with effort the urge to protest she was neither cold nor embarrassed and that Tilly could speak directly to her.
Tilly opened her purse and pulled out a large black velvet jewelry case. Laney couldnât explain the sudden dread that shot through her at the sight of the velvet case.
âItâs the Weyeth lavaliere,â Tilly said lovingly, handing the box to Rock. âEvery bride in the Weyeth family wears the necklace at her wedding.â Her fingers touched the gold chain as if remembering long ago wearing the lavaliere at her own wedding.
Rock lifted the necklace from the box reverently. He let it dangle from his fingers. âIsnât it beautiful?â
Beautiful wasnât the word that came to mind. Tacky, gaudy, and downright ugly described it better. Embedded in a patchwork of semiprecious stones was a series of small diamond chips that formed the letter W. It was the size of a silver dollar, and more than anything it looked to Laney like an oversized dog tag.
âIâm speechless,â Laney said at last.
Rock and Tilly let out their breath simultaneously and exchanged looks. âPut it on now,â Rock said. âIâve been looking forward to seeing this on you all day.â He smiled with boyish excitement. âYou canât imagine how hard itâs been keeping it a secret from you.â
Laney swallowed. âI imagine it was.â And then because Rock was looking at her as if he had found pirate gold to lay at her feet, she added, âIt really is incredible.â
Rock raised the necklace. Tillyâs hand slapped it down immediately. âShe shouldnât put it on with wet hair.â Her lips puckered. âAnd it would go better with aââshe pausedââa different outfit.â
Laney sighed with relief, despite the insult to her choice of clothing. Rock frowned thoughtfully. âYouâre quite right, Mother.â His moustache drooped to reflect his disappointment.
âIâm sure Laney has lots of suitable outfits in her closet,â Mother Tilly continued. âWeâll just go and pick one out right now. Howâs that, Rock?â
âGreat idea,â Rock said, brightening immediately.
âNo, really,â Laney said. âThe necklace deserves nicer than what I have. Plus my hair is wet. Another time probably would be better.â
âNo, no, no,â Mother Tilly said. She turned in the direction of Laneyâs bedroom. âNothing like the present for our present.â She smiled at her words. âCome on, dear,â she directed to Laneyâs left ear.
As Tilly marched off to the bedroom, Laney tried to remind herself that, as Pastor Bruce said, some people were like heavenly sandpaper. She wondered what lesson Mother Tilly had to offer and what rough edges of her personality would be made smooth by her future mother-in-law. Ordering herself to hold on to her temper, Laney stepped inside her bedroom.
Twelve
Mother Tilly headed straight for Laneyâs closet. Pulling the sliding door open, she gasped. âIs there any order to this closet at all?â She clucked her tongue as she sorted through the skirts and tops. âI group by designer,â she explained. âItâs a real time-saver. When Rock runs for mayor, youâll see how this helps.â
Laney nodded, although she thought the day she alphabetized her clothes would be the day she checked herself into a mental hospital. Still she didnât protest as Tilly plowed steadily through her closet.
The room, small to begin with, felt even tinier with Mother Tilly in it. Feeling as if she couldnât breath, Laney swung open the sliding glass doors and stepped outside to the deck. The night air, though nearly the same temperature as inside, immediately seemed fresher, and she felt some of the tightness in her chest ease. How would she tell Rock the secrets of her heart with his mother there?
âDonât you
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia