The Wedding Planner

by Millie Criswell

  “That would be New Jersey?” Meredith glanced covertly at Sally, who was rolling her eyes and trying not to smile.

  “That’s what I said—New Joisey. Anyway, I’m looking for a new man.” Pop, pop, pop. “I dumped Wally back in Atlantic City after he told me that my thighs had jello-lotus, or something like that. So I says, ‘Get the hell outta my life, Wally.’ Anyway, I figured getting married to a millionaire wouldn’t be that bad an idea.” Pop. Smack. Pop. “You know, I’m getting kinda tired of taking my clothes off, and—”

  “Just what line of work are you in, Miss Fontaine?” Glancing down at the questionnaire the woman had barely filled out, she kept her voice perfectly impassive. “Ah, I see…it says exotic dancer.” Only it was spelled X-otic. “You performed at one of the casinos, I take it?”

  The woman nodded, and her massive bosom heaved. Implants, Meredith decided with a certainty. “I saw that movie…you know, the one with Marilyn Monroe and Jane What’s-her-name? So I figured, if those girls can find themselves a millionaire to marry, well then, so can I.”

  Blowing a bubble, which covered half her face, and which Meredith was very tempted to pop, pop, pop, Tess asked, “So, is this guy weird or what? Not that I mind all that much.” Pop, smack, pop. “Wally was plenty perverted, believe you me, but—”

  Yep. Adam was definitely weird, but not in the way Tess Fontaine meant. “I think that should do it,” Meredith said, interrupting, not wanting to hear about the inventive Wally’s lovemaking techniques.

  Pasting on a smile, she wondered if they were ever going to find the meticulous millionaire a suitable bride. Obviously Tess Fontaine didn’t fit the bill. Adam’s words came to mind: Intelligence being the most important quality, of course. Had he said boobs, the woman would now be bouncing about the Morgan mansion.

  “She’s gone,” Sally said a few minutes later, setting down the video camera, a huge grin splitting her face. “I had no idea we’d be meeting so many interesting types of people. I just love this job! I feel as if I should be paying you for the education I’m getting, instead of the other way around.”

  “Oh, you mean like Delissia Murdock and her boa constrictor?” Meredith had nearly fainted when the attractive, soft-spoken Miss Murdock had primly opened up her large canvas carryall and released the slithering creature onto the mauve rug. Fergie, she’d explained, needed exercise.

  Remembering the hideously large reptile still gave her goose bumps, and she rubbed her forearms against the chill. “Wonder how Adam would like taking Fergie to bed with him? Talk about a heartfelt hug!”

  Sally smiled, even though she’d been as frightened as her employer at the time, and had climbed up on one of the chairs, refusing to get down again until the snake was safely tucked away. “I’m sure we’ll get some better applicants next week. We were bound to get a few kooks in the beginning. I mean—this is a rather unorthodox idea and all.”

  “Harebrained and idiotic, you mean?” Meredith didn’t bother to hide her disgust. They had a little over nine weeks to find a suitable bride, and her optimism was at an all-time low.

  The one bright spot in the whole miserable affair had been Sally, whose unfailing optimism and keen sense of humor made the situation bearable, if not almost fun.

  Almost, because one would have to be a masochist to truly enjoy the predicament they presently found themselves in.

  Sally’s bruises had faded for the most part, and Meredith suspected that the young woman had laughed more in the past week and a half than she had in a very long while. Which almost—there was that word again—made pursuing Adam’s ridiculous idea worthwhile.

  Having just returned from the post office with more applications, Randall looked about the store, setting the three huge canvas bags he held on the floor, clearly disappointed to find no applicants remaining. “So, who’d I miss?”

  “Remember that fifties movie star Jayne Mansfield?” Sally asked with a lift of her brows, and Randall’s eyes widened.

  “Really? Mon dieu! Now that I would like to have seen. I’ll definitely watch the video. Should I bring popcorn?” He grinned, rubbing his hands together like a Wall Street broker expecting a windfall. “Who’s next?”

  It was clear he and Sally were enjoying the application process far more than their harried boss. “Hate to disappoint, but that’s it for today,” Meredith informed them. “I can’t take anymore. My jaw’s killing me from all the forced smiling I had to do.”

  “How many videos do you have to show Morgan this evening?”

  A lump of dread filled her chest. “You had to ask, didn’t you, Randall?” She sighed, not looking forward to facing Adam with such miserable results. “Not counting the pregnant teenager from Michigan, who I convinced to return home, four. But that includes the snake lady and the Jayne Mansfield look-alike.”

  “Mon dieu!”

  “Exactly.”

  “You forgot Thelma Packwood,” Sally reminded her.

  “Ah, yes. How does one describe Thelma, octogenarian turned manhunter?” Tapping her chin, a mischievous twinkle lighting her eyes, she said, “Come to think of it Thelma might be the one Adam’s looking for.”

  “She’s a bit old for him, don’t you think?”

  “Now, Sally, we are an equal-opportunity bridal applicant agency. Just because Miss Packwood chooses to wear orthopedic shoes, elastic hose, has four-inch lenses, and is a firm believer in prunes, does not mean we can discount her.

  “Who knows? It could be love at first sight.” Not that the old woman would be able to see Adam clearly.

  Clutching her hands to her heart dramatically, she added, “I can see the headlines now—True Love Blossoms for Morgantown Millionaire. Adam Morgan Woos and Weds World’s Oldest Living Female. They’ll probably make it into a movie of the week.”

  Sally and Randall exchanged surprised looks, then burst out laughing. Meredith couldn’t resist joining them.

  “I’m sure Louise will be very sad to hear that her daughter’s developed a sadistic streak,” Randall said. “What did the prince do this time to deserve your wrath, sweetie?”

  Meredith frowned deeply, heaved a sigh and replied, “He hired me to find him a bride.”

  PETER CLUTCHED the gaily wrapped box, fairly certain that Adam, for all his business acumen, was too dense to get the meaning of what was inside.

  After his last meeting with Meredith, Peter was more convinced than ever that she and Adam belonged together. She was wonderful with the children, had a terrific personality and sense of humor, not to mention a knockout body, and she matched the reclusive millionaire equally in stubbornness and intelligence, which, considering Adam’s IQ, was nothing short of astonishing.

  Meredith would make him the perfect bride. She had a lot of warmth and love to give, and Adam needed all he could get.

  After his first meeting with the wedding planner, Peter had thought seriously about dating Meredith himself. He’d been thinking more and more lately about settling down, raising a family and buying a house with some acreage. She was the kind of girl a man thought about marrying—sweet, wholesome and just plain nice.

  But after seeing her with Adam and, more important, after meeting Sally Jacobs, he knew fate had stepped in and tossed him a curve. Now if he could just do the same to Adam, they could dispense with this ridiculous bridal search idea and get on with their lives. Of course, convincing Adam of that would be next to impossible. Once he got a bit between his teeth, Adam ran like a Thoroughbred to the finish line.

  “Hey, Webb. What brings you over?” Adam smiled at the attorney. “Mrs. Fishburn just told me you were here. Why didn’t you call? You missed out on a great dinner of chicken cordon bleu, which I happen to know is one of your favorites.” When they were kids, Peter had always managed to finagle an invitation for dinner on the nights the cook prepared the dish.

  Hiding the small box behind his back, Peter smiled, wondering what Adam would think after opening his unorthodox gift. He didn’t intend to stay a
nd find out. Helping the man out with his love life was one thing, facing his wrath quite another.

  “Meredith’s due to stop over tonight with the latest bunch of videos, so I’m not going to stay long.”

  Guilt consumed the millionaire at the surge of relief he felt. As much as he liked his dearest friend, he’d been looking forward to spending the evening alone with Meredith.

  “I just wanted to drop something off to you,” Peter added.

  “The Palmer contracts?” Adam furrowed his brow in confusion. “I thought you said—”

  The lawyer shook his head. “No, they’re not completed yet. Maybe tomorrow. Harriet’s still working on them.

  “I’ve…I’ve got a little present for you. I guess you could call it an early birthday present.”

  Now Adam really looked puzzled. “But my birthday ’s not for two more months, and we always go to Mama Francesca’s to celebrate.” Adam enjoyed good Italian food, even at small, unpretentious and inexpensive restaurants like Mama’s. And he wasn’t about to let Peter renege on a standing tradition.

  Peter placed the box on the desk. “Don’t worry. Mama’s is still on.” He checked his watch, though he knew exactly what time it was. Adam’s grandfather clock had just chimed seven. “I’ve got to run. I’m helping Sally hang curtains tonight.”

  A dark brow shot up, and a look of disbelief crossed Adam’s face. “You’re hanging curtains? This Sally must be a very important client. I don’t recall you ever—”

  “Sally Jacobs is not a client, not in the way you mean, anyway. She’s a woman I’ve been helping out. Someone I met at the women’s shelter.”

  “The one Allison helped found?” The shelter had been one of his sister’s pet projects. After her death it seemed more important than ever to continue supporting their work. Helping abused women escape brutality at the hands of their lovers, husbands or ex-husbands was a worthwhile investment, one he wished Allison had availed herself of sooner.

  Peter nodded. “The very same. I met her a few weeks back. She was bruised and battered and needed a friend, so I offered to be one.”

  “But what do you know of this woman?” Noting the way Peter suddenly stiffened, he added in a more conciliatory tone, “By that I mean, maybe she’s got deep psychological problems deriving from her abuse. As your friend, I don’t want to see you get involved in something you might regret later.” Peter had a habit of picking up strays and lost souls. He’d always been a soft touch for a hard-luck story.

  “Always the careful one, eh, Adam?” Peter smiled, knowing his friend had only his best interests at heart, but also knowing that Adam was a careful man. Too careful, in many instances, allowing logic to rule his deeper emotions. And Peter blamed Allistair Morgan for that.

  The austere millionaire had been cold and unemotional, probably a result of his own upbringing. Adam’s father had seen everything in black-and-white, like columns on a ledger sheet. If it didn’t add up and balance, it wasn’t a wise investment. He’d seen people the same way.

  Adam had never learned to think in shades of gray, to take chances that might not always be the safest course to follow.

  “Sometimes you’ve got to go with your gut, old buddy. That’s what I’m doing. I found Sally Jacobs a job with Meredith and—”

  “Meredith hired this woman?”

  His smile was decidedly smug. “Without batting an eyelash. And things are working out very well for both of them, I’m pleased to say. Sally’s been doing the videotaping of the bridal applicants.” And she’d become a different woman since she’d begun working for Meredith—more open, less tentative to give her opinions, eager to share her beautiful smile that never failed to take his breath away.

  The dark-haired man took a moment to digest what he’d been told, then asked, “And you’re interested in this woman?”

  “By interested, if you mean romantically, the answer’s yes. But I’m not pursuing that avenue right now. Sally needs a friend, not a lover. She needs to heal from the miserable ordeal her fiancé put her through.”

  The vein in Adam’s temple throbbed as memories of Allison’s abuse and death flooded over him again. “How badly did the bastard beat her?”

  Every time Peter thought of how Sally had appeared that first time he’d gone to the shelter, he wanted to kill her ex-fiancé. She’d been so black and blue with bruises, it had taken weeks for her true complexion to emerge.

  “Bad enough,” he finally admitted, clenching and unclenching his fists, though he was unaware of the gesture, and trying to force his temper down. “But she’s almost fully recovered on the outside. I think it’s going to take a while before she learns to trust again. They were only a month away from getting married. He cleaned out her bank account, stole most of her furniture and possessions, after beating the hell out of her first.”

  Peter’s anger was evident, and Adam surmised that his friend’s heart was involved, which worried the heck out of him. He and Peter were as close as brothers—he’d always protected him, looked out for and taken care of him—and he didn’t intend to stop now. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “Thanks. I’d better get going. Meredith’ll be here any moment.” As if on cue, the door knocker sounded. “There she is now.” Noting how flushed Adam’s face had suddenly become, Peter was quite encouraged by the reaction. “I always did have impeccable timing.”

  Meredith wondered at the peculiar look Peter gave her as he exited the house, then held up her bag of videos to Adam, who appeared somewhat distracted.

  “Hope you’ve got plenty of popcorn,” she said. “And maybe something strong to drink. I think you’re going to need both.”

  Chapter Seven

  Adam was not at home when Meredith stopped at the mansion to pick up Megan the following day. Mrs. Fishburn said he’d been invited to play in a benefit golf tournament at the country club and would stop by her house at the end of the day to retrieve his niece, if that met with her approval, which it did.

  Meredith had been both relieved and disappointed that he wasn’t home.

  Relieved, because after last night’s viewing of the videotapes, the man had been in the foulest mood. Even two snifters of brandy and Tess Fontaine’s Jayne Mansfield impersonation hadn’t put a smile on his face. Meredith, on the other hand, had been downright giddy, if not borderline hysterical.

  Brandy and business definitely did not mix.

  Adam just didn’t understand why “normal, attractive and reasonably sane” women weren’t jumping at the chance to wed him. After all, he’d explained with an affronted look, he was rich and not all together bad-looking.

  Unable to dispute the obvious, Meredith decided it was pointless to lecture the man on the small, insignificant ingredient that was missing from his whole marriage scheme: love.

  Sure, the money was nice. But who wanted to lie in a cold bed surrounded by a million one-dollar bills? That only happened in the movies, and only if you’d been fortunate enough to attract Robert Redford.

  Not that Adam’s bed would necessarily be cold, but—

  Don’t go there, Meredith.

  And she was disappointed because she’d hoped to talk the stubborn man into accompanying his niece to her house for the day. Adam wasn’t spending enough quality time with Andrew and Megan, and that worried Meredith, who’d grown inordinately fond of the children.

  The kids needed all the love and emotional support they could get right now, and it was Adam’s duty as their uncle and guardian to provide it. Andrew especially needed a man’s guidance. Soon he’d be entering puberty, and then all hell was going to break loose.

  Peter and Sally had graciously offered to keep the boy entertained for the day and evening, after Meredith had professed her guilt in not inviting him to accompany Megan. The couple planned to take him to a baseball game in Pittsburgh, and then afterward he’d be spending the night at Peter’s.

  Meredith was satisfied that Andrew wouldn’t be missing out o
n anything, except perhaps baking chocolate chip cookies, but she intended to send two dozen home for him, anyway.

  “How far away do you live, Miss Baxter?”

  Without turning her eyes from the road, she answered the child sitting next to her. “Not far, sweetie. And you can call me Meredith. Miss Baxter makes me feel like a schoolteacher.”

  Megan giggled. “Okay.”

  “First we need to stop off and see my mom at the nursing home. She gets lonely if I don’t visit her every day.”

  “Is your mommy sick?” There was genuine concern in her voice. “When’s she gonna get all better?”

  Braking for the red light at the intersection, Meredith eased in the clutch and threw the gear into first. Traffic downtown was heavy this morning. Many of Morgantown’s long-time residents preferred shopping downtown to the mall off the freeway. She was one of them.

  “I’m not sure she is, Megan. Her heart is weak, and she has to take things very slow and easy. She stays in her room most of the day.” To finally admit to herself that her mother was likely to die in the nursing home had been difficult, but necessary for Meredith, who tended toward optimism and had forced herself to believe that miracles actually happened. This time, however, she knew that wasn’t likely to be the case, no matter how hard she might pray. Louise Baxter was fresh out of miracles.

  “Your mommy must get lonely. I know I do when Murphy’s not with me.” She gave the bear a squeeze. “Maybe we could get her a teddy bear, then she wouldn’t be so lonely when you’re not there.”

  A stuffed bear instead of a kitten or puppy. Meredith mulled over the child’s brilliant idea, wishing she’d thought of it herself. “I think we’ll stop at the toy store and do just that, sweetie. You can pick out a teddy bear to give her, okay?”

  The child’s face glowed at the prospect. “Okay. We can have them wrap it all pretty with bows and flowered paper and stuff and say it’s a present. Mommies like presents as much as kids do.”

  “You’re one smart cookie, squirt. I like your style.”