Always the Baker, Finally the Bride

by Sandra D. Bricker

  “Emma and I decided to turn down the offer on the hotel,” he said, and before he could take a follow-up breath, Sherilyn snaked her arms around his neck and squealed over the cheers and clapping hands around them.

  “Wait, wait a minute! What about your year in Paris?” Fee asked. “And the whole idea of kicking back and taking life a little slower for a while?”

  “Well, we can’t very well leave the country for a year now,” he said. “But we’re hoping for a delayed honeymoon to France at some point toward Christmas.”

  Fee countered with a half-glare at Emma over the top of her rectangular black glasses. After such a long time, Emma could read Fee like a familiar book.

  “I’m going to take steps to relieve some of the stress, Fiona. For both of us. And you’ll like this part of the plan. After the wedding, we’re going to hire another pastry chef. And I’m going to cut my schedule back a bit.”

  J.R. looked from Audrey to Emma. “What’d I miss?”

  “Emma has been having some health challenges,” Jackson told them, and Sherilyn leaned around him and gawked at Emma.

  “What kind of health challenges? Why haven’t you told me this?”

  “Can we please just stay on point here?” Emma asked them with a laugh. “We are keeping the hotel, we’re hiring some additional staff, and we are here to celebrate the marriage of two of our dearest friends!”

  Sean handed Emma and Jackson glasses of sparkling cider that he had quietly poured, and he returned to Lisette for another couple of glasses that he then handed over to Sherilyn and Kat. When everyone had a glass in their hand, Carly stepped forward.

  “Audrey has always been family to me,” she said, and Audrey smiled at her. “But now she’s actually my sister-in-law! And I couldn’t be happier. Aud and J.R., you were so meant to be. I think everyone saw it, even before you did. And though we would have preferred a wedding here in town with all of your friends in attendance, I think I speak for everyone here tonight when I tell you that we wish you every happiness, every blessing, and every joy.” Raising her glass, she added, “To Audrey and J.R.”

  Flutes clinked and good wishes flowed, and they all drank to the future happiness of yet another happy couple brought together under the roof of The Tanglewood Inn.

  “I hate to interrupt,” Lauren said softly, and Jackson looked up to find just her head poking through the slightly open door.

  As Rod continued his noisy diatribe on the other end of the phone, Jackson mouthed, “What is it?”

  “It seems some hotel guests are trapped in the elevator.”

  Jackson waved his hand at her to draw her closer, and he plucked a business card from the messy Rolodex on his desk. “Call them, ask for Bobby,” he whispered. “Tell him it’s an emergency.”

  Lauren grabbed the card and hurried from the office, closing the door behind her.

  “Rod, Rod, come on,” Jackson exclaimed. “I have an emergency here. Gotta go, buddy.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me, Drake. We’re going to hash this out right now.”

  “There’s nothing to hash out, Rod. I’ve made my final decision. I’m sorry. If Allegiant still wants to franchise, I’m in. But I’m not selling this—”

  “You know they want the whole caboodle. They’re not gonna go for it, Jack.”

  “Then I think the deal is off the table.”

  “Jack. Jack, you gotta be kidding me.”

  “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely. “I’ve talked it over with Emma and we just don’t think—”

  “What, she’s not even your wife yet and she’s calling the shots?” Rod snapped. “Maybe I should have taken the meeting with Emma instead.”

  “Maybe so,” Jackson replied calmly. “Or at least included her, because we come as a package deal. She wants to stay, and so do I.”

  “No one said you couldn’t stay, Jack.”

  “Rod, look. I have hotel guests incarcerated in one of only two elevators in the hotel. I gotta go.”

  “No! Look, Jackson, we can talk about this . . .”

  “Sorry, Rod. I really am.”

  And with that, Jackson disconnected the call. At first, he thought he heard Rod continue to rant after he hung up . . . until he realized the rant emanated from the hallway.

  “Where is it? Where is Jackson Drake’s office?”

  Jackson popped up from his chair and rounded the desk. As he stepped out into Lauren’s office, an angry man stormed through the door, his bulging eyes seeming to make an entrance before the rest of him.

  “You Jackson Drake? The owner of this hotel?”

  “Yes, I am. If you’re here about the elevator, we’ve called the—”

  “The elevator,” he repeated, running a hand through the few strands of hair on his head. “No, what’s wrong with the elevator? I’m here because one of your maids stole from me!”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “That’s right, you’re sorry. Meanwhile, what good will your sorry do me at the big rock?”

  “The . . . rock?”

  “Oh, Mr. Drake,” Frank, the front desk manager on duty, wheezed as he stumbled into the office behind the bug-eyed rock collector. “I’m so sorry.” He leaned over slightly and pressed one hand against the doorjamb as he tried to catch his breath. “Did you know the elevator is out? I had to take the stairs.”

  “Yes. We’re on it.”

  Jackson looked to Lauren, and she covered the phone receiver long enough to tell him, “Bobby is out sick. I’m on hold for his assistant.”

  His head spinning a little, Jackson looked back to the crisis at hand.

  “I tried talking to this joker,” the bald man spouted, pointing at Frank. “But he won’t do a thing to bring the thief to justice. And I’ll sue this place, Drake!”

  “Mr. Schmidt,” Frank interrupted, standing upright at last. “I had the housekeeping staff comb your room, and—”

  “It’s not in my room, I told you that.”

  “But it was. They found your camera under the bed, sir.”

  Schmidt looked for a few seconds like he might choke on his own tongue. Then he curled his face up and grunted. “Oh, sure they did. It was under the bed, was it?”

  “If you’d like me to place your camera in the hotel safe for security’s sake, I can certainly—”

  “Not on your life, Joe. Besides, I need it today when we go to the rock.”

  Jackson glanced at Frank, who clued him in. “Stone Mountain.”

  “Ah,” he said with a nod. “So where is Mr. Schmidt’s camera right now?”

  “We’re holding it for you at the front desk, sir.”

  “I’ll just bet you are,” the man cracked, and he stomped out of the office.

  “I’m sorry about that, Mr. Drake.”

  “It’s fine. Let’s comp the Schmidts for one night, Frank.”

  The manager tried to disguise his astonishment before shrugging. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  Just as Frank departed, Jackson’s attention flipped over to Lauren as she jumped up from her desk, yanked a sterling silver cuff from her ear, pressed the phone to her head, and shouted, “Listen to me! We have people trapped in the elevator, and we cannot wait for someone to get out here. The Tanglewood Inn is a customer of yours, and Bobby has provided such stellar service that he’s become a personal friend of the owner, Jackson Drake. I don’t think he’ll be too happy when I call him at home and tell him how you’re mishandling one of his prime accounts, do you?”

  Jackson arched both eyebrows and folded his arms as he observed Lauren in action.

  “An hour?” she exclaimed. “I’m thinking twenty or thirty minutes, aren’t you, Josh? . . . Good. I’ll hold off on calling Bobby, but I want you to know I have him on speed dial and it won’t take much of a delay to get me to hit that button . . . Yes. All right. I’ll see you then.”

  She heaved a sigh as she hung up the phone and shook her head, replacing the ear cuff and raking back her multiton
ed hair. She started when she caught Jackson’s gaze.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I just—”

  “Lauren,” he told her, “I think you and I need to talk later. You, young lady, are a force of nature.”

  Her worried expression ignited into a full-on grin. “Thank you.”

  “Now I’m headed down the hall to put out some fires. I sense a few more comp rooms in my immediate future.”

  TO: Jackson Drake, Hotel Owner

  FROM: Sherilyn Drummond,

  Event Planning–Weddings

  RE: Reminders

  Hi, Jackson, it’s Kat. Just a few quick reminders about the

  following:

  The final fitting for your tuxedo is scheduled for

  tomorrow at 4:30.

  Andy will meet you there for his fitting as well.

  I think you were supposed to pick up the

  wedding bands from the engraver last week.

  Sherilyn mentioned that you might need a reminder.

  I have the honeymoon suite booked for you

  the night of the wedding.

  And I did receive an e-mail confirmation yesterday from

  the caretakers at the Travis family home in Savannah.

  They will have the pantry stocked and the house ready

  for your arrival the day after the wedding, staying for a week.

  If there are any particular requests, just let me know

  and I’ll get the information to them.

  Shout if there’s anything additional you need. –Kat

  17

  Oh, Mother, there’s no use telling her. She’ll forget all about it tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know,” Emma’s mother replied, shaking her head. “She’s stayed with this for days now.”

  “Has she?”

  “Yes, she went on about it for an hour over dinner last night, telling your father how thrilled she is that you’ve asked her to be your maid of honor. Then this morning, she insisted I take her to shop for a dress.”

  Emma couldn’t resist chuckling. “I love her so much.”

  “And she loves you, dear heart. But will Sherilyn still love you when she gets to the ceremony to find your aunt Sophie standing at the front beside you?”

  “I’ll bet Sherilyn would hand her the bouquet!”

  “Okey dokey, smokies!” Sophie called in a giddy voice from beyond the silk curtain of the dressing room. “Are you two ready to have a look-see?”

  “We can’t wait, Aunt Soph. Come on out!”

  The attendant assisted Sophie as she stepped out and crossed to the center of the boutique sitting room. She gazed at the round pedestal for a moment before gripping the attendant’s arm as if she were climbing a steep hill.

  Emma hopped up and hurried to her, taking her other arm. The two of them practically lifted her aunt off the ground, and Sophie grinned from ear to ear from her perch atop the pedestal.

  “Step back,” she told Emma as she swept the full-length skirt of the pastel gown. “What do you think?”

  “Well, I don’t know, Aunt Soph,” Emma said seriously, shaking her head. “If you don’t mind upstaging the bride . . .”

  Sophie giggled. “Oh, no one could do that, sweet girl.”

  Emma touched her aunt’s hand and sighed. Muted watercolor flowers in yellows, pinks, and greens screened atop lilac satin created a stunning gown, and the rich lavender lace jacket with rhinestone buttons accentuated her aunt’s fragile frame.

  “You look exquisite,” Emma told her aunt as tears glazed her eyes. “I’m so happy you’ll be there with us.”

  “I haven’t missed any of your weddings to Jackson, Emma Rae,” she declared, and Emma chuckled.

  “You’re very faithful, Aunt Sophie.”

  “For the next one, I was thinking about a cathedral,” she said, preoccupied with her reflections in the full-length mirrors. “That might be nice, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not really an ornate, cathedral-type of girl. But it sounds lovely.”

  “Well, we’ll just have this simple one first and think about that next time.”

  Emma glanced at her mother, who sat regally on the jacquard-upholstered couch in the corner.

  “Okay, Aunt Soph.” Emma kissed her cheek before helping her down from the pedestal. “I think this is definitely your dress.”

  “I think so, too. Will it match the flowers?”

  “Perfectly.”

  The attendant grinned at Emma before leading Sophie back toward the dressing room.

  “Mother,” she said as she sat down next to Avery, “don’t look so worried. She’s relatively healthy, and she lives in a constant state of bliss.”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “What more could any of us ask?”

  Avery took Emma’s hand and rubbed it. “You are a charming daughter, Emma Rae.”

  “Of course I am. We’re a charming lot, we Travis women.”

  Her mother laughed and pecked Emma’s cheek. “That we are.”

  “Well, I just wanted you all to hear it directly from me.” Jackson balanced his cell phone on his shoulder as he climbed out of his car and locked the door. “You’ll share the news with the other hens?”

  “Jackson! Don’t call us that,” Norma said on a chuckle.

  He laughed in reply.

  “I don’t have to tell you how happy I am with your decision, but I just want to make sure you’re happy with it.”

  He shrugged. “As happy as I can be when turning down a quick fortune.”

  “Oh, that wasn’t the response I’d hoped for.”

  “I love The Tanglewood, Norm. But I love Emma more. She’s tired—really tired—and I think I started to really invest in that dream we had of moving away for a year and just getting lost in each other and our marriage. Keeping the hotel makes that an impossibility, and it’s always a little difficult to watch a dream swirl down the drain.”

  “You couldn’t still go? Maybe orchestrate a team of support so you could still chase that dream?”

  “Really?” he asked as he pulled open the door to the jewelry store. “Leave the day-to-day to . . . who? You? Are you volunteering?”

  Norma chuckled. “Okay, I see your point. A little complicated. But you’ll still go to France, Jack. Just not for a whole year, not without ties back to Georgia.”

  “Right.”

  “And you can live with that?”

  “I can live with Emma.”

  “And that makes everything all right, doesn’t it?”

  “You know, it does.”

  The woman behind the glass counter of bling reminded Jackson of Susannah, and he paused to wonder when she might return.

  “Listen, sis, I’ve gotta go. You’ll spread the good word?”

  “The minute we hang up. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Jackson closed the phone and placed it in the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

  “Good afternoon,” the saleswoman greeted him.

  “Hello. I left two wedding bands to be engraved, and I’d like to pick them up.”

  “Certainly. Your name?”

  “Drake.”

  “All right, Mr. Drake. Let me just look in the back room.”

  Jackson took the opportunity to browse the glass cases. Only two other customers occupied the store, a very young couple shopping for an engagement ring.

  “Something reasonable,” the potential groom whispered. “You know what I mean?”

  “Yes, sir,” the clerk assured him. “We have some very nice solitaires over here.”

  They walked past him, and Jackson’s gaze landed on a display of pendants. One of them caught his eye right away, a small amethyst cross with two diamond wedding bands, entwined and laid over the cross.

  “May I see this?” he asked the minute the saleswoman reappeared. “The cross, right there.”

  “Of course.”

  The woman, whose tag named her Veronica, reached under the counter. She produced t
he necklace and laid it on a flat display board covered with navy blue velvet. “It’s stunning, isn’t it?”

  “It really is.”

  “It’s a platinum setting with just under 1.5 carats of round amethysts, and another quarter carat of diamonds to form the wedding rings, on a beautiful 16-inch diamond-cut chain.”

  Jackson leaned down and took a closer look before lifting the necklace and dangling it from three fingers so that the light caught the stones. He peered at the price tag and deemed it worth the investment.

  “I’d like to give this to my bride on our wedding day,” he said with a smile. “Can you ring this up for me?”

  “It’s a lovely choice.”

  “And can I see the rings?”

  “Well, actually, the rings aren’t here.”

  Jackson blinked and swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

  “It appears that your fiancée picked them up two days ago.”

  “Oh.” He chewed on that for a moment. “I thought that was my job.”

  “Maybe she was in the area? Thought she’d do you a favor?”

  He chuckled. “More like she didn’t trust me to remember.”

  Veronica grinned. “I wasn’t going to say that. But I do meet a lot of brides and grooms.”

  “I guess you’re somewhat of an expert, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll ring up your pendant. Would you like it gift-wrapped?”

  “No, thank you,” he told her. “Just set it in one of your velvet boxes?”

  “And what card would you like to use?”

  Jackson pulled out his wallet and handed over his Visa. While Veronica finalized the purchase, he opened his cell phone and dialed Emma. It went to voice mail just as the saleswoman motioned to him to come and sign the receipt.

  He tucked the phone back into his pocket as she said, “Your fiancée is sure to love this gift, Mr. Drake. She’s a very lucky woman.”

  “I’m the one on the long end of this deal,” he said, scribbling his name. “I just want to make sure she knows that I know.”

  Jackson got back to the hotel an hour before his next meeting, and he decided to take a stroll into Emma’s kitchen and check in.

  Fee stood at the end of a line of several virtual strangers stretched along the length of the worktable while two others, one of them an apron-clad guy with blue streaks in his hair, fussed with something in one of the ovens. He figured these were the interns Emma often spoke about.