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CHAPTER EIGHT
THE WEDDING GUESTS standing outside the whitewashed church under a clear, blue Florida sky tossed birdseed on the happy couple as the bride and groom made their way down the sidewalk to the waiting limousine.
“I can’t believe I agreed to come to this shindig,” Cassie Branford muttered as she brushed the unflattering brown kernels from her new dress.
“It’s not a shindig. It’s a wedding.”
Cassie cast her younger sister, Lauren, a dubious glance. “A wedding I’d rather not attend.”
“Dad really wanted you here.”
“And therein lies the problem.”
Minutes later a dozen white doves were released in honor of the celebration. Cassie barely controlled an eye roll. For her father, the more pretentious the better. This event filled the bill.
“Well, at least the birds get to eat.” Cassie chuckled at her own humor as she viewed the ground covered with seed.
Lauren merely shook her head, obviously not amused, and walked ahead of her to the car.
The ceremony had been celebrated at the Methodist church off Main Street. Very elegant, very subdued. You’d think the couple were getting hitched for the first time instead of second marriages for both. Still, Angelica wanted a production and Cassie’s father indulged her. It was easy to do when his new wife’s family money covered the bill.
“The doves were a nice touch,” Lauren said minutes later, as she navigated the charming streets of Cypress Pointe en route to the reception.
“Nice? How about unnecessary?”
“When did you become such a downer?”
“I don’t know. When I was commanded, not asked, to come to the wedding?”
“Cassie, we haven’t seen you in a while.”
“True, but at least I talk to you and Mom regularly. Dad? Never. So his summons kind of turned me off.”
Lauren pulled into a space in the country club parking lot. “It’s his day. Be nice.”
It was always Robert Branford’s day, but Cassie got the gist. As they entered the event room, Cassie stopped short. “Really?”
The mood had changed from tasteful to over-the-top. Flanked on either side of the banquet room doors, medieval garbed trumpeters announced each guest in a blast of great fanfare. Crossing the threshold, a trumpet aimed dangerously close to her head, Cassie covered her ear and took in the atmospheric mist courtesy of the dry ice machine. A sultry haze hovered over the dance floor. Hello, could anyone say danger? As she headed to her assigned table, a sudden spate of coughing seized her thanks to the fog irritating her throat. She grabbed a goblet of water from the table for a soothing sip.
Huge white calla lily centerpieces, dripping with crystal beads, took up half the space on the round dinner tables. Spotless linens with the initials A & R embroidered in silver and black thread covered the tables. Champagne glasses with silver rims waited to be filled with sparkling wine. A massive champagne waterfall took up one corner of the room, a chocolate fountain positioned in another.
Soon, a six-course dinner would be followed by dancing until dawn.
Held at the Cypress Pointe Country Club, the town elite made an appearance at the flashy reception. Dressed to the nines, everyone tried outdoing each other. Cassie had let her soon-to-be stepmother talk her into a short emerald-colored dress with a sheer lace covering and high silver pumps. She’d have been happier in a casual dress and sandals instead of shoes that pinched, but Angelica would have fainted on the spot. Even Cassie’s hair bothered her. She reached up to touch the elaborate style.
“Quit fussing,” Lauren hissed, smoothing the skirt of her navy dress.
“I feel like a mannequin in the department store. No one wears their hair like this. And don’t get me started on the time spent at the salon. Three hours? On hair?”
“It’s better than your usual braid.”
“Hey. I like my braid. It keeps the hair out of my face.”
“At least the hairdresser hid that dreadful pink streak you insist on. It’s not appropriate for a beautiful event like this wedding.”
She liked the pink streak. Or any color streak that gave her pizzazz. As a popular music artist, she’d developed her own standout look, regardless of family opinion.
“Suck-up,” Cassie muttered under her breath.
“What did you say?”
“You look lovely,” she answered.
And Lauren did. Both sisters shared a light skin tone, but their hair color differed. Cassie’s, a light sandy brown, hung long and straight, while Lauren’s, a warm ash, was cut at her shoulders, much more fashionable than Cassie’s. Lauren had acquired the conservative gene, which seemed to have skipped Cassie. And while the sisters resembled each other, that was where the similarities ended. Especially with regard to this wedding.
“Thanks. I want Dad to be proud.”
That was never going to happen, but Cassie didn’t express her opinion. How many times had she tried to earn his approval, only to be shot down? She and Lauren argued time and again over the subject of their father and never made any headway. Today wasn’t going to change the impasse.
Angelica
