Best Laid Wedding Plans

by Lynnette Austin

“Me callin’ you bitchy?”

  She nodded.

  “Why? You gonna tattle on me?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing.

  They rode in silence the rest of the way.

  When Ms. Hattie’s one-story house came into view, Cole leaned slightly toward Jenni Beth. “Before we pay this fine lady a visit, it’d probably be a good idea for you and me to kiss and make up.”

  He shot a sideways glance toward her.

  “Keep your eyes on the road, Cole.”

  “C’mon.” He tapped a finger on his cheek. “Right here. We’ll both feel a whole lot better.”

  She surprised them both by laughing. “You’re impossible.” But she leaned across the console and gave him a kiss. One meant for the cheek, till he turned into it, met her lips with his own quick one.

  With a laugh, Cole pulled the large Ford pickup into the overgrown dirt drive.

  His laugh died, though, as did hers when they took in the small house’s condition. The metal roof was brown with rust, the porch stairs listed to one side, and part of the stair railing was missing. Loose, ancient green Astroturf carpeted the top stair and formed a path to the front door. Both Annie and Darlene had been right. Ms. Hattie needed help. Badly.

  And the windows. Oh! The bottom half of one had been covered with plywood. Another had several cracked panels. One had been propped open with a mason jar. All of them looked ready to tumble out of their frames.

  “Why hasn’t someone from town stepped up to help?” Jenni Beth whispered. “It used to be neighbors helped neighbors.”

  “It used to be,” Cole said, “neighbors had jobs. Had the money to help. A lot of people in Misty Bottoms can’t take care of themselves anymore, let alone dip into their funds for someone else.”

  Unbuckling his seat belt, he turned to face her. “You sure you want to try to make a go of a new business here?”

  “No, I don’t want to try. I intend to do it.”

  “Damn stubborn fool,” he muttered.

  No matter that he was upset with her. Good manners had him jogging to her side of the truck, opening the door, and helping her out, lingering a little with her hand in his. When she pulled it free, he reached into the back and grabbed the grocery bags, more glad than ever that Jenni Beth had suggested they add a few extras.

  What they’d brought today would feed Hattie the better part of the week.

  The inside door stood open, so Jenni Beth knocked on the screen door. “Ms. Hattie? It’s Jenni Beth Beaumont and Cole Bryson. You home?”

  “Who?”

  The voice sounded older, shakier than Cole remembered. Regret hit, and though he tried to push it away, it refused to budge.

  Jenni Beth repeated herself.

  “Hold on to your horses. I’ll be right there.”

  The woman who came to the door shocked Cole. Stooped and frail, she barely resembled the spry, smiling woman who’d always had a kind word and a cookie for Beck, Wes, and him as kids. He’d spent a lot of time hanging around her and Dorothy’s little store.

  His throat clogged, and he didn’t have a clue what to say, to do. A quick glance at Jenni Beth showed she battled, too. Her face had gone pale and her smile faltered.

  What did he say? “Heard you’ve been down on your luck lately so we’re gonna step in and help”? Wouldn’t work. Ms. Hattie might have withered physically, but he’d bet his life’s savings her pride hadn’t gone anywhere.

  “Well, I declare,” Ms. Hattie said. “See you finally nabbed this fine-lookin’ boy, Jenni Beth. Good for you.”

  Cole choked on the laugh, managed to swallow it. Jenni Beth rounded on him, nonetheless. The sadness vanished from her eyes, replaced by a look that promised to send him into the fires of hell if he let go with a single chuckle.

  “Actually, Ms. Hattie, Cole’s been helping me at Magnolia House. He’s working for me.” She managed to combine smug with scathing. Again promised retribution if he dared deny her claim.

  “That so? Heard you’d torn into the place. Fixin’ it up so’s you can hold weddings there.”

  “That’s right. We’ve been working hard and decided we deserved an afternoon off.” She pointed at the bags Cole held. “It’s such a beautiful day, we thought a picnic would be nice. But we bought way too much. Since we were out this way, we thought we’d stop in and share. If you haven’t already had lunch.”

  Hattie’s ancient eyes studied Jenni Beth’s face, then turned on Cole. He fidgeted beneath the stare. Damn, she was good.

  “She ain’t tellin’ the truth, is she, boy? Somethin’ else goin’ on.”

  He tugged at the top button of his shirt. “We wanted to talk to you about somethin’, and that’s the honest truth.”

  “Just about to fry up some Spam. Want some?”

  “Why don’t you save that for later?” He lifted the bags. “We’ve got plenty here.”

  “Guess that’ll do. Want to eat inside or out back?”

  Cole rubbed his chin. “You got a table back there?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Let’s do outside.”

  Cole offered his arm, and she led them slowly around the side of the house, picking her way around overgrown roses and broken stepping-stones. While he settled her into a chair, Jenni Beth set the table with the paper plates and plastic silverware they’d picked up.

  Several chickens pecked and clucked around the yard. A rooster ran toward them, and Hattie flapped her apron at it. “Shoo! Go cause trouble elsewhere, Henry, or I swear I’ll get that pot boilin’ and toss you in, you old coot.”

  She turned to Cole. “Keep the hens for the eggs, but that old rooster’s the meanest thing on two legs.”

  Cole winked at her. “Ms. Hattie, you must have as hard a time chasin’ the beaus away as you do that old rooster. I swear, if I was here in town more often…”

  She swatted him. “Get out of here, you young fool. You got a girl like Jenni Beth here, and you want me to believe you’d waste your time on me? Always thought your mama’s son was smarter than that.”

  Reaching for her wizened hand, he kissed the back of it. “I’ve got a real sweet spot in my heart for you, ma’am, and that’s the truth.”

  He met Jenni Beth’s eyes. “Ditto for you,” he said.

  Blinking rapidly, Jenni Beth handed him a sandwich.

  “Thanks.”

  Slowly chewing the mac and cheese Jenni Beth dished up, Ms. Hattie seemed a million miles away. Then she turned those eyes on her. “Is your mama and daddy doin’ any better now some time’s past?”

  “I think so. Mama still has bad days.”

  “Hard thing, buryin’ your child. Ain’t no hurt worse.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “How about you? You holdin’ up okay? That the reason you came back home?”

  “Partially.”

  “Heard you got a lot ridin’ on this new venture of yours.”

  Jenni Beth’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “I get around,” Hattie said. “I might be old, but my mind’s still sharp. People talk, and I listen. You ain’t gonna lose that land your grandaddy left you, are you?”

  Jenni Beth gaped.

  “How did you—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “She’s gonna be fine, Ms. Hattie,” Cole said, even as he mentally cursed small-town gossip.

  “Why’d you drive all the way out here today in that fancy truck of yours, Cole Bryson? Not just to feed me, that’s for danged sure. Although I sure do appreciate it. Martha has a hand with this tuna salad.” She took a small bite of her sandwich, then waved a spoon at the mac and cheese. “And this? Delicious. Used to make my own, but I don’t do much cookin’ anymore. Not since Dorothy died. Don’t seem to be much use to go to all that trouble for one person.”


  Cole was struck by life’s injustices. A person spent her entire life working hard, totally engaged, yet ended up like this, alone. Jenni Beth sat across from him, the sun gilding her hair, and for an instant he wondered what it would be like to share his life with a woman he loved.

  No. He drew himself up short. Life was good exactly the way he was living it. He didn’t want to be responsible for someone else, for another person’s happiness. Beck’s question over dinner put that thought in his head.

  He realized Ms. Hattie was waiting for an answer to her question. Jenni Beth poked at her food, and he was pretty sure that, although this whole plan had been hers, she wanted him to do the explaining. To take the lead. Chicken, he thought. But one heck of a pretty chicken.

  He laid down his sandwich and wiped his fingers on a small, stiff paper napkin. “Here’s the deal, Ms. Hattie. Jenni Beth and I are up to our eyeballs in construction.” He hesitated, still debating how to best approach their plan without poking a hole in this wonderful woman’s pride. “We’re hopin’ that Jenni Beth’s gonna help the whole town by bringing in new business. We’ve been thinkin’, though. Why not start smaller? By helpin’ individuals. You came to mind.”

  A wary expression crossed the old woman’s face.

  “We thought we’d stop by today,” Jenni Beth said quickly. “See if there was anything we could do here as long as we already have our hands dirtied.”

  “You’re gonna do some work around here?” Ms. Hattie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. If that’s okay with you, that is.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because we want to.”

  “I can’t pay you.”

  “No, ma’am,” Cole said. “We don’t expect you to. Consider this payback for all those cookies you fed us boys as kids.”

  “Hmph. That weren’t nothin’.” She looked around at her tired old house. “This place looks as bad as I do.”

  “All right if Beck Elliot comes out tomorrow to take some measurements? We thought we’d replace a few of your windows, fix those steps.” Cole watched her, noticed her eyes go a little misty.

  “Honey, I should say no, but truth is I’d surely appreciate it.”

  “Then consider it done.”

  They stayed awhile longer and chatted. Jenni Beth put away the extra groceries, waving away Ms. Hattie’s suggestion they take them home with them.

  After hugs all around, Cole helped Jenni Beth into his truck and got behind the wheel. With a last wave, he pulled out of her drive and headed back to town.

  He couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this good.

  “I have another call to make.” Jenni Beth pulled out her cell, made a quick call to her mother, jotted down a number, and dialed it. Inside five minutes, she’d arranged for a local church that delivered meals twice a week to add Ms. Hattie to their route.

  She powered off her phone and leaned back. “Done.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re an angel.”

  Chapter 16

  When he dropped her off at her car, he said, “Wait. Before you go, I’ve got something to show you.”

  Her brow furrowed in question.

  “You said you wanted a small chandelier for your carriage house, right?”

  “I do.” Her voice held a note of wistfulness.

  “Okay, now, you’re under no obligation, but I found something I think will work. If you don’t like it, I’ll haul it back to Savannah with me. No problem.”

  “You found a light?”

  “I found the perfect light. In my humble opinion, of course.” He opened his truck’s rear door and took out a box. “It’s in pieces right now, but you should be able to imagine what it’ll look like assembled.”

  Holding the box in the crook of one arm, he said, “And before you start yammerin’ about the price, I bought this from a guy closin’ down his shop. Got a whole truckload of stuff for a song. If you like the chandelier, it’s my housewarmin’ or grand-opening or whatever gift to you.”

  “Cole—”

  “Huh-uh. Don’t even start. Take a peek at the thing first. You might hate it. If that’s the case, all the arguing would be moot.”

  Setting the box on the hood of his truck, he said, “It’s pretty girlie.” He shot her a glance. “Guess that’s why I thought of you when I uncovered it.”

  Emotion flashed through her eyes, across her face. Surprise, happiness, uneasiness? He could usually read her, but not this time. Flipping open the box, he drew out the cream-colored base.

  Jenni Beth gasped. “Oh my gosh. Cole.” She ran a finger, its nail painted a soft rose color, over a small cherub, his arms and legs wrapped around the center post. Ornate, but understated, five arms flared from the base. “Crystals?”

  “A ton of them. Enough to drive any woman over the edge.” He reached into the box and unwrapped a handful of them. Pulling out another bubble-wrapped packet, he showed her a crystal bead chain.

  “This is beyond perfect, Cole. Since it’s a little smaller, it won’t overwhelm the room. But it’s soft and romantic, kind of shabby chic.” Holding up one of the crystals, she made a sound of pure happiness when the sun reflected off it, spewing prisms of color across her fingers.

  “Wait.” Cole held up a hand and leaned into his truck. “There’s more.”

  “More?”

  “Yep.” He pulled out another, larger bubble-wrapped package. Stripping the tape from it, he uncovered an ornate, pale pink ceiling medallion. “You can paint it easily enough if you don’t like the color, but I thought it would look good with the light.”

  When she said nothing, he turned to look at her.

  “Jenni Beth?”

  Catching him off guard, she squealed and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him off his feet. “I take back every mean thing I’ve ever said about you.”

  When she kissed his cheek, he again made a minor adjustment in position, and took her mouth with his. He expected her to pull away; she didn’t. Instead she met his kiss, took it deeper. Her tongue met his tentatively, and he had to swallow the groan that bubbled up.

  Suddenly, as if remembering herself, she put her hands on his shoulders and stepped away.

  He wanted to snatch her back into his arms and kiss her senseless. She left him aching, wanting so much more.

  Not here, not now. But he prayed that one day she’d give herself to him again. He vowed he wouldn’t be as careless with the gift the second time around.

  When she lowered her head, he crooked a finger beneath her chin and raised her face till her eyes met his.

  That tongue peeked out again, and he wanted to devour her. Instead, he said, “Thank you.”

  “I—I didn’t mean—”

  “Let’s leave it at that,” he said easily. “No sense overanalyzing a simple kiss.”

  He curbed the urge to check his nose, see if it had grown with that lie. Simple? he thought. Whew, nothing about that kiss came even close to simple. He’d gone hard as a fifteen-year-old boy ogling his first Playboy centerfold.

  “I’m gonna assume you like the light.”

  She fingered the chubby, rosy-faced angel again. “I absolutely adore it, and I can’t wait to see it in the room.”

  As she oohed and ahhed over it some more, he tipped his head, hating to spoil the moment, but unable to stop himself. “A wise man would hold his tongue right about now, and I sure don’t mean to get your dander up again, but where do you think this fixture came from, Jenni Beth?”

  “What?” She frowned at him impatiently. “Savannah, of course. You said so.”

  “No, I mean where did the little antiques store find it?” he pressed.

  “How would I know?”

  “You should, if you think about it.”

  “What is this? A pop quiz, Professor Bryson?”

 
“That and the medallion both came from an old house scheduled for demolition. A house that had been let go too long. One that couldn’t be saved.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know why the store had it?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No, but I’m fairly certain you’re going to change that in the next few seconds.”

  “You’re right. I am. Bruce had it in his shop because a salvager cared enough to rescue it. Rather than this cute little guy being smashed to smithereens by the wrecking ball, you have him now for your office. A piece of history has been preserved.”

  She stood speechless for all of thirty seconds. Then, looking sad, she asked, “Is that why you brought it to me? To prove your point?”

  “Nope.” He took the crystal she still held and rewrapped it. “I gave it to you because it is pefect for Magnolia House. It belongs in your new office where people can enjoy it instead of hidden in the dusty back room of an antiques store or a salvage yard. I was simply explaining that we architectural salvagers might not be quite the villains you paint us.”

  “Point taken.” Her chin jutted up. “But Magnolia House isn’t ready for that wrecking ball yet.”

  “I tend to agree.”

  Boy, she was a tough nut. She refused to give an inch more than necessary. He placed both the medallion and the light fixture back inside the truck and covered them carefully with an old blanket.

  “The carriage house isn’t ready to hang those yet.”

  “It will be soon.”

  She made a face. “I want to see how they look now.”

  “Quit sulking, Ms. Impatient. No pouting allowed, or I’ll take them back.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  Her gaze flitted from him to the backseat of his pickup, but she held her tongue.

  “What’s on your agenda for the rest of today?” he asked.

  Caught off guard by the quick change of subject, she raised her shoulders, then dropped them. “I’m sanding kitchen cabinets. Beck’s guys will give them a fresh coat of paint, and they’ll look like new.” She bounced her car keys in the palm of her hand. “What about you?”

  “I believe I’m sanding kitchen cabinets.”