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4
“Oh my God,” Sienna said, her eyes closed as she savored the lobster roll. “These are so good.” She looked at Bron. “You have to get this. And the lobster bisque.”
Bron nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely.”
The tasting would act as Sienna’s dinner. After work on Friday, she’d driven down the Peninsula to meet Dad and Bron at the Burlingame caterer. They’d started with asparagus soup, followed by carrot soup, but the lobster bisque won hands down. “You should have those lobster-stuffed mushroom caps too. Make it a lobster feed.”
Bron laughed. A blonde with blue eyes, and a model-thin figure—at least she had been model thin—she dropped her hand to her belly, caressing the eighteen-week baby bump. Bron’s pretty features complemented Dad’s good looks, his hair liberally littered with gray while his face remained relatively unlined. They were almost the same height, Bron only a half inch shorter than Dad’s five-nine, which she compensated for by wearing flats.
The age difference was striking, Bron being thirty like Sienna, while at fifty-five, her dad was a couple of years older even than Sienna’s mom. He’d weathered the years well, but men always did without menopause sucking the life out of them, as her mother and Aunt Teresa often said when complaining about night sweats, crepey skin, and extra weight. Not that Aunt Teresa didn’t look fabulous. And Sienna’s mother was still beautiful, though she didn’t laugh often enough.
Laughter was a skill Sienna needed to learn. She took after her mother in that way. But being around Bron made her feel good. When they went out for lunch or shopping on a Saturday afternoon, she swore she laughed more. It felt like an honor to be helping with the preparations. Bron’s parents were in South Carolina and her brother and sister were back east. They wouldn’t be coming out until a couple of weeks before the wedding. But Sienna didn’t think of herself as second choice.
They tested additional hors d’oeuvres, delicate quiches, crispy bruschetta, lettuce cups filled with blackened fish.
Bron clapped her hands. “Now for the main course. They’ll bring us filet mignon, lobster tail, pecan encrusted salmon, and coq au vin I’m told is to die for.”
“Anything for vegetarians?” Sienna asked. It seemed the world was going vegetarian.
Bron put a hand on her arm. “They have an amazing lentil stew a friend said is delicious. We’ll try that too.”
“Count me out on that one,” Sienna’s father said. “And filet mignon and lobster tail are over the top.”
Bron curled her fingers around his. “If this is going to be the event of the year with people talking about every detail, do you really want to scrimp on the cut of meat we serve?”
He gave her a look. Maybe it was indulgence, maybe it was weariness, or maybe it was love. “All right, you win.”
Sienna wondered if that look stemmed from a need to show everyone he deserved a young trophy wife, a Cinderella wedding, and a new baby. With the baby coming in August, they’d pushed the wedding out to the end of September. Neither of them seemed the least bit uncomfortable with having a newborn at their wedding. Maybe it was a badge of honor for her father, that he still had what it took. Honestly, she couldn’t tell how he felt about becoming a father again at his age. He was unreadable to her.
As for her mother, she’d said she was fine about the wedding and the baby. But would she show Sienna anything different?
After choosing filet mignon, salmon, and coq au vin, plus lentil stew for the vegetarians, they moved on to the bridal cake. Bron dropped her voice so the caterers wouldn’t hear. “I found a princess cake at a Danish bakery. It’s filled with whipped cream and raspberry jam and covered in fondant icing.” She looked at Sienna’s father.
He nodded, saying benevolently, “You should have whatever cake you want.”
Bron clasped her hands in prayer. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Then she tapped Sienna’s arm. “I’ve made an appointment at the bridal shop. We’ll all meet there tomorrow at ten. I know it’s awfully early to choose, and they won’t fit my dress until a couple of weeks before the wedding, once I’ve lost as much baby weight as I can. But I really want everything settled before I get foggy baby brain.” She tapped her head. “Can you make it?”
It thrilled Sienna to be in the wedding. She really believed Bron liked her, that she wasn’t just sucking up to the new stepdaughter.
Dad cleared his throat. “About that.” When both Sienna and Bron looked at him, he shifted in the chair as if he was nervous. Except that her dad was never nervous. “I believe we should rethink the bridal party.”
Sienna understood why he was feeling nerves he’d never felt before when Bron said with a hard edge to her voice, “What do you mean ‘rethinking the bridal party?’”
Dad spoke to Sienna, not even looking at his fiancée. “Having you in the wedding looks bad to your mother.”
Sienna’s stomach sank, and a fist tightened around her heart.
Her father knocked on the table as if demanding attention. “I don’t know how she knows, but she called me.”
Sienna actually felt her jaw drop. Luckily, she caught it before it hit the table. “Mother called you?”
As far as Sienna knew, her parents had barely talked since signing the divorce papers.
Her dad went on, no longer nervous, meeting her gaze steadily. “She understands you’ll be at the wedding, but having you walk down the aisle is unsettling for her.”
“But she didn’t say a thing to me on Wednesday when I met her for lunch.” Not wanting any friction, she rarely talked about her dealings with her mom. But what her father said was utterly bewildering.
“But that’s not fair,” Bron spluttered. “It’s my wedding.”
