by Olivia Miles
Hannah laughed but brushed it away with a wave of her hand. “I just took the shoreline home. Came back for my bike the next day.” She smiled wistfully. “I always thought that was the most interesting house in all of Oyster Bay.”
“It sounds like it!” Their youngest sister Kelly, who had grown up with their mother on the West Coast, looked a little lost as she sipped her drink.
“I’ll take you by it sometime,” Hannah promised, and Kelly beamed. “I always thought that would be the perfect place to get married. Right there in that colorful garden, with the sea in the distance and that giant stone house in the backdrop.”
Sarah sat up a little straighter and skirted a glance in Chloe’s direction. Was she catching this? She must be. Chloe didn’t miss anything. She was sharp like that.
“But it’s practically crumbling,” Evie pointed out, ever the pragmatic one.
“But that’s what makes it so charming!” Hannah insisted. She gave a defeated shrug. “Too bad it’s going on the market. I’d buy it myself if I could afford it.”
“It won’t sell easily,” Bridget said, and she should know. She’d been a real estate agent before she’d turned their family home into this inn. “Not many people can afford the upkeep on a place like that.”
“Who owns it now that Martin Foster died?” Margo asked as she picked up a paper plate. There was a huge wooden tray of cheeses, green and red grapes, dried apricots, piles of nuts and sliced-up baguette, and crackers of all shapes and colors on the center of the table, nearly too pretty to pick at.
“A nephew apparently,” Bridget said. She topped off her glass of white wine and passed the bottle to Abby.
Sarah chewed her lip. Chloe was staring intensely at the table. They were both thinking the same thing. There might be a way to please Hannah yet.
And there just might be a way to please Chloe, too, Sarah thought with a rush of hope. She set her glass of punch down on the table. Delicious as it was, she needed a clear head tonight. And tomorrow…Tomorrow would be a busy day. Tomorrow she would pay a visit to Crestview Manor and have a talk with this nephew. And by tomorrow night, everything might be right as rain…just not on a wedding day, of course.
Chapter Four
Sunday was Sarah’s day off this week, but she may as well have been on the clock. She woke to her alarm, showered, dressed, and carefully did her hair and makeup, then she drank a quick cup of coffee for liquid courage.
Crestview Manor was on the northern tip of town, a remote estate that was hidden behind a towering wrought-iron gate and a brick wall that seemed to be crumbling in places. The house itself was made of stone and covered in thick ivy. It was a heavy, solid house, not like the usual cedar-shingled capes and colonials that were widespread in these parts.
It was turning into a beautiful day, sunny, with just the right amount of ocean breeze to make her feel grateful that she lived in this small community, despite the lack of eligible bachelors, and Sarah rode her bike along the most scenic route, meandering up Shoreline Road, past the blooming blue and pink hydrangeas that spilled over white picket fences along the way. The shoreline was rockier up this way, and through a tall hedge of dense trees up ahead she finally spotted the property. Or estate. Or mansion. Whatever it was, from this viewpoint, it was breathtaking. It wasn’t a beach house; there was nothing casual about it. The grounds were extensive, and led all the way to the sand. She couldn’t imagine a better spot in Oyster Bay to get married. And, if it was up to her, Hannah would be doing just that.
She turned at the fork in the road and pedaled her way in the general direction of the house, until the large gates appeared before her. She slowed, hopping off the seat and walking the bike the rest of the way, before propping it against the stone wall. She stared up at the gates, considering her options. She hadn’t thought this far ahead, of course, and now she scanned the wall for some sort of intercom, but of course there was none. The house was old, and it didn’t appear to be updated with modern technology.
Finally, seeing no other option and unwilling to give up just yet, she gave a tentative push against the wrought iron, laughing at herself when it swung open without very much effort. Deciding to leave her bike in place for the time being, she straightened her shoulders and began the long walk on the gravel path toward the house. She had it all rehearsed. She would ring the bell, introduce herself, and pitch her services. That’s right. Asking for a favor set the wrong tone. It would be much better if the current owner of the house interpreted her request as an honor. And really, what reason would he have to refuse?
It seemed to take minutes to finally reach the front door. Or doors. They were of the double-set variety, wood and solid, but the doorjambs revealed paint that was flaking. There was at least a doorbell, and she pressed her finger to it, holding it there, hoping that it actually worked.
Evie was right. This house was old. Definitely in need of some sprucing up. But it was lovely. And the gardens… She smiled when she caught site of some bursting peonies that sprang from the grounds over to her left. A personal favorite. Once, she had been certain that peonies would make up her wedding bouquet.
Now she had accepted there would be no wedding bouquet at all. She was giving up.
She was just about to give up on waiting for someone to answer the door, too, and was considering walking around back to see if anyone was in the yard or on the beach, when there was a sound of a bolt turning and the door swung open.
A man not much older than herself with a thick head of brown hair and penetrating, deep-set chocolate brown eyes stared back at her. And he didn’t look entirely happy to see her.
Sarah swallowed back her nerves. “Hello,” she said, offering her best smile. She skirted her glance deeper into the house, waiting for a wife to appear in the distance. Perhaps she would be more receptive to the idea of a stunning wedding overlooking the expansive garden in less than three weeks’ time?
But no wife appeared, and while normally this would have thrilled her to no end, today it troubled her. Almost as much as the frown that seemed etched in the man’s face did.
“I’m Sarah Preston,” she began. Damn. She’d forgotten her speech, and she’d worked so hard on it, perfecting it in her head into the late hours of the night and then again on the entire ride over here.
She waited to see if he would introduce himself, but he made no inclination. Perhaps he assumed she already knew him, or his name. She had come to his house, after all.
Now, perhaps sensing her hesitation, he arranged his features into something that bordered on polite interest, even if it was probably confusion. Even if it was noticeably of the impatient sort.
“I work for Bayside Brides, here in Oyster Bay,” she went on. When he wasn’t scowling he was actually quite good looking, she decided. And younger than she’d first pegged him to be. She’d say he was thirty-two. Thirty-three tops. Her eyes betrayed her and dropped to his left hand, which gripped the brass doorknob, as if he were ready to close the door on her at any moment.
No ring. Again something that would have once thrilled her. But not today. Nope. Today she was here on business matters. Nothing personal could interfere. Not again.
“I was hoping to speak to Marty Foster’s nephew about renting out the garden for an upcoming wedding.” Not exactly as poetic as she’d planned, but at least she got it out there in one breath.
“Did you know Marty?” he asked, catching her off guard. It wasn’t an inappropriate question, all things considered.
“No,” she said, regrettably. “I’m still fairly new to this town.” That was true, in a vague sense, and compared to all the townies who had lived here forever, a year and a half or so was relatively new. Still, she hoped he didn’t ask for specifics. After all, it wasn’t a good enough excuse for why she was at Marty Foster’s home, asking to rent out the property, to save her own hide.
Marty owed her no favors. This man blocking her path didn’t either.
“The property isn�
�t for rent,” the man said gruffly. Then, after a hesitation, his mouth crooked into a strange sort of smile. “It is, however, for sale.” His eyes seemed to hold hope in them as he looked at her.
She almost laughed. As if! Like anyone her age could afford such a property, and if they could, well, it was very obvious that it needed entirely far too much work. She could see the dust motes floating in the air behind him, and the tarps that were draping furniture in a room to his right. The overhead light fixture in the hallway (which could easily house her entire apartment) was covered in cobwebs.
“Are you the current owner?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t being too forward. Still, she needed to know who she was dealing with here, and it was always better to go straight to the source. She’d learned that from Chloe, who never took no for an answer and who had made the impossible possible, because that was her job, she’d said. It was her job, she’d said, to make sure that every gown could be tailored to any bride. That the veils would be custom ordered, if need be. That the shoes would not give blisters. And, since she’d started planning weddings too, that every detail would be “personal, purposeful, and perfect.” That was her motto.
Chloe had succeeded in all of this. But she hadn’t succeeded in thwarting off a storm that had flooded Hannah’s wedding venue. And Sarah knew that she had to succeed in securing Crestview Manor instead. She simply had to.
“I am Marty’s nephew,” he said. “Are you an interested buyer?”
She managed to cover her smile by glancing at the ground. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “But I have a client who has always dreamed of getting married here, and she is happy to pay for the opportunity.” She had a ballpark idea of what Hannah and Dan were refunded from the winery. She was ready to name the price if need be. First, though, she’d see what was offered.
“I’m sorry, but I’m only interested in selling the property at this time,” the man said.
In other words, nothing was being offered.
“But we’ll pay!” Sarah insisted, hating the twinge of desperation that sneaked into her tone. She hadn’t rehearsed this far into things. The way she’d played it out in her mind, she’d make a reasonable argument and the person would be so flattered, that they would happily agree. After all, the house was just sitting here. It wouldn’t sell anytime soon, and even then, closings would take a while. The wedding was only three weeks away. And they were willing to pay! “It’s only for one night,” she pleaded.
“The space is not available for rent,” the man said, starting to close the door.
“Even for a wedding?” she asked, giving it one last try, but the look on the man’s face told her she’d gone severely off path.
His brow met in a stern gaze and his mouth set as he began to close the door. “Especially for a wedding,” he said.
***
That evening, Sarah marched into Beads and Bobbles, Oyster Bay’s beloved craft store, still cursing under her breath. She had a huge new speech she had prepared on the bike ride home—one she had started on the long walk back to the gates of the house—and one that she was now sure would have won over the grumpy new owner of Crestview.
She hadn’t even caught his name.
“Hey there!” Kelly Myers grinned as Sarah approached the back table, where the knitting class she’d signed up for with Melanie was already underway. It was a coveted class, usually filled, and proof that Kelly had made the right choice in making Oyster Bay her new home.
Could Sarah say the same, she wondered, as she slid into the chair Melanie had saved for her, across from poor Ron, who was now such a masterful knitter, he could probably teach the class if Kelly ever got sick.
When Sarah had first moved from Bar Harbor, she’d sought out adventure and freedom. And she’d seen Oyster Bay as the perfect, pretty town to put down roots. Her parents had always been overprotective, an only child thing and all that, and they’d actually supported her decision to move away, mostly because her grandmother was close by, in Serenity Hills, the nursing home at the edge of town. It was a win-win, at least that’s how it had felt originally. But now…
Nonsense, she told herself. She had a job she loved—at least for now. She had a wonderful group of friends, and she had put down roots, and sure, it did stink to always be on the bridesmaid side of things, but would she rather have never met all these great women?
It was only that she’d hoped to meet a great man someday too.
“Sorry I’m late,” she whispered to Melanie as she pulled her bamboo needles and yarn from her canvas tote. She’d spent the better part of the afternoon trying to think of a way to get the grumpy Foster heir to change his mind and lost track of time.
“It’s open knitting today,” Melanie reminded her, putting her anxiety at ease. She expertly added another row to the hat she was making.
Sarah stared down at her own sad effort. She’d intended to make a winter set for her grandmother, but at the rate she was going, she’d be lucky to finish one mitten by Christmas, much less the hat or scarf.
She cast a glance at Ron’s project. He was a fan of scarves when he was feeling low, what with his divorce now finalized and his ex-wife officially moving on with his coworker and all. But today he was whistling while he worked, and there was no scarf at all. Today he was making socks. Striped socks. With four different colored skeins of yarn.
With stern determination, she got to work. “I went over to Crestview Manor,” she told Melanie.
“Crestview!” Melanie looked confused. “But why?”
Sarah pulled in a breath. She could tell Melanie anything, really, not that she had much to share right now. “I wanted to talk to the new owner. I was hoping he would let us rent out the place for Hannah’s wedding.”
“Oh, she would love that!” Kelly piped in, pulling up a stool beside them. “You know she was just so upset that the winery flooded. Of course, Chip offered up The Lantern, but it’s not exactly what she had in mind for a wedding reception, and then Bridget offered up the inn, of course, but I still don’t think Hannah’s over the disappointment.”
Despite all these setbacks, Kelly was beaming, and Sarah couldn’t help it, she smiled too. Not long ago, Kelly had come to Oyster Bay to spend the holidays with her half-sister Hannah, and to meet her other half-sister, Evie, for the first time. She was tickled to be a bridesmaid. She managed to bring it up in every conversation.
“Did you know that the bridesmaids are carrying the mixed bouquets, too?” she told them, for at least the tenth time, but Melanie and Sarah just smiled politely. “Oh, but of course you know! Chloe’s planning the entire thing!”
“Hannah has excellent taste,” Sarah said. She fumbled with the yarn, and without having to ask for help, Kelly took it from her hands and quickly fixed her error and set the needles back on the table.
“There’s nothing prettier than a summer bride,” Melanie said.
Sarah gave her a funny look. “You say that about every bride, every season.”
Melanie laughed. “True.”
Kelly waggled her eyebrows. “Getting ideas for when you and Jason may tie the knot?”
“Please!” Melanie said, but her cheeks went all pink. “We’re easing into things. We’re not even talking about getting engaged.”
Sarah added another row, trying to keep her concentration focused, and not just because she feared dropping another stitch. She had nothing to contribute to this conversation. Melanie and Kelly were both in love. They’d both found the one, whether they wanted to admit that or not, it was plain as day. They’d both be married within a year. Eighteen months for sure. Sarah would bet on that, if she wasn’t afraid that her next paycheck could be her last.
“So who is this new owner of Crestview?” Melanie finally said, changing the topic back to one that Sarah could relate to.
“Oh.” She sighed with frustration as she set her project down in her lap. “Just some guy with a chip on his shoulder.”
Melanie’s eyes flashed. “A gu
y? Like, how old?”
Sarah shrugged. “A little older than us.”
She narrowed her eyes. Was that a knowing smile she saw pass between Melanie and Kelly?
“He’s kind of a jerk,” she clarified.
“Married?” Kelly asked. Her eyes seemed to gleam.
Sarah worked another row. It didn’t look right. She was messing up, because she didn’t like where this conversation was going. Forcing a sigh, she shrugged. She didn’t want to admit she had checked for a ring. “Didn’t appear to be.”
“So you’ll give him a chance then!” Melanie was grinning as she knitted another row.
Sarah watched her fingers fly for a few moments. “He’s not eligible. He’s a jerk.”
Melanie just waggled a finger at her. “You remember our deal…”
“What deal?” Kelly asked excitedly. Without asking, she reached out and took Sarah’s project from her hands and began unraveling the last row. “You missed two stitches,” she informed her.
Of course she had, because her mind was on anything but Grandma Esther’s Christmas gift. Her mind was on the mystery man at Crestview Manor. The heir, she supposed.
He was handsome. But unpleasant. Yes, quite unpleasant! And she was finished falling for men based solely on their good looks.
“Sarah says that she has given up on love,” Melanie informed Kelly, who looked at Sarah as if she had lost her mind. “And so I challenged her to stop seeking out the same kinds of guys she always falls for—you know, the noncommittal types. To force herself to give the very next guy she met a chance, even if she didn’t feel sparks right away.”
“I didn’t feel sparks,” Sarah was sure to say, but Melanie didn’t meet her eye.
“Sounds like fair advice,” Kelly said, handing Sarah back the mitten and knitting needles.
