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Chapter Seventeen
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There was no reason, thought Carrie, for her to be nervous, yet here she was in the bathroom, while the Cherry Festival kick-off dance got started without her. All sweaty palms and twitchy eyes, because who should be waiting outside the door but Ethan Nash?
She blamed the bottle of Dirty Laundry she’d shared with Jess last night.
“In vino veritas, as they say,” she muttered to her reflection. Between the wine, the tears and Jess’s relentless probing, Carrie had made the shocking discovery that somewhere along the line, when she wasn’t paying attention, she’d stupidly gone and –
The door banged open.
“Time to powder my nose,” said Aunt Pansy as she strode in. “Though it’s not my nose, and there’s no powder involved. Oh, hello, Carrie!”
She shook her head at the sweater Carrie was wearing on top of her dress.
“Are you expecting an Arctic updraft or something tonight? It’s hot as blazes and you’re swaddled in woollies.”
“It’s cashmere. Very fine. It breathes.” Her heart was jumping like a rabbit in a live trap.
In love. She’d fallen in love.
“Excellent.” Pansy helped her out of it. “Then it won’t die when you take it off. Ah, that’s better. Look at you.” She clasped her hands in front of her, staring at their reflected images in the mirror.
“Yeah,” said Carrie. That’s what everyone would be doing, all right.
But Jess had insisted on lending her a dress for the occasion. In a chili-pepper red similar to that of Ethan’s car, the gown featured a short, full skirt perfect for dancing, a flattering fitted bodice, sexy scooped neckline and fine lace overlay. It was fun, flirty, eye-catching and obvious.
In other words, completely out of character and more than a little unnerving.
“That is definitely your color, my dear. It’s your artist’s eye, I suppose. Your handsome young man friend’s jaw will drop when he sees you. In fact, my guess is that this dance is going to be entirely too public for the two of you. If you know what I mean.”
Is that what Ethan would assume? Darn that Jess.
“Aunt Pan, stop.” Carrie’s cheeks would match her dress soon if Pansy kept it up.
The woman grinned and waggled her eyebrows.
“There’s a time for wild oats, sweetheart. Cathy kept you hemmed in way too tight. If you want to sow a few now, I say have at it. Enjoy yourself.”
Pansy gave her a kiss on her overheated cheek, then left the little bathroom, passing Bethany Kyle, on the way in.
“The happy bride,” said Pansy, throwing Carrie a last look over her shoulder. “This should be interesting.”
The girl looked terrified, but she walked resolutely to where Carrie stood in front of the mirrors.
“I’m glad you’re here. I wanted… I needed… to apologize.”
She burst into a shaky explanation and Carrie ended up hugging her to quell the flow of words.
“It’s okay, Bethany,” she said.
“No, it’s not. Dad found someone from out of town for the wedding photos. It’s going to suck, because you’re better. But I’ve been trying to decide what to get Elliot for a wedding present and now I know.”
She smiled, then bit her lip.
“Can you take some of your private pictures for me?”
A laugh burst out of Carrie. And with it came hope. She still had friends. And Bethany would find her way.
“Of course I can.”
They hugged again and Bethany left the ladies’ room. First Trish, then Aunt Pansy, and now Bethany. Jess too, if she had her way.
They couldn’t all be pity bookings, could they? Maybe this was the sign she’d been waiting for. Maybe, like Ethan said, all the shock and awe would blow over and Carrie would go back to being the photographer. With a quiet little sideline.
Ethan. She couldn’t hide in here forever.
Then the door crashed open again.
Amanda Frankel. Carrie had been neither friends nor enemies with Amanda in high school, or since. But the incident between her and Ethan put her closer to the enemy side now.
“Amanda,” she said.
“Hey, Carrie.” Amanda leaned up to the mirror, pulled a tube of lipstick from her bag and applied it to her pouty lips. “I hear you’re taking dirty pictures these days. No more Virgin Ice Queen, then, huh? Good for you.”
