by Jeff Shelby
Laura glanced at Connor.
“We definitely have some song ideas,” he said. He swallowed. “Actually, we have a bunch of ideas for the music.”
Jackson raised his eyebrows. “You do? That’s great! The more information, the better.”
Connor cleared his throat, apparently ready to launch into his idea list when Laura reached out and touched Connor’s arm. “I think what we have now is good,” she said to Connor. “There are so many other things we need to take care of. I don’t want to hand-pick every single song that’s going to be played.”
Connor frowned, but Jackson nodded and said. “I understand completely. And that’s my job: playing the music. You guys focus on what you need to do and I’ll take care of the music. I can even pick out your first dance song, if you like. Or give you some of the popular ones and let you choose from those.”
Connor didn’t look at all happy about this suggestion but Laura was all smiles. “I would love that,” she said. “Do you have a print-out of those?”
“Yeah, back at home,” Jackson told her. “I can text it to you and you can let me know what your choices are. We can even add them the day of the reception if we need to, so no hurry if you can’t get to it. I know you guys are busy.”
Jackson was saying all the right things, at least for Laura. Connor, on the other hand, looked less than pleased, and I wondered if the stress of trying to plan all of this—and deal with Laura—was leaving him with little extra patience.
I couldn’t blame him.
Jackson gathered his things. “I think that’s everything,” he said as he shoved his papers back into his blue canvas workbag.
Laura stood up, too. “Do you need a down payment? Or a contract signed or something?”
Jackson gave her an odd look. “Why? We just agreed to everything, didn’t we?”
Laura shot a glance in my direction. I just shrugged. Welcome to small town living, where all the rules she was used to sort of went out the window. I’d found that out quickly enough when I moved to Latney. The people were different, the pace slower…and the social conventions I had grown accustomed to seemed to be practically nonexistent.
I’d gotten used to living there but I could tell Jackson’s casual attitude about a business arrangement had thrown my daughter for a bit of a loop. She wanted everything in writing, firm details and plans that she could point to. Especially if things went wrong.
“I can write something down right now,” she offered. “Just so we have something in writing.”
Jackson shook his head. His hand was already on the doorknob. “No need.” He smiled and waved in my general direction. “Thanks for thinking of me for the gig. I’ll see you guys on Saturday.”
And before Laura could offer again to draw something up in writing, he was gone.
She closed the door and slumped against it.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked.
Her eyes were closed. “You think he’ll show up, right? Even though we don’t have a signed contract?”
“Of course he’ll show up,” I said. “You heard how excited he was to do this.”
“That doesn’t mean he’ll actually show up.”
Her eyes were open now and I gave her a firm look of disapproval.
“Well?” she said, her hands on her hips. “Look at Annabelle!”
“Annabelle has Zika,” I told her calmly. “I’m sure she would be here if she wasn’t trying to recover from a mosquito-borne tropical illness…”
“It’s actually in Florida now,” Connor said, but he didn’t say anything more once he noticed the warning look I directed toward him. His comment definitely was not helping.
“What if the DJ gets Zika?” Laura asked. “Or something else that prevents him from doing the music?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Yeah but you don’t know,” she pointed out. “You can’t guarantee that.”
“I also can’t guarantee that a tornado won’t strike the house tomorrow and destroy my entire property.”
Her eyes widened. “Is there bad weather predicted?”
I stifled a groan. “No, Laura. There isn’t.”
She sighed in relief.
“My point is that we can’t plan for everything, so let’s just focus on thinking things will go right instead of worrying about every little thing that could go wrong.”
She still looked uncertain.
Connor stood up. “Come on,” he said to his fiancée. “I’ll show you the menu options for the caterer I’ve found.”
She perked up. “You have it all figured out?”
“I think so.” He crossed the room and put his arm around her. “I can show you on my laptop. Get your opinion on what we should serve.”
Laura was immediately on board. “I think we should have a couple of different choices,” she said as they headed up the stairs. “At least one meat option and one vegetarian option. Do we need to worry about being gluten or dairy-free?”
I didn’t hear Connor’s answer because they had reached the top of the stairs and had started down the hallway.
I sank back into the couch and closed my eyes.
At least we had music lined up.
One problem solved.
There was a knock on the door and my eyes flew open.
Gunnar poked his head in.
“You don’t have to knock,” I said.
He slipped through the door. “Well, you’re going to have a houseful of guests. I didn’t know who might be in the living room. They might think I’m an intruder.”
He sat down on the couch next to me, dropping a kiss on the top of my head as he did so.
I leaned against him, relishing the warmth and firmness of his body against mine. His physical presence always managed to make me feel better.
“How’s the planning going?” he asked.
“I think alright.”
“You think?”
I brought him up to speed with everything that had happened since Laura and Connor had arrived: who Annabelle was, along with why she was absent from the wedding; booking the DJ; finding a potential photographer; and Sophia volunteering to help out with the rest of the planning.
“That’s a lot,” he commented. “Makes me feel like I haven’t seen you for a few days as opposed to a few hours.”
I nodded. It felt that way to me, too.
“Well, it sounds like everything is under control now,” he said.
“Everything except Laura.”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s to be expected, right?”
Gunnar knew all about Laura’s…idiosyncrasies. Not just from me telling him about my daughter, but from his own limited interactions with her, as well.
“And how are you holding up?” He reached for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m fine.”
He arched an eyebrow, his hazel eyes flickering with doubt.
“Okay, mostly fine,” I admitted. “I just want the day to be what Laura wants. Especially considering this was all sort of thrown at her. The having to move things up.”
Gunnar nodded. “I think what Laura wants is to marry Connor. And yes, she might be sweating the details right now, but ultimately getting married is what matters most.”
I managed a weak smile. He and I both knew this to be true, but I wasn’t so sure Laura recognized it.
“And when are the rest of your guests coming into town?” he asked.
“Luke flies in tomorrow and Connor’s parents are due here on Thursday.”
“And the guest of honor? The one you’re moving the wedding for?”
Connor’s grandmother.
“I think she arrives on Wednesday. At least that’s what I remember Laura saying.”
He was quiet for a minute. “And Charlie?”
I sucked in a small breath. Charlie was my ex-husband, and I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in I couldn’t remember how long. Not b
ecause there was some type of deep animosity between us, but because I simply had no need to. Our kids were grown and had long since moved out, and I’d moved on…figuratively and literally, considering I’d bought a hobby farm an hour and a half away from Arlington.
“I honestly don’t know,” I said. “Laura has been the one communicating with him. I guess I need to check with her.”
His thumb rubbed mine. “And you’re sure you’re okay with having me at the wedding?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”
Gunnar shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t want anyone to feel awkward.”
“The only thing that would be awkward is if you weren’t there,” I told him firmly.
“You’re sure? What about Laura?”
“Laura is fine,” I said.
I actually had no idea how my daughter felt about having my boyfriend attend her wedding. As far as I knew, she liked Gunnar, but it hadn’t really occurred to me that he and my ex-husband would both be attending the event. Or that it might present some kind of problem or issues.
There was one thing I did know, though.
Laura was most likely going to be so obsessed with the other details surrounding the wedding that this particular thing wouldn’t even cross her mind.
Gunnar wrapped his free arm around me and pulled me close. “Good,” he said. “I’d like to be there if I can.”
“You can.” I snuggled against him. “And you will.”
FIVE
Laura was in heaven.
Because she was talking to someone who cared just as much about wedding decorations as she did.
I stood off to the side in Sophia’s boutique, watching as they chatted excitedly about all the possibilities for table decorations for the reception. The shop was brimming with knickknacks and collectibles, and I found myself scanning the room with hungry eyes, trying to take everything in. Sophia definitely had an eye for pretty things, and I immediately spied at least half a dozen things I could easily march up to the counter with.
Sophia was showing Laura a collection of painted mason jars stacked on the shelves of a curio cabinet. Silk flowers filled a couple of them, and polished river rocks were scattered between the jars.
“What do you think of these?” she asked. “Maybe filled with some pretty white flowers? Hydrangeas would look fabulous in these. Or maybe some daisies for a more delicate look? I have some clear ones in the back so we can paint them whatever color you like best.”
Laura nodded her head. “I love it.”
Sophia smiled her approval. “I have a bunch of metal milk cans too. Those might look good for the ceremony itself. We could position them at the foot of each row of chairs and fill them with flowers, too?”
Laura’s head bobbed again. I was convinced there wasn’t a suggestion Sophia might offer that she wouldn’t approve of.
I cleared my throat. “I think I’m going to go get a drink if that’s alright with you.”
Laura frowned. “It’s not even ten o’clock!”
“A soda,” I clarified. “Over at the Wicked Wich. Since I don’t think you need me here…”
That was a massive understatement.
Laura barely glanced my direction as I headed out the door, leaving the two of them to ooh and ahh over other potential wedding decorations.
I walked the short distance to the Wicked Wich, bracing myself for my interaction with Dawn, the owner of the bar and grill. With Mikey gone, she’d taken a much more public role at the restaurant and I could never be sure what kind of mood I’d find her in.
A brigade of strollers approached and I stepped into the street to let them pass by. I recognized a few faces and smiled hellos to both the moms and the kids belted into their seats.
A cool blast of air greeted me as I stepped into the restaurant, and I squinted in the dim lighting. Dawn was behind the bar, filling drinks at the soda machine. Lyle, the new cook she’d hired, was manning the grill. Even at this hour, he already had a couple of burgers cooking.
She glanced up when she saw me and gave the slightest of nod as a greeting.
At least it wasn’t a scowl.
I headed toward her.
“Rainy?”
Off to my right, sitting at a table by herself, was Zoe Wilson, Mabel’s granddaughter. I hadn’t seen her in months, since she’d come to stay with Mabel over the holidays and had been a prime suspect in the theft of a bunch of items from St. Simon’s annual auction.
“What a surprise to see you here,” I said, smiling.
“I’m staying with Grandma for a while this summer.”
“Is she okay?” I frowned. Mabel was one of the oldest—and healthiest—people I knew, and I hadn’t heard anything about her being in failing health.
“Oh, she’s fine.” Zoe toyed with the end of her long dark braid. “But I have the summer off from school and I know she gets lonely.”
“That’s awfully nice of you.”
She bit her lip. “I also lose my housing at school over the summer, so it works out for both of us.”
So it was mutually beneficial, I realized.
“And how is your grandma’s singing career going?” Mabel had always dreamed of making it big, and had gotten into a bit of financial trouble buying into some questionable schemes online that had promised to make her a “star.”
Zoe made a face. “She’s still singing at church. Other than that, there isn’t much else going on. We’ve banned her from taking any more classes. But she’s still hoping.”
I bit back a smile. This was probably a good move.
“I’ve told her that we should try to find some local things she might be able to perform at, so we’re keeping our eyes open.”
“Order’s up!” Dawn barked.
Zoe stood. “I promised Grandma I would bring burgers home for lunch after I picked up her prescriptions.” She grimaced. “Even though it’s still technically morning…”
“Burgers taste good any time of day,” I said.
“If you say so.”
She went to the bar to retrieve her bag of food and pay. I followed behind her.
“See you around,” she said as she headed toward the door.
“What do you want?” Dawn asked, as soon as Zoe was gone.
“Just a soda.”
“No food?” She grabbed a glass and shoved it into the ice, then filled it with Diet Coke. At least she knew what I drank. “I’m not going to stay in business if people just order drinks, you know.”
“I eat lunch here once a week, just like I’ve always done,” I reminded her.
“You sometimes ate here more often than that.” Her eyes narrowed. “How many times do you eat at Mikey’s?”
I tried not to roll my eyes. It had only been a few months since Mikey had quit his job at the Wicked Wich and opened his own restaurant, and it was still a sore subject with Dawn. Actually, knowing her, it would probably always be a sore subject with her. She’d been furious when he left, and when the cow statue from his restaurant had gone missing, I’d considered her suspect number one.
We soon discovered she hadn’t been responsible for the theft.
But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have done it.
Dawn looked up, her gaze shifting to a spot behind me. She frowned. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered.
I spun around on my stool.
Mikey was walking toward us, a friendly smile on his face.
“What do you want?” Dawn barked.
“A hamburger,” Mikey said easily. “One of the specials. To go.”
She scowled. “Can’t you make your own burger?”
“Yep,” he said, still smiling. “But I want to order one from you.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
If I had been Mikey, I would have marched right out the door. Dawn was being awful to him.
But he didn’t bat an eye. “An order of fries, too, please.”
She stared at him for a moment, then yelled the
order to Lyle. She stormed off, leaving Mikey standing next to me.
He chuckled. “Think she’s ever gonna forgive me?”
“Nope.”
“You’re probably right,” he said. He ran a hand over his buzzed hair. Despite being the proud owner of the hottest new restaurant in the county, he still looked like a fresh-faced kid. “So, how have you been? Anything going on with you?”
“Oh, just a wedding…”
His eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. That’s this weekend, right?”
I nodded.
“How’s it all coming along?”
It was my turn to chuckle. “Honestly? It’s a bit of a mess.”
His brow furrowed. “How so?”
I gave him a general overview, telling him about scrambling for a photographer and how Laura was now working with Sophia because her original wedding planner had gotten sick.
“Wow.” Mikey shook his head. “What else could go wrong?”
“Well, we almost didn’t have music for the wedding,” I said.
“Music?” a voice behind me said.
Zoe was standing there.
“I thought you left,” I blurted out.
Her cheeks reddened. “I forgot to get ketchup packets.” She poked her head behind the bar and grabbed a few packets, tossing them into the greasy paper bag she was holding. “What were you saying about music?”
“Oh, nothing.” I waved my hand. “My daughter is getting married this weekend and we needed a DJ.”
“A DJ?” Zoe sniffed. “Why don’t you have a live musician? Grandma would be thrilled to perform at a wedding.”
I couldn’t picture Mabel singing for hours at a reception.
“Oh, we found someone,” I said quickly.
“A musician?”
“No, a DJ.”
Zoe frowned. “Oh.”
“But thanks for offering Mabel,” I said. “I know what an amazing singer she is.”
Zoe didn’t answer. She refolded the bag and, without another word, headed toward the exit.
I stared after her, hoping I hadn’t somehow offended her.
“What are you guys serving at the reception?” Mikey asked, bringing me back to our conversation.
