ARKANSAS WEDDINGS: THREE-IN-ONE COLLECTION

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  “Perfect. We’d really appreciate it.”

  “I love big old houses.” Grayson scanned the balcony. “I heard the apartment used to be slave quarters.”

  Shell mustered up a tour guide smile. “I thought the same thing, but the house was built after slavery was abolished and the servants’ quarters are upstairs. Apparently, the apartment was built later than the house.”

  “Are you remodeling the apartment, too?”

  “It’s already done on the inside and when we finish the transformation, I’ll move out so it can serve as the honeymoon suite.”

  “How romantic.” Adrea turned a dreamy-eyed gaze toward her husband. “Maybe it’ll be finished in time to spend our next anniversary here.”

  Shell suppressed a gag.

  “Maybe.” Grayson kissed her temple, then the baby’s, and tucked Adrea’s fingers in his elbow. “Oh, almost forgot. We’re having a yard sale the last Friday and Saturday of this month to benefit the Arkansas Children’s Homes. We’ve got nice things people donated. Furniture, artwork, dishes. You name it, we got it.”

  “I might have to check out the dishes.” Ryler grinned. “I’m tired of paper plates.”

  “Good, maybe we’ll see you then.” Grayson patted Adrea’s hand. “We’re also having a Mother’s Day picnic over at the church next month.”

  A knife twisted in Shell’s stomach. She’d never get to celebrate Mother’s Day. “I’ll have to check my calendar.”

  “Y’all are welcome to come and my sister’s helping with the food, so you won’t want to miss out.” Grayson listed all the various services and times at the church. “If you don’t have a church home, give us a try.”

  With a wave, he pushed the empty stroller down the drive as Adrea cooed to the tiny bundle she held.

  “So, how do you know them?”

  “It’s a long story.” A sordid one.

  Something crinkled. Shell turned to face him.

  A wad of aluminum foil filled the empty spot in the container. Ryler’s sandwich already had a bite missing. “Mmm, I’m starving.”

  “I’ll tell the other guys before you eat them all.” She grabbed a sandwich for herself and rounded the house.

  Scaffolding framed the side with several men at various heights. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Lunch is on the porch, guys.”

  The foreman started down his ladder. “I brought mine. I didn’t know lunch was part of the pay.”

  Shell didn’t answer. Ryler could explain. She just wanted the quiet of her apartment.

  Careful not to scuff her heels, she tiptoed across the gravel drive. So, Adrea ended up married to the preacher whose wife Wade killed. And they had a baby. Both of them came out just fine after Wade literally wrecked their lives.

  A smirk played across Shell’s lips as she remembered sneaking up behind Wade, wrapped only in a towel, and the horrified expression on Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes’ face.

  Entering the apartment, she hurried to the kitchen. Ice clanged from the dispenser and diet soda fizzed as she poured it into the glass.

  Memories chased one another and her smile faded away.

  With a shudder, she hugged herself. She hadn’t been to see Wade since his mother put him in the nursing home in Searcy.

  Why did women like Adrea always get happily-ever-afters while Shell ended up alone? Not that she wanted a preacher—just the happily-ever-after part.

  How many demons from her past could she face in one day? A child’s laugh echoed through the open kitchen window. Her demons were laughing at her.

  A loud whir started up outside, signaling that the men had inhaled lunch.

  She took a bite of the sandwich. Chicken salad and it was probably really good, but her taste buds were dead.

  Ryler sank onto the foot of the bed. His bed, but the rental certainly didn’t feel like home. He hadn’t had a home since he was eighteen. The drab white walls closed in around the queen-sized bed that almost filled the room, leaving barely enough room to turn sideways and walk around it.

  He looked toward the ceiling, rolling his head from side to side. Tense muscles and tendons popped and ground against one another in his neck and shoulders. Ill at ease at home—ill at ease at work.

  She hadn’t worn his perfume in four days. Instead she’d worn a light, powdery floral scent. Proof that she hadn’t worn his perfume that first day because she missed him but because she liked the smell.

  Maybe having Adrea help Shell with the flowers would keep her at a safe distance. The more he saw her, the more he wanted to beg for another chance.

  But he’d never been the begging kind and Shell Evans wouldn’t drive him to his knees.

  He opened the third drawer of the dresser and pushed his T-shirts aside. It was still there. The envelope with the deposit slip and statements from the bank. Twenty thousand dollars earning interest in his account.

  What kind of person left that kind of cash lying around in a safe deposit box for thirty years? Guilt? Love? Regret? He ran his hand through his hair.

  Never had he held that much money. It would come in handy with building his company.

  Maybe having struck out on his own would impress Shell and she’d reward him with a flirty smile. But it would mean nothing. All of her smiles were flirty.

  Possibilities brought a grin to his lips as he remembered how soft she felt against him when she literally fell into his arms. Who knows, maybe another fling would get her out of his system. A nice distraction while he checked out the Krofts.

  What if Laken and Collin weren’t worth knowing any more than Sylvie was? He’d move on. With no ties to bind, no roots, it didn’t matter.

  Carefully, he put the envelope back in the drawer and covered it with clothing.

  No. He’d sworn off women. The last thing he needed was Shell dallying with his heart again until she got bored and cast him aside. No more women.

  But why did she have to come in such an attractive package?

  A knock sounded at the door. Ryler slammed the drawer shut. Who could that be?

  He hurried to the door, picking up a stray sock and remote on the way and stashed them behind a throw pillow on the couch.

  A young boy in a wheelchair greeted him, with Collin standing behind. Ryler’s jaw dropped. Who was the boy? Maybe he had a nephew.

  “I’m Collin Kroft and this is my son, Brady. I live across the street.” Collin gestured a thumb in that direction. “Thought we’d introduce ourselves to the new neighbor.”

  You mean your brother. Do you know about me?

  Collin frowned. “Maybe now isn’t a good time.”

  “Ryler Grant.” He offered his hand and Collin shook it.

  “Welcome to the neighborhood. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “And if you like to play basketball, I do, too.” The boy grinned.

  “I’ll bet.” Ryler smiled.

  “I’m really good.” Brady rolled his chair back and forth in quick succession. “I play on a wheelchair league in Little Rock.”

  Why was Brady in a wheelchair? A lump lodged in Ryler’s throat. To be so young and confined to a chair.

  “Well, we won’t keep you. Let’s go, Brady. Ryler’s probably busy.”

  “Actually, I’d like to see you shoot a few hoops, Brady. I could use a break from unpacking.” Ryler held up his index finger. “Hang on a second.”

  He hurried inside and scooped the basketball from the closet then sprinted back outside.

  “There’s a hoop in the back.”

  “Cool.” Brady rolled himself around the back of the house. From fifty feet away, he lobbed the ball through the air with perfect spin and arch. Swoosh. Nothing but net. If there’d been a net attached to the rusty hoop.

  “You’re very good.” Ryler leaned against the back porch. “Are y’all from around here?”

  “I grew up in Searcy, lived in California for the last several years, and moved to Romance a few months ago to be close to Brady.”
<
br />   Divorced and the boy apparently lived with his mom. “I met your sister at the post office today when I got my box and she told me you were my neighbor.”

  “Laken’s a gem. What kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m a landscaper. You?”

  “I’m a comptroller at a fragrance company in Little Rock.” Collin leaned against the porch beside Ryler, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you working steady?”

  Ryler nodded. “I worked on a golf course in Searcy, and I actually worked on your folks’ place a few months back. Your sister remembered seeing me there.”

  “I knew you looked familiar. So, why settle in Romance?”

  “I like the area.” Ryler kicked at the gravel. “Right now I’m working the grounds of a B&B in Rose Bud.”

  Brady effortlessly swished another goal.

  “I heard Shell Evans was heading that up.” Collin smirked. “The old Darden-Gifford place.”

  “You know her?”

  “Half the guys in Searcy know her, if you know what I mean,” Collin whispered.

  Ryler’s throat constricted. His hands fisted. How well did Collin know Shell? Why did it bother him to hear her talked about that way? Because there was something vulnerable about her. Used and discarded. Just like him. Only she’d discarded him, too, so why should he care?

  “I shouldn’t have said that.” Collin cleared his throat. “She may have changed. Lord knows I have. Or have I? Sometimes I wonder. I became a Christian a few months back. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of the old man left inside of me, but I’m working on him.”

  Okay, don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Even though his adoptive parents had taken him to church, the more Collin talked, the more confusion clouded Ryler’s brain. What old man?

  “I’ve got an early commute in the morning, so I better get Brady home. He’s got exercises to do and we haven’t eaten supper yet. Want to ‘bach’ it with us? My sister sent over a pot of veggie soup.”

  Tempting, but he’d had enough sibling exposure for the day. “It sounds great, but I better get back to unpacking.”

  Collin clapped his hands to be heard over the constant thud of the dribbling basketball. “Come on, Brady. Let’s go.”

  “Bye, Mr. Grant.” Brady passed the ball to him.

  “Bye, Brady. Come play ball again some time and please, call me Ryler.” Uncle Ryler? Uncle Martin? Martin Kroft Jr.?

  They disappeared around the side of the house. Ryler went in the back, stashed the ball in the closet, and sank into the couch, cupping his head in his hands.

  He’d officially met both of his siblings now. Still, he only had questions. Why had Sylvie thrown him away, but kept Collin and Laken?

  His father’s Bible sat on the coffee table. Riley Grant, the only father he’d ever known. Flipping near the middle, he found the letter. Carefully, he unfolded it.

  Dearest Ryler,

  If you’re reading this, it means your father and I are in heaven. We can’t bear to think of you all alone. I’m sorry, son. We should have told you about the adoption all along, but we were selfish, and afraid that if you knew, someday you’d try to find your biological family and leave us. We hope this news isn’t too jarring. Just know that we couldn’t have loved you more if you were our own.

  Please, son, find your family, with our blessing. Your birth mother left the safe deposit key at the children’s home. In the safe deposit box, you’ll find twenty thousand dollars, a letter from your birth mother, a strand of pearls she wanted you to have, and trust fund papers. Please use the money to open your adoption records and claim your inheritance. For your future.

  Your loving parents,

  Riley and Loretta Grant

  He traced his fingers over the precise scrawl. Could he trust her words? His mother had been the ultimate optimist. She could put a sweet spin on the worst disaster. She’d probably had complete faith that Ryler would come home. Right up until her last breath.

  He closed his eyes.

  Could he trust Sylvie? Trust the woman who gave him away at birth? Trust the woman who lived in her upscale neighborhood while his adoptive parents struggled to keep food on the table and never touched the stack of bills now padding his bank account?

  He refolded the letter and set it back inside the Bible. A yellow streak on the page caught his eye. A verse his father had highlighted.

  “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”

  With each car that neared, Shell tensed from her perch on the balcony.

  Six fifteen. Any minute perky Adrea would show up with flower advice. Maybe she’d forget. Not a chance. Women like Adrea kept their word.

  A silver G5 sports car turned into the winding drive. The perfect little perky car for perfect little perky Adrea.

  Blowing out a sigh, Shell closed her eyes. She cut through the landing and marched down the stairs, sidestepping carpenters, tools, and lumber. The constant whir of production rang in her ears.

  As Shell opened the front door, Adrea stepped up on the porch.

  “Listen.” Shell propped her hands on her hips. “You don’t have to do this. I can muddle through the catalogs and Ryler can give me any flower info I need to know.”

  “But I’d really like to help. I’m excited to be in the planning stage of such a large undertaking.”

  This woman couldn’t be for real. No one was that nice, that happy. “I haven’t had the chance to check with my boss. I can’t guarantee a consulting fee.”

  “I’m not here for money. I just love gardens.”

  Shell stifled a sigh. “Let’s just get it out in the open. I know you hate me.” With just cause.

  “I don’t hate you.” Adrea grinned. “Okay, there might have been a time when I did. But that was another lifetime ago. I brought you white tulips. Do you know what they symbolize?”

  “I’m not much on flowers.” Shell cocked an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re here, remember?”

  “I knew it was you overseeing the restorations here before Grayson and I came over last week.”

  Shell’s mouth went dry. “How?”

  “News travels fast in a small town. I purposely brought you white tulips because they symbolize forgiveness.”

  “Forgiveness.” Shell’s tone symbolized sarcasm. “You think I need forgiveness.”

  “I wanted you to know that whatever happened between us is in the past—I don’t hold it against you.” Adrea clasped Shell’s hand. “And if I did anything that hurt you, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Pulling her hand away, Shell swallowed hard. Adrea couldn’t be blamed for anything.

  “Mrs. Sterling.” Ryler jogged around the side of the house. “Great timing. I have the garden plans. Ready to get started, ladies?”

  Shell’s heart ached for Chance, even though she’d spent the last two weekends with him. To have those plump little arms around her neck.

  Sitting cross-legged on the balcony with landscaping plans surrounding her, she couldn’t focus. If only Savannah and Jake had agreed to officially adopt Chance. Then there would be closure. Like this, Shell could reclaim him anytime. Savannah and Jake even encouraged her to. And Darrell.

  Chance was better off without her. Without Wade Fenwick’s shadow haunting him.

  And to top everything off, there was Ryler. She tried to ignore him working below. Ignore the muscles bulging under his shirt, ignore the impressive expanse of chest, ignore those intense eyes.

  How could a man who spent so much of his time playing with flowers be so manly?

  Think about the project. So far, the plumber was amazingly fast. Soon the bathroom fixtures would be in place and the framework for the walls would go up. The crew showed up daily, working hard and steady. Already, the house looked better, though most of the grounds were covered with fresh dirt.

  “Hey.”

  So much for not thinking about Ryler. She looked down from the balcony.

  “I picke
d up something extra from the wholesaler. Come see what you think.”

  Frowning, she hurried through the landing and down the stairs. They’d gone over Darrell’s budget. There wasn’t room for anything extra.

  Standing by his truck, he motioned toward the bed. “What do you think?”

  A pristine, white porch swing sat in the back of his truck, surrounded by scalloped terra-cotta edging and stepping-stones.

  “I’ve seen you staring at that porch swing. Since you seem to spend most of your time up there, I thought you could use a perch in your makeshift office.”

  Sweet gesture. But what did he want in return? “It’s beautiful. But the budget…”

  “The wholesaler gave me a deal on the edging since I bought so much, so I used the difference on the swing. It can go back if you don’t want it. But I figured future guests could enjoy it.”

  “You’re right. Definitely keep it.”

  “The guys will need to replace some boards on the ceiling, but they can have it up in a few days. I’ll get this unloaded and make another trip for the first load of plants.”

  Movement in the drive caught her attention. The preacher again. Shell rolled her eyes.

  More food, but at least Mrs. Perky and the wailing baby weren’t with him.

  “Lasagna anyone?” Grayson held two trays stacked on top of one another.

  “Mmm.” Ryler hurried down the drive.

  Reluctantly, Shell followed.

  “My sister catered a dinner party last night. Most of her well-to-do clients don’t do leftovers, so Grace ends up with extra food.”

  “You really shouldn’t bring everything here.” Can’t you just stay on your side of the road? “Think of all the hungry children in China.”

  “I took most of it over to the homeless mission in Searcy. My secretary heated these up for y’all.”

  Shell’s mouth clamped shut and she took a dish. “Thanks. The men will love it.”

  “I wanted to remind y’all about the yard sale Friday and Saturday. And the picnic next Saturday. We really want y’all to come. Your whole crew.”