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Is he pissed? “Brynn helped.” Pippa forced a smile.
“Pippa, this is Sandra, Rachel’s mom,” Mason introduced them.
“Nice to meet you.” Pippa nodded with what she hoped was a friendly smile.
“What are these? Quiche?” Sandra asked, pointing to the savory appetizer Pippa had spent all morning on.
“Pionono. It’s fried plantain stuffed with ground beef, veggies, and some spices, and topped with scrambled egg. It’s sweet and savory with a little kick from the cayenne,” Pippa explained. They were one of her favorite appetizers.
Sandra made a sour face. “Oh, dear, can’t have those. Trying to watch my figure. Sounds like a lot of carbs.” She pressed her body closer to Mason, her elbow rubbing against his.
Was this the type of woman Mason went for? She did resemble his wife from the picture in the hallway. Both women were tall and willowy—and Pippa wasn’t.
She swallowed the jealousy burning the back of her throat. “Well, I better head up and start Aspen’s hair.” Pippa grabbed the two bags that were left. “Come on, Lady.”
Brynn silently followed her and the dog upstairs. Pippa tried not to think about Mason and Sandra alone. He wasn’t Pippa’s, and the sooner she accepted that fact, the better.
“Is David as excited about this dance as Aspen?” Pippa asked.
Brynn’s lips quirked up at the edges. “Almost.”
She followed the giggles to an open bedroom door with Aspen’s name hanging on it in wooden turquoise letters.
“What do you think?” Aspen asked as the women entered. She spun, her dress flaring as she turned. The white sandals they’d picked matched perfectly.
“You look gorgeous.” Pippa smiled.
David’s gaze lingered on Aspen’s dress almost longingly, as if he, too, wanted to wear it.
Brynn walked over and straightened his pink tie before running her hand through his shaggy dirty-blond hair.
“My mom took me to the salon this morning to get my hair done,” Rachel announced, pressing one of the gems threaded into her hair. “They used so much hair spray, I think it’s permanent.”
“Pippa is going to do mine.” Aspen smiled. “Ready?”
“Absolutely.” Pippa got to work, setting up a little hairstyling station.
“I want gold nails. What do you think?” Aspen asked, holding up a bottle of nail polish from Pippa’s stash.
“Definitely,” David agreed.
“Do you want some pink to match your tie?” Aspen asked him.
His gaze cut to his mom’s. Brynn offered him a reassuring smile.
“Sh-sure.” David’s cheeks blushed pink as he smiled shyly.
Rachel’s nails had also been done at the salon, so she helped David and Aspen with theirs. Soon, all three kids were giggling and chatting about friends and the upcoming dance.
“Would you mind helping me?” Pippa asked, trying to draw Brynn into conversation. There was something so lonely in the woman’s eyes.
Brynn walked over. “What do you need?”
Pippa walked her through the process. They curled Aspen’s hair, pulling her reddish-blond locks into a fancy crown braid with a few ringlets left in front.
Pippa glanced at the woman from time to time. Brynn was about the same height as Pippa, but thin, as if a strong wind might blow her over. And there was a whole host of fractured pain in her gaze—like the woman had lived through hell and survived to tell about it.
When they’d finished, Brynn’s gaze met hers, and Pippa smiled. “Thanks for your help.”
