Brown-Eyed Girl (Travis Family #4)(74)

“Look at how pretty she is,” Hollis said with a mixture of pride and rue. “The prettiest girl in Texas, her daddy always says.” Hollis’s expression went blank as she saw another passenger board after Bethany. “I see you’ve brought Kolby.”

“You said I could bring a friend.”

“I sure did, sugar.” Hollis flipped open a magazine and began to page through it methodically, her mouth tight. It didn’t appear that Kolby, a muscular young man in his twenties, was the kind of friend Hollis had had in mind.

Bethany’s companion was dressed in board shorts, a Billabong button-down shirt, and a sports cap from which a shock of sun-bleached hair protruded in the back. He was tanned a deep shade of walnut, his eyes light blue, the teeth toilet-bowl white. From an objective viewpoint, he was handsome in the bland, deeply boring way that only someone with perfectly symmetrical features could be.

“Bethany, you look fabulous, as usual,” I said as she leaned down to hug me. “How are you feeling? Are you up to this flight?”

“I sure am!” she exclaimed. “Feeling awesome. My OB-GYN says I’m his star patient. The baby’s kicking hard now – sometimes you can see my stomach move.”

“Wonderful,” I said, smiling. “Was Ryan excited to feel the baby kicking?”

She made a face. “Ryan’s so serious about everything. I won’t let him come to my checkups, because he brings my mood down.”

Hollis spoke while continuing to leaf through the magazine. “Maybe you could work on getting him to smile more often, Bethany.”

The young woman laughed. “No, I’ll let him fiddle with his drawings and computer designs… I’ve got someone right here who knows how to have a good time.” She squeezed the man’s arm and smiled at me. “Avery, you don’t mind me bringing Kolby on our girls’ trip, do you? He won’t bother anyone.”

The man looked at her with a sly grin. “I’m gonna bother you plenty,” he said.

Erupting in a fit of giggles, Bethany dragged him to the bar, where they rummaged through canned beverages. Looking perturbed, the flight attendant tried to persuade them to have a seat and allow her to bring the drinks.

“Who is Kolby?” I dared to ask Hollis.

“No one,” she murmured. “A waterskiing instructor Bethany met last summer. They’re just friends.” She shrugged. “Bethany likes to keep fun people around her. As much as I adore Ryan, he can be a stick-in-the-mud.”

I let the comments pass, although I was tempted to point out that it wasn’t fair to judge Ryan for not being fun when he was preparing to marry a woman he didn’t love and be a father to a baby he didn’t want.

“Nothing needs to be mentioned about this,” Hollis said after a moment. “Particularly to Joe. He might say something to Ryan and stir up trouble for no reason.”

“Hollis, if there’s anyone in the world who wants this wedding to go off without a hitch even more than you do, it’s me. Trust me, I’m not going to say anything about Kolby to anyone. It’s not my place.”

Satisfied, Hollis shot me a glance of genuine warmth. “I’m glad we understand each other,” she said.

Another disconcerting moment occurred at the hotel reservations desk, where I was checking in. As the desk clerk ran my credit card and we waited for the charge to go through, I glanced at the other clerk at the desk, who had just checked Bethany and Kolby into a single room. I supposed some part of me had hoped that Bethany and Kolby really were just friends. They had behaved like teenagers during the flight from Houston, whispering and giggling, watching a movie together, but there had been nothing overtly sexual in their interactions.

This arrangement, however, left no room for doubt.

I dragged my gaze back to the clerk in front of me. He returned my credit card and gave me a form to initial and sign. I had meant what I’d said to Hollis – I wasn’t going to mention anything about this to anyone. But it made me feel guilty and sordid to be part of this secret.

“See y’all later,” Bethany said. “Don’t expect Kolby and me for lunch – we’re ordering room service.”

“Let’s meet at the concierge desk in two hours,” I said. “The fitting appointment is at two o’clock.”

“Two o’clock,” Bethany repeated, walking to the bank of elevators with Kolby in tow. They paused to look at a display window filled with glittering jewelry.

Hollis came to stand beside me, tucking her phone back into her bag. “You try to raise a daughter someday,” she said, sounding tired and a little defensive, “and tell me how easy it is. You’ll teach her right from wrong, how to behave, what to believe. You’ll do your best. But someday your smart girl will do something stupid. And you’ll do anything you can to help her.” Hollis sighed and shrugged. “Bethany can do whatever she wants until she’s a married woman. She hasn’t said any vows yet. When she does, I’ll expect her to keep them. Until then, Ryan has the same freedom.”

I kept my mouth shut and nodded.

At two o’clock on the dot, we were welcomed into Finola Strong’s studio and bridal salon on the Upper East Side. The salon was decorated in understated smoky colors, the furniture in the private seating areas upholstered in velvet. Jasmine had referred me to Finola, who had agreed to turn my rough sketches into an appropriate design. Known for her love of clean lines and opulent detail, Finola was well suited to pull off the period beading and intricate paneled construction of the high-waisted skirt. Her team was second to none at creating couture gowns that started at thirty thousand dollars.