The M Word (Best Friends Wedding Series) Read online

  “Hopefully he’ll make it to the wedding.”

  Over my dead body, she thought, but merely smiled. Margaret meant well.

  “Brenda!” Frank Rawlings bellowed, as he wove his way through the crowd. He gave her an enthusiastic hug.

  Brenda laughed. Kelly’s father was heavy set man with a big heart. He was a entrepreneur who had built his lamp and chandelier business into a multimillion dollar company.

  He beamed at her. “Can you believe it? My baby girl is getting married.”

  She nodded, knowing from past experience that he could carry a conversation easily by himself. “You must be very happy.”

  “Now that she’s gotten rid of Nigel, I’m ecstatic.”

  Brenda had to agree with him. Lars was a vast improvement over Kelly’s initial fiancé.

  “But what about you, hmm?” he asked. “Are you going to be next one to tie the knot?”

  Brenda’s breath caught. “I don’t think so,” she managed to say finally.

  “What’s wrong with the men in this town?” Frank said. “They must be blind.”

  Brenda didn’t say anything, because she couldn’t think of an appropriate response without sounding vain or bitter. With her height and her long naturally blonde hair, she didn’t have any trouble getting a high quantity of male attention. Her problem was the quality of that attention. Fortunately, she saw Kelly motioning to her, and made her escape.

  Brenda gave Kelly a hug. “How are you doing?”

  Kelly made a so-so motion with her hand and laughed ruefully. “So far, so good.”

  “Well, you look marvelous,” Brenda said. Kelly was a pretty girl, with a slim athletic build and long, wavy brown hair. She rarely wore make-up, but tonight her face was model perfect -- no doubt her mother’s influence.

  Kelly put a hand on her stomach. “I don’t look fat?” she asked in a whisper.

  “No,” Brenda reassured her. “No one will guess.” As improbable as it seemed, Kelly was several months pregnant and didn’t want anyone -- especially her mother -- to know.

  Kelly sighed with relief. “Good.”

  “Are you getting nervous?” Brenda asked.

  “A little,” Kelly admitted. She glanced at Lars who was standing twenty feet away with some of their friends.

  “Don’t worry,” Brenda said. “You’ll be fine.”

  Lars must have thought Kelly was summoning him, because he quickly approached. He slid a comfortable hand around Kelly’s waist and drew her closer to his side.

  Kelly visibly relaxed and smiled up at him. Brenda smiled at the two of them. Although their courtship had been unconventional, they were good together.

  “Hello, Brenda,” he said coolly.

  “Hello.” Brenda liked Lars, but she sensed that the feeling wasn’t mutual. Sometimes she got the impression that he thought she was a bad influence on Kelly. And maybe she was.

  Kelly was the nicest person Brenda had ever known. She was kind -- to a fault. She liked to socialize, but she didn’t party; she didn’t even swear. With all her family’s money, she could have been a snob, but instead, she was down-to-earth and generous.

  She’d make a good mother, a good wife.

  Suddenly Brenda felt very tired. It must be all the smiling she’d done today: first at work, and then tonight. It was exhausting to pretend to be happy, when she felt dead inside.

  She was glad Kelly hadn’t asked about Steven.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said quickly. The sooner she was away from all the wedding celebration, the better.

  “You’re leaving?” Kelly asked, surprised. “I think the band is going to play for another hour.”

  Brenda said, “I’ve got to get my beauty sleep. And you do, too. Remember: Photos tomorrow.” She pointed her finger at Lars. “Don’t keep her up too late.”

  “I won’t,” he said seriously, and Brenda laughed.

  He was too good to be true.

  Brenda drove home, deep in thought. She wasn’t drunk, she’d had only one drink, but she still felt sad. She knew that her friendship with Kelly would change now that she was getting married. Lars would be a bigger, more important part of Kelly’s life. And once the baby was born, Kelly would be even busier.

  Brenda sighed.

  It was hard not to be a little envious. Sometimes her arms ached to hold a baby. She was already an aunt to more than a dozen nieces and nephews, but she wanted her own child. She wanted to have a baby, to love and to nurture. She wanted to do something of value with her life. There had to be something more to life than working and earning a paycheck.

  If only Steven wasn’t marr --- she stopped that thought in mid-sentence.

  She didn’t want to think about him. He was a lying, cheating, scumbag. The fact that he had been cheating on his wife with her, just made it worse.

  But there was no denying it: as much as she didn’t want Steven in her life, she missed him.

  Before Kelly’s rehearsal dinner, he had texted her. R U still mad at me?

  It had taken all her willpower not to text him back. She must learn how to block numbers on her phone.

  Once she was home, she changed out of her suit skirt and tailored blouse, into a large gray t-shirt, and started to get ready for bed. But as she was removing her contacts, she realized that the t-shirt had the logo of Steven’s law firm. She hastily pulled it off and stuffed it into the wastebasket.

  She found a sleeveless cotton nightgown and put that on, instead.

  Her phone jingled to let her know she had another text.

  Out of habit, she glanced at it.

  Steven again. R U awake?

  No. Leave me alone.

  The words were typed and sent before she had the good sense to stop herself. What was wrong with her? She’d broken up with him for the last time. That meant no more contact.

  She quickly turned the phone completely off, so she wouldn’t be aware of any more messages from him.

  But ten minutes later, as she lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, she remembered him lying next to her, running his fingers through her long blonde hair.

  I love you, Brenda.

  She shuddered, and sat bolt upright.

  She had to stop this madness once and for all. She walked to the kitchen and found a pair of scissors. She held up a section of her long hair and cut it off, near her scalp.

  She let the strands fall to the vinyl covered floor.

  Steven loved her hair.

  Snip.

  He wouldn’t love her now.

  Snip.

  He’d take one look and finally leave her alone.

  Methodically she worked her way around her head, until there was little left.

  She felt lighter, freer, and chilled to the bone. She shivered. She must have set the A/C too low.

  She didn’t clean up the mess; she didn’t check a mirror to see how bad it looked. She just slid between her sheets and slept.

  #

  Either she slept through her alarm, or she hadn’t set it, but it was ten-fifteen when Brenda finally woke and stared bleary eyed at the digital numbers on her clock. She groaned. She had to be at Kelly’s house at eleven to have her make-up professionally done, so she’d be cutting it close. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and started to smooth her hair back.

  She felt the uneven stubble under her fingers and remembered cutting it the night before.

  What have I done?

  She scrambled to the bathroom and stared with dismay at her reflection. Her blue eyes were ringed with mascara and she looked as if she’d lost a fight with a weed-wacker.

  She glanced back at her clock. It was ten-twenty-four now, and there was absolutely no time for her to get her hair cut in a short pixie style and try to salvage it. She couldn’t arrive an hour late: Kelly’s mother would have a heart attack.

  So realistically, what were her options?

  CHAPTER TWO

  In the end, she shaved it all off.

  Kelly’s mother gasped when
she saw her bald dome, but at least she didn’t keel over. Brenda wondered if Margaret was sturdier than Kelly gave her credit for.

  After her make-up was done, she spoke to Kelly, to apologize for ruining her wedding.

  Kelly’s eyes widened, and Brenda could tell that she was appalled, but, generous soul that she was, she tried to downplay the disaster. She just gave her a hug and told her she was beautiful with or without her hair.

  Which made Brenda want to cry. She couldn’t imagine anyone being a better friend than Kelly.

  The wedding itself, was solemn and beautiful. Brenda sat staring down at her pink satin bridesmaid dress, listening to the words of the minister, wishing she still believed in marriage.

  Or the M-word, as one of her prior boyfriends had labeled it.

  As far as she could tell, marriage was a gamble, with lousy odds of success.

  But if she gave up on marriage, that would rule out having children, too, because she did not want to be a single parent.

  And she still wanted a baby.

  Be a mom.

  When she was younger, she’d dreamed about having half a dozen children and a rich, gorgeous husband who loved her madly, passionately, desperately.

  Right now, she’d settle for one baby and a man who treated her with respect. Someone honest and reliable. Kind.

  She glanced at Lars as he escorted Kelly from the church. Men like him were rare, and they wanted someone like Kelly: not the wisecracking bald girl.

  A hundred years ago, she could have paid a matchmaker to find her a suitable husband.

  She wondered if arranged marriages lasted any longer than romantic ones.

  Probably not. But if a person didn’t expect moonlight and roses, was it easier to be happy?

  Somehow she made it through the wedding luncheon and later, the reception. The dinner was tasty, and her lack of hair seemed to make a difference: only three guys tried to hit on her. She should have gone bald years ago. Finally it was time for the throwing of the bouquet.

  It was a barbaric, nonsensical, superstitious custom, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself by not participating. So she arranged the train of Kelly’s wedding dress for the photos, then joined the rest of the unmarried female guests.

  She stood over to one side of the throng, hoping that the bouquet would land somewhere else.

  Kelly flung the bouquet of roses over her shoulder. It sailed through the air in an arc, and instead of stepping out of the way, as she had planned, Brenda suddenly reached up to grab it. For once her height and longer arms were an advantage.

  For a second, Brenda stared at the flowers in disbelief, amazed by her involuntary reaction. At some deep subconscious level, did she still want to get married?

  The crowd clapped. She couldn’t drop it like a bomb, so instead she waved the bouquet triumphantly above her head, making people in the crowd smile. She heard the click of the photographer’s camera. She saw Kelly smiling at her with raised eyebrows as if to say, You’re next? Her eyes brimmed with amusement.

  When hell freezes over, she thought in response.

  Then she thought of Marius Jaworski.

  #

  She took Monday off as a personal holiday and bought two long, blonde haired wigs. Brenda didn’t think she’d actually lose her job if she came to work with no hair, but she didn’t want everyone asking questions, laughing at her behind her back or worse: feeling sorry for her.

  She still had some pride left, although it was seriously faltering.

  She worried about what would happen when Steven was back in Dallas, camping out on her doorstep. He was currently out of town on a long trial -- that’s why she’d been able to break up with him.

  She hoped she’d have the strength to turn him away when she saw him face to face.

  As she worked, she kept an eye on the front door, looking for Marius Jaworski every time the bells jingled.

  But he didn’t come to the bank for more than a week.

  Finally, late one night, at home, she looked him up on Google. It took less than twenty minutes to find his phone number. Brenda was amazed and appalled.

  She didn’t want to know how much information there was about herself floating around on the internet.

  For a few minutes she stared at the ten digits, debating. Then she dialed.

  It rang four times. Five. No voice mail? She was about to hang up, when he answered. “Hello?” His voice was husky, as if he had just woken up.

  What time was it? It was late, but it wasn't too late to call, was it? She glanced over at her computer screen and saw with alarm that it was after one in the morning. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. Is this Mr. Jaworski?”

  “Yes.”

  She took a deep breath. “Hi, this is Brenda Williamson.” She swallowed. “From the bank.”

  “Is there a problem with my account?”

  “Oh no, nothing like that.”

  “Good.”

  She stumbled onward. “I read in the neighborhood paper that you tune pianos. And I’d like you to tune my piano. As soon as possible.” She winced as the words came out of her mouth. She should have written out what she was going to say, so she would sound calmer, more professional.

  “I’d be happy to help,” he said. “But I’m afraid I can’t tune it right this minute.” She could hear the amusement in his voice.

  “No, of course not.” She had woken him. She had a mental picture of him sitting up in rumpled sheets in a darkened bedroom. The newspaper article implied that there were no women in his life. Was he alone?

  He said, “I am busy tomorrow -- I mean tonight, but I am free Friday evening. I could come by as early as five o’clock.”

  He was nice, much nicer than she deserved.

  On Fridays she worked until seven p.m. “Is seven-thirty too late for you?”

  “No, that is fine.” He yawned. “Pardon me.”

  “How long does it take to tune a piano?”

  “About an hour, to an hour and a half. It depends on how out of tune it is. And if it's very flat, I'll need to come back again in a few days to make certain it has stabilized. What kind of piano do you have?”

  Brenda had no idea. “It isn't a grand piano, and the back part isn't tall. I don't know what brand it is.”

  “Probably a spinet. Where do you live?”

  She gave him her address, then said quickly, “I really am sorry about waking you. I was busy and lost track of the time. I hope you can get back to sleep.”

  Was that a laugh she heard? “You can wake me up, anytime. Good night, Ms. Williamson.”

  “Good night,” she repeated, and ended the call. One twenty in the morning. Five-thirty was going to come awfully soon. She yawned and scratched her itchy scalp, then froze.

  You can wake me up anytime?

  #

  Closing the bank took forever that evening, so it was seven-fifty before she arrived at her house. Her house was in an older subdivision in Dallas, with one story brick homes built in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s. Most of the yards had mature native pecan or live oak trees, but her trees had been felled by the previous owners, so there were two ugly stumps in the front yard.

  Marius Jaworski sat on her front steps, waiting patiently. Next to him there was a small black suitcase. She wondered what he thought of her house with its vivid blue painted brick, missing shutters, and patchy lawn. The house itself had a good floor plan and solid foundation, but the aesthetics were definitely lacking. She was renovating, slowly, and it seemed as if there was a never-ending to-do list. She’d been able to do more when she lived with Steven, but now she had to live within the chaos, which made everything more complicated.

  But she wasn’t going to think about Steven.

  Marius stood up as he saw her. “Good evening,” he said formally as she stepped near.

  She reached past him to unlock the front door. For a moment she was aware of his body being too close to hers, then he stepped back. She
glanced at him warily. Today he seemed bigger and taller, but this was the first time she’d actually stood facing him eye to eye. His eyes were on a level with hers, which meant that if she weren’t in heels, he’d be one or two inches taller than she -- possibly six feet tall.

  “Sorry I'm late,” she said brusquely, and pushed the door open wide. “Come on in.”

  He walked into her living room and stood still for a moment, surveying it.

  Brenda bit her lip. She’d gotten so accustomed to the remodeling mess, that she didn’t pay attention to it. But it looked worse than she had remembered with half the kitchen cupboards down off the walls and stacked in the dining room. The living room was better, but there was only a couch and a piano. No lamps, no end tables, no pictures on the walls or pillows to make the room look inviting.

  “It’s a work in progress,” she said.

  He nodded, but said nothing more. She appreciated that. Steven had joked that it looked like a war zone. Come back to the condo, he’d urged. I miss having you around.

  “Sorry it's so hot,” she said quickly. She walked over to the air conditioning control panel. It was like a steam bath inside, but Marius looked neat and cool in a cotton dress shirt and a pair of crisply ironed chinos. “But it will cool down soon.” If he weren't there, Brenda would have stripped down to her bra and panties until the temperature lowered, but she could hardly do that with company. She pointed to her piano. “There it is.”

  He sat down and played a scale. His big hands were surprisingly graceful on the keys. “Yes, it's definitely flat. Possibly half a step flat. How long has it been since it was tuned?”

  “My parents had it for ages while I was growing up, and they gave it to me when I moved in here. As far as I know, it may never have been tuned. At least not in the last ten years.”

  He nodded, thoughtful. “Some people say that a piano should be tuned every six months. Like going to the dentist.”

  “I hope it doesn’t need a root canal.”

  He smiled briefly at her humor and stood up. “First, we clear the piano.”

  For a moment she didn't understand what he meant, then he gestured to the stack of magazines and framed photos lying flat on the back of her piano. “I will move them if you'll tell where you want them.”