Noelle’s Christmas Wedding
The Candy Cane Girls, book 1
By
Bonnie Engstrom
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Copyright ©2015 Bonnie Engstrom
Forget Me Not Romances, a division of Winged Publications.
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of the publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher.
All verses from NIV version
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental, except for the instances where they were used in conjunction with a business on purpose.
All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Newport Beach, California
Noelle pumped on the brakes and surveyed the string of cars through the fog on her windshield. The sea mist was especially heavy this afternoon. She slammed her palm against the leather-covered steering wheel and gnawed on her lip. Why had she taken MacArthur Boulevard to the Coast Highway today? Is this the first day of the Christmas Boat Parade weekend? No, that’s not until December. This is only the Friday before Thanksgiving – not yet holiday season.
Yet, it was in full swing. Must be stuff like the fifteen decorated Christmas trees for charity at the Fairmont Hotel and the special Thanksgiving event of the film festival. So much was always happening in this tourist town. Even Rogers Gardens had started its opulent annual boutique that attracted so many out of towners.
She had read about all the events in the Daily Navigator, but in her stressful frame of mind she’d forgotten. I could have avoided Corona del Mar completely by taking surface streets and Newport Coast Drive. Still, I would have passed Rogers Gardens on San Joaquin Hills Road and had to deal with the tourist buses. She gripped the steering wheel with damp hands. Either way, I will be late for my appointment with the florist. I hate that.
Jill, her now former wedding coordinator, said the florist was forgiving, but Noelle lived for punctuality. Her mother said she was a bit obsessive about it, but she didn’t care. Being on time was a matter of courtesy. If only the faculty meeting hadn’t lasted so long. Then the principal followed her to her car chatting and constantly touching her arm. Maybe she should have left early. But, as the new teacher that would have made her look bad. Canceling her wedding just a month before the planned date made her look bad enough.
The cars inched forward along Pacific Coast Highway, truly inched, giving Noelle no way to change lanes or get out of the mess. She would be at least twenty minutes late. Maybe thirty.
Finally! The Persian rug store and a few niche restaurants came into view, including Rothchild’s. At last she was turning south. She passed the Starbucks at the corner of Marguarite Avenue where three tiny tables were crowded with bundled-up patrons each holding a dog leash, and amazingly, sleeping dogs. What gives with that? Guess those people aren’t going to any tourist events. Smart move.
The light finally turned green and Noelle’s little car crept past the Five Crowns Restaurant and through the last clogged intersection of Corona del Mar. Breathing a sigh of relief, she gunned the gas and sped past the open spaces. The endless Pacific Ocean on her right spouted huge waves that rolled in to spit up on the sand below the bluffs. It was a beautiful sight she never tired of, although she seldom saw it anymore. She passed the Sugar Shake Shack and memories flooded her brain. The girls from her swim team had pulled into the sand lot in front of it. They were tired and smelled of chlorine from the high school pool, but they’d won. Their relay team, dubbed the Candy Canes because of their red and white striped swimsuits, was responsible for Vista del Mar High School taking the All-state title. She’d thought Coach Douglas might have a heart attack, he was so excited. He’d hugged each of them, all the team members, not just the relay team, then slipped a twenty into each of the Candy Canes’ hands.
“Celebrate, girls! Have fun – just be sure it’s loaded with sugar, not alcohol.”
Noelle had ordered a double-malt chocolate chip shake with triple whipped cream. It was a special day, a day of celebration and bonding. A day to remember.
Noelle finally pulled into the parking lot of the opulent hotel resort. She refused to have a valet park her shining red baby. Instead, she found a self-parking slot. The trek to the resort in the expansive lot seemed like miles in her spike-heeled shoes. Another dumb thing. Should’ve switched to tennies since I’m not here to impress anyone. Jill was meeting her there with some guy named Braydon, the florist contracted to provide the flowers for her now defunct wedding. Does he know why we’re meeting – to cancel the wedding contract? I hope Jill gave him a head’s up. This is so embarrassing.
Jill said he was the only florist in Southern California who could produce baby Calla Lilies in December – a desire of her now former mother-in-law-to-be, Gladys, who had carried them in her own wedding. Noelle felt a combination of relief and guilt for no longer being under the woman’s persuasive thumb. She really hadn’t cared what flowers she might have carried. She rubbed her arm hoping to diffuse the bruises. She’d read somewhere that would make them hurt less.
An attendant opened a huge glass door for her. She felt a bit dizzy. Maybe lunch would have been a good idea. Glancing about the enormous lobby she spotted Jill. Sweet Jill, not officious, not too glamorous, just right in her black slacks and starched white blouse. Jill held out her arms to hug Noelle, but as Noelle spread her own arms, she felt woozy and tripped, then landed in muscular ones. Just before she passed out she smelled the heady scent of roses.
~
Braydon Lovejoy had been rocking back and forth between his feet and silently praying. Trying hard to be a patient man, he’d been praying extra hard lately for that quality as he waited to meet his client. Jill, the wedding coordinator, had gotten him very excited last month about this bride-to-be. The contract would mean a huge boost to his business, especially when the society section of the Daily Navigator newspaper featured the wedding – with his floral displays. Maybe he’d even be featured in the business section of Orange County NOW. He’d planned to tell the bride-to-be about his ideas for the attendants’ bouquets. Brilliant red and pure white roses with petal edges dipped in sparkling silver glitter would make a stunning statement for a December wedding. Jill had told him the bridesmaids would wear red taffeta gowns with white sashes. Perfect! He visualized young women clutching the heart-shaped nosegays he’d designed. But, the pièce de résistance would be carried by the bride. He couldn’t wait to see her face light up when he described it to her.
Jill arrived for their meeting as he’d finished wrapping a bouquet of Double Delights, his finest roses, in Cellophane. Grinning widely, he planned to present the woman he’d privately dubbed “Diva Day” with the expensive, intensely-perfumed blooms. He strode from his hotel satellite shop into the lobby with Jill trailing behind him sniffing audibly at the scent of the flowers. That Jill was such a card.
The strange expression on Jill’s face had given him pause. She’d just started to whisper something about a surprise when a beautiful woman toppled into his arms.
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He’d tried to toss the bouquet off to the side, but there was no time. The Double Delight roses crushed against his forearm sandwiched between his Alpaca sweater and a mane of chestnut hair. His first reaction was to wrap his arms firmly around the limp woman. The roses finally slipped to the floor with a rustling of Cellophane wrap as he lifted the woman’s prone form, not too gracefully, under her shoulders and dragged her onto one of the lobby’s overstuffed sofas. Long, thick hair cascaded across her face like a shawl of sepia threads. He heard Jill murmuring behind him and turned to her for advice. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Lacking any guidance he grabbed the recumbent woman’s slim ankles and shifted them onto the sofa. Although he felt uncomfortable doing it, he fingered the strands of hair from her face, especially those caught in her open mouth. Reddish-brown eyes that matched the color of her hair flicked open wide. Her beautiful face twisted in fear. At least that was Braydon’s first thought.
“Who?” The single word gurgled in the woman’s throat like a clogged sink drain. Braydon couldn’t shake off the feeling she was alarmed, maybe even panicked.
“Braydon Lovejoy. Miss Day?” He hoped his smile was warm and that he really addressed Noelle Day. He’d realized he’d risen and stood jingling the coins in his pockets.
Jill hadn’t said if the woman who’d collapsed in his arms was her client. Jill seemed to be in a bit of shock herself. He heard her mumbling, then realized she was talking on her cellphone, and, of all the crazy things, saw her marching around the lobby clasping the cast off bouquet and ignoring his plight. He pondered briefly about the other hotel patrons in the lobby disregarding the scene. No one stepped forward to offer assistance.
“Ye – yes. Noelle Day.” The voice was tiny, almost childlike. Not the voice of the diva he’d expected. Color crept across the delicate cheekbones in a pale pink flush not unlike a Maidens Blush rose in full bloom. Gingerly he lifted an icy hand into his large warm one. She yanked it back immediately to clasp its mate. Fear again? Or, simple embarrassment? Braydon knelt beside the sofa to whisper, hoping to reassure Noelle and answer her unspoken question.
“Miss Day,” he began tentatively. “You tripped on a rug. I caught you. End of story. Are you all right?”
Suddenly, the woman swung her legs over the sofa edge, sat up tall, pushed a sleeve up to check her watch and spoke in a clipped voice. “Sorry I’m late, and so sorry for the trouble. You’ve been very kind. Now, can we get on with our meeting?” She was all business and spoke as if the fainting incident had never happened.
The softness he’d seen in her eyes after she’d passed out was gone. He’d been shocked to hear her formally enunciated words. “This wedding is not going to work out, Mr. Lovejoy. My former (she’d emphasized the word) fiancé and I have parted company.” Her eyes took on saucer appearance as they perused him from head to toe. When she looked into his face again, she said, “Do you understand? I’m terribly sorry for any inconvenience, and I have a check for you to cover the cost of your time and effort. Per the contract.” She whipped a cream colored paper out of her purse.
He nodded mutely, his eyes rooted to her oval ones, brownish pools of pain and sorrow. What made him feel empathy for this lovely creature? Was he reading too much into the sudden change in her demeanor?
Braydon noticed the tiny hands now resting on her legs were tightly clasped, pasty white. She rose to get up from the sofa and teetered for a second. He offered a hand that was ignored. It took every ounce of restraint not to salute.
Chapter Two
“Today was my dumb day, Misty. Messed up everything. Maybe I am a stupid klutz.” Noelle thought about how Clay her former fiancé frequently chastised her for doing what he’d called “stupid mistakes.” Like forgetting where she’d placed her keys, not picking up the phone before the answering machine kicked in, even bowing her head in a restaurant to silently give thanks for the meal before her. That, he’d said, was so embarrassing, so intimidating to those who didn’t believe. That was when she’d started covering her arms in long sleeves.
Two doe-like eyes looked sadly at Noelle. Without warning a wet tongue delivered a sloppy kiss across her nose. Noelle clasped the tiny soft body closer, snuggling the furry face into her neck. The longhaired Chihuahua's tail, almost the length of its ten-inch body, flipped furiously tickling her arm. “You are my best friend – maybe my only one.” Glancing at her calendar to see what the next few days held, she revised her thoughts.
She hadn’t made many friends among the other teachers at school, but that was . . . whose fault was it? Ultimately, it came down to hers for letting a man dictate her social life. Maybe meeting with her old high school buddies for their annual pre-holiday lunch and pedicure would make her feel better.
It was almost six years since they’d graduated. Most had won numerous academic and athletic awards, but none of those held their hearts as much as the swim relays. Seldom seeing her old friends, except for the annual group pedicure followed by luncheon at The Cannery Restaurant, she was thankful for the continued friendships. They’d all had such lofty dreams. Coach Douglas had called them his Princess Team, his dream team, because they’d pulled off so many wins with a perfectly synchronized relay. But, the girls had another idea. They would stick together as friends for the long haul, not just swim meets. They promised, they would keep in touch forever. And, so far, after six years, they had.
Noelle grabbed the red marker she kept near her calendar and embellished the following Saturday with a heart and superimposed it with a crude candy cane. Mentally, she planned out her clothes for the occasion. She’d have to wear long sleeves to cover the yellowing bruises, so she chose a red and white striped jersey. Perfect. Her arms would look like candy canes.
~
Braydon pushed through the scraggly blonde tufts at his aching temples with his thumbs. He couldn’t believe the biggest wedding contract he’d ever hoped to have had been cancelled. Poof! It could have been his finest moment as a floral designer, his entré to be listed by wedding coordinators and upscale wedding venues on their “preferred lists.” His first reaction was unbelief, actually a non-reaction. When Noelle told him the wedding was off, he thought at first she meant the date was changed. But, the russet eyes bore into him and made it clear. “Off, cancelled, kaput,” were the words she spoke. “Is that clear?” He stood like chiseled stone, a marble statue, unable to move. He’d accepted the generous check and tucked it in his pocket. Later, he ripped it up. He didn’t know why – just that it was the right thing to do. Maybe because he saw something in Noelle, something deep that disturbed him, something not even she was aware of. Something vulnerable . . . and beautiful.
He sat on the edge of his bed to pray.
~
Noelle stretched to position the fragile angel on top of the tree. She’d had to unfold the plastic step stool to reach the treetop. She’d considered a tabletop tree for her little condo, but Christmas was her favorite time of year, and she wanted to go “whole hog,” as her uncle Mart would say. So, even though it was the night before Thanksgiving, she dug out her parents’ castoff tree from her garage, the one they’d bought twenty-five years ago on sale at The Antique Guild. It took her three hours to assemble, then another to put on the seven strings of lights. The angel had tiny lights imbedded in her tulle skirt, and when Noelle turned the switch, she “awed.” So beautiful. Thank you, Lord, for giving me this reminder of your grace and holiness and coming to earth as a baby to save us.
She stirred the mini-marshmallows floating atop her hot chocolate and sighed. In four weeks it would have been “the day,” her wedding day. Staring into the electric fireplace she realized she had no regrets. Still, it was sad things turned out the way they did. God had given her the strength to break off the engagement and to move on. Would she ever have the courage to love again? She was looking forward to meeting the Candy Canes for their annual get-together in three days. Laughter and sharing old memories would be a balm for her wounded spirit
. She took a sip of the steaming chocolate and massaged the yellowish bruise on her wrist, one of the last evidences of her former love.
~
Noelle was stepping out of the shower when the phone rang. Wrapping a towel around her she shivered and stood still to listen. “Call from cellphone C, A,” the tinny voice repeated several times. Although the little window on the phone displayed the number, it wasn’t one she recognized. As she reached for the phone to take the call, it disconnected. Well, if it was important the caller could have left a message on the answering machine or could call again. If she had time later she’d call back the number.
Slipping on her sandals she smiled at the tiny candy cane painted on her big right toenail. The group pedicure had been a major giggle session. Even the nail girls had been filled with mirth laughing and chatting among themselves in their native Vietnamese tongue.
Out of habit, she tucked the silver cross around her neck under the long sleeved jersey. This afternoon she would meet the Candy Canes for coffee in Fashion Island. But first she needed to stop at the stationary store to cancel the wedding announcements.
~
Braydon paced. He’d been up since five, sleep having escaped him. A path had formed in his carpet. He stared into the bathroom mirror for perhaps the tenth time. But, every time he looked, he saw not his own blue eyes, but the murky chocolatey ones of the woman who’d fallen into his arms. He was so distraught he missed church today, during Advent and right before Christmas, his favorite time.
Jill, his beloved wedding coordinator contact, had given him the woman’s phone number – actually on the original contract for her December wedding - the one that was supposed to take place in several weeks. He’d attempted to call her about an hour ago, but no answer. He’d never misused or abused something like that before, but his feelings were so overwhelming, he made an exception. Feeling foolish, he hadn’t left a message. Maybe I should have, so she wouldn’t think it was some random call from a weirdo.
Noelle's Christmas Wedding: Christian Contemporary Christmas Romance (The Candy Cane Girls Book 1) Page 1
