“Got it. Send me that scan, and I’ll be back with you with more as soon as I know. Is there a reason this is coming up now?”
Walter knew I operated on a need-to-know basis. Unfortunately, there were heaps of things an attorney needed to know, and if he was asking, there was a reason.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m getting married on Saturday.”
“Right,” he said. “Then there are a number of things you probably need in addition to that documentation. A prenuptial agreement, for a start. An alteration to your trust, maybe, depending on the prenup. By Saturday? Could be tricky. Will you be back before then, or are we doing this remotely?”
“Remotely,” I said. “Get me that documentation, and we’ll discuss the rest later.”
Walter started to say something, checked himself, said, “Will do,” and rang off, and I rolled my head on my neck a couple times, lifted and lowered my shoulders, took another deep breath, set the matter into the “Delegated” pile, and rang Violet Renfrow in Auckland. And then I went home, collected Hope and Karen, and took them to visit Violet.
Hope
Hemi was weird.
He’d made love to me so tenderly the night before, exactly as sweetly as he’d been fierce earlier in the day. He’d held me tight and showed me how well he knew how to please me, and how willing he was to make the effort. And when he’d whispered those Maori words in my ear, I’d breathed in his scent, run my hands over his warrior’s body, ached with love for him, and had known I was getting the man behind the mask, the vulnerable, caring, fiercely tender man he showed to nobody but me.
He’d been the same when we’d woken this morning. His mood had seemed so loving, so…lighthearted, even. But now? He’d been his most brooding, reserved self all the way to Auckland, and I didn’t know why. I wanted to ask him if he were having second thoughts after all, or if it was something else—bad news from work, maybe—but how could I, with Karen in the car?
When he’d come back to his grandfather’s house a couple hours ago, he’d stalked straight through the kitchen, picked me up out of my chair, kissed me hard, and held me so tightly, it had almost hurt. I’d heard Karen exclaim, “Whoa,” but I hadn’t cared about that. I’d held Hemi and whispered, “It’s all right. It’s all right.” I’d thought he’d been overcome by the step he’d taken, and I’d wanted him to know I understood.
Then he’d stood back, his hands gripping my arms, looked into my eyes, and said, “Want to go buy a wedding dress?”
“Yes,” I’d said, trying to smile at him, but off-balance at the intensity I still saw in his eyes. “I do.”
His expression had finally softened. “Practicing saying that, eh.”
“Could be.” I’d smiled some more, but he hadn’t smiled back. “Did you get the license?”
“Collecting it tomorrow. It’ll be done. Let’s go.”
He’d grown quieter and quieter once we’d climbed into the car for the two-hour journey to Auckland, resisting all my attempts to draw him out to the point where I eventually asked him, “Do you mind if we listen to some music?”
“No worries.” He punched a button on the dash to connect the Bluetooth so that the playlist he’d made for me had filled the silence. And I told myself that a man who asked you what music you liked, then made sure it was playing for you…that was a man who loved you, no matter how silent and preoccupied he was. Which probably had nothing to do with me.
It’s not all about you, I scolded myself. He’s an incredibly busy man with a lot on his mind.
We drove through Auckland on the motorway, finally exiting at someplace called Penrose, which wouldn’t be featuring on any list of “Auckland’s Most Glamorous Suburbs.”
“Uh…” Karen said from the back seat, looking around as we drove past warehouses and manufacturing plants for things like insulation and plumbing fixtures. “Exactly what kind of dresses are you thinking we’ll wear, Hemi? Hope’s not that fashion-forward.”
“Wait and see,” he said, seeming to lighten up a little. He pulled into an undistinguished parking lot and led us through a glass door into a long, low building, then down a hallway until we emerged into a high-ceilinged, stark space, painted white and filled with racks of clothing. Most of the garments seemed to be black, with a little brown, white, and gray here and there to break the monotony, like we’d entered the No-Color Zone. Huge drafting tables stood against two walls, with men and women bent over them. Another wall was taken up by sewing machines, most of which were in action.
A tall, angular woman came out of this busy scene to meet us. She was dressed in Early Prison Uniform: skinny black pants and a boxy, severe camel-colored tunic. Her black hair was swept back from a high white forehead, while rectangular black-framed glasses made an uncompromising statement on a face made up of slabs of cheekbone, beaky nose, and strong chin.
“Hemi,” she said, reaching for him with both hands and looking up into his face. “Darling. It’s been too long.”
“Violet.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek that she accepted with cool grace, then said, “This is my fiancée, Hope Sinclair, and her sister Karen.” I was still taking in that “fiancée,” and thinking that in five days, he’d be introducing me as “my wife,” and was probably looking like a deer in the headlights at the thought, but he was going on, telling me, “This is Violet Renfrow. She’s going to dress you and Karen.”
Karen tugged at Hemi’s arm and said in a supposedly low voice that I heard just fine, and that I was sure Violet could hear, too, “Hemi. Look around. This is all way too plain. Hope needs girly stuff. You know how she is. She’s not going to want to tell you no, but she’s going to be so sad. It’s her wedding.”
Hemi was smiling for almost the first time today. “Nah,” he said, not lowering his voice one bit. “Wait and see. Violet’s the best Kiwi designer going.”
“Maybe,” Karen said, undeterred. “If you like black. Which Hope doesn’t. Especially not to get married in.”
Violet was smiling now, too, not looking quite so scary. “Why aren’t you dressing your bride yourself, darling?” she asked Hemi.
“It was a bit sudden, you could say.” Hemi came over to put an arm around me as if he thought I might be feeling intimidated. Which would be correct. “Besides, she says I’m not meant to see her in the dress until the day. She wants to come to me like she’s…new, I reckon. She wants to knock me sideways and make me feel lucky to get her, and I want to give her what she wants.”
I was turning red, I could tell. The part about coming to him like I was new—it was true, but it sounded too sexual. Or was that just me?
Violet observed him through narrowed eyes and said, “You’re too bloody sexy for your own good, Hemi Te Mana. Has anybody ever said no to you? It’d be good for you.”
I uttered a choked laugh, and Hemi laughed, too, then said, “Ask Hope. She may enlighten you, though probably not. I’ll leave these two in your hands, shall I? Sure you can make it happen for Saturday?”