What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(95)

“Wait until you put on these shoes. You won’t even notice the garter.” Birdie put the stiletto heels on the floor and Kellen pushed her left foot into one.

“Damn Zio Federico. I wasn’t going to wear them, then during that last fitting, he laid it on with the flattery, saying I was absolutely right about what I should wear, he agreed that I didn’t need an expert to do my makeup because I’m beautiful enough without it, that my hair was perfect as it is and indicated to the discerning man that a tigress lived within my soul...” She took a breath, put her weight on the foot with the shoe, lifted herself and slid the right foot in. “He said that I had a great sense of personal style, that I was the most beautiful bride he’d ever dressed...”

“Are you saying Zio Federico flattered you into wearing heels?” Birdie laughed hard enough that Kellen was disgusted with herself.

“Yes.” The pointed toes pinched and the heels threw her forward until she figured out how to lean her shoulders back and her hips forward. Her whole body was a counterbalance obeying the command of those damned heels. “All Italian women wear these. They climb mountains in them. What I want to know is how?”

“I don’t know. I’m not wearing them. I didn’t fall for the flattery.”

Slowly, painfully, Kellen stepped toward the full-length mirror.

“But looking at you, I’m not so sure I made the right decision.” Birdie adjusted Kellen’s skirt.

Kellen gazed into the mirror. The movement of the crepe was fluid, flowing, rippling into a short train that looked like a pale silk stream. Zio Federico’s cap sleeves and her own sculpted arms and shoulders made her appear... “Wow. I look like one of Rae’s dolls with all the princess clothes on.”

Birdie grinned. “You do.”

“Like ThunderFlash.”

Birdie smiled affectionately. “That, too.”

Kellen noticed Birdie standing beside her, tall, thin and uniquely beautiful. “You’re pretty fine yourself.”

“Thank you. Zio Federico told me in Italy, with my facial structure, I could be a model.”

Kellen scrutinized her friend. “You really could. Carson knows it, too.”

Birdie waggled her head. “Carson wants to marry me.”

“Will you?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe. He’s a lot older, he’s been married three times, I was widowed less than a year ago. We’ve got a good relationship as it is.”

“All good reasons to put the brakes on.” Kellen played the wise adviser.

“But sometimes when he looks at me...” Birdie pressed her hand to her chest. “I can hardly breathe for the joy of being with him.”

“I know. I know what you mean. Max makes me feel as if...”

“As if you were in love?”

Together they laughed and hugged. They had faced battle, treachery, trucks that wouldn’t start and ammunitions that blew too soon, death and joy. Through it all, their friendship had endured and grown.

The closer Kellen got to the wedding, the more her heart tugged and tore at the thought of having a daughter, a family, a home. The knowledge that someone had tried to kill her weighed on her more and more, and not for noble reasons. Not because Max might be hurt, or Rae or Verona, but because Kellen wanted time with these people who had come to mean everything to her. She wanted to be where they were, love them with all the fervency of someone who had died and was now coming back to life. She wanted that for herself...and in every way, that seemed impossible.

“Don’t look so sad,” Birdie said.

“I’m not. I’m just—”

At a knock, they separated.

“Is it time?” Kellen asked.

Birdie looked at the clock. “Not quite.” She walked toward the door.

“It’s probably Max again,” Kellen said. “He was not happy about the can’t-see-the-bride rule.”

Before Birdie got there, the door slammed opened. Verona stormed in and waved a crumpled paper at Kellen. “Your child is pushing my buttons.”

Kellen didn’t grin, but she wanted to. “My child, huh?”

“I told her to stay in the room. I said I’d be back in ten minutes. I warned her not to do anything to mess up her dress.”

“You left a seven-year-old alone in a hotel room dressed and ready for a wedding?” Birdie put her hand over her heart as if to contain its beating.

Verona swung on her. “Yes! Yes! I’m a bad grandmother! But Rae saw Max sneaking down the corridor toward your room. She yelled at him and I chased him back to his room. The man has no respect for tradition.” She emphasized the word tradition. Kellen’s comment about superstition must have stung.

“Surely that didn’t take ten minutes,” Birdie said.

Exactly what Kellen had been thinking, and unease curled through her belly.

“You weren’t really gone ten whole minutes?” Birdie prepared to abandon her role as bridesmaid and take up her duties as bodyguard.

“Maybe a little longer. It’s his fault!” Verona continued to rant, “As soon as I turned my back, he was out again. I caught him and marched him right down to the kitchen where all the good old-fashioned Italian relatives were and told them to keep an eye on him!”

“So where’s Rae?” Kellen demanded.