The Wedding Charm: The Wedding Whisperer

by Susan Hatler

  He held me more tightly. “Why can’t you have that?”

  I’d never know if I didn’t tell him. Avery and Katie had both achieved exactly what they had hoped for by speaking up. Maybe the third time would be the charm.

  “Because I’m in love with you,” I whispered, looking up at him. “Not fake love for a wedding charm, either. I’m really, truly, in love with you.”

  “You are?” His eyes widened and he blinked a few times as if surprised by my confession.

  My heart ached in my chest and I tensed, waiting for him to say he was sorry, but he didn’t believe in love at all and that he didn’t love me back. Tears blurred my vision. It was too late to take back my words, but I was glad that I’d said how I felt.

  “That’s good to know.” He brushed his fingers against my cheek. “Because I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. To be honest, I think you probably stole my heart when we were five and I first caught sight of those gorgeous dimples.”

  “Really?” I asked, tears of relief falling down my cheeks.

  “I’ve been so crazy about you, and I was trying to get your attention. I got it, but not in the way I was hoping for. In fact, I was pretty sure you hated me.”

  A small laugh came out of my mouth. “I didn’t hate you. I just felt like you were always trying to one-up me in everything we did.”

  “I’ve tried to impress you, Sarah.” He stared into my eyes, looking almost shy as he admitted this. “I’ve been in love with you even when I didn’t want to believe love existed. I couldn’t admit it to myself, not until we were in Atlanta and chasing down the wedding charm.”

  “Me, too,” I whispered. “I couldn’t admit it until then, either. I don’t know how but Jill’s grandma brought us together and made us know how right we are for each other.”

  He stopped dancing. “Do you mean that?”

  I nodded. “I do. We’re perfect for each other.”

  “Then maybe now’s a good time for me to do this . . .”

  My heart almost leaped right out of my chest as he pulled a small box from an inside pocket of his jacket. He opened the lid and I stared at what was inside. It was the wedding charm! A platinum magnolia flower with delicate-brushed petals, but instead of a pearl in the center there was a diamond, and instead of a broach it was a ring.

  My mouth dropped open. “When did you get that?”

  “In Atlanta this morning, while you were waiting for me to get back from the office. Next door to the office was a jewelry store and that ring was in the window. I saw it and knew it was for you,” he said, then dropped down on one knee.

  The couples surrounding us stopped dancing and formed a ring around us. Whispers, gasps, and exclamations of joy ran through the crowd as my heart pounded in my chest.

  Ben looked up at me, holding out the ring between his thumb and index finger. “Sarah Carlton, if you will marry me then I promise to take you to Atlanta for our honeymoon. We already have a dog of our own and if you want to rescue a thousand more then I’ll be up for that, too. I’ll promise to love and respect you, to always make trust and teamwork my priority, and to be committed to you always. What do you say?”

  “I promise to trust you, love you, and be committed to us, too.” Tears ran down my face but now they were tears of happiness. “I would love to marry you.”

  Applause rang out around us. Ben’s mouth curved upward. He stood and slid the ring onto my finger and then swept me into his arms for a long, soul-shattering kiss. As we started swaying to the music again, he leaned toward my ear. “I sure hope you can somehow work a parasol into our wedding.”

  I laughed. “Maybe a Degas, too?”

  “We’d have to invite Effie May and get her to bring the Degas.”

  “Then let’s do that,” I said, nodding. “And Ida and Miss Ella and Gina.”

  “It’s a deal.” Ben laughed and then he kissed me, a kiss that promised that this was just the beginning, and that forever would follow.

  The End

  If you enjoyed spending time

  with these characters,

  be sure to read Avery’s story in:

  The Wedding Match

  (The Wedding Whisperer, 3)

  *****To receive an exclusive FREE BOOK and an alert when Susan’s next book releases, TAP HERE and add yourself to Susan’s Exclusive Readers Group*****

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank Ciara Knight for inviting me to be part of the Magnolias and Moonshine Romance Series, which prompted me to write this book set in the South. I want to thank Terri Reed, who helped me plot this story over a fun lunch. Big hugs to Virna DePaul, who always gives me fabulous feedback on my books.

  Lots of love to Ann Rego and Ellen Price, for all of your support. You’re the best mom and the best sister ever. Hugs and kisses to Mike Hatler, who would totally help me upright a boat if I knocked it over. City girl like Sarah? That would be me.

  And most of all, thank you to my readers, who make my day with your emails and your fabulous book reviews. You all rock so much.

  Magnolias and Moonshine Romance Series

  (Ten sweet and ten sizzling romance novellas)

  The Sassy Bride by Ciara Knight

  Her Hero by Hildie McQueen

  Hurricane Bride by Beth Williamson

  The Wedding Charm by Susan Hatler

  Sweet Love of Mine by Lindi Peterson

  Moon Over Atlanta by Kymber Morgan

  Georgia on My Mind by Amanda McIntyre

  It Could Happen to Us by Lucy McConnell

  SEAL You in My Dreams by Sharon Hamilton

  Magnolia Mystic by Lisa Kessler

  Anxious in Atlanta by Kristen Osbourne

  Southern Secrets by Susan Carlisle

  Out-lanta by Tina DeSalvo

  From Now On by Raine English

  Sweet Georgia Peach by Amelia Adams

  Maybe Baby by E. E. Burke

  A Kiss is Just a Kiss by Melinda Curtis

  Heat Wave by Merry Farmer

  Taste of Tara by Shanna Hatfield

  Hit and Run Love by Jennifer Peel

  **** Special SNEAK PEEK from Sweet Love of Mine by Lindi Peterson ****

  Sweet Love of Mine

  by

  Lindi Peterson

  CHAPTER ONE

  Betrayal, desertion and thievery all before my first sip of coffee?

  It’s true.

  I, Eden Conrad, have experienced my fair share of bad days, but having the spiral begin so early makes me wish I was still slumbering on my cotton sheets, so Egyptian that my current situation shouldn’t be happening.

  Sunshine slowly spreads across the table, its rise into the world giving me hope.

  I look again at my phone, making sure the number I dialed is correct. It is. I brace for sheer torture and call it again. Like the auto-voice telling me the number is no longer in service will be replaced with a cheerful hello, in a sing-song voice. The voice that belongs to the caterer who I hired and gave good money to prepare food for my parents’ wedding anniversary.

  My debut into the event planning business.

  And now, well, now the auto-voice is back.

  The number is still no longer in service.

  The website, twitter and all other social media accounts that belonged to Elegant Dining Experiences Are Us have disappeared.

  Totally.

  And the party is in one week.

  I close my eyes, suck in a breath, like that will pacify the despair rolling through my stomach. My brain.

  Oh, on those Egyptian sheets might be a good place to hide for the next week.

  My phone lights up. A text from Sonya.

  Sonya Allen, my mom’s best friend. My saving grace in planning this thirtieth wedding anniversary for my parents. My sounding board and voice of reason, Sonya.

  I dread telling her about the caterer’s disappearance, yet welcome her it-will-all-work-out attitude I know she’ll respond with. I open her text message.r />
  “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.” I clutch the phone in my hand, shifting my gaze upward. “God, please. Please…”

  Shame fills me at my selfishness. “Thanks for that reminder, God. Sonya first. God, help heal her broken leg.” Broken leg? She fell? My unspoken questions to God remain unanswered as I process this new turn of events.

  A quick series of texts reveal which hospital she’s at. I throw on some clothes, wash my face, skip the make-up and head out the door. The hospital isn’t far and there’s not a lot of Atlanta traffic this Friday morning as I wind my way out of Decatur toward the city.

  As I walk into the hospital I spot a stain on my T-shirt. Spying a water fountain, I stop and try to wash out the already dried stain. Of course, that’s not working. I think I’m subconsciously stalling. At the moment I decide to take a drink of water I notice I’m wearing two different tennis shoes. They both have pink laces, but one shoe is light blue and the other is gray.

  Really?

  I glance around relieved that no one is paying attention to me. My baseball cap and workout clothes are somewhat of a disguise, I suppose. And the no make-up aspect. I’m sure I won’t be recognized.

  And that’s a good thing.

  The first couple of Atlanta’s daughter shouldn’t be seen in such disarray.

  And she shouldn’t be thinking so much of herself when her pseudo-aunt has fallen and is in the hospital.

  I walk to the emergency area, my mismatched shoes squeaking occasionally on the shiny white floor with its little gray specks. After inquiring about my “aunt,” I make my way through the auto-open doors to her room.

  “Sonya.”

  She’s lying in a bed, her shoulder-length golden curls flattened on the white pillow. Her normally sparkling brown eyes are dark, like she’s in pain. And I’m sure she is.

  “Eden, honey. You didn’t have to come here.” She holds her arms out and I walk to her, bending into them, hugging her as much as I can considering she’s lying down.

  “Of course I did. Or rather, I wanted to.” My family is the closest thing she has to family, since her husband, Don, passed away barely a year ago, and her only child, Grant, lives in New York City. “You did call Mom, didn’t you?”

  “I did. I got her voicemail. She’s probably playing bridge.”

  “Or tennis. You know she just got a new coach. She says he’s ‘delightful.’”

  “I was supposed to meet with him. Thought about taking up the sport. But now, well, I don’t think I’ll be playing tennis any time soon. They are talking surgery, Eden. I can’t even think about it.”

  My heart drops. I don’t know what to say. Her husband Don passed away while on the table having a routine surgery. I can’t think of any words that might comfort her right now. I take her hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be here.”

  Neither of us mentions the party. The big surprise for Kenneth and Jane Conrad. Their wedding topped the social pages years ago, and now, thirty years later, they are more prominent than ever.

  This party has to be a success. It’s the only option.

  But right now, here in this hospital, Sonya is more important.

  Sonya taps her phone sitting in the bed next to her. “I called Grant. I got his voicemail, too. Doesn’t anyone answer their phone? That’s why I texted you. I’d have lost my mind if your call went to voicemail.”

  “You should have called. I would have answered.”

  She squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. I hate hospitals.”

  “I know you do.”

  Sonya is a socialite like my mom. But Sonya is more approachable. I can talk to her easier than I can my mom. Maybe that is natural.

  Maybe it isn’t.

  Sonya’s eyes close, and I sit, not letting go of her hand.

  I hear a vibration and notice her phone has lit up. I grab it and realize it’s a text. From Grant.

  The notification goes away, and I have no idea what the text says. It’s not my place to read her texts. When she opens her eyes, I’ll make sure I tell her he texted.

  Grant.

  I can’t help but smile as I remember him. He and I went to the same grade school. We were fast friends just like our parents. I dug in the dirt with him. He played dolls with me. We didn’t care. He used to chase me around the playground at school.

  Then there was the day he kissed me.

  Kissing when you are a kid isn’t like kissing as an adult.

  But I remember it.

  I remember the brush of his lips gone so fast I wondered if I imagined it.

  I remember my stomach fluttering, my mind racing.

  I remember the fluttering and racing stopped immediately when he said he just wanted to know what it was like to kiss a girl. I punched him in the arm.

  He stomped off.

  Then he went to private school and then onto college. I hadn’t seen him but a handful of times since then. The last two times I saw him we didn’t even speak. The first of those times was a crowded event, and he was too busy showing off his girlfriend, Peony. I swear that’s her name. When I first heard it I thought Sonya was really drawing out the name Penny, but no, Peony Swanson was Grant’s girl.

  The second time was his father’s funeral.

  Sonya pulls her hand from mine. “I’m sorry I dozed off for a minute.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m sure you need the rest. Oh, Grant texted. I didn’t read it, just saw it come through.”

  “Thank you.” She picks up her phone, her brows furrow as she reads the text. “Oh, he’s coming. I wish he wouldn’t. He doesn’t have time for this.”

  “Of course he has time for you.” I squeeze her shoulder. She shakes her head and clutches the phone tightly. “I wonder if I can talk him out of it.”

  “It’s Friday. Maybe he can take a long weekend. I’m sure he wants to be here for you.”

  Sonya looks at the phone again. “Hmm. Just says he’s coming. No mention of Peony. I wonder if he popped the question yet. Surely he would have let me know, don’t you think?”

  I shrug. “I would think so. But boys are different.”

  “Yes they are.”

  There’s a knock at the door. “Mrs. Allen? Hello, I’m Dr. Scranton. I’ll be your surgeon.”

  Sonya’s grip on my hand tightens. I look at her face. Her dark brown eyes are filled with fear. “It’ll be okay,” I whisper. “I promise.”

  How I can keep that promise I have no idea.

  But what I do know is that nothing can happen to Sonya.

  I’ve had almost no sleep the past twenty-four hours. After the hospital staff settled Sonya in a room yesterday, Mom came by for a few minutes but had an engagement she said she couldn’t get out of, so I stayed the night.

  Pacing the waiting room I smile at my mismatched tennis shoes. When I showed them to Sonya, she laughed. I’m glad I made the mistake. There wasn’t a lot for her to laugh about yesterday, especially after Dr. Scranton told her she had to have surgery.

  I rub my neck which is stiff from sleeping on the couch in her room. At least the nurses had given me a pillow. And an extra blanket as the temperature was set at freezing. This morning I splashed cold water on my face and ran my finger over my teeth with the toothpaste they brought for Sonya.

  The waiting room is crowded and I settle myself against a wall. There are seats available, but I feel restless. I can’t imagine sitting.

  I’m nervous.

  And the party.

  Now six days away and I have no food.

  Out of habit I pull out my phone, but remember the battery is dead. My charger is at home along with my sanity.

  I stare toward the waiting room and notice people staring my way. But they aren’t staring at me. Looking to my left, I see what they are staring at.

  Or rather who.

  A gorgeous male creature.

  A man.

  And of course that man is Grant Allen.

  Did he go to New York
to be a model? No. But he could have.

  Dark hair, dark eyes, beautiful smile, perfect face. Yes, that was Grant. Jeans, a dark polo, and black boots all enhanced the already too handsome man. A big, black suitcase sits next to him, his hand gripping the handle.

  As he looks around, his gaze comes my way. I don’t look away as I know he won’t recognize me. I have the advantage here.

  Except that our gazes lock and he heads toward me, suitcase and all.

  I pull my hat lower and look down.

  My two different shoes stare back at me.

  Laugh at me.

  “Eden.”

  How did he know this was me? I have no choice but to look up, so I do. His eyes seem calm, grounded. Steady.

  Yes, he’s that close. “Hi, Grant.”

  “Hi. It’s been a while. I guess Mom’s already in surgery. I tried to get here earlier, but we had a delay out of New York.”

  “Yes, she’s back there. It’s all going to be fine, I’m sure.”

  “It has to be. Do they know how long the surgery will take?”

  I nod. “They said a couple of hours, maybe. Depends on what they find when they get in there.”

  He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “I can’t believe this. What was she doing on the ladder anyway?”

  “Ladder?”

  “Yes, she told me she fell off a ladder.”

  When Grant called last night, I left to go grab a sandwich from the hospital deli, so I didn’t hear their conversation. Sonya said nothing to me about a ladder. “I’m not sure. I didn’t get the details. I was trying to keep her mind on other things.”

  “Thanks for staying with her. She mentioned you were spending the night. I appreciate it.”

  I smile. “No problem. We’ve gotten really close working on my parents’ anniversary party.”

  “Yeah. I hear that’s going to be quite the event.”

  Visions of no food and no help run through my mind. But I can’t bring that up now. “I hope so. I’m launching my business that night.”