by Nancy Warren
Janet looked shocked. “Joe, you're not going to make him pay for those rings.”
Dylan said, “Sure I am. This is a woman I plan to marry and have children with. I’m buying her the rings.”
Janet put up her hands. “Forgive me. You really are a lot like your mother. You have to do everything yourself.”
“No. I do accept your engagement gift. If you can get Evangeline to design Meg her own wedding gown, I think everybody would win.”
His mother went to the locked case where she kept the most special pieces of jewelry and removed the vintage engagement ring and the wedding ring that went with it. “Do you want both rings, or should I keep the other one safe for you?”
“I’ll just take the engagement ring for now.” And he really hoped he’d be getting the other ring soon.
The ring sitting in its own tattered blue velvet jewelry box somehow added to its charm. He felt this ring had stories to tell and a history of long and happy marriages and for a woman who loved stories he felt that this was the perfect ring.
“Okay. Got the ring, check.” His face was twisted. “Asking on bended knee. But where?”
“Tradition would have you propose in a restaurant with a dozen red roses on the table and champagne already cooling for the moment she says yes.”
“I am not getting down on my knees in a crowded restaurant. I’ll look like a moron. Anyway, it doesn't feel right.”
“Maybe there’s another place that’s special to the two of you?”
He thought of Griffith Park, but that seemed kind of a cliché too.
And then it hit him. He glanced around. “Here. It has to be here. This is where we met, this is where it all started.”
The two older women exchanged glances. Janet shrugged, “Wouldn’t float my boat, but there's a certain Bohemian charm to the idea.”
His mother got into the spirit of the location more quickly. She said, “What do you need me to do?”
Chapter 19
Meg took a deep breath and opened June's book. Please let it not be very bad. Please let me find something positive to say. It was titled, A Cherry Blossom Floats to LA.
Interesting title. Curious, she began reading. “There's a saying in China that when you trim the oil lamp the picture becomes clear. What the Chinese mean by this, I think, is that when you share a story with a friend you begin to understand that story better. This is my story, but before that it’s the story of my mother and her mother and hers.”
Somehow, Meg had expected the book to be a pastiche, as though June might have slapped together her blog posts into some kind of order. But what she'd done was to create a fictional memoir of woman who was from Chinese roots and yet had never seen China. She was half American and yet never felt completely American, either. She wove the history of two families with her experiences being a contemporary single woman and dating in LA.
June’s trademark snarky humor broke through and Meg found herself chuckling in more than one place. But, like all good comic novelists, she also touched on dark themes of sacrifice, death and tragedy. It wasn't a perfect book, but the tips of Meg’s fingers began to tingle with excitement. She read on, unable to believe that the book she’d dreaded reading was one of the freshest and most compelling reads she’d come across in more than a year. Her heart pounded, almost as though she were falling in love. It was like destiny tapping her on the shoulder and saying, “Here I am.”
Even as she read, her agent's mind was checking off boxes. The novel was a humorous portrayal of a contemporary mixed-race woman in a society where she felt she didn't quite fit. It contained the broader story of a young single woman struggling to find her identity, her place in the world, and hopefully true love. Great marketing hooks.
After a while there was a knock on her door. “I'm getting sushi, you want some?” June asked.
She was starving she realized. “Yes, please.” She was about to tell June how excited she was but decided to wait until she’d read a little more.
She couldn't have said whether June brought her in a plate of California rolls or raw eel. She ate, and she read.
When she finished the book, she felt a sense of a woman still lost, but also filled with hope. She sat for a moment and breathed in and then she walked out of her bedroom and found June in the living room. Something about her posture told Meg that she’d been sitting there as nervously as an expectant father in a maternity waiting room.
She had an open magazine on her knee, her laptop on the table, a newspaper next to her, and Meg knew she wasn’t concentrating on any of them.
She said, very calmly, “June? Can you come here for a second?”
June was so surprised that she stood up and walked over to where Meg was standing just behind the kitchen counter. When she drew closer, Meg threw her arms around her friend and screamed, “I love it! I love your novel!”
“Really?”
“I can't even tell you how excited I am about this book. I absolutely want to represent it and you. I think you have a fresh voice and a dynamite story, it's completely marketable, and I am only so, so sorry I didn't read it the second you gave it to me.”
Tears were running down June's face as she said, “Oh, my God!”
“I'm shaking I'm so excited.”
“Do you think I need to rewrite any of it?” June asked, always the insecure writer.
“There are a couple of rough spots. But we’re not changing one single thing. I'm going right in on Monday morning and taking this to my boss. If I'm right, and he loves this as much as I do, this could be a big break for both of us. Your manuscript could be the thing that gets me the promotion.”
Then they danced around the kitchen, jumping up and down.
When they’d calmed down a little, she was hit with a burst of inspiration. “I have an idea. Imagine if I went in on Monday, not only with your manuscript, but with a cover quote from the travel writer, Janet Delaney.”
“You think she'd like my book?” June seemed stunned that anyone would like her book.
“As I was reading your work, I was reminded of her style—not that you write travel memoir, but that you both catch the essence of what it feels like to be a woman struggling in a culture she doesn't fully understand. To be alone in a world that still doesn't really embrace single women. When we take this out on submission? Having a Janet Delaney cover quote could really help.”
“I'm speechless.” Then they both screamed a little more and jumped around the kitchen.
When Meg got her breath back, she said, “I’m going to call her right now. Maybe she can read it before Monday morning and give us a quote.”
She glanced at the kitchen clock. “Nine isn’t too late to call, is it?”
“I don’t think so.”
Meg dug out her cell phone.
“I was supposed to go to a party, but I was too nervous. I knew you were reading my book and I couldn't leave until I knew what you thought of it. But now? Now it’s time to party!”
Meg laughed. “You go party, you've earned it. But,” she held up her forefinger, “do not tell a single soul about this manuscript. Everybody in LA is connected to somebody else. I want this book to come as a complete surprise to my boss. Believe me, it won't be long and you'll have lots to shout about.”
She nodded. “I think I'm too scared to jinx it. I'll keep everything you said to myself. But hey, thanks.”
Before Meg could lose her nerve, she found Janet's phone number, which Dylan’s aunt had given her when she’d proposed lunch. She called Janet’s cell and after couple rings, the woman picked up. “Hello?”
“Hi, Janet. It’s Meg. Meg O'Reilly.”
“Dylan's Meg?” Janet sounded stunned to hear from her.
“Yes, and I'm sorry if I'm calling you at a bad time.”
“No. It's a good time. What can I do for you, Meg?”
“It's a crazy request, but I just read a manuscript that blew me away. I'd love to send it to you, I think you'll love it. I
t's by a brand-new writer, she's a young woman with a comedic voice that strangely reminded me of yours. If you like the book, would you consider giving her a cover quote?”
There was a tiny pause. “I rarely do this, but because it’s you, and because I feel bad that I couldn't give you my business, I will read the manuscript. But I make no promises. If I don't like it, I'm not giving her a quote.”
“Absolutely. I appreciate your professionalism and thank you so much. Can I email you her manuscript? Or, I’ve got a printed copy if you prefer.”
She thought she heard whispering going on. Then, Janet said, “I’d prefer the printed version. Can you bring it over now?”
She punched the air. “Absolutely. What’s your address?”
“Bring it to Joe's Past and Present. I’ll be there in a half-hour.”
Did Janet not want her to know where she lived? Or were she and Joe still working at the store? Whatever, she was so happy that Janet had agreed to read the book. She was positive she’d be blown away.
She had the pleasure of being able to tell June, as she headed out the door, that Janet had agreed to read the manuscript.
“This night just keeps getting better and better.”
“Maybe you’ll meet the love of your life tonight, and that will inspire you to write the sequel.”
“Maybe.”
Because Janet was always so elegantly turned out, Meg got out of her comfy sweats and put on her best jeans and a pretty top. Even though she’d only see Janet for a minute, she felt it was important to look her best, so she spent her remaining time brushing out her hair, brushing her teeth, and freshening her makeup. Then she grabbed the manuscript and headed out.
She pulled up in front of the store and took a moment to rehearse what she’d say. As though Janet had been watching for her, she opened the door as soon as Meg reached it. She looked as excited as though she was about to jump out from behind a couch and yell ‘Surprise!’
Meg could hear soft music playing from inside the store and she thought she saw the flickering light of a candle. Her heart began to pound. “What's going on?”
“I’ll let Dylan tell you. He’s waiting for you inside.”
Dylan? He was here?
“Okay. Now, the manuscript is not perfect. It's going to need a good edit but—”
“Honey, I’ll read the manuscript. You go on in.” And then, to Meg’s surprise, the woman wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tight. “I'm so excited.”
It was amazing to find a jaded writer excited about a brand-new writer’s manuscript. She said, “I'm excited too.”
And then Janet shut the door on her and she found herself inside the store while Janet was outside and walking away. She followed the glow of candlelight and then there he was.
Dylan. He wore the clothes he’d been wearing the first time she ever met him. The same black T-shirt and jeans. And, like that first day she met him, she felt that hum of recognition.
He’d moved the red velvet couch and put a small table beside it. On the table was a huge bouquet of spring flowers. From somewhere he’d found a silver ice bucket and stand and in it was a bottle of champagne.
Music played softly and in the candlelight Joe’s looked mysterious and magical.
He walked towards her and took her face in his hands and kissed her gently, but surely.
“What’s going on?” she asked, feeling happy and confused and a bit nervous.
He pulled back slowly and said, “When I make a mistake, I like to fix it as soon as possible.”
She swallowed. “Did you make a mistake?”
“Oh yeah, a big one. I fumbled that proposal earlier today so badly. I need to do it again, and do it right.”
“Oh, Dylan, are you proposing?” she asked for the second time that day.
“Damn, I think I screwed up again. I really hope I never have to do this again.”
She felt her eyes mist even as a smile bloomed so she felt like a human rainbow.
“I hope you never have to do it again either.”
“Could you sit?” He indicated the red velvet settee where she’d sat in the Evangeline wedding gown, when they had the advertising photo shoot. She'd never forget that evening.
He sat beside her and took her hand. She'd never seen him so serious. In the flickering light of the candles, she thought he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He said, “It started here. It started here in the store. You walked in, and I looked up and in that moment my life changed forever.”
“You felt it too?”
He nodded. “I know we haven't known each other for long, but I've fallen deeper in love every time I see you.” He got off the couch and dropped to one knee in front of her.
He dug his hand in his pocket and struggled to retrieve the object that was in there, but from his bent position, it was stuck. “Damn,” he mumbled under his breath, and stood up to remove a small box from his pocket before resuming his place on one knee in front of her.
He was so adorable, and she loved him so much. She could barely take in that this was real, and the man of her dreams, a man she’d known only a few weeks, was proposing. He flipped open the ring box and she gasped. “It's the ring, from our photo shoot.”
“I told Janet how badly I screwed up, and she said I had to do it again and do it right. She said to find a ring that I felt you would truly love. She also said to make sure it was returnable.”
She laughed shakily. “She's a practical woman. And I am never returning this ring.”
“The minute she said that, I remembered this ring. And how perfect it looked on your hand, as though it belonged there.” She held out her hand and he slipped the ring onto her finger where it sparkled as though it were happy to be there.
He glanced up at her. “I know we don't have the dress, but we do have this.” He handed her a wedding album and as she opened it she saw all the photos from their advertising shoot. Candid shots of her in the gown, candids of him in his tux, the pair of them on the settee, him slipping the ring on her finger.
“Meg O'Reilly, will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Because in a fairytale ending, there was only one answer.
He got up from the ground and wrapped her in his arms. When he’d kissed her breathless, he said, “I'm sorry about that dress.”
She shook her head. “Maybe it’s done its job. Maybe it was meant to bring us together.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. In the flickering light her ring winked with promise. “And now I'm with you, where I belong.”
“Forever,” he said, and pulled her into his arms.
Also by Nancy Warren
The best way to keep up with new releases, plus enjoy bonus content and prizes is to join Nancy’s newsletter at nancywarren.net
The Almost Wives Club
An enchanted wedding dress is a matchmaker in this series of romantic comedies where five runaway brides find out who the best men really are!
The Almost Wives Club: Kate
Secondhand Bride
Bridesmaid for Hire
The Wedding Flight
If the Dress Fits
Take a Chance series
Meet the Chance family, a cobbled together family of eleven kids who are all grown up and finding their ways in life and love.
Kiss a Girl in the Rain Take a Chance, Book 1
Iris in Bloom Take a Chance, Book 2
Blueprint for a Kiss Take a Chance, Book 3
Every Rose Take a Chance, Book 4
Chance Encounter Prequel
Toni Diamond Mysteries
Toni is a successful saleswoman for Lady Bianca Cosmetics in this series of humorous cozy mysteries. Along with having an eye for beauty and a head for business, Toni's got a nose for trouble and she's never shy about following her instincts, even when they lead to murder.
Frosted Shadow Toni Diamond Mysteries, Book One
Ultimate Concealer Toni Diamond Mysteries, Book Two
Midnigh
t Shimmer Toni Diamond Mysteries, Book Three
A Diamond Choker For Christmas A Toni Diamond Mysteries Novella
For a complete list of books, check out Nancy’s website at nancywarren.net
About the Author
Nancy Warren is the USA Today Bestselling author of more than 70 novels. She’s originally from Vancouver, Canada, though she tends to wander and has lived in England, Italy and California at various times. She’s currently in Bath, UK, where she often pretends she’s Jane Austen. Or at least a character in a Jane Austen novel. Favorite moments include being the answer to a crossword puzzle clue in Canada’s National Post newspaper, being featured on the front page of the New York Times when her book Speed Dating launched Harlequin’s NASCAR series, and being nominated three times for Romance Writers of America’s RITA award. She’s an avid hiker, loves chocolate and most of all, loves to hear from readers! The best way to stay in touch is to sign up for Nancy’s newsletter at www.nancywarren.net.
To learn more about Nancy and her books
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Copyright © 2016 by Nancy Warren
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ISBN: 978-1-928145-20-2
