by Leigh Duncan
“She’ll love it! Does she know about any of this?” Mildred’s gesture encompassed row upon row of white chairs, the flower arrangements beside each aisle seat, the white runner Tara would walk down.
“It’s the best-kept secret in Heart’s Landing,” Alicia answered. “We waited till she left for the spa before we began setting up.” She tapped her watch. “She should be back soon.”
“We’d better wrap this up, then.” Tool box in hand, Ryan joined them. Turning to give his creation one final look, he whistled. “This is the first one of these I’ve built. I have to say, it’s not bad.”
“It’s perfect.” Mildred plucked at Ryan’s shirt sleeve. “Backdrops and arches are the next big thing in weddings. If you want to expand your business, that might not be a bad way to go.”
The man whose family owned one of the largest construction companies in Heart’s Landing gave a noncommittal shrug. “I have my hands full renovating the old boat works. It’s slow going, but it’ll be worth it when I’m finished.”
“This town could always use another wedding venue,” Jason pointed out. Reservations at the Captain’s Cottage had soared lately.
Ryan nodded. “That’s what I think. Well, I probably ought to get moving if I’m going be back here on time.”
Jason shook Ryan’s extended hand. “Thanks for everything. I owe you.”
“Consider it my wedding gift for a lady who’s lucky to have you.”
Thinking of Tara, Jason shook his head. “I found my soul mate, a true Heart’s Landing love for the ages. I’m the lucky one.”
“Oh! My! Word!” Evelyn exclaimed as Tara stepped from behind the dressing screen. “Is that— It can’t be. Is that my great-grandmother’s dress?” The redhead’s voice trailed upward.
Tara spun in a slow quarter turn. Silver fringe rippled over the bodice and swished along the hemline. The beads sown in swirling patterns rustled softly. “It is. I sent it to the same restorer who handles the Mary Heart gowns. Isn’t it fabulous?”
She swallowed past the tiniest doubt. She’d fallen in love with the 1920s flapper-style dress the instant she’d taken it from the chifferobe her first day in Heart’s Landing. But had borrowing it from the attic been a mistake?
“You look amazing. Jason is going to lose his mind,” Evelyn stated with firm conviction.
Tara exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I wanted to wear something tied to the Captain’s Cottage, something that would reflect Jason’s love of history and sense of place.”
Tears welled in Evelyn’s eyes. She swiped at them. “Well, you certainly did that. He’ll love it, and he’ll love you all the more for it. If that were even possible.” Her gaze swept upward. “Oh, and that veil! It’s stunning. Where on earth did you get it? I know we didn’t have that in the wardrobes upstairs.”
“No, that was Ames’s doing.” Three short strands of pearls hung from an ornate button adorning the Juliet cap. The beads swung when Tara ran her fingers over the gossamer fabric. “He had it delivered to the Captain’s Cottage. I hadn’t even told him what I was wearing.”
“He definitely has a knack,” Evelyn answered with stars in her eyes. “I want him to design my veil when I get married. If that day ever comes.”
“It will. Be sure you stand up front when I toss the bouquet.” Evelyn was the closest thing to a sister-in-law she’d ever have. Tara shot her a conspiratorial smile. “Maybe you’ll catch it.”
Evelyn shook her head. “Finding my special someone isn’t in the plan anytime soon. I’ll be too busy running things here at the Captain’s Cottage while you and Jason are on your honeymoon.”
“You never know. Look at Jason and me. We certainly didn’t plan on falling in love. But when it’s right, it’s right.”
Tara pressed one hand over her heart. She’d always wanted a summer wedding, but the thought of waiting till next June had nearly driven her to distraction. Fortunately, Jason hadn’t wanted a long engagement any more than she had. With a droll expression that still made her laugh, he’d assured her he had an “in” with the best venue in town and insisted on handling all the arrangements. She’d snuck a peek at the veranda on her way back from the spa. The backdrop he’d commissioned had turned the space into a fairy tale setting for their wedding and taken her breath away. It was just one more in a long list of reasons she’d love him forever.
She straightened her engagement ring, eager to have Jason slip a plain gold band on her finger. “Speaking of honeymoons—a month visiting all the great cathedrals in Europe. Isn’t that the best ever?” As was the custom, they’d spend their first night in the Azalea Suite. Tomorrow, they’d board a flight to London and, from there, she and Jason planned to visit all the sites on their list.
“I don’t know who’s looking forward to the trip more—you or Jason.” The clock over the mantle in the bridal dressing room chimed softly. “Okay, it’s almost show time. Final check. You have your something borrowed, something blue, something old, and something new?”
Tara skimmed one hand over the antique dress. “Borrowed and old. Alicia gave me a hanky embroidered with blue flowers. As for new…” Lifting the hem of the ankle-length gown, she balanced on one foot while she held out the other. The jewels in one of the Sophie Olson high heels caught a ray of light and reflected a thousand sparkles.
“Oh! Those are to die for!” With her typical candor, Evelyn gasped, “They must have set you back a pretty penny.”
“Actually, no. They were Regina’s gift. My something new for the wedding.” Lately, her boss had been full of surprises.
“I guess she’s not the cold fish everyone made her out to be,” Evelyn mused. “She and Robert make a nice couple.”
No one had been more surprised than Tara when Regina had announced that her ex-fiancé would be attending the wedding as her plus-one. “I guess seeing Jason and me together, watching him go down on bended knee—”
“—I can’t believe he didn’t propose at a nice restaurant, someplace romantic,” Evelyn protested.
“It was plenty romantic for me.” Her heart still went pit-a-pat when she thought of that moment. “Anyway, Regina had always said true love was only a fairy tale. But we convinced her otherwise. She called Robert the very next day. They’ve been seeing each other ever since.” And, according to Van, the temperature at the office had thawed considerably over the last month.
“Maybe they’ll try again for a Heart’s Landing wedding,” Evelyn said, hopeful.
“Maybe.” Stranger things had happened. But that was down the road a bit. Right now, there was a man and a minister waiting for her at the altar. “Are we all set? Are Lulu and Maggie ready?”
Her family had closed the restaurant and flown in earlier in the week. Not that they’d lounged around since they’d arrived. Taking time off wasn’t in their nature. Instead, Maggie and her mom had taken over the job of decorating the dining room for the rehearsal dinner, while her father and Lulu had worked with Connie and her staff, preparing their signature shrimp ‘n grits. Last night, a few of the locals had turned up their noses at such “Southern fare.” That was, they had until they’d tasted the dish. Then, her father had sworn he’d never seen so many plates come back to the kitchen licked clean. He was still proudly chuckling about it when she and Evelyn had whisked her mom and sisters off to the Perfectly Flawless Day Spa this morning.
“Alicia and Jenny have everything under control.” Evelyn had no sooner offered the assurance than a light tap sounded and the door eased ajar.
Tara cocked her head as Jenny stepped into the gap. “Your bridesmaids will start down the aisle in a minute. Your dad’s waiting right outside. Are you ready?”
Tara inhaled a deep breath. “Ready.” She’d been waiting for this since the moment she’d first looked into Jason’s eyes.
Jenny nodded, her mouth gaping open.
“I know you think I have to say this, but this time I really mean it—you look absolutely stunning. The most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” The opening notes of “Pachelbel’s Canon” drifted into the room. Straightening, Jenny resumed her usual businesslike manner. “It’s time.”
While Evelyn slipped past to claim her seat before the ceremony started, Tara stepped from the room.
“There’s my girl.” Above a bowtie and starched, white collar, her father’s ruddy face broke into a wreath of smiles. “Honey, you look gorgeous. The first of my daughters to get married.” His chest swelled, and he kissed her cheek. As they started the short walk to the ceremony, he grinned. “I guess this means you’re not coming back home to join the family business.”
“No, Dad.” Tara patted his arm. “You aren’t too disappointed, are you?”
“Never! Your mother and I, we knew the restaurant wasn’t in your blood from the time you were just a little girl. All those wonderful stories you used to tell over the dinner table—that’s where your passion was. Honey, all your mom and I have ever wanted is your happiness. If that means living in Heart’s Landing and marrying Jason, if he makes you happy…” He halted, waiting for an answer.
“He does, Dad.” Tara squeezed her father’s arm. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
“That’s good enough for me.” He stood straighter. “What say we get you married?”
Arm-in-arm, they stepped onto a white runner that led them to the aisle. Tara lifted her head as Lydia, Greg Thomas’s daughter, played the opening bars of the “Wedding March.” Skirts rustled. Men cleared their throats. The gathered crowd rose. Two months ago, she would’ve trembled in fear at the sight of even a hundred people watching her. The three hundred who stood now barely caused a flutter. Jason had helped her with that. Among other things, he’d shown her that by putting the one she loved first—whether it was a man or a town—she’d banish her fears. She barely leaned on her father’s arm as, carrying a single purple hyacinth, she walked down the aisle to the man she loved.
And there he was, looking magnificent in a tux and tails. A giddy frisson ran through her, and she nearly pinched herself. Jason’s eyes widened, his lips parted the moment he caught sight of her. She knew in that instant she’d been right about the dress. Then his gaze locked on hers, and she lost herself in the gray depths of his eyes.
“The best is yet to be,” she whispered, grateful for all that had led her to Heart’s Landing, where she’d discovered her very own love for the ages.
The End
Orange Balsamic Roasted Carrots
A Hallmark Original Recipe
In A Cottage Wedding, Tara attends a cocktail party in her honor, catered by a chef who trained at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. All the food is amazing, including the balsamic-glazed carrots, and Tara savors every bite…until Jason sweeps her off her feet to dance. Our Orange Balsamic Roasted Carrots add a dash of panache to any menu, and they’re as easy as they are elegant.
Prep Time: 5 minutes
Cook Time: 45 minutes
Serves: 10
INGREDIENTS
20 organic whole carrots with greens, trimmed
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon orange juice concentrate
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon thyme, fresh, chopped
Kosher salt and pepper, to taste
Italian parsley, chopped, optional, garnish
PREPARATION
Preheat oven to 375°F.
Clean and trim carrots and place on a lightly greased baking sheet.
In a small bowl, whisk olive oil, balsamic vinegar, orange juice, garlic and thyme.
Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Pour the mixture over the carrots and gently toss to coat.
Roast 40-45 minutes or until tender. If desired, garnish with parsley.
Sneak Peek of The Story of Us
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Chapter One
Looking back, Jamie Vaughn should have realized something was amiss on that cool February morning as she navigated the cobblestone streets of Waterford, Oregon’s charming business district. All the signs were there—another vacant storefront, the cracks in the sidewalk that had lingered for months without being repaired, the suspiciously short line at the corner coffee shop.
But Jamie didn’t notice any of those things.
With her favorite polka dot dress swishing around her legs and her cat carrier slung over her shoulder, she couldn’t help seeing her hometown as she always had. The duck statues she loved so much—a mama trailed by four tiny ducklings—were lined up in a neat row on the wooden footbridge of the walking trail. A puppy romped playfully at the end of its leash in the crosswalk by the pizza parlor. Preschoolers in bright coats and knitted beanies held onto a walking rope as their teachers led them to the nearby park.
It was the same Waterford she’d known and loved her entire life, since she herself had been one of those fresh-faced preschoolers. So maybe, just maybe, she had a tendency to look at the business district through rose-colored glasses. Was that really so bad, though?
In this case, yes. Yes, it was.
If she’d stopped long enough to take a closer look at her surroundings, maybe she wouldn’t have been caught so off-guard by what came later that day. But she didn’t stop. She kept right on following the cobblestone path all the way to her bookshop, hands buried in the pockets of her red swing coat and rose-tinted glasses firmly in place.
A tiny meow came from the cat carrier as Jamie unlocked the frosted-glass door to the shop and stepped inside. Eliot, her orange tabby, never missed a day of work and liked to announce his arrival to the white French country bookshelves and the faux cherry blossom tree that loomed over the best-sellers table. As per usual, neither responded.
Jamie deposited the purple carrier onto the sales counter and gave Eliot’s pink nose a gentle tap through one of its mesh windows. His bright gaze followed her as she made her way beneath one of the store’s big arched walkways—with crown molding as white and frothy as icing on a wedding cake—to the inside of the square checkout area.
She unzipped the top of Eliot’s bag.
Meow.
Eliot popped his furry orange head out of the cat carrier and cast an evaluating glance at his surroundings. He took his job as an official bookshop cat quite seriously.
“Oh, hello.” Jamie smiled at him and was rewarded with a rumbling purr in response.
She scooped him up and lifted him out of the bag. “It’s a beautiful day to sell books. Isn’t it, Eliot?”
He blinked, which Jamie took as a yes. After all, wasn’t every day a good day to sell books? Of course it was, particularly if you were a feline named after T. S. Eliot.
“Yes, I agree.” Jamie nodded and released Eliot to pad along the smooth white countertop, weaving around vases of fragrant pink roses and waterfall orchids.
Many people didn’t know T. S. Eliot’s poems had been the inspiration for the musical Cats, but Jamie did. Just as she knew that Marcel Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past was the longest novel ever written and that First Impressions was the original title of Jane Austen’s beloved classic Pride & Prejudice. Someday, she hoped to be a published author herself. Every now and then, she liked to imagine what her name might look like printed on one of the volumes that lined her bookshop’s shelves.
Books were Jamie’s thing; her one true love. Other than Eliot, of course. And her bookshop, which was aptly called True Love Books & Cafe. The name hadn’t actually been Jamie’s creation, but it fit. It always had.
She tossed her keys into the antique china dish where she usually kept them and got to work readying the shop for business. By the time she’d gotten
the sales software up and running, watered all the flowers and checked to make sure there were plenty of iced sugar cookies, scones and Valentine cupcakes arranged on the covered crystal cake stands in the café section of the store, her first customer was already browsing the classics section.
Jamie had known Alex Lopez for years, although his tastes usually ran more toward the Stephen King end of the spectrum than any of the books he was currently contemplating. How many times had she had to remind him True Love was a romance bookstore before he’d finally stopped coming by in search of the kind of books that would have given her nightmares for days?
“Hi, Alex, what’s up?” She cast him a curious glance as he picked up a hardcover copy of The House of Mirth—a special commemorative edition with the title spelled out in elegant gold script.
“Oh hey, Jamie. I was trying to figure out a good book to give Taylor for Valentine’s Day.” He studied the book’s cover, brow furrowing. “She likes romantic comedies. I figure mirth is funny, right?”
Jamie paused. Where to start?
“Yes, it is. Um, and Edith Wharton is one of the greatest authors of all time. First woman to win a Pulitzer for literature,” she said.
But she couldn’t let the poor guy walk out of the shop thinking he’d just bought his girlfriend the literary equivalent of When Harry Met Sally. She held up a finger. “But in this case, ‘mirth’ is ironic.”
