Read Online Tapestry of Trust by Mary Annslee Urban - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Annslee Urban
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unrealistic.
Take for instance the stack of magazines in their living room—detailing proper wedding etiquette―everything from the ideal dress, purchased a size too small to coaching the best man on how to make a flawless speech, one that required skillful memorization and professional training on pronunciation.
Yes, Isabelle understood Mark and Kate wanted a dreamy utopian wedding, but from her perspective, their dream seemed more like a nightmare. Invitations, honeymoon arrangements, flowers, proper music selections, all of which seemed to drive Kate batty. Isabelle wouldn’t even mention the argument she had to referee between Kate and her soon-to-be mother-in-law over the finest must have menu.
Kate’s sigh snagged Isabelle’s attention. She glanced up and met her friend’s swollen eyes. “Find anything?”
“I’m searching.”
Another sigh and Kate blanched even paler, accentuating the orange in her hair.
Isabelle stifled a chuckle at her pitiful friend. Kate wouldn’t have been concerned about conditioning her hair if not for the shower tomorrow, and look how her efforts had paid off— with tangerine hair. Once again, a nightmare more than a dream.
She snapped her laptop shut. “OK, we need toner. The beauty supply store is open until seven.” Isabelle hurried to the door. “Come on.”
Kate, still looking a bit shell-shocked, ambled over. “Are you sure? I don’t want my hair looking worse.”
Like that was possible. Isabelle spared Kate the thought as she shepherded her out of the apartment. “We’ll read the directions carefully. Worst case scenario, your hair will turn purple.” A little more vogue, in Isabelle’s opinion.
Kate halted at the end of the walk. “Pur-ple?”
Before more tears escaped Kate’s eyes, Isabelle grabbed her by the elbow and guided her toward the car. “I said worst case. We’ll be fine. That’s what directions are for.”
****
The next morning, Isabelle slammed the car door and trudged back inside the apartment for the last of the shower supplies. Exhaustion racked her body. They were up until three in the morning fiddling with Kate’s hair, looking for shower games, and preparing food.
“How do I look?” Kate pirouetted into the room and dipped into a curtsy.
Still amazed at how four bottles of toner, a cup of cider vinegar and one of Kate’s own conditioners had done the trick, Isabelle nodded. By midnight, Kate looked like her old self again. Now dressed in a white crepe skirt and matching vest, Isabelle thought Kate looked every bit a magazine version of a glamorous bride-to-be. “Simply lovely. Are you coming early with me?”
Kate flashed her nails. “My manicure is at noon. I’ll be there about two. Let Mark’s mom know, will you? Otherwise, she’ll be bugging me while my nails are drying.”
“I’ll do it. See you there.” Jerking her purse off the kitchen table, Isabelle was on her way out the door when Kate intercepted her.
“Are you wearing those?”
Isabelle followed Kate’s gaze down to her feet, still cozy inside pink and white sneakers. “I guess they don’t match, do they?” Distraction, the culprit again. She dropped her things on the sofa and hurried into her room.
Stretching, she pulled high-heeled sandals from the top shelf in the closet. After slipping them on, she couldn’t resist a quick peek in the mirror. Her sundress hit just above the knee and the black sash at her waist matched the shoes perfectly. She re-pinned a fallen wisp from her upswept hair, then propped her hands on hips. She twisted from side to side. Not too shabby . Although she had no one to impress.
Now properly dressed, she gave Kate a hug on her way out the door. “See you there.” She turned and glimpsed the flowers on the entryway table. “I almost forgot about those. I thought we could use them as a centerpiece.”
Kate walked over. “They’re beautiful. Who are they from?”
Isabelle crossed her arms, still
Take for instance the stack of magazines in their living room—detailing proper wedding etiquette―everything from the ideal dress, purchased a size too small to coaching the best man on how to make a flawless speech, one that required skillful memorization and professional training on pronunciation.
Yes, Isabelle understood Mark and Kate wanted a dreamy utopian wedding, but from her perspective, their dream seemed more like a nightmare. Invitations, honeymoon arrangements, flowers, proper music selections, all of which seemed to drive Kate batty. Isabelle wouldn’t even mention the argument she had to referee between Kate and her soon-to-be mother-in-law over the finest must have menu.
Kate’s sigh snagged Isabelle’s attention. She glanced up and met her friend’s swollen eyes. “Find anything?”
“I’m searching.”
Another sigh and Kate blanched even paler, accentuating the orange in her hair.
Isabelle stifled a chuckle at her pitiful friend. Kate wouldn’t have been concerned about conditioning her hair if not for the shower tomorrow, and look how her efforts had paid off— with tangerine hair. Once again, a nightmare more than a dream.
She snapped her laptop shut. “OK, we need toner. The beauty supply store is open until seven.” Isabelle hurried to the door. “Come on.”
Kate, still looking a bit shell-shocked, ambled over. “Are you sure? I don’t want my hair looking worse.”
Like that was possible. Isabelle spared Kate the thought as she shepherded her out of the apartment. “We’ll read the directions carefully. Worst case scenario, your hair will turn purple.” A little more vogue, in Isabelle’s opinion.
Kate halted at the end of the walk. “Pur-ple?”
Before more tears escaped Kate’s eyes, Isabelle grabbed her by the elbow and guided her toward the car. “I said worst case. We’ll be fine. That’s what directions are for.”
****
The next morning, Isabelle slammed the car door and trudged back inside the apartment for the last of the shower supplies. Exhaustion racked her body. They were up until three in the morning fiddling with Kate’s hair, looking for shower games, and preparing food.
“How do I look?” Kate pirouetted into the room and dipped into a curtsy.
Still amazed at how four bottles of toner, a cup of cider vinegar and one of Kate’s own conditioners had done the trick, Isabelle nodded. By midnight, Kate looked like her old self again. Now dressed in a white crepe skirt and matching vest, Isabelle thought Kate looked every bit a magazine version of a glamorous bride-to-be. “Simply lovely. Are you coming early with me?”
Kate flashed her nails. “My manicure is at noon. I’ll be there about two. Let Mark’s mom know, will you? Otherwise, she’ll be bugging me while my nails are drying.”
“I’ll do it. See you there.” Jerking her purse off the kitchen table, Isabelle was on her way out the door when Kate intercepted her.
“Are you wearing those?”
Isabelle followed Kate’s gaze down to her feet, still cozy inside pink and white sneakers. “I guess they don’t match, do they?” Distraction, the culprit again. She dropped her things on the sofa and hurried into her room.
Stretching, she pulled high-heeled sandals from the top shelf in the closet. After slipping them on, she couldn’t resist a quick peek in the mirror. Her sundress hit just above the knee and the black sash at her waist matched the shoes perfectly. She re-pinned a fallen wisp from her upswept hair, then propped her hands on hips. She twisted from side to side. Not too shabby . Although she had no one to impress.
Now properly dressed, she gave Kate a hug on her way out the door. “See you there.” She turned and glimpsed the flowers on the entryway table. “I almost forgot about those. I thought we could use them as a centerpiece.”
Kate walked over. “They’re beautiful. Who are they from?”
Isabelle crossed her arms, still
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