“What?” she hissed under her breath, not wanting the rest of the inhabitants of the car to overhear them; namely her diary-reading younger sister.
“You don’t want to be embarrassed because you know Courtney Willis is going to be in the front row of the church, watching you marry her old boyfriend.”
“The front row is reserved for family!” Allie retorted.
“Okay, that was rhetorical. You know what I mean.”
Sadly, Allie did. “In what universe is it fair that Sean’s old girlfriend gets paired up with my fiancé on this new high profile case?”
“In the universe of Ally Strickland,” Marla said prophetically.
“That is not funny.”
“I’m trying to get you to crack a smile. You should be glowing. You’re marrying the man of your dreams—not Courtney’s dreams. She lost him. Bask in the triumph. Hold your head high.”
“Why did Sean invite her in the first place? We had two arguments about Courtney over the past month.”
“Listen, Allie, I stamped all those envelopes myself. Sean sent out invitations to everyone at the firm. He couldn’t leave her out, especially when they’re paired up on this case.”
“Why did she RSVP? Didn’t she realize it was a pity invitation—not an event she was expected to actually attend?”
Before Marla could answer, Jake turned off the ignition and jumped out to open the doors all around. “We’re here!”
Allie’s stomach lurched. The journey to the beautiful little church was over. The moment had arrived.
In forty-five minutes she would be Mrs. Sean Carter.
Chapter 2
Marla and Erin assisted Allie along the brick walkway to the dressing rooms behind the chapel. Thirty minutes until show time and guests were beginning to arrive.
The girls sneaked past the open doors to the sanctuary, and Allie wobbled along the uneven stones in her high heels, holding up her billowing wedding dress in both fists. She just hoped she wouldn’t have blisters for the bride and groom’s first dance.
Ducking under the breezeway and then into the hallway, Allie knew it was bad luck for a bride to be seen until she appeared at the back of the church aisle on the arm of her father, but she was fairly certain that “rule” only applied to the groom.
Her father had gone on ahead and should already be here, organizing the minister and Sean’s best man.
“Put your shoes back on,” Allie ordered her sister. “You’re my bridesmaid.”
Marla was her maid of honor, of course. The wedding consisted of only two attendants apiece. Her family couldn’t afford a bigger wedding party, even though Allie was helping with the expense. A fry shack in a town the size of a speck didn’t bring in anywhere close to a six figure income for her parents.
A moment of nostalgia swept over Allie. Heartland Cove was too far away for most of her childhood friends to attend. No neighbors or teachers from school. Her grandparents lived on Prince Edward Island and were too elderly to make the long trip. Besides, she’d been away at university and grad school for six years—and now two years of working. Most old friends from home only saw her at Christmas time anymore.
“Maybe we should have honeymooned on PE Island,” Allie mused, touching up her makeup in the dressing room mirror.
“Oh, yeah, that would be romantic. You could visit your grandparents,” Marla said wryly.
They giggled, their eyes catching in the mirror.
Marla whispered, “I hope you getting married doesn’t change things.”
“Marriage always changes things,” Mrs. Strickland intoned.
Allie cleared her throat and tried not to roll her eyes.
“Mothers,” Marla whispered. “Pay no attention. Enjoy every moment of your day, Allie. It’ll never come again. Have happy memories—and I’ll take a thousand pictures just to make sure you never forget.”
“I have the best wedding photographer in the country,” Allie told her, watching Marla fuss with the huge camera around her neck. She was playing with the buttons and stops, shoving a hand inside her enormous handbag to check for the extra camera lenses she always carried.
Marla lifted an eyebrow in her signature gesture, whether it was amusement, mockery, or sarcasm. “Honey, you’re my only gig this year so far, but you know I’m grateful.”
Allie looked at her sympathetically. “One day you’ll be a world-renowned photographer.”
“From your lips to God’s ears, as they say.” Marla brushed it off, ever flippant, but Allie knew she hated having to take a part-time waitressing job to make ends meet. “Okay, girl. Let’s go have ourselves the best wedding of the century.”
Mrs. Strickland kissed her daughter’s cheek. “That is for just in case I don’t get a chance later. I hope you’ll be very happy sweetheart. Sean is a nice young man. Just don’t forget to bring home some grandbabies once in awhile.”
Allie laughed. “Mother! I’m barely twenty-six, there’s plenty of time.”
Even as she said the words, Allie realized that she and Sean had never talked about having a family. Careers, deadlines, moving, and planning the wedding had taken over their lives.
Allie swallowed. “Of course, we’ll have children sometime,” she added when her mother’s face turned crestfallen. “Actually,” she added, trying to brush it off. “I don’t even know if Sean likes children.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Mrs. Strickland was horrified.
“Mother,” Allie added hastily. “Of course he likes children. He’s just—um—never been around children. He only has one brother and no cousins.”
Marla jumped in to snap a series of photos of the final moments of Allie’s single status, including the glow of her eyes in the mirror of the room as she fixed her lipstick for the final time. “Erin already left to walk down the aisle and throw rose petals at the guests—”
Allie gave her a horrified look.
“I’m kidding! You’re so serious today, Allie!”
Allie lifted her shoulders weakly. “Knowing my baby sister, I wouldn’t put it past her to stick rose petals in people’s noses. Anything to get attention.”
“Okay, darlin’,” Marla went on, brushing at a stray hair on Allie’s fancy upsweep. “Now it’s my turn to go walk the walk with the hunk of a best man.”
She was referring to Sean’s older brother, Derrick, who was a devastatingly delicious model. Except the devastatingly delicious model was gay. Lately, the man had been growing a rugged beard for a photo shoot for an outdoor adventure catalog. Marla was a sucker for a man in a rough beard and flannel wardrobe.
Marla turned to Mrs. Strickland. “Go ahead inside and get yourself the best front row seat, Mom.”
“Yes, Marla,” Allie’s mother said obediently. Holding her daughter by the shoulders, she gave Allie a pensive, emotional stare, and then departed the dressing room in a bit of a daze.
But not before Marla took a few more pictures of the mother and daughter together for the forthcoming wedding album.
“Be sure you get pictures of the chapel and guests before the ceremony begins,” Allie reminded her. “I want pictures of every single moment today. I’m too nervous to focus and I won’t remember a thing without your photos.”
“Yep, taking pictures—I’m up to 200 already since before we even left your apartment.” Marla gave Allie a look. “You know, girl, you should think before you speak. Especially when it comes to motherhood—and grandmother-hood.”
“My mother is insidious about pushing my buttons. Grandchildren! I haven’t even been on my honeymoon yet!”
“See you in the chapel.” Marla leaned down to smooth a finger over the worried wrinkles on Allie’s face. Finally, she spread out the pearl embroidered train so Allie merely had to walk straight forward through the double doors into the foyer adjoining the main chapel. “Smile. You look stunning—and you get to see Sean in a few minutes. That should perk you up.”
She took a few final pictures of the jittery
bride attempting a look of serenity and then departed, her bridesmaid gown shushing across the glazed tile.
The room went quiet and Allie carefully bent over to catch her reflection in the mirror and practice her smile. She was happy. Deliriously happy. Just nervous.
From outside the door, she could hear the organ softly playing. The Wedding March was about to start.
Allie checked her phone one last time. No messages. Sean was probably waiting for her in the chapel—phone turned off—the entire audience wondering where the bride was, the minister impatiently tapping his toe.
Her heart pounded against her ribs as she left the dressing room and made her way down the hallway. The smell of her bouquet of lilies and roses was heady and romantic.
Everything was perfect.
When she reached the open doors to the chapel, Allie could see guests sitting inside the polished pews, shuffling and whispering.
A knot formed in her throat when her father spotted her and came forward. He was tall with distinguished gray sideburns, wearing a three-piece gray suit. He looked neither happy nor sad and Allie frowned, raising her hands in a question.
She could see heads turning to stare as Spencer Strickland moved down the aisle toward his daughter and Allie ducked out of sight back into the hall.
“Am I that late?” Allie said, trying to joke when her father stood in front of her. “You know promptness has never been my forte—”
Her father gave her a gentle smile and Allie craned her neck to see inside the chapel. All she saw were dressed up guests, and a spectacular sunset tinting the stained glass and sending shards of light across the wooden floors.
Her throat closed when she spotted Erin and Marla sitting in a pew, heads bent together. They weren’t walking down the aisle or standing at the dais waiting for the bride to take her place beside the groom.
“What’s going on?” Allie asked her father. “Are we waiting for the minister, or Sean in the dressing room? What time is it?”
“You’re only ten minutes late, sweetheart, but—” he stopped, his Adam’s apple moving up and down as he swallowed.
“But what?” All at once, her brother Jake turned to glance back at her. The lines between his eyes deepened and his expression was not happy.
Allie’s gut dropped. Her father reached out a hand to steady her even as Allie moved to the doorway, fully exposing herself to the guests. A few rose petals littered the gleaming parquet floor.
All she could see was her mother’s rigid back in the front pew, and the minister backing away from the dais to sit down on the seat behind the pulpit.
Sean Carter was nowhere to be seen.
“What’s happened?” she cried. “What’s happened to Sean? Is he okay? Tell me he’s okay, Daddy! Has there been an accident?” The questions came fast and furious and her voice echoed in the high-ceilinged chapel.
She became aware of her cell phone, heavy in the hidden pocket of her gown. Allie yanked it out, willing it to ring. But instead of a missed call, there was a text message.
It said three words. I’m sorry, babe.
“Sean is fine,” her father said, wrapping an arm around her. “The case he’s on—”
“That damn case!” Allie blurted out. The chapel went silent at her sudden curse word. She wobbled on her feet, and then lurched back down the hallway, unable to face the staring guests.
Her father led her to a bench and pulled her to him. She didn’t care that her makeup was getting ruined, that her veil had pulled away from the pins and now sat askew on her head. She only knew that her face was pressed into her father’s white shirt and she was staining it with sudden tears.
“Tell me, Daddy. What happened? You promise he’s okay?”
Her father nodded. “He’s perfectly healthy, if that’s what you’re worried about, but the case took a turn for the worse. His client skipped out on the arraignment and nobody can find him. The district attorney said they had to find him today or he’d throw the book at the guy—and the law firm.”
“Sean wasn’t supposed to be working today! Mr. Thompson was taking over the court appearance.”
“Thompson and Sean are actually together and tracking down the client.” His hand was now patting her back. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”
Allie lurched out of her father’s arms. “It’s our wedding. Somebody else could be out there tracking down their thug. Harold Thompson could have taken one of the guys who delivers the subpoenas. They’re used to barging their way into places and finding people who don’t want to be found. This is insane, Daddy.”
A pained look crossed her father’s face. He knew she was right, but had no way to soften the blow.
“Sean always lets Thompson run his life.”
Mr. Strickland pursed his lips. “Sean wants to make partner one day. Thompson says jump, and Sean says how high. That’s the life you’re going to have for a few years, honey. It’s part of the game.”
“I did an internship at a law firm, Daddy. I know too well, but that doesn’t make it right.” Allie began to pace, then kicked off her high heels, sending them skittering across the floor.
She was beginning to sweat under her arms. Dozens of eyes tried to catch sight of the bride in the foyer, every guest attempting to eavesdrop. Titters of conversation filled the chapel.
Sean was embarrassing her. Humiliating her!
“Sean had a choice,” she said, trying not to blubber like an idiot. “Even well-respected law firms let their lawyers off on their wedding day. When will he get here?”
“Nobody knows where they are.”
“He left me at the altar,” Allie whispered. “How could he do this?” They had talked about this very scenario and Sean had promised it wouldn’t happen. He’d promised that their wedding day—that she—was the most important thing to him.
Mrs. Strickland appeared at the foyer door, followed by Jake and Marla and Erin. Their faces were a combination of shock and anger. Jake looked ready to punch a wall or throw a few altar candles.
Allie’s eyes caught the minister, whispering to the organist. The wedding prelude abruptly stopped and the elderly woman blinked and gazed about the room.
Conversations inside the chapel grew louder.
Mrs. Strickland twisted her fingers, beads of perspiration breaking out over her forehead. “Spencer, we need to do something!” she hissed at her husband.
“Do what, my dear? Allie, do you want me to whisk you away?” he asked gently.
Tears pricked at her eyes at his solicitation for her feelings. He knew she wouldn’t want to face anyone. But it was already too late. The guests were rising from their pews. Walking through the doors and into the garland-decorated foyer.
Stiffly, Allie sat in an upright chair, enduring the awkward embraces, the whispers of empathy. Their faces were a blur and she felt cold as ice.
Later, she wouldn’t even be able to recall who had been in attendance, except for her best friend Marla standing by her side like a fierce protective lioness to take down anyone who said something snide and ugly.
One by one, the guests in their chiffon dresses and suits and ties filed out of the church. All but one young woman.
Courtney Willis. Her previous rival for Sean’s affection. Of course, she’d come to witness Allie’s moment of shame.
Courtney’s face was unreadable, but she had the good sense not to come over and give an air kiss, or pretend any sort of friendship or sincerity.
The air crackled with unspoken words, and then Courtney clicked her heels down the parquet corridor toward the parking lot, but not before pausing to sign the guest book with a flourish of the feather-plumed pen.
Allie had a sudden vision of driving the pen straight into the woman’s jugular. “Does she know where Sean is? Is that where she’s headed—to help him look for their client?”
Marla gripped her shoulder. “Don’t start making things up to torture yourself.”
Like an automaton, Allie brushed a finger acros
s the screen of her mobile phone. A text had just appeared. Her heart thumped with both hope and dread. It was from Sean. Thirteen words.
Sorry about craziness. We’ll get married another day. Not end of world. Promise.
Allie handed the phone to Marla who read it and cursed. “That son of a—” Before her friend could finish, Allie tugged the phone out of Marla’s curled fingers and threw it across the foyer where it smashed against the wall and broke into a dozen pieces.
Chapter 3
Heartland Cove County had never looked prettier.
And Allie Strickland never thought she’d ever have that opinion. When she was growing up here, it was a tiny pinprick on the map. Less than a thousand in population, Heartland Cove did make the maps despite its miniscule size. Every map. Too many maps.
Because her hometown boasted the longest covered bridge anywhere and ever since she’d become aware of the world, Allie had lived with busloads of tourists tramping all over her hometown.
While in her teens, Heartland bored her out of her mind. Not a blasted thing to do. No shopping malls, no movie theatre, and a tiny K-12 school. Fishing and lobster trapping in the harbor—and the bridge—was the sum total of life in this backwater town.
The bridge. That was the topic of almost every conversation. Because every family was affected by the bridge and the people who came to gawk at it.
Allie knew tourists well. She slung fries at them for hours on end all through high school in the Strickland Family Fry Truck. Every year the busses became more packed with tourists—helping save her family’s business, despite the annoyance they could be at times.
Still, she’d never been so glad to head to Toronto for her university studies.
After several years away, except for Christmas vacations, Allie drove down narrow Main Street in slow motion, peering at each intersection into tiny neighbourhoods of Victorian homes and shops. The bank, general store, and a bait shop. A few clapboard houses.
She marveled at how quaint it all was. Old, but with a certain early 1900s charm.
The Neighbor's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance #1) Page 2
