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"Oh, that's damn considerate of you." Fuming, he spun around. "Have you thought how Annie's going to feel about this?"
Margo bit hard on her bottom lip. "I can't be what she wants. Why can't anyone understand that?"
"How do you think my parents are going to feel, thinking about you alone in L.A.?"
"You won't make me feel guilty," she murmured, feeling exactly that. "I've made up my mind."
"Goddamn it, Margo." He grabbed her arms, throwing her off-balance so that she toppled against him. In her heels she was eye to eye with him.
Her heart thudded hurtfully against her ribs. She thought—she felt—something was going to happe
n. Right here. Right now. "Josh." She said it quietly, her voice shaky and hoarse. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and everything churned inside her, yearning.
The rude clatter on the stairs had them both springing back. When she managed to draw a breath, he was glaring at her. Kate clomped into the room.
"I can't believe I have to wear something like this. I feel like an idiot. Stupid long skirts are impractical and just get in the way." Kate stopped plucking at the elegant silk dress and frowned at Margo and Josh. She thought they looked like two sleek cats about to spring. "Do you two have to fight now? I'm having a crisis. Margo, is this dress supposed to look like this, and if so, why? Is that champagne? Can I have some?"
Josh's gaze remained on Margo's for another humming moment. "I'm taking it up to Laura."
"I just want a sip before—Jeez!" Pouting now, Kate stared as Josh strode out of the room. "What's with him?"
"The same as always. He's an arrogant know-it-all. I just hate him," Margo said between gritted teeth.
"Oh, well, if that's all, let's talk about me. Help." She spread her arms.
"Kate." Margo pressed her fingers to her temples, then sighed. "Kate, you look fabulous. Except for the incredibly bad haircut."
"What are you talking about?" Kate ran her hair through the ruthlessly short black cap. "The hair's the best thing. I barely have to comb it."
"Obviously. Well, we'll cover it up with the hat anyway."
"I wanted to talk about the hat—"
"You're wearing it." Instinctively, Margo held out her champagne to share. "It makes you look very chic, Audrey Hepburnish."
"I'll do it for Laura," Kate muttered, then dropped with little grace onto a chair and swung her silk-draped legs over the arm. "I gotta tell you, Margo, Peter Ridgeway gives me a pain."
"Join the club."
Her thoughts revolved back to Josh. Had he actually been about to kiss her? No, that was ridiculous. More likely he'd been about to shake her like a frustrated boy whose toy wasn't working to his liking. "Kate, don't sit like that, you'll wrinkle the dress."
"Hell." She rose reluctantly, a pretty, coltish girl with oversized eyes. "I know Uncle Tommy and Aunt Susie aren't happy about all this. They're trying to be because Laura's so happy she's practically sending off radiation. I want to be happy for her, Margo."
"Then we will be." She shook off worries of Josh, of later, of L.A. Now was for Laura. "We have to stand by the people we love, right?"
"Even when they're screwing up." Kate sighed and handed Margo the champagne flute. "I guess we should go up and stand by her then."
They started up the stairs. At the door to Laura's room, they paused, joined hands. "I don't know why I'm so nervous," Kate murmured. "My stomach's jumping."
"Because we're in this together." Margo gave her hand a squeeze. "Just like always."
She opened the door. Laura sat at the vanity, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. In the long white robe she already looked the perfect bride. Her golden hair was swept up, curls falling flirtily around her face. Susan stood behind her, already dressed for the ceremony in a deep-rose gown touched with lace.
"The pearls are old," she said, her voice raw. In the shining mirror framed in carved rosewood, her eyes met her daughter's. "Your Grandmother Templeton's." She handed Laura the lovely eardrops. "She gave them to me on my wedding day. Now they're yours."
"Oh, Mom, I'll start crying again."
"None of that now." Ann Sullivan stepped forward. She looked lovely and restrained in her best navy dress, her deep-blond hair in short, quiet waves. "No swollen eyes on our bride today. You need something borrowed, so I thought… you could wear my locket under your gown."
