“Stunning,” Bettina gushed, staring at the ring. Then she pinned the veil on Corinne’s head. Poppy rose to help, and together they pulled the veil over Corinne’s eyes and let it trail in front of her face. “This is how Dixon will see you on your wedding day.”
Your wedding day. Corinne’s smile wavered a tiny bit. With all the pomp and circumstance, Corinne sometimes forgot this wasn’t another charity event committee she was heading up, and that she was actually getting . . . married.
Before she could let the notion truly sink in, the door to the salon flung open, bringing with it a gust of wind and a few sprinkles of rain. A woman in a black trench coat stood in the doorway, battling with an inside-out umbrella. She wrestled with the metal spokes and flimsy fabric, a thin curl of cigarette smoke appearing over her head. “Motherfucker,” she grumbled, finally winging the crumpled umbrella to the sidewalk just outside the door. Then the tall, blond, beautiful woman turned to face them.
Corinne sucked in her stomach. It was her sister, Aster.
Aster teetered in on jet-black five-inch laser-cut booties. A hand-rolled cigarette dangled from her lips, the stench of tobacco overpowering the salon’s light floral scent. Her wet trench dripped puddles on the mahogany floor. Her fuchsia dress, also wet, clung high on her thighs. Though Aster would have still been striking even after a roll in a city Dumpster, there were circles under her large, luminous blue eyes, and her ice-blond hair was matted. She had a disoriented, used-up look about her. Corinne wondered if her younger sister had just emerged from a stranger’s bed after one of her typical all-night bacchanals.
“I’m here!” Aster announced in a husky, slurring voice. Then she stopped in the middle of the room, her gaze on Corinne. “Whoa, mama,” she said. “That dress should not be white.”
Corinne tried to speak, but she didn’t know what to say. Aster took a drag and exhaled blue-tinged smoke toward the vaulted ceiling. “Nice choice, by the way. Love the lingerie look—you can skip straight to the wedding night.” When she leaned toward Corinne to inspect the lace, her breath smelled of cigarettes, booze, and orange Tic Tacs.
A prickly feeling shot from Corinne’s core all the way to her fingertips. “Have you been drinking?” she hissed, glancing at the clock on the wall: 10:30 a.m.
Aster lifted one shoulder. “Of course not!” She lurched sideways in an attempt to sit down, but missed the large leather wing chair completely, her legs going out from under her. “Oops!” she cried. Bettina and Poppy rushed forward to help her up. “I’m okay!”
Corinne shut her eyes and tried to stay calm, but all she felt was hot, pulsing embarrassment. As soon as Aster was on her feet again, Corinne shot her arm forward and plucked the cigarette from Aster’s lips. “You can’t smoke in here,” she snapped.
Bettina rushed forward. “It’s fine,” she said in a meek voice.
But Corinne dropped the still-lit cigarette into a glass of water. It fizzled as it went out, the only sound in the suddenly still salon. “Actually, Aster, I think you should leave,” she announced, her voice wavering.
Aster blinked, then scoffed. “You asked me to come.”
“An hour ago,” Corinne said coolly. “And now we’re almost done.”
Aster shrugged. “So I’m a little late.”
Corinne shifted her gaze to the right, focusing on the cigarette butt in the water glass. There was a tinge of pink lipstick on the filter. Her throat welled with words, but it wasn’t as if she could say them. She glanced at her mother for support, but Penelope just sat there, gripping her knees.
Poppy appeared next to Aster and touched her arm. “Maybe you should go, honey,” she told Aster in that kind, gentle-but-motherly voice Poppy had mastered but Corinne could never quite pull off. “Sleep it off. You’ll feel much better.”
Aster stuck her lip out in a pout, but didn’t resist when Poppy took her arm and guided her away from the pedestal. The two of them walked toward the door, and Poppy scooped up her own Burberry umbrella from the metal basket and placed it in Aster’s hands. In moments, Aster disappeared and the door slammed behind her.
Poppy walked coolly and confidently to Corinne’s side, smiling brightly. “Come on,” her cousin said, lifting the veil from Corinne’s eyes. She guided her back to the dressing rooms. “Show us your reception dresses. It’ll be okay.”