Bridesmaid for Hire

by Marie Ferrarella

  “But you have to,” Mrs. Watkins insisted, completely appalled.

  “No, I don’t,” Shane countered, his voice firm, his position steadfast.

  The gray-haired woman was utterly stunned. Momentarily at a loss for words, she finally cried, “Well, what am I supposed to do now?” Her tone was totally accusatory.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t the vaguest idea,” Shane replied, beginning to guide her toward his door. “But I am sure that a resourceful woman such as yourself will be able to figure it out.”

  Mrs. Watkins sputtered several times, although nothing intelligible sounding came out of her mouth. Finally, seeing that “Cassidy” was not about to change his mind, she stormed out, slamming the door so hard in her wake that it reverberated throughout the small, tidy shop.

  Gina watched the door, holding her breath. Afraid that Mrs. Watkins would come stomping back in. Or, at the very least, that the glass in the upper portion of the door would shatter.

  But the glass remained intact as the noise slowly abated. And then another, less threatening sound replaced the sound of the slamming door. It was the sound of Gina clapping her hands.

  Ellie looked up at her new friend quizzically. “Why are you clapping?” she asked. “There’s nobody singing or dancing like the shows I get to watch on my TV.”

  “I’m clapping because your uncle did something very brave,” Gina explained to the little girl.

  Ellie’s small face was a mask of surprise and wonder as she looked from Gina to her uncle and then back again. It was clear that she didn’t understand and she wanted to.

  “He did?” she questioned.

  Gina’s eyes met Shane’s. And then her lips curved as she nodded.

  “Yup, he did. Can you afford to turn business away?” she asked him, worried about what the noble move might have cost him.

  “I can if it means working for someone like that. I have to at least like the person I’m creating the cake for,” Shane told her. “I have a feeling that Mrs. Watkins wasn’t going to allow her daughter to have a say in any of this. The woman is a dictator with a mean streak a mile wide. It was obvious that she wants to be involved in the process from start to finish.” He shook his head. “I can’t work like that.”

  Ellie seemed oblivious to her uncle’s explanation. Instead, she had a question for him out of the blue. “Do you like Gina?”

  Shane looked down at his niece, stunned. Where had that come from? He knew he hadn’t said anything to make Ellie think that he had any sort of feelings about Gina one way or another. Maybe he’d misunderstood her.

  “What?”

  “Do you like Gina?” Ellie repeated. “’Cause I like her,” she told him matter-of-factly, wrapping her arms more tightly around the stuffed dog.

  Now he understood. “That’s because she just bought you off with that mutt,” Shane said with a laugh.

  “I wasn’t trying to buy her off,” Gina protested. “I thought that if Ellie had something fun to play with, you could get more work done,” she explained.

  “So you did have an ulterior motive,” Shane concluded.

  Gina didn’t know if he was just kidding or being serious. She certainly couldn’t tell by his expression.

  She decided to sidestep his insinuation altogether and only said, “I’m just trying to be helpful.” Feeling that it was safer, she shifted her focus to Ellie. “You know when I was your age, Ellie, I had a stuffed tiger I took everywhere.”

  Ellie looked up, interested. “What was his name?” she asked.

  “His name was Timmy,” Gina told her.

  She answered his niece’s question so easily, Shane thought that maybe Gina had actually had a stuffed tiger by that name.

  “Where’s Timmy now?” Ellie asked, then added hopefully, “Maybe he and Robby can play.”

  Gina flashed the little girl a sad smile. “I’m afraid I don’t have him anymore.”

  Ellie’s face drooped in disappointment. “Where is he?”

  “Timmy went to stay with some kids in a hospital oh, about twenty years ago,” Gina answered. She saw the little girl’s confusion and added, “Timmy liked cheering kids up and we both thought he’d be happier there where he could play with kids.”

  “But what about you?” Ellie asked.

  Gina smiled fondly at the little girl. “I wasn’t a kid anymore.”

  She could feel Shane looking at her but for the life of her, she couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. Did he think that she was somewhat demented, talking about a stuffed animal as if it was real with actual feelings and the ability to think? There was a time when she had felt that way about some of her toys, but that had been a very long time ago.

  Gina smiled, unable to help herself. That had always been her gift. Her ability to remember what she had been like as a little girl. It helped her easily relate to children like Ellie.

  Of course, that same “gift” probably made other adults think that she was slightly crazy or at least a little strange.

  “What do you say to Miss Bongi—to Miss Gina?” Shane corrected himself as he prompted his niece.

  If possible, Ellie’s arms tightened even harder around the stuffed dog she was holding.

  “Thank you, Miss Gina,” Ellie declared, a smile all but vibrating in her voice. She was beaming at her as she held on to the stuffed dog.

  Just hearing the little girl sound so happy was more than payment enough as far as Gina was concerned. She ran her hand over the small blond head.

  “You’re very welcome, Ellie,” Gina told her with feeling.

  Gina straightened slightly. It was time to leave. She couldn’t very well just hang around here like an extra appendage, even though, secretly, she was more than willing to stay.

  But she had done what she had come to do: she’d made friends with Ellie and that, in turn, had gotten Shane to see her in a better light. With a little bit of luck, she could build on that and maybe, eventually, she could work her way back to how things had once been between them. Or, at the very least, to the point where he felt less hostile to her than he had felt before this wedding had miraculously come up.

  “All right then,” Gina said to the little girl. “I’m glad you and Robby have hit it off so well.” She turned toward Shane who was still silently watching her. “And I’ll come by on Saturday to pick up the pastries for the shower.”

  “There’s no need for you to come by on Saturday, Gina,” Shane told her in a subdued voice that set off all sorts of alarms in her head.

  Oh Lord, had he changed his mind again? He couldn’t do that. She’d already told Sylvie he was handling the desserts.

  She needed to find a way to get him to change his mind back.

  “You’re not going to make the pastries after all?” Gina questioned, making no effort to hide her disappointment.

  “I didn’t say that,” Shane pointed out quietly after a beat.

  Okay, maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Gina forced herself to calm down before she asked, “All right, what are you saying?”

  “That you don’t have to come by to pick them up because I’ll be delivering the pastries to the shower myself,” he told her.

  Yes, Virginia, she thought as relief and happiness suddenly flooded all through her insides, there is a Santa Claus!

  Gina felt the corners of her eyes growing damp. The man just kept on surprising her.

  Chapter Eleven

  There were no new panicky calls from Sylvie—for which Gina was extremely grateful because that meant she had no new fires to put out. Knowing this could change at any moment, Gina decided to go see her brother-in-law and find out firsthand if Eddie was going to be able to fit in making the necessary repairs on the church’s roof in time for the wedding.

  Thinking she needed better information herself, she drove by the church fir
st. She wanted to get an idea of how bad the damage actually was.

  * * *

  It was bad.

  That was the first thought that hit her as Gina drove into the church’s near-empty parking lot.

  She could see the damage even before she came to a full stop. More than fifty years ago, someone, presumably a well-meaning parishioner, had planted a California pepper tree next to the church. Pictures of the area indicated that it had been little more than a sapling when it had been planted. But it had long since become an accident waiting to happen.

  And then it did.

  Getting out of her car, Gina slowly walked around the church and surveyed the damage. It was lucky that it had happened at night and not during the daytime, or on a Sunday when there might have been a lot of people attending a service.

  Someone really could have gotten hurt then. At least this way, the only thing that had suffered was the roof and part of the inside of the church.

  “Could have been worse.”

  Caught off guard, Gina didn’t jump when she heard the deep voice coming from behind her. She’d recognize her brother-in-law’s rumbling cadence anywhere.

  Turning around to face him, she smiled up at the tall, lanky man with his permanently unruly chestnut hair.

  “Hi, Eddie. Thanks for coming out. Can you fix it?” she asked him hopefully.

  Her brother-in-law had his clipboard in his hands and was writing things down even as he talked to her. “Of course I can fix it,” he answered. “The problem is, do I have the time?”

  “If you need an extra body, I can help,” she quickly offered.

  He laughed dryly. “That’ll take me twice as long, then.”

  Gina pretended to be offended, although she knew he was teasing her. She also knew that he was better off using trained workers than taking her up on her offer. “I’m not that bad,” she protested.

  Eddie looked up from the clipboard and rolled his eyes. “All I need is you falling off the roof and I’ll have my wife and your mother on my case for the rest of my natural life. Maybe longer. No thank you, Gee.”

  Gina nodded. “All right, what can I do to help?”

  He went back to working on his notes. “Just let me make my assessment of the damage and what it’ll take to fix it. Then you can go and make arrangements with the local padre—”

  “Monsignor,” Gina corrected.

  Eddie waved his hand. “Whatever. The head guy,” he said, using the all-purpose term, “to give my company the authorization to get the job done.”

  She knew she should just back off and leave him to his estimate, but she was anxious. “When do you think you can finish it?” Gina asked.

  Eddie never looked up. “In a month,” he answered.

  “Eddie!” Gina cried, distressed.

  He raised his head, briefly focusing on his sister-in-law. “The job’ll take four days. Finding the time to do it in, however, is going to be trickier,” he told her honestly.

  Gina moved around so that she was able to get into his face. She gave him her most soulful expression. “I’m counting on you, Eddie.”

  “Great. Pressure. Just what I need as an incentive,” Tiffany’s husband murmured under his breath. And then he said more audibly, “All I can say is that I’ll do my best.”

  That was as good as a promise, Gina thought. “Knew I could count on you,” she cried, giving Eddie a quick, grateful kiss on the cheek. “Tell Tiffany I said she married a great guy.”

  He laughed dryly. “I tell her that all the time. She doesn’t seem to be convinced,” Eddie told her, walking away.

  Tuning his sister-in-law out, Eddie continued making notations to himself about the job.

  Gina left him to it and slipped away quietly.

  * * *

  “It’s all under control,” Gina informed Sylvie for the third time in as many days.

  It was the day of the bridal shower and the nervous bride had confronted her in person the moment she had walked into Sylvie’s sister’s house. Sylvie’s sister, Monica, was her maid of honor and the Jack and Jill bridal shower was being held in her house.

  “You’re sure?” Sylvie asked, and her voice went up so high, it was almost a squeak. Gina winced as the piercing sound penetrated her ears. It was going to undoubtedly haunt her dreams for a good while to come, if not forever.

  “Very sure,” Gina assured her as serenely as possible. “I was there yesterday and I spoke to Father Joseph who, in turn, had spoken to Monsignor McGuire about the whole thing.” She smiled broadly. “The upshot is that they gave the go-ahead for the work to commence and the church will be ready in time for your wedding. My brother-in-law’s company is handling the repairs and you couldn’t be in better hands,” Gina guaranteed.

  “Relax, Sylvie,” she calmly instructed the bride. “If you keep this up, you’re going to worry yourself into a hospital bed before the wedding ever takes place.”

  “You’re right,” Sylvie agreed, blowing out a long breath. “You’re absolutely right.” She flashed a spasmodic smile that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “It’s just that—”

  “It’s just that nothing,” Gina informed her, putting an end to any further protest from the bride-to-be. “In the blink of an eye, this will all be over and you will have missed it because you wound up worrying yourself to a frazzle,” she told her client. “This is your wedding shower, Sylvie. Enjoy it.”

  Gina saw Sylvie’s face suddenly brightening.

  “There, that’s better,” she congratulated her client—and then she realized that the woman was looking at something over her shoulder.

  Turning around Gina could see Shane walking in through the front door. He was carrying a very large box embossed with his logo on it: Cakes Created by Cassidy.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Gina said, stepping away from Sylvie. “I think the pastries for your shower have arrived.”

  Weaving around the several guests who had arrived early and were in the process of mingling, Gina made her way over toward Shane.

  “Hi! You made it,” Gina declared, smiling up at his handsome, chiseled blond features and beautiful blue eyes.

  Shane turned toward her. He wasn’t surprised to see Gina there ahead of him. “Didn’t you think I would?” he questioned.

  “Of course I did,” she answered, scrambling to correct any misimpression she might have created. She didn’t want him thinking that she didn’t have any faith in his word. “It’s just that, well, things happen in my line of work. Sometimes the best laid plans, etcetera, etcetera...” Gina said, allowing her voice to trail off. Changing the subject, she said, “That smells wonderful.” Gina nodded at the box.

  In all honesty, she meant that he smelled wonderful, although she knew that she couldn’t say that. She’d caught a faint whiff of cologne when someone opened the door just now. Unless she had totally lost her mind, Shane had on the same cologne he used to wear when they were going together. The scent always made her feel nostalgic.

  Every so often, whenever she caught a hint of the cologne while passing someone in a restaurant or in a store, old memories would come flooding back to her. Memories accompanied by that longing she always experienced whenever she thought of Shane and all the things that might have been.

  If only...

  “Where do you want this?” Shane asked, nodding at the box he was holding.

  “I just got here myself,” she told him, looking around. “But my guess would be over there.” Gina pointed to a table that was set up against one of the family room walls.

  The next moment, the question of where to put the pastries was solved.

  “Hi, I’m Monica,” a tall, statuesque brunette said, introducing herself as she came over to join them, or rather Shane, Gina thought. “I’m Sylvie’s maid of honor in charge of this little shindig and yes, that’s where all t
he food is going.” Putting one hand on Shane’s wrist to hold him in place, Monica used her other hand to lift the lid on the box he had brought in. “That looks really tempting,” she told him with an appreciative sigh.

  Something told Gina that from the way Monica was looking at Shane, she wasn’t really talking about the pastries.

  This was no time to give in to jealousy, Gina silently upbraided herself. She was here in a professional capacity, despite the pretty invitation that had arrived in the mail. Besides, she didn’t own Shane. He was certainly free to pay attention and receive attention from anyone he chose.

  “There’re more boxes of pastries in the car,” Shane replied.

  “Oh, I can help you bring them in,” Monica quickly volunteered.

  If her smile were any wider, Gina thought, Shane was in serious danger of falling in.

  Shane didn’t seem to take note of the fact that the woman’s eyes were gleaming at him.

  “That’s all right,” he told Sylvie’s maid of honor. “Gina already volunteered to help me with them. Gina?” he asked as he turned toward the doorway and began heading back outside again.

  “I’m right here,” Gina assured him, picking up her pace in order to keep up with Shane.

  The man had eight inches on her and it was all leg, she thought, hurrying.

  “I hope you don’t mind helping out,” Shane said to her as soon as they had cleared the house. “It’s just that I think the bride’s maid of honor had more than just pastries on her mind and I don’t like things getting complicated.”

  Gina struggled not to laugh. Instead, she said playfully, “Always happy to help you beat them off with a stick.”

  Shane cleared his throat, although he didn’t appear embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to sound conceited.”

  “You didn’t,” she quickly assured him. “You can’t help it if women are attracted to your tall, blond good looks.” She wasn’t teasing him. She meant what she was saying.

  Shane’s laugh was self-deprecating. He shook his head. “I guess I deserve that.”

  “No,” Gina told him. But I do. I deserve you, she thought. I just have to get you to realize that.