Best Laid Wedding Plans

by Lynnette Austin

“It always will.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, baby. I’d give anything to change what happened, but I can’t.”

  “I know.” She tapped the side of her head. “Up here, I understand. But I keep thinking that if I just wish hard enough, I can undo it. Bring Wes back. Make things like they used to be.”

  Shakily, she got to her feet. “It’s late. Thank you so much for all your work in the garden.” With that, she handed him his blanket and disappeared inside the house.

  He stood alone on the porch and swore. Damned if he’d leave yet. He still had roses to plant.

  With every shovelful of red Georgia clay, he cursed the fates. Wanted to throw his head back and howl at the moon like the wounded animal he was. Every time he thought he and Jenni Beth had a fighting chance, every time they took a step forward, fate knocked them back two.

  He was tired of it.

  After he’d finished planting the bushes he’d bought, he toted all the injured ones, the ones they’d stored in buckets of water, to her new office. There, beside the carriage house, he set out a little ICU nursery. That way, if any survived, Jenni Beth could still enjoy her grandmother’s roses. Maybe she’d think of him when their rich scent drifted through an open window.

  Finished, Cole turned and walked away, stiff-backed. Gone was his easy saunter. When he reached his truck, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared into the night sky, at the stars that not long ago had seemed so magical.

  The magic had died.

  Chapter 28

  In an ugly mood, Jenni Beth smashed the stapler with the palm of her hand, once, twice, three times. She’d been so unfair last night. Cole had worked that gorgeous butt of his off, had spent his entire day and half the night trying to right her world, and she’d bitten his head off, piled undeserved blame on him, and sent him home.

  Except he hadn’t gone home. Instead, while she’d gone to bed, he’d gone back to her garden. Dug more holes. Planted more roses.

  If he never spoke to her again, she couldn’t fault him.

  Her office phone rang and her pulse sped up. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was willing to give her once more chance.

  “Magnolia Brides.”

  “Hey, Jenni Beth, it’s Stella. I have a question. Actually it’s more of a request, but you can say no if you want to.”

  Uh-oh. The day before the wedding and the bride wanted to make changes? After the scramble to restore the garden, then browbeating Kitty to make another cake and sending her parents off today to pick up the replacement topper, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to hear this.

  But she put a smile on her face and in her voice. “What would you like, Stella?”

  “The wedding’s small. And that’s okay,” she added quickly. “It’s just that, well, we’ve been thinking. We’re so happy, and we’d like to share our happiness with others. Years from now when I show our kids their parents’ wedding pictures, it might be nice to have more people in them, you know? Bear doesn’t have any family, and mine lives in Canada. My folks don’t want to travel this far, and my sister’s eight months pregnant.”

  “Um, well, a lot of people choose small weddings.”

  Jenni Beth’s mind kicked into emergency mode. How many more did Stella intend to invite? Could she round up enough chairs? How would she rearrange things? What about the cake? It would be big enough for another ten or twelve max.

  “Like we did. I know,” Stella answered, pulling Jenni Beth back to the conversation. “Bear and I understand what we’re asking is a huge imposition, but we were wondering if maybe your family and a few of your friends might share our day with us. It would be, I don’t know, more festive.”

  “My family?” she echoed, caught totally off guard. “I’m sure my parents would love to attend. This is a big moment for them, too. Charlotte, our housekeeper, would enjoy it, although I’ve got to warn you, she’ll cry.”

  Stella let out a little yip of happiness. “I’d love that. Anybody else? If you’d all like to go to Duffy’s with us after we’re hitched, we’d love to have you as our guests.”

  “Let me see what I can do, Stella. I promise to get back to you today.” She paused a beat. “Tomorrow’s your big day. Excited?”

  “Excited, nervous, thrilled, anxious. You name it. Bear? He’s just happy.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  When Jenni Beth hung up, she immediately started making a list. Besides her parents and Charlotte, she jotted down a few more prospective guests—Cole and his parents, his sister Laurie and her fiancé. If any of them were still talking to her.

  Outside her window, Beck strolled by, whistling some silly ditty. Aha! She hurried to the front door.

  “Beck?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have a favor to ask. Another favor.”

  He grimaced. “Why do I have the feelin’ I’m not gonna like this one?”

  “Actually, I think you will. Stella called a little bit ago.”

  “Our first bride.” He sounded as proud as she felt.

  And why wouldn’t he? This had been a group project all the way.

  She smiled. “Yes. She’d like me to invite a few more guests to her wedding.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s for me to decide.”

  His brow creased in a frown. “Why would she want to do that?”

  “So when she and Bear look back on the day, it will feel, I don’t know, fuller, I guess.”

  “Even if the guests are strangers?”

  She shrugged. “The bride’s always right, and neither she nor Bear have family who can make it.”

  He squinted at her, propping his ladder against the side of the house. “So what’s the favor?”

  “Would you be willing to come?”

  “To the wedding?”

  “No, to Saturday night’s dirt track race. Yes, to the wedding, nitwit.”

  “Nitwit? Name calling’s not gonna get you anywhere.” He laughed and ruffled her hair. “Yeah, I can come. Do I have to dress up?” He grimaced.

  “Nope. They want to keep it casual.” She toyed with her bracelet. “Sure wish Tansy was coming.”

  Beck tensed. “Why would you want that?”

  “Support. Help. Most of all? Because she’s my best friend.”

  “You can do better than her,” he growled.

  She sighed. He’d never gotten over Tansy’s desertion. She understood that. Still, he needed to move on with his life.

  Studying him carefully, she said, “I think I’ll call her again. Try one more time to get her here.”

  “Don’t bother to tell her I said hello, because I didn’t.”

  With that, he grabbed the ladder and strode around to the back of the house.

  Whew! A lot of emotion boiling inside that calm exterior.

  Back in the main house, standing smack-dab in the center of the bridal suite, Jenni Beth turned in a circle, her grin growing. It had turned out so much better than she’d expected. Beck and his guys had quit working on the room in order to finish up the odds and ends outside for tomorrow’s wedding. The bath here wasn’t quite finished, so Magnolia House’s first bride would still need to use the carriage house, but that was okay.

  That’s what they’d planned.

  Something was missing, though, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Another visual sweep and she knew. Stepping into the room, the bride and her party would have a lace-edged window shot of the live-oak-lined drive. A newly upholstered fainting couch was tucked into the corner and a beautiful oversized fern sat on a mahogany table beside it.

  But the wall above needed something. Her mind skipped through the rooms, envisioning what hung on the walls in each, hoping she’d catch on exactly the right photo, the perfect artifact. But she drew a blank.


  Then it hit her. With a laugh, she raced to her attic room. The trunk Cole and Beck had struggled with held the answer.

  Digging inside, she unearthed an old hatbox that had been her grandmother’s. Gently prying off the top, she hit pay dirt. Vintage valentines. The romantic ones from a time when quality trumped quantity. She lost herself in them. In the innocence of bygone years. In the scrawled messages on the backs.

  She stood, sighed, and stretched. She needed a frame. Hurrying to the basement, she pulled the string that turned on the overhead light and mentally readied herself for an onslaught of spiders. When she saw none, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Dust covered everything and, poking in corners, she sneezed. Without thinking, she rubbed a hand over her face.

  “Oh boy!” There, behind a discarded iron headboard, she spotted exactly what she needed. A stack of old frames. She flipped through them and found an oval one, painted white and gold. Just the thing.

  Treasure in hand, she bolted into the first-floor hall and straight into Cole.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her. One finger flicked out, traced down her nose. “You’re covered in dust, sugar, and I have to say that, on you, it’s a cute look.”

  She rolled her eyes, then sobered. “Cole, I apologize for last night. I was wrong and spiteful. I don’t blame you. For anything.”

  Instead of shrugging it off, he surprised her by saying, “Understood, but you hurt me last night.”

  A lump the size of a Georgia peach stuck in her throat. “Forgive me?”

  “Always.”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Probably not.” He chuckled. “Just try to get rid of me, though.” He nodded toward the frame. “What are you doin’?”

  “I needed something to hang in the bridal suite and remembered the box of beautiful old Valentines Grandma had stored in her trunk.”

  “Valentines? That’s what was in there? I’d have sworn it held enough stone to build half the Great Wall of China.”

  “Funny.” She made a face at him. “Anyway, I’ll make a collage with them in this frame. Romantic. A touch of the past. A reminder of why the brides are here, what the day is about. Love.”

  He shifted on his feet. “Yep, and it’s unique.”

  “Yes, that too.”

  “Your eyes are shinin’, Jenni Beth, like stars in the nighttime sky.”

  “Cole—”

  “And I’m standin’ here fightin’ to keep my hands off you. Think I’ll throw the fight. What do you say?”

  In answer, she moved to him, offering up a prayer of thanks as his lips covered hers, as his hands ran up and down her back.

  His lips slid lower.

  “If this is losin’,” he murmured against her neck, “bring it on.”

  Charlotte cleared her throat behind them. “You kids might want to go somewhere a little more private,” she said dryly. “Your daddy sees you doin’ that, he’s gonna have a fit.”

  “He’s in Savannah.”

  “Don’t make no difference.”

  “I think Daddy suspects I’ve done this a few times.”

  “Suspectin’ and seein’ is two different things. Now go on. Both of you. I have to dust in here. We’ve got people comin’ tomorrow.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cole picked up the frame. “Let’s take this out on the porch and clean it up.”

  He held the door for her.

  As she cleaned the grime from the wood, Jenni Beth asked, “Did you have some reason for coming by? Other than wanting to hear my apology?”

  “I sure did.” His finger traced along the ridge of her spine. “Jimmy Don just called.”

  Her breath caught. “What did he say?”

  “He’s arrestin’ Richard. Thought you might want to be there.”

  “Honestly?”

  He nodded. “Jimmy Don picked up Jeremy late last night. The kid tried to be tough, insisted he knew nothin’. His story was full of holes, and his arms are a mess from his night’s work in your garden. Jimmy Don figured an overnighter in a cell might loosen the kid’s tongue. It worked. By the time the sun was comin’ up, Jeremy spilled his guts. Arlene was there and helped her son work out a deal. He’ll trade juvie time for community service in exchange for testifyin’. Hope that’s enough for you.”

  “It is. He’s a young, mixed-up kid, and Richard took advantage of that. Hopefully, Jeremy and his mom can turn things around.”

  “All the paperwork’s taken care of and Thorndike’s at work.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Jenni Beth headed to the front door. “Charlotte? I’m going into town.”

  “I heard.” The housekeeper stood just inside the kitchen door. “’Bout time Thorndike got his comeuppance. Always did think he was better’n everybody else.”

  Cole wasted no time. Before Jenni Beth had time to assimilate everything, he swerved into a parking space in front of the bank.

  “We’re here, Jimmy Don,” Cole said into his cell. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and looked at her. “Now we wait.”

  In seconds, they heard the siren. Cole shook his head. “I swear he’d quit if the town council took that thing away from him.”

  Rather than park at the curb, the sheriff stopped in the middle of the street, lights flashing, siren wailing.

  Cole sighed.

  “Hey,” Jenni Beth said. “This is probably the apex of his career. Not much in Misty Bottoms will beat this.”

  “True.”

  Hand on his gun, Jimmy Don nodded at them, then strode into the bank. Quick as two cats, Cole and Jenni Beth were out of the truck and sailing in behind him. Walter, the bank guard, ran a hand through his white hair, listening to Jimmy Don.

  “I’m here on official business, Walter. I need you to stay out of it, no matter what Thorndike says.”

  “Am I gonna lose my job?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Good. Then do what you need to do.” He swept a hand, motioning them in.

  Wallet stood at one of the teller’s cages. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Nothin’ that concerns you,” Jimmy Don assured him.

  “Not gonna lose the money in my savings, am I?”

  “No, sir, you won’t.”

  “Okay then.”

  Both tellers, along with Gloria, watched wide-eyed. By now, Richard had come to the door of his office.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “And why on earth is that siren wailing?”

  “Richard Thorndike,” Jimmy Don said, his chest puffed up like a robin redbreast, “you have the right to remain silent. Anything—”

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Richard yanked his arm free when Jimmy Don reached for it.

  “Oh, now that’s not gonna do.” The sheriff grabbed him again, this time snatching his cuffs and slapping them on the banker’s wrists.

  “You can’t do this!”

  Jimmy Don tapped the badge on his shirt. “This right here says I can.” Holding a struggling Thorndike, he calmly finished his recitation of the Miranda warning.

  Standing just inside the door, Cole leaned toward Jenni Beth. “Remind me never to get Jimmy Don mad at me. He’s enjoyin’ this.”

  “Yes, he is,” she said. “So am I.”

  It did her heart good to see Thorndike brought down for what he’d done to her, to Jeremy. She wouldn’t be surprised to find out there’d been other abuses of his power. How many Misty Bottomers had been the victims of his shenanigans?

  “Do you know who you’re messing with, Jimmy Don?”

  “I believe I do.”

  “No, I don’t think you do,” he snapped. “You’re going to be sorry you pulled this little stunt.”

  Jimmy Don held tight to him, despite his kickin
g and screaming. “You threatenin’ a sworn officer of the law, Richard? I’ll make note of that in my report.”

  Richard’s eyes landed on Jenni Beth, and he actually snarled. “I should have known you were behind this.”

  She felt cold. Goose bumps raced over her arms. No one had ever looked at her with such hatred. When Cole put an arm around her waist, she drew strength from it.

  “You did this to yourself, Richard.” She met his eyes. “We all make choices, and we all have to live with the consequences, good or bad.”

  “Miss Goody Two-shoes, aren’t you?” He leered at her. “You’d better watch your back.”

  “Another threat, Thorndike?” Jimmy Don asked. “Guess you’re not quite as sharp as I thought you were.”

  Sawyer Liddell, the only reporter for The Bottoms’ Daily, rushed through the door as Jimmy Don herded Richard through it. A camera flashed, and Richard shouted obscenities.

  Wallet, moving faster than Jenni Beth had ever seen, managed to position himself in time to be included in the next few pictures. Walter did, too, she noticed. Their sixty seconds of fame.

  Gloria sat motionless at her desk, white as chalk.

  Jenni Beth walked over to her once Richard was gone. “You okay?”

  The assistant nodded. “The bank’s books should be examined. I think something funny’s been going on, but I can’t prove it.”

  “Thanks, Gloria. I’ll pass that on to Jimmy Don.”

  On the way back to Magnolia House, both were quiet.

  “I feel sick to my stomach, Cole.”

  He glanced at her. She’d gone pale. “Want me to pull over?”

  She shook her head and rolled down her window. “This kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen in Misty Bottoms. Did you see the way Richard looked at me? Like he wanted me dead.”

  “He can’t hurt you, sugar.”

  “I know. Still—”

  “He’s a pompous bully. He played with people’s lives.” He hesitated. “One more thing you should know.”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “I went by Pia’s shop on my way to your place this mornin’.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a text message from her.”

  When she simply stared at him, he said, “Bella Fiore is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. I think she’s involved in all this clear up to her eyeballs.”