer lace sleeves. Lovely mermaid silhouette. Heaven!”
Goose bumps covered Charity’s arms, matching the prickle sensation at her nape. “I know that designer,” she whispered. “I’ve studied that dress a dozen times this winter.”
“I’m sure you have. You’ve always been an Oscar de la Renta fan.”
“Is it really an Oscar de la Renta gown?”
“It is, and I wasn’t part of this. He picked this out for you all on his own, and do you know what I love? Nothing could be more perfect for you. This is you… beautiful, delicate, feminine, with just a hint of dark romance.”
“I can’t—”
“Of course you can. You absolutely can. Besides, it’s a gift, and it would be hurtful to refuse his gift, especially when he’s gone to such an effort to make you feel special.”
“Do you know how much this dress cost? Thousands and thousands—”
“Ten thousand,” Amanda said promptly. “But if that man can build a four- or five-million-dollar house overlooking Yellowstone River and only visit it a half dozen times in five years, he can afford to buy you Oscar de La Renta’s entire spring collection.”
“The point is, I don’t need anything this expensive. I don’t need his money. I just want him. I like him—no, I love him—for him. I love his arms and his smile and his blue eyes. I love the way he looks at me and the way he teases me, and—”
“Now you’re just gushing. Please, get in the shower so I can help you dress and do your hair or I’ll never get to the Graff on time, and I’m determined to be there to see you make your grand entrance.”
Charity’s lips twitched. “This isn’t a Regency novel. There is no grand entrance.”
“There will be when I’m finished with you.”
*
An hour later, Amanda was gone and Charity was sitting in the living room, making polite conversation with her parents as if she wasn’t wearing the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen in her life. The dress fit her like a glove, and her hair was a gleaming, golden waterfall, with delicate layers framing her face, and soft waves tumbling down her back. Amanda had given her a slight sexy bump at the crown which had required a handful of pins but still managed to look natural and romantic.
Charity loved her dress, and she loved her hair, and most of all, when Quinn arrived and she opened the door, she loved the way he looked at her.
His blue gaze warmed and his lips curved and she felt a ripple of pleasure because she could see the approval in his eyes. He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “You look so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.
“Thank you,” she answered, cheeks warming, pulse humming as she breathed in the scent of his cologne. He smelled delicious, and he looked incredibly handsome in his black dinner jacket. “I love my dress,” she said. “I really do.”
“First it’s the dog, then it’s the dress. When will it be my turn?” he teased.
“I think I already told you how I feel about you,” she answered, cheeks still hot. “Now come meet my parents. They’ve tidied up for you, and Dad has even muted the TV.”
“They didn’t have to do that,” he protested.
“No, they did.” She slipped her arm through his and walked him from the door to the small living room, fighting yet another wave of nerves. Charity hadn’t introduced her parents to any of her dates or boyfriends, not since her relationship with Joe Wyatt. “Mom, Dad, this is Quinn
Douglas. Quinn, these are my parents, Tom and Julie Wright.”
For the next ten minutes they made polite conversation before Charity went to get her coat and black velvet evening bag.
As they stepped outside, Charity shuddered at the blast of icy wind. “I think we’re going to get more snow,” she said.
“It’s in the forecast,” he agreed. “Looks like it’ll be a white Christmas.”
And then she spotted the car outside, and it wasn’t his black rental truck. It was a shiny burgundy-red Range Rover. “What happened to your truck?” she asked.
“That’s the problem. It wasn’t my truck.” He opened the passenger door for her. “So I turned it in and had my favorite car dealer deliver a car.”
“I thought you had a very busy day at the tree farm.”
“I did. The car dealer drove the car to me at the Gallaghers and picked up the truck and here we are.”
“And Noel?”
“He’s hanging tonight with Jenna and Sawyer.”
“No. I meant, you don’t mind driving Noel around in this brand-new car? It’s a really fancy car.”
“Of course not. It’s an SUV. It’s made for dogs and kids.” He gave her a crooked smile before shutting her door and going around to the driver side. He glanced at her again as he started the car and pulled away from the curb. “You do want kids, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I always thought I’d love three or four.”
“Do you care if they’re boys or girls?”
“No. But honestly, having only had sisters, I don’t know if I could raise a boy.”
