The Best Man & The Wedding Planner

by Teresa Carpenter

  Holding the garment bag draped over her arm, Lindsay stepped aside so the hotel manager’s teenage son, Mario, could unlock the door.

  “Signorina.” He ducked his head in a shy move and gestured for her to precede him.

  She stepped in to a comfortable, refined room furnished with nice 1800s furniture. Thankfully there was a private bathroom. One large window allowed sunshine to flow in and provided a delightful view of the village and town center.

  But it was tiny; smaller than the room at the farmhouse. Though this room included a desk, which she was happy to see, and a comfortable chair, she barely had space to walk around the double bed.

  She tipped Mario—who’d lugged her suitcases up the three flights—with some change and a smile.

  “Grazie, signorina.” He rewarded her with a bashful grin and raced away.

  The garment bag took up the entire closet to the point she had to bump it shut with her hip. She’d hoped to leave the dress with Christina, but the bride had nixed that plan. The queen had made a reservation with a favorite modiste in Milan and Christina had asked Lindsay to hold on to the dress and bring it to the fitting.

  So of course that was what she’d do. And apparently everything else.

  When Christina had walked them out, she’d given Lindsay a brief hug and whispered, “I trust you to finish it. Please make the prince proud.”

  Lindsay got the message. She was on her own for the final push. Luckily her assistant would be arriving in a few days.

  Hands on her hips Lindsay surveyed her room. It was lovely. And if she were here on vacation it would be perfect. But where was she going to work?

  The desk for computer work was the least of her needs. She’d shipped five boxes of pre-wedding paraphernalia to the hotel. Upon check-in, Signora Eva had eagerly informed Lindsay the boxes had arrived and she’d be sending them up shortly.

  Lindsay puffed out a breath that lifted her bangs. She thought longingly of the hillside villa Zach had pointed out as they’d flown over it. He had the whole place to himself. He probably had a room he could donate to the cause. Unfortunately he’d constantly be around. Talking to her. Distracting her. Tempting her.

  Better to avoid that trap if she could.

  She lifted her suitcase onto the bed and started unpacking. When she finished, she’d walk down to the town center to get a feel for the small city. She may have to find office space; possibly something off the town courtyard would be pleasant and close. In the meantime, she’d ask Signora Eva to hold on to the boxes.

  * * *

  Dressed in beige linen shorts and a cream, sleeveless tunic, Lindsay strolled down the hill. There was no sidewalk, just the ancient cobblestoned street. Charming but not the easiest to walk on.

  A young man zipped by her on a scooter, followed closely by his female companion. Lindsay watched them until they turned a corner and vanished from view. She hadn’t heard from the car-rental company yet. Monte Calanetti was a lovely little city, but not small enough she could do all her business by foot.

  The zippy little scooter looked promising. It wouldn’t hold anything, but she could have things delivered. But where? Not the hotel. She’d get claustrophobic after a day.

  She reached the city center; not a courtyard, but a plaza. Oh, it was lovely. In the center an old fountain bubbled merrily, drawing Lindsay forward. Businesses ringed the plaza, many with hanging pots of flowers. It was bright and colorful and had probably looked much the same a hundred or even five hundred years ago.

  Well, minus the cars, of course.

  History in Tuscany wasn’t something that needed to be brought to mind. The past surrounded you wherever you went, influenced your very thoughts. Already Lindsay was contemplating how she could make it a part of the wedding.

  “Buon giorno, signorina,” a male voice greeted her. “May I assist you in finding your way?”

  She swung around to confront a large, barrel-chested man with a full head of black hair dusted gray on the sides. His bushy mustache was more gray than black. Friendly brown eyes waited patiently for her assessment.

  “Hello.” She smiled. “I’m just wandering.” She waved her hand around. “I’m spellbound by the beauty of Monte Calanetti. You must be so proud the royal wedding will be performed here.”

  “Indeed we are. I am Alonso Costa, mayor of this fair city. I can assure you we have much to offer those who stay here. Amatucci’s is one of the best boutique vineyards in the world, and Mancini’s restaurant is superb. I fully expect Raffaele to earn an Italian Good Food Award this year. What is your interest, signorina? I will direct you to the best.”

  Oh, she was sure he could. She liked him instantly. He’d be a great source to help her.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Alonso, I’m Lindsay Reeves and I’d like to learn more about your beautiful city. Would you like to join me for coffee?”

  White teeth flashed under the heavy bush of his mustache. “I would be most delighted, signorina. The café has a lovely cappuccino.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” She allowed him to escort her across the plaza to an outdoor table at the café. He went inside and returned with two cappuccinos and some biscotti. She began to wonder if they had a gym in town. All this wonderful food, she’d be needing one soon.

  She introduced herself more fully to the mayor and he proved a font of information. As she’d expected the media, both print and electronic, had already landed heavily in Monte Calanetti.

  Alonso rubbed his chin when she asked after office space. “I will ask around. But I must warn you most available space has already been rented or reserved. The wedding has proved quite prosperous for the townspeople. Many have rented out spare rooms to house the paparazzi or provide work space as you have requested.”

  He named a figure a family had asked for the rental of their one-car garage and her mouth dropped open.

  “Si,” He nodded at her reaction. “It is crazy. But the press, they bid against each other to get the space.”

  “Well, it’s more than I can afford. I’ll have to figure out something else.”

  The empty chair next to Lindsay scraped back and Zach joined them at the table. He laid one arm along the back of her chair while holding his other hand out to Alonso. “Zach Sullivan. I’ve rented the De Luca villa.”

  “Ah, the best man.” Alonso shook hands. “A palace representative provided a list of VIPs who would be visiting the area for the wedding. Your name is on the top.”

  Zach grinned. “It’s good to know Tony has his priorities straight.”

  The casual reference to the prince impressed the mayor. He puffed up a bit as he gave Zach the same rundown about the town he’d given her. Except he offered to arrange a tour of the vineyard and make reservations at the restaurant. With great effort she restrained an eye roll.

  “Tell me about the fountain,” she asked to redirect the conversation.

  Alonso gave her a bright smile. “The legend is that if you toss a coin and it lands in the clamshell you will get your wish. We recently learned that the sculptor of the nymph was Alberto Burano. The fact that the nymph wore a cloak caught the attention of an art historian. She recognized Burano’s style and researched the fountain and Burano until she linked the two.”

  “That’s amazing. And brings more value to the fountain and the city. Do you know anything more about the legend?”

  “Actually, Lucia’s search inspired me to do one of my own and I found that nymphs are known to be sensual creatures of nature, capricious in spirit living among humans but distant from them so when one presents an offering, such as the clamshell, it means the nymph has found true love and the offering is a gift of equal love.”

  “It’s a lovely legend of unselfishness and love.” The romance of it appealed to Lindsay.

  “But does it work?” Zach quest
ioned.

  “Before I did the research I would have said half the time. Now, when I think back to the stories I’ve heard, success always involved matters of the heart. I believe when the coin lands in the clamshell it activates the gift and the wish is granted when true love is involved.”

  Zach quirked one dark eyebrow. “You’re a romantic, Mr. Mayor.”

  Alonso smiled and shrugged in a very Italian gesture. “This is what I have observed. Does it make me a romantic to believe in the legend? Maybe so. But the tourists like it.”

  “I’m sure they do,” Lindsay agreed. “Who doesn’t like the thought of true love? Wouldn’t it be cool to have a replica of the fountain at the reception?”

  “Si. There is a mason in town that makes small replicas he sells to tourists. I’ll give you his number. He might be able to make something bigger.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  The mayor’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” He checked the display. “I must take this call. It has been a pleasure to meet you both. Il caffè is my treat today.”

  “Oh, no,” Lindsay protested. “I invited you.”

  “And I am pleased you did. Allow me to welcome you both to Monte Calanetti with this small offering. You can reward me by thinking of local resources when planning this illustrious wedding.”

  “I already planned to do so.”

  “Ah—” he made a show of bowing over her hand “—a woman who is both beautiful and clever. You are obviously the right person for the job.”

  “You flatter me, Alonso. But I must be truthful. The bride insists that I use local goods and people whenever I can.”

  “Molto bene.” He nodded, his expression proud. “Already our princess looks after the people. But I think maybe you would do this anyway, si?”

  “I’ve found that local talent is often the best.”

  “Si, si. As I say, a clever woman. Buona giornata. Good day to you both. Ms. Reeves, I will get back to you with a referral. Ciao.” He made his exit, stopping to yell something inside the café. Then with a salute the mayor hurried across the square.

  “I thought the French were supposed to be the flirts of Europe,” Zach mused.

  “I liked him.”

  “Of course. He was practically drooling over you. Clever woman.”

  She laughed and batted her lashes. “Don’t forget beautiful.”

  His eyes locked on hers, the whiskey depths lit with heat. “How can I when you’re sitting right next to me?”

  Held captive by his gaze, by a quick and wicked fantasy, it took a beat to compose herself. She cleared her throat as she chased the tail of the topic. Oh, yeah, the mayor. “You can tell he cares about his town and his people. I respect that. Excuse me.”

  She grabbed her purse and made her escape. Whew, the man was potent.

  “Where are we going?” He slid into stride next to her.

  And apparently hard to shake.

  “We are not going anywhere.” She reached the fountain and began to circle the stone feature, making the second answer unnecessary.

  “I thought I made it clear, I’m here to assist you.”

  She flashed him a “yeah, right” glance.

  “I appreciate the offer, but my assistant will be arriving at the end of the week.” She continued circling.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m checking out the fountain, choosing the best place to throw a coin.” The fountain was round, about twelve feet wide with a rock formation rising from slightly off center to a height between seven and eight feet. The cloaked nymph, reclined across two rocks from which the water flowed, reached forward, displaying one nude breast as she offered the clamshell to the side of the rushing water so some of it ran over the stone dish. If you threw too far to the left, the flow of water would wash your chance away, too far to the right and an over-cropping of rock would block the coin.

  “You’re going to make a wish? For true love? I thought your schedule didn’t allow for such things.”

  “It doesn’t.” He was right about that. “It’s not for me.”

  “For who then? Your mother?”

  “Now there’s a thought. But...no.” Unfortunately she didn’t know if her mother would recognize true love if she found it. She was so focused on the high, she rarely made it past the first few bumps. Even true love required an effort to make it work. “I’m making a wish for Antonio and Christina.”

  He stopped following her and planted his hands on his hips. “Why? They’re already headed for the altar. They don’t need the nymph’s help.”

  “Really?” she challenged him. “You’re that sure of them?”

  His expression remained set. “I think fate should be allowed to take its course.”

  “And I think it needs a little help.” She dug out her coin purse. Hopefully American coins worked as well as euros. Choosing a spot a little to the left because she was right-handed, she tossed her coin. Too light. It fell well short of the clamshell. She tried again. This one went over the top. A third got swept away by the water. “Dang it. That one was in.”

  “You’re not going to make it in. It’s set up to defeat you.”

  “Hey, no advice from the galley.” Maybe a nickel? Oh, yeah, that had a nice heft. “What did you talk to Christina about earlier?”

  “If I’d wanted you to know, I wouldn’t have asked you to leave.”

  “Tell me anyway.” The nickel bounced off the rock.

  “No. Try a little twist at the end.”

  “I’d share with you,” she pointed out as she tossed her last nickel. And missed.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  She fisted the dime she was about to throw and faced him. “Wrong. I’m here to plan the royal wedding, which makes the bride very much my business. She was already unsettled. And I know you’re not a big fan of lavish weddings. I need to know if you upset her.”

  “I didn’t upset her,” he said too easily.

  “Good. Great. So, tell me, what did you talk about?”

  He just lifted a dark eyebrow at her.

  “Seriously, I need to know. Just because she didn’t look upset doesn’t mean she wasn’t.”

  “You’re being a nutcase.”

  “And it’ll all go away if you just tell me.”

  “Okay.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I picked up on her uneasiness, as well. I asked her if she was having second thoughts.”

  “Zach!”

  “What? This is my best friend. If she’s going to bolt, now would be the time to speak up. Not when he’s standing at the altar.”

  “I told you, all brides go through a bit of nerves. Unless you’re the M-O-B, pointing out their shakiness only makes it worse. Even then it can be iffy.”

  His features went blank. “M-O-B?”

  “Mother of the bride.”

  “Oh. She’s probably the last person Christina would confide in.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “My impression is the two aren’t particularly close.”

  “Hmm. Good to know.” Lindsay had already noted Christina’s reluctance to include her mother in the planning.

  Mrs. Rose made her displeasure quite well known, which brought Mr. Rose out to play. Lucky for Lindsay the palace official had taken over dealing with the Roses.

  “All the more reason to show Christina support rather than undermine her confidence,” Lindsay advised Zach.

  “Rest easy. She assured me she would be marrying Tony.”

  “Okay.” She read his eyes and nodded. “Good. Thanks.” She turned back to the fountain. “My last coin. What kind of twist?”

  “You’re still going to make a wish? I just told you Christina’s fine.”

&n
bsp; “I want more than fine. I want true love.”

  “You do know most political marriages aren’t based on love.” Something in his tone had her swinging back to him. The late-afternoon sun slanted across his face, casting his grim features into light and shadow.

  “Yes,” she said softly, “but is that what you want for your friend?”

  He moved closer, brushing her ponytail behind her shoulder. “So what is your wish?”

  “I’m wishing for true love and happiness for the bride and groom.” With the words, she pulled her arm back. As it moved forward Zach cupped her hand and, as she released the coin, gave it a little twist.

  The dime flew through the air and plopped with a splash right in the middle of the clamshell.

  “We did it!” Lindsay clapped her hands then threw her arms around Zach’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He claimed a quick kiss then set her aside. “Don’t celebrate yet. We still need to see if it works. Which should only take—what?—the next fifty years.”

  “Nope.” Flustered from the kiss, Lindsay stepped back shifting her attention from him to the fountain. What had he said? Oh, yeah. How did it work? “Now we have faith.”

  * * *

  The first attempt to find the brooch was a bust.

  Lindsay tried insisting she could handle finding the brooch herself. It was something she could do while she waited for her assistant to arrive and figured out her work space situation. And she needed a break from Zach, especially after the kiss at the fountain. His casual caresses were becoming too common and were definitely too distracting for her peace of mind.

  A little distance between them would be a good thing.

  Unfortunately, as he pointed out, Christina’s grandmother lived in a tiny house in a village halfway between Monte Calanetti and Voti, and Lindsay didn’t have transportation without him. A new rental hadn’t showed up and the helicopter flew at his discretion. Plus, he’d offered to interpret for her. Since Mona didn’t speak much English and Lindsay didn’t speak much Italian, she was stuck.