Meg tapped her foot. “The city is running this estate sale, seeing as how poor Mr. Grimshaw did not have any descendants or relatives. He left everything to the Harrogate Trust.”
“I need to buy this trunk,” I said to her.
“Ineed to buy it,” Hunter countered.
“What are you going to do with it?” Meg asked derisively. “Your little brothers will just tear it up.”
“I was going to…give it to you. As a present.” Hunter grinned at her.
Meg scowled.
“No, I need it for an apology present,” I begged. “Please sell it to me. I have cash.” I motioned to Wes. He took the envelope of money out of his pocket.
“I’ll pay you double,” Hunter countered.
“Triple!” Carter shouted.
Triple was a lot for that steamer trunk.
“Sold,” Meg said.
Oof.
“Did you bring your credit card?” Wes asked me under his breath. “We don’t have that much cash.”
“Meg,” Hunter said, clearly hurt. “You chose the Holbrooks over me? How could you?”
“You made a snide comment in the town hall meeting yesterday,” she said primly as one of the senior citizen volunteers wrote out a receipt, took the cash, and ran my credit card for the remainder.
“I didn’t make a snide comment,” Hunter argued with Meg as my cousins picked up the trunk to take it out to the car.
“Yes, you did; you complained about the recycling laws, and then when I shut you down, you just went, ‘Well, I don’t know why you are so upset about a little plastic…’”
Grant was snickering after we left. “She really has Hunter wound up!”
“He should think about getting a nice apology present,” I said, patting the trunk.
54
Brea
Iwas still upset the next morning. It was time for Liz’s wedding, and I was with the rest of the Weddings in the City girls at the Holbrook estate as the sun was rising to set up for the event. I did a walk-through with Ivy to make sure the ceremony space was perfect, the cocktail hour on the terrace had the correct arrangements, and the reception in the grand ballroom on the third floor looked classy and stylish.
“Girl!” Ivy said, snapping a few pictures for our Instagram account. “We throw a great wedding, don’t we?” Ivy checked her schedule. “The bride is due out in an hour. Can you go check on her?”
“Yep,” I said. I had already had my hair and makeup done. I was exhausted and running purely on caffeine, sugar, and worry about Mark. Maybe I had been too harsh. But then, I hadn’t wanted him to yell at me, and I also didn’t want to listen to him apologize, because I had clearly screwed up.
Liz was in one of the fancy suites in the Holbrook estate with the rest of her bridesmaids, getting ready.
“Not too late to kick me out,” I joked halfheartedly.
“You stayed up all night finishing my dress,” Liz said.
“It was partially finishing the dress, partially wallowing. Actually, it was like ninety-five percent wallowing,” I admitted as I helped Liz steady herself as she stepped into the ball gown.
“Oof,” she groaned.
“Too tight?” I asked as I buttoned up the dress.
