The Moonglow Sisters - Lori Wilde Page 0,49
gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I threw away some nail polish and she took it out of the trash.” Shelley watched Madison closely as if waiting for something.
Please, no fireworks, you two.
“Eww.” Gia crinkled her nose in distaste. “I wouldn’t fish anything out of the hospital trash.”
“I know, right?” Shelley bobbed her head but didn’t take her eyes off Maddie.
“She could disinfect it,” Darynda said sensibly.
Madison stopped sewing, the needle clutched between her index finger and thumb, and sat still as a statue. “Was something wrong with the polish?”
“No.”
“Then why did you throw it away?”
“It wasn’t a flattering color on Grammy.”
“So you just threw it away instead of bringing it home?”
Gia didn’t know what was going on between those two, but she had a feeling it had nothing to do with nail polish.
“Yeah.” Shelley locked Maddie into a staredown. “I did.”
“That’s wasteful.”
“Yeah? Well, it was my polish to waste.”
Anxious, Gia said, “Darynda, how was your day?”
“Things went well.” Darynda’s eyes shifted from Shelley to Madison and back again. “I—”
“Why do you care if May June took it out of the trash?” Madison asked. “If you threw away perfectly good nail polish?”
“I don’t care about the damn polish.” Shelley stabbed her needle through the square in front of her and raised both palms. “I’m saying May June likes to snoop through Grammy’s trash.”
There was a tone to Shelley’s voice, innuendo that flew right over Gia’s head. Something else was definitely unfolding between her older sisters, but she had no idea what it was.
“Oh.” Suddenly, Madison blanched pale, then she said again in a completely different tone, a soft and surprisingly vulnerable tone, “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Shelley grimaced. “Oh.”
Gia straightened. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing,” Shelley and Madison said in unison.
Well, at least they were finally on the same side, but now Gia was feeling overlooked and incidental.
“You guys always leave me out,” Gia grumbled. “Treat me like a mushroom, keep me in the dark and feed me—”
“This conversation has taken a strange turn,” Darynda interrupted. “Why don’t we change the subject? How are the wedding plans coming, Gia? Have you given the ceremony much thought?”
Grateful for Darynda, Gia said, “Anna Drury’s making the wedding cake. We’re having strawberry.”
“A strawberry wedding cake?” Madison frowned. “Are you sure? Do that many people like strawberry cake?”
“Strawberry shortcake is a universal crowd-pleaser,” Shelley said.
“I don’t like how soggy the sponge cake gets with all the strawberry juice,” Darynda said.
“Really?” Shelley stared at Darynda as if she were an oddity. “The sogginess is the best part.”
“True strawberry shortcake is actually made with sweet biscuits.” Madison shifted into full-blown hostess mode. Gia got it. Homemaking was both her passion and her job.
“Thanks for the strawberry shortcake history lesson, Martha Stewart,” Shelley mumbled. “I feel so enlightened now.”
Gia was getting irritated with them both. “We’re having strawberry cake, not strawberry shortcake.”
“You mean like a strawberry pound cake?” Shelley asked. “Or angel food? Dang, I’m getting hungry for cake now.”
“You can’t be serious, Gia. You’re getting married in the fall . . . and it’s a wedding,” Madison protested.
“So she should serve spice cake because it’s fall?” Shelley snorted. “How many people like spice cake?”
“I do.” Darynda raised her hand. “I like all cake.”
“Except soggy strawberry shortcake,” Shelley pointed out.
“No. Gia should serve white cake,” Madison said firmly. “It’s tradition, and they should have a chocolate groom’s cake on the side.”
“We’re not having a groom’s cake.” The ridiculousness of the conversation was indicative of their faltering relationships. There wasn’t even going to be a wedding. It was all pretend. They were arguing over a pretend wedding cake.
“Why not?” Madison straightened her shoulders.
“Who needs so much cake?” Gia threw her hands in the air. “Who needs the extra expense?”
“What about the people who prefer chocolate?” Madison’s sleek blond bob bounced in time to her vigorous head shake. “And if money is the issue, I’ll make the groom’s cake.”
“What about the people who prefer strawberry, hmm?” Gia asked. “What about them?” Why was she being stubborn? It wasn’t like her and it wasn’t as if she was married to the idea of strawberry, but she couldn’t seem to stop defending the flavor choice.
Shelley blew a raspberry. “Pfftt on tradition. She can have strawberry cake and forget having a groom’s cake if that’s what she wants.”
“A good host thinks of her guests’ wants and needs, not her own.” Madison looked so damned prim.
“But Gia is the one getting married and she didn’t hire you as her wedding planner. Let her serve whatever she wants.”
Okay,