Blue-Eyed Devil (Travis Family #2)(9)

Bringing Carrington into the house seemed to have given Gretchen a much-needed jump start. No one could doubt the two of them adored each other.

Dressed in pink and purple, her pale golden hair caught in a high ponytail with a huge sparkly bow, Carrington was the picture of nine-year-old haute couture. She was carrying the bridal bouquet, the smaller version that had been made for Liberty to throw. "I'm gonna toss this," Carrington announced. "Liberty can't throw near as good as me."

Gretchen came forward, beaming. "You were the prettiest bride I've ever seen," she said, hugging Liberty. "What are you going to wear for your going-away outfit?"

"This is my going-away outfit," Liberty replied. "You're wearing pants?"

"It's an Escada suit, Aunt Gretchen," I said. "Very stylish."

"You need more jewelry," Gretchen told Liberty. "That outfit's too plain."

"I don't have much jewelry," Liberty said, smiling.

"You've got a diamond ring the size of a doorknob," I remarked. "That's a great start." I grinned at Liberty's wince of embarrassment over the engagement ring she thought was too big. Naturally my brother Jack had compounded her discomfort by nicknaming the diamond the "pet rock."

"You need a bracelet," Gretchen said decisively, holding out something in a little velvet pouch. "Take this, Liberty. A little something jangly to let people know you're in the neighborhood."

Liberty opened the pouch carefully, and my heart contracted as I saw what it was: the gold charm bracelet Gretchen had worn forever, strung with charms from all the exotic places she had gone in her life.

She had promised it to me when I was five years old.

I remembered the exact day — she had brought me a junior tool kit complete with a leather belt with loops and pockets. They were real working tools, including a C-clamp, an awl, saw, pliers, level, hammer, eight wrenches, and a set of Phillips-head screwdrivers.

As soon as Mother had seen me strapping on the tool belt, she had gone bug-eyed. She had opened her mouth, and before a single syllable came out, I knew she was going to tell Aunt Gretchen to take the gift back. So I clutched a handful of tools and ran to Dad, who was just coming into the family room. "Look what Aunt Gretchen brung me!"

"Well, isn't that nice," Dad had said, smiling first at Gretchen, then at my mother. The smile had ossified as he saw her face.

"Gretchen," Mother had said crisply, "I'd like to be asked the next time you buy a gift for my daughter. I'm not planning on raising a construction worker."

My heels had stopped bouncing. "I'm not giving 'em back."

" Don't sass your mother," Dad said.

"Land's sake," Gretchen had exclaimed. "They're toys, Ava. Haven likes to make things. Nothing wrong with that."

Mother's voice had been full of prickly burrs. "I'm the one to decide what's best for my own daughter, Gretchen. If you know so much about children, you should've had one of your own." She had stalked from the room, past me and Dad, leaving a chill of silence in her wake.

Gretchen had sighed, shaking her head as she looked at Dad. "Can I keep the tool kit?" I had asked.

Dad had thrown me an exasperated glance and gone after Mother.

I had gone to Gretchen slowly, my hands clenched tight in front of me. She was quiet, but I knew what I had to do. I unstrapped the tool belt and laid it carefully back into the box. "I guess you should have gotten me a tea set," I said glumly. "Take it back, Aunt Gretchen. She'd never let me play with it anyway."

Gretchen had patted her knee, and I crawled into her lap, snuggling into the scents of powder and hair spray and Rive Gauche perfume. Seeing how intrigued I was by her charm bracelet, she took it off and let me look at it. She'd bought herself a charm every time she went to a new place. I found a tiny Eiffel Tower, a pineapple from Hawaii, a Memphis bale of cotton, a matador with a little swirling cape, crossed snow skis from New Hampshire, and too many others to name.

"Someday," Gretchen had said, "I'm going to give this bracelet to you. And you can add your own charms."

"Will I go as many places as you, Aunt Gretchen?"

"You may not want to. People like me only travel because they don't have enough reasons to stay put."

"When I'm big," I'd said, "I'll never stay put."

Gretchen had forgotten that promise, I thought. It wasn't her fault. She'd forgotten a lot of things lately. It's okay, I told myself. Let it go. But I knew the story behind every charm. And it seemed as if Gretchen were taking those handfuls of memories away from me and bestowing them on Liberty. Somehow I forced a smile and held it.

My aunt made a show of fastening the bracelet on Liberty's wrist. Carrington danced around the two of them with excitement, demanding to see the charms. My smile didn't feel like it was part of my face. It hung there like a picture on a wall, suspended by tacks and wires.

"I think I'm supposed to be doing something with this," I said lightly, picking the veil up from the bed, draping it over my arm. "I'm a lousy maid of honor, Liberty. You should fire me."

She threw me a quick glance. Despite my cheerful mask, she saw something that caused her to look troubled.