Page 16 of The Silent Note

“Thepaw-dyisheh-ya!” The door opens and Viola, Cadence’s baby sister, waltzes in. Behind her, Sol follows, lugging in a giant makeup kit.

“Wow.” Viola stops dead in her tracks when she sees me.

Sol freezes too, giving me a once-over. Then he blinks, glances at Cadence and clears his facial muscles.

“Put it over there, Sol,” Viola says, patting him on the shoulder like he’s her own little reindeer. I’m surprised by how comfortable the little girl is around him. Of all The Kings, Sol is the one who strikes me as the most uninviting to strangers.

He gives her a blank nod before leaving.

“Oh, I love this dress!” Viola clasps her hands together, eyes shimmering. “Zane was right about this one. I thought for sure you’d prefer the mermaid-fit because you picked that tight dress for the Redwood dance but this? Wow!”

“Vi, take a breath,” Cadence mutters.

Viola frowns at her sister. “Wait. Why is she wearing the dress already?”

“Because Zane told me to help with her dress and I got here before you.”

“Okay?” Viola might as well have saidduh. “But the dress goes onafterhair and makeup.”

“I…” Cadence cringes. “I forgot.”

“Hopeless.” Viola does a dramatic eye roll.

Their sisterly banter seems cutthroat on the surface, but there’s an underlying thread of love and warmth to it. I’m glad to see that losing their mom—for real this time—didn’t hurt their bond.

There’s another knock on the door.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“It better not be Zane.” Viola twists her long, thick hair into a ponytail. “It’s bad luck to see a bride before her wedding day. Dutch didn’t believe me and look what happened.”

Cadence flinches at her sister’s words. Hurrying forward, she opens the door. “It’s not Zane.”

A large, buxom woman with mahogany-toned skin bounces into the room. “I’m here for the future Mrs. Zane Cross.”

Those eight words make me gag.

Is this really happening? What the hell is going on right now?

Viola and Cadence point me out.

The newcomer moves over to me and frowns at my hair. “Oh, baby. That’s not good. But don’t worry. I haven’t met a head of hair I can’t handle. I’ll fix you right up.”

“Um…” I stammer.

Suddenly, a cape appears around my throat and I’m promptly shoved into the makeup chair. Viola does my base makeup while the hairdresser untangles my hair.

By her size and extroverted nature, I thought she’d be rough but she moves gently through my coils, giving them love and care.

“It already looks so good,” Viola squeals twenty minutes later, a big grin on her face. “I’m so glad I matched your foundation right. The lady at the store had a similar skin tone, but her undertone was different so I wasn’t sure.”

I want to respond to Viola, but I notice the hairdresser pulling my hair back into a similar but classier bun than the one I woke up in this morning.

“Leave it down,” I say, touching my hair.

“Sweetheart, this dress deserves a high knot to show off your gorgeous collarbones.”

“I look better with my hair down.”

---