Page 40 of Drum Me Away
Lucas chuckled. “Everybody thinks so, but Matt, our lead singer, wrote it for his wife, Angel.”
“They’re certainly an adorable couple, too, but you two…I just love that you’ve shared your entire relationship with your fans.”
I kept my smile pinned to my face while darting Lucas a swift glance. That particular truth was definitely not getting past either of our lips.
Roxanne gave an exaggerated shiver. “Let me stop. Here I am thinking about your relationship and envisioning you in one of my fabulous, custom-designed wedding dresses, when you are here for the exact opposite reason. Who passed, may I ask?”
I hesitated. Roma was a small town—minuscule, really—and I had no doubt that while Roxanne and my mother would never travel in the same circles, they most certainly knew of one another. The dress shop appeared established, high end, and like so many others on these short two blocks, it was the only one in town, which meant my mother may very well have shopped here.
Although it was more likely that my mother went into Seattle. But my grandmother—guaranteed. Hell, I could see her having drinks and partying with Roxanne.
I cleared my throat. “A family friend. Very close. From my childhood.”
Roxanne covered her mouth with one hand. “You have a close childhood friend fromthistiny mark on the map? Be still my heart.”
An image of Regina and me, curled up on her frilly, pink-and-white bedspread, watching YouTube and oohing and ahhing over whatever hottie was in those videos, popped into my head. I ruthlessly pushed it away. I had no friends left in this tiny mark on the map.
“The only impending funeral I am aware of is Eleanor Grundy, and unless you are outrageously, impossibly preserved, she is at least a couple of generations older than you,” Roxanne noted.
I chuckled again. “That’s the one.”
Roxanne eyed me again, like she was trying to put together a puzzle in her head, and finally, she shook her head and said, “Well, based on what I know of that family, I assume you want conservative? Although Eleanor always liked a little flamboyancy in her life.”
Yep, she knew my grandmother. And as much as I would love to honor her in that way, too many years under my mother’s strict regime meant that I agreed with Roxanne’s conservative guess.
“May I?” she asked, indicating my hair.
Unsure what she planned to do, I nodded anyway. She stepped behind me, and I felt her lift my hair, then let it fall back into place. When she walked around to face me again, she was appraising me with a critical eye.
“I assume the hair will be tucked away?” she asked. “Those colors underneath are so rich but so…”
“Not conservative?” Yeah, didn’t I know it. I’d been contemplating dying it a normal color since I woke up this morning. Except I hadn’t had a normal hair color in years, and my stylist might string me up by my fingernails if I let someone else touch her artwork.
Including myself.
“Okay,” Roxanne said with a firm nod. “Come, make yourselves comfortable over here”—she waved at a seating area with pink and silver brocade chairs and couches, surrounding a floor-to-ceiling three-way mirror—“while I rummage through this crazy assortment of gorgeous clothing until I have at least ten items for you to try on.”
The horrified look at Lucas’s face made me laugh. I patted the couch cushion next to me. “She’s kidding.” And then I added, “I think.”
A few minutes later, she reappeared carrying a silver tray, a bottle of champagne nestled in an ice bucket, and three tall crystal flutes. I was reminded of that morning when Lucas and I demanded Dahlia figure out how to get us out of our fake relationship.
Did he still want out? I doubted he did, not after the last few days. But what did he want?
It was my most pressing question, and the one I was most afraid to ask.
Because I still didn’t know why he had wanted out in the first place. If it wasn’t a girlfriend, what was it? What could be that important to Lucas, potentially even more important than the band?
I doubted I could handle the answer.
Roxanne reached for the bottle, and Lucas hopped up and poured champagne into all three glasses. Roxanne pretended to swoon when he handed one of them to her.
“He’s a keeper for sure,” she said with a broad wink, and then she flittered off, presumably to pick out outfits for the funeral.
“I’m nervous,” I admitted.
“That she even knows what the word conservative means? Me too,” Lucas replied.
I chuckled. “Not about that. About the viewing. The funeral.”
