Chapter Six
If it hadn’t been her wedding day, Kensington would have thoroughly enjoyed Salon Lemonier’s primo spa treatments. The spa was decorated in black and white with soft yellow accents.
The hour-long massage had turned her into compliant jelly. Her massage therapist had explained what the different oils were for, but all Kenzi could remember was the release of long-held tensions and a sense that all was right in the world as long as that brook continued to bubble through the speakers and the scent of ylang-ylang and clary sage filled the air.
However, once she stepped out of the massage room and into the salon, her inner peace chipped away even as her wedding-day look came together.
Because she didn’t have the thick head of hair her sisters did, she kept her hair shorter—just long enough to put it in a ponytail, which she did quite often. She’d lamented her hair allotment in life enough over the years and didn’t expect much.
Clair, a certified magician, waved her magical styling wand, and Kenzi had hair that looked thick with edgy waves that tickled her cheeks. She brushed her hand along the ends of her hair, which now sat just below her chin.
“I wouldn’t have believed it was possible if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.” The woman looking back at her was part awe and part sassy—and she liked her!
Clair batted her lashes. “I can only do so much. You’re pretty, and don’t you forget it.”
Kenzi had a hard time taking her eyes off herself. This was the type of woman who stood up for what she wanted and didn’t take no for an answer. Her yoga pants didn’t do much on their own, but combined with the makeup, the nails, the pedicure, and the hair? Well, she made yoga pants look good.
An attendant ushered her to a changing room in the back, where her garish wedding dress awaited. She slipped into the plaid pink dress, letting the fabric caress her skin and the zipper cinch her up.
She twirled once, feeling like she was about to reveal a whole new her to the world. She wasready. Ready to lay the trump card on the table and watch her sisters squirm.
Once she had her husband’s vote for CEO, she’d be able move forward in her plans to woo the other executives and keep the family company in the family.
“Are you ready?” asked Trish, her voice muffled by the heavy wooden door between them and the plush lemon-colored fabric lining the walls.
“As I’ll ever be.” She winked once at her reflection.
* * *
Kenzi stepped into Aunt Pamela’s office and curtsied. She’d learned how to do the full curtsy for royal visitors while in London. Her aunt got a half curtsy thanks to the knee-length hemline. “What do you think of my wedding dress?”
It wasn’t until she stopped spinning that she realized she wasn’t alone with her aunt. Harrison and Trish were there, as well as an older gentleman she didn’t know. Trish beamed as if she had picked the dress. Harrison’s eye continually turned Trish’s direction. Her cousin had it bad for the fashion consultant.
The older man was a mystery. He had gray hair, which he combed over his bald spot with determination, and a hook nose she could have sworn she’d seen on a depiction of Ichabod Crane. Heaven help her if that was her groom! Her sisters would never let her hear the end of marrying a man so old.
Pamela took her time perusing the dress, the hot-pink matching shoes, and her new hair. “Darling, you’re positively glowing. I couldn’t have found a better dress if I’d gone myself.”
Kenzi tugged at the side seam, unused to such heavy praise from her aunt—or from anyone, for that matter. Her father considered a “good job” gushing, so it wasn’t like she’d gotten a big head working with him. “It’s not too much. The color …?” She cursed herself for sounding insecure when not too long ago she’d worn a sense of empowerment around her neck like the Marie Antoinette Necklace in its 181.1-carat-diamond glory.
“The color is perfect and you know it.” Pamela took her by the elbow and drew her into the office. “This is the honorable Jared Sutton. He’ll be officiating today.”
Relief that this wasn’t her groom spread Kenzi’s cheeks into a giant smile. She shook his hand and exchanged pleasantries.
“Trish and Harrison will be our witnesses.” Pamela motioned toward them.
Kenzi stepped forward and hugged Harrison. “Thank you so much. Without you, I wouldn’t be getting married today.”
Harrison was tense in her arms. Usually, he hugged her right back, but this time he patted her awkwardly. “Don’t thank me yet.”
“What?” she asked.
“What what?” he shot back.
A small slice of worry worked its way into her resolve. She dropped her arms even as her head picked up a list of possible problems. “What do you mean, don’t thank you yet? Is there something in the will we missed?”
He shook his head. “The will is fine.” He tugged his tie. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure this will all work out to the best.”
Kenzi smacked his arm. “You’re scaring me, you doof! What is going on?”
