Angie blinked at her in confusion.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Mel said. She stormed into Mrs. DeLaura’s kitchen and mercifully found the coffeepot on. She poured Angie a big mug and loaded it with milk and sugar. She hurried back to the front room and thrust the cup at Angie.
“Okay, now let’s go,” she said.
“But—” Angie looked down at her outfit.
“No time,” Mel said.
“Where are the other bridesmaids?” Angie said.
“Already at the salon,” Mel said. “Good thing, too. They’re stalling Mean Christine until you get there.”
“Ow, Angie, watch where you’re stepping,” Al complained as he rolled over.
“Bride coming through,” Mel said. “Move it, move it, move it.”
She shuffled her feet like she was kicking up leaves instead of DeLaura brothers, dragging Angie behind her as she made her way to the door.
“How did you know I was still here?” Angie asked.
“I went to the salon first. You know, where we agreed last night we’d meet up,” Mel said. “But you weren’t there and all of the bridesmaids were and we realized we’d left you at the mercy of the brothers. What were we thinking?”
Angie cupped the mug in her hands. She looked at Mel with enormous eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess and she still had creases from her pillowcase on her cheek. She was wearing a baggy T-shirt over cotton pajama bottoms. By the front door she slipped on a pair of flip-flops, grabbing her purse as they hurried down the walkway.
Halfway to Mel’s car, Mr. and Mrs. DeLaura came into view. They were in matching jogging suits and Mel knew they were doing their daily ten thousand steps.
“Angie!” Mrs. DeLaura cried. “What are you doing here? You should have left for the salon by now.”
“On my way,” Angie said.
She paused to look at her parents in the midday sun. They were the picture of a couple who’d had good times and bad, but had never, ever given up on each other or the family they’d created. She turned to Mel and handed her the mug of coffee and her purse.
“Hey, Mom, Dad, in case I forget to mention it in all the insanity later, I just want to say thanks,” Angie said. Her voice wobbled a bit, as if unsteady under all of the emotion it was carrying. “You really are the best parents a girl could ever ask for and I’m so glad you’re mine.”
Mel felt her throat get tight, so she took a sip of Angie’s coffee to try and ease it. She watched as both of the DeLauras hugged and kissed their only daughter with tears of joy in their eyes. Mel felt her own eyes get hot, and she knew that she’d better drink more than the daily recommended sixty-four ounces of fluid because the flood waters in her tear ducts were rising.
“Go. We’ll see you back at the house when you’re ready to get dressed,” Mrs. DeLaura said.
She made a shooing motion with her hands and Angie hurried back to Mel. She scrubbed her face with her hands and sighed as she took back her coffee.
“I hope Christine has a line of all waterproof makeup,” she said. “Something is telling me I’m going to need it.”
Mel laughed and opened the passenger door for her. Angie slid in and Mel circled the car to get in the driver’s seat. She glanced at her phone on the way. She could get them there pretty close to on time, and if they were late she’d just have to bargain with Christine the old-fashioned way.
Christine’s salon was nestled in the heart of Old Town. Mel scored a parking spot down the street under a shady tree, and she and Angie hurried towards the stylist’s lair.
Mel pulled open the glass door, and Angie ducked inside. The woman at the counter glanced up at Angie and then frowned. It was an intimidating frown given that her hair was wound into a huge brunette bun on the top of her head, her eyebrows had been threaded into severe arcs, her false eyelashes were so long they kicked up a small breeze when she blinked, and her lips were pursed in a deep plum color that matched the wraparound dress she wore. She was intimidation personified.
The other two women working the counter beside her, a blonde and a redhead, looked exactly the same with the big bun, eyelashes, lip color, and same colored wrap dress. Christine liked uniformity in her staff. It certainly made a statement with three of them staring at Mel and Angie in disapproval.
“You’re late,” the brunette said.
“Sorry, bridal jitters,” Angie said with small smile.
“Christine makes no exceptions,” the redhead said.
“Not even if you’re spitting up blood and possessed by the devil himself,” the blonde added.
Mel and Angie exchanged a look.
“She’s gotten even more hard-core,” Angie said.
“No worries,” Mel said. “I’ll talk to her.”
“No, you won’t,” Christine said.
Mel glanced up as Christine glided down the short staircase behind the desk that led into the salon area. Christine was tall and thin and her thick black hair was styled in the same bun as her staff. She also wore the same plum-colored lipstick and long eyelashes, only her wrap dress was different. Christine was in a hot shade of red. Just like a bride stood out from her bridesmaids, Christine was apart from her staff.
“There is nothing to talk about,” Christine said. She looked Mel and Angie over in her usual ice queen way. “You’re late. I do not work with clients who are late.”
“I know,” Mel said. “And we are so very sorry. Listen, it’s my fault. Angie was depending upon me for a ride and I was late. Can you at least take care of her while I go sit in the corner of shame? It’s her wedding day.”
“No, that’s not true,” Angie said. “I overslept. It’s my fault.”
Christine’s impossibly arched brows rose even higher, and she looked at Mel. “You lied to me?”
Mel swallowed. There weren’t many people who scared the snot out of
