Ready to Wed (Ready #1.5)(14)

“Mommy! Your hair! You look just like that lady on TV!”

Confused, I asked, “What lady?”

“The one who sings those songs that Aunt Leah loves that you won’t let me sing?”

Trying to think back and remember the many inappropriate songs Leah listened to, I remembered a conversation I’d had with her a few weeks ago, when Leah and I were watching the MTV Music Video awards.

“Lady Gaga?” I asked.

“Yep! That lady has hair just like you!”

I gave Leah a panicked look and the laugh that she’d been previously holding back suddenly burst out of her like a volcano and she doubled over.

“Hey baby, why don’t you go find Grammy and see what her hair looks like?” I suggested, giving Leah a sideways evil glare.

“Okay, Mommy!” she said, skipping off in search of my mom.

“Oh my God. First, I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to find someone to fix this bird’s nest on top of my hair. No…scratch that. First, you’re going to find someone to fix this…and then I’m going to kill you.”

“Calm down, Clare-bear. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to go find the manager, and we’ll get this crazy disco stick disaster fixed and you’ll be back to looking like you.”

One hour, two hair stylists and several mimosas later…I had a brand new do. It was stunning. Leah had talked me out of an updo and we instead went with something more natural. Loose curls cascaded down my back and were pinned with small antique pearl clips that framed my face perfectly.

“You are a miracle worker, Leah.” I said, staring at my own shocked expression in the mirror.

“Does this mean I’ve been forgiven?” she asked.

“What? Oh, yes. Definitely. You are redeemed. For another day.”

“Well, good. Now, let’s get you back to the bridal suite. We have a wedding dress to put on!” she practically squealed.

We all made our way back up to the suite, and it was my turn to laugh when Leah, having had one too many mimosas, pretended to be my own wacky version of secret service, jumping ahead to check around corners, and clear hallways to protect her “asset” from the men. She was taking her maid of honor role very seriously and we managed to arrive upstairs without being seen by anyone.

As we entered the suite, we were greeted by my mother and Cece, who had an exuberant Maddie in her arms. She was telling her soon-to-be grandmother all about her adventures in the salon, and Cece was hanging on every word like it was the most important conversation in the world. Ella was in the corner rocking her little one, humming a soft lullaby. Her hair was curled and pinned to the side, just below her ear.

“Oh my, Sweetheart! You are a vision,” my mother said.

“Mommy! What happened to your other hair?” Maddie asked, which caused us all to laugh.

“Well,” I started, leaning down in front of her, “I decided I wasn’t cool enough to have that hairdo, so we thought this might be more my style.”

She gave me an appraising look, her eyes wandering up and down my long red locks, before she said, “You’re right. It’s much better.”

I don’t know if I was more relieved that she liked it or a little hurt that she agreed I wasn’t cool enough. But either way, we were ready to move onto makeup, and that is where Leah came in. She was a wizard of all things cosmetic. She’d been doing my makeup for special events ever since we were old enough to have special events.

“Plant it right here,” she said, pointing to an empty chair at the desk. It was a perfect spot, situated in front of a large mirror so I could watch as she did her work.

Half an hour later and with a little help from Ella, she was done. She’d done a beautiful job of making me look classy and sexy but not over the top. Just enough, with shimmery natural shadows and peach blush and gloss, and I looked radiant.

With Leah standing over my shoulder, our eyes locked and held in the mirror. I knew she was thinking about the last time she did my makeup for a major event—the day I married Ethan. Her lip quivered and my hand went up to my shoulder to grasp hers.

“I know,” I said. It was all I had to say. I knew, like her, that we were all still grieving and always would be. I knew that this day was hard, even though there was so much joy. I knew this all because sometimes when a friendship goes beyond normal borders and you find a sister, rather than an ordinary friend, conversations aren’t necessary.

“Well, let’s get you married,” Leah said, trying to steady her now shaky voice.

“Yes, let’s do that,” I agreed.

Both mothers gushed over my makeup, and complimented Leah on her fine job. She politely thanked them and we all made our way to my gown, which was still hanging in its bag by the closet.

“So Laura was telling me that your original dress was ruined?” Cece asked. She had obviously been caught up on the dress drama by my mom when they shared their hair appointments that morning. Both were sporting sophisticated updos that made them look regal and lovely. Their updos didn’t resemble Lady Gaga at all.

“Yes, the airline ate it. But, it worked out well,” I said, as I slid down the zipper and pulled the dress from its bag to a collective gasp.

“This one is much better.”

“Oh my goodness, Clare,” Cece said, at the same time my mother said, “Oh, sweetheart, you’re going to be stunning!”