Susan Mallery - You Say It First

His generosity still astounded her and she felt guilty for not appreciating him more when he’d been alive. All her life she’d been taught that love and one’s place in the family had to be earned. But not with Gerald. He’d loved her and had expected nothing in return.

Pallas parked in her narrow driveway. She looked at the sky and whispered a brief prayer of thanks for the man who had believed in her, then got out of her car and headed for the front door.

Twenty minutes later she had the French doors open to her walled garden. She’d already cut up the rotisserie chickens she’d bought at the grocery store for her curried chicken salad sweetened with mango chutney. She’d bought mini quiches to bake and a veggie plate with ranch dressing. Her friends expected good company, not home cooking.

When the salad was finished, she put it in the refrigerator, and then began cutting up grapes and kiwi for her chardonnay-based sangria. She set up her large drink dispenser that had a drop-in ice container to keep the liquid cold without diluting it. She put out glasses and plates on the small island in her kitchen, then stuck her phone on the docking station that was attached to the speakers in her living room. Seconds later, music began to play.

She glanced at the clock and saw she still had a few minutes before everyone started to arrive. She changed into white jeans and a lime-green cotton shirt, then slipped on espadrilles. As she returned to the living room, she heard someone walking up her front path.

Her girlfriend squad had six members. Carol, Violet, Natalie, Silver and Wynn. She’d known Silver and Wynn all her life. Wynn was a couple of years older, but Silver and Pallas had been friends all through school.

Carol and Violet were sisters. They’d moved to Happily Inc about three years ago. Natalie was the newest member—she’d been in town a little over a year. Pallas had first met Natalie when she’d been a bride. One horrific wedding disaster later, Natalie was single again and working for Atsuko at the gallery—a few weeks after that, Wynn had brought her to a girlfriend dinner and the rest was history.

Pallas opened the front door and smiled when she saw Carol about to knock.

“Hi, you,” she said, and hugged her friend.

“Hello, yourself.” Carol held out a container full of cookies. “I semibaked. They’re refrigerator sugar cookies, so technically an oven was involved. And I iced them.”

“You’re practically a Food Network star.”

“Tell me about it,” Carol said as she entered the small house. “I keep saying no to my own show, but they won’t stop bugging me. It’s getting embarrassing.”

Carol was tall, about five foot ten, with short red hair. She was strong and sensible. Her idea of glamor was jeans and a blouse rather than her usual uniform of khaki cargo pants and a T-shirt. She didn’t wear much makeup or bother with jewelry. Pallas frequently wondered how much of that was Carol’s personality and how much of it was necessitated by her career.

Carol worked for the animal preserve outside of town. She was in charge of the various animals—taking care of them, making sure they had what they needed. When she’d been two, her parents had moved to South Africa to live on a preserve. After their parents’ divorce, she and Violet had split their time between the preserve and New York City.

Pallas led the way into the kitchen. She put the cookies on the counter and got the oven started, then poured sangria for them both. They walked out onto the back patio.

Pallas frequently thought the garden was the best part of the bungalow. It was walled, with a trellis, and covered with climbing and creeping plants. She didn’t have to do much other than make sure the drip watering system was working and trim off a stray shoot or two. In return she had purple and pink flowers nearly all year long. There was a small gas fireplace when the evenings got chilly and enough privacy that she could dance around naked if she wanted, without anyone ever seeing.

Not that she did. She’d never been the dance-around-naked type.

“How are things?” Carol asked when they were seated on the covered patio.

“Good. Busy. Wedding season is ramping up. You know how we all get. What’s going on with you? Did your giraffe arrive?”

Because last week Carol had been excited about the arrival of a new-to-the-animal-park giraffe.

“Millie’s here and she’s settling in.” Carol didn’t sound all that happy.

“What?” Pallas asked.

“I can’t figure out if she’s having trouble adjusting or if she’s not feeling well. She seems off.”

“No giraffe laughter?”

Carol smiled. “There is that. She’s eating, but not as much as she should. I know it’s hard for the animals to adjust to a new location. They don’t understand what’s happening and why everything familiar to them is gone. I wish I could talk to her.”

Before Pallas could comment, she heard a voice from inside the house. She stood and turned to see Violet and Natalie walking in together.

Violet looked a lot like her sister—tall and redheaded—but the similarities ended there. While Carol dressed for comfort, Violet was all about style. She was an expert with a sewing machine and could transform the plain into the extraordinary. She believed in accessories, being girlie and making a statement. Her hair was long and curly, her makeup impressive.

Natalie was a petite brunette with big brown eyes. She also had her own style, but while Violet was cutting-edge chic, Natalie was more bohemian with an Earth Mother chaser. Her glasses were bright red, her maxi dress a patchwork of color. She wore a necklace made of metal shapes that were probably rescued from the local recycling center and each of her brightly painted toes sported a different geometric design.

Pallas got everyone drinks. Natalie had brought brownies, which meant they would have plenty of sugar to finish their meal. Always a good thing. She’d barely finished filling glasses when the final two arrived.

Wynn was a curvy woman with long black hair. Her mixed-race heritage had gifted her with killer cheekbones and a dark olive complexion. She was a couple of years older than the rest of them, with a ten-year-old son. Silver was tall and true to her name, a platinum blonde. Her wild streak was reflected in both her tattoos and her career choice. Silver owned a fifth wheel trailer she’d converted into a traveling bar called AlcoHaul. The party on wheels was popular with brides, not only because Silver was good at her job but because she got into whatever theme the bride had requested—dressing in costume, tailoring the drinks menu and frequently dazzling with the perfect signature cocktail.

Mini cheesecakes were added to the dessert collection. Everyone got a glass of sangria before heading out to the patio. When they were seated, Violet turned to Pallas.

“I have a lot of ideas for the black-and-white wedding. Easy ways we can transform the courtyard without spending a lot. I’ve been working on modifications for the servers’ outfits, too.”

Pallas groaned. “Why did I agree to her idea? It’s already going to be a nightmare.”

“It’s going to be great,” Violet told her. “Different is fun.”

“Different is more work.”

Silver raised her eyebrows. “There’s that go-to spirit we all love.”

“Sorry.” Pallas sipped her drink. “I’m grateful for the work. It’s just...she wants everything black-and-white, including the horses pulling the carriage. We have a limited horse selection. When I explained that, she asked if they could be painted.”

Wynn laughed. “I hope you told her no.”

“I did.”

The black-and-white wedding was an unfortunate offshoot of the regular princess wedding that Weddings in a Box offered. At first Pallas had thought that adding the black-and-white part would be no big deal, but she was starting to have her doubts. The wedding menu of services existed for a reason. There were certain things that were available and that was it. Going too far, going “out of the box” made events too different. Although even as she thought the words, a part of her whispered she was sounding way too much like her mother. And that was so not a place she wanted to go.