A Timeless Romance Anthology: Summer Wedding Collection

by Melanie Jacobson

  Probably not more than I do. She wrote down the flowers he’d mentioned. “Do you think I can get away with just saying ‘roses’ for the rest?”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it. Your sister is very detail-oriented.”

  “Tell me about it.” She bent over the darkest red roses growing there, taking a deep breath. The amazing scent answered her question. “These are probably Mr. Lincoln roses.”

  “They are. You know a few things about flowers, yourself.”

  She took another deep breath of the rose’s perfume. Beautiful.

  Between them, they managed to identify nearly every variety of rose growing around the ceremony area. They likely didn’t need to be that extensive, but Abby was enjoying it. Her family’s eyes always glazed over when she talked about gardening and flowers. Dirk had told her a few times to “shut up about the plants.” While she could tell flowers wouldn’t have been Matthew’s first choice of topics, he was knowledgeable and didn’t seem to mind. It was a nice change.

  They timed the walk from the parking lot to the front porch, just as Caroline had requested. They decided that the ballroom walls were closer to aqua than moss, though Abby thought there was at least a little mint in them. The conservatory, they discovered, did have a placard.

  The longer Abby was with him, the more Abby liked Matthew. He had a dry sense of humor and wasn’t nearly as stuffy as she’d thought at first. She wasn’t ready to start throwing herself at him or anything like that. But she liked him.

  She liked him quite a lot, actually.

  Chapter Four

  “She can identify roses just by scent, Mum.” Matt pulled his jacket on while talking on the phone. After a long morning of making arrangements, calming frantic brides, and telling himself the summer rush would be over in only a few more months, he was almost desperate to get away from his desk, if only for the length of a lunch break.

  “I very much doubt she only used the scent, Matt. She likely looked at petal patterns and stem anatomy and any number of other things.” Mum knew her flowers; no one would argue that. “But the fact that she could identify them at all is impressive. I like this one.”

  “Because she knows roses?”

  Mum laughed. “No. Because you’ve mentioned her three times in this one call. If she’s interesting enough to grab your attention, I will happily cheer her on.”

  He stepped onto the front porch, grateful for the breeze and fresh air. His office could feel claustrophobic sometimes. “I hate to tell you this, but she doesn’t care for me much. Her obvious dislike didn’t improve much beyond begrudging tolerance when I last saw her.”

  “How could she not like you?” Mum always was rather blinded by her loyalty. She never believed anyone could possibly feel anything other than adoration for her children.

  “Barney says she probably thinks I’m too posh.” He followed the path leading away from the house. He enjoyed taking a slow stroll around the grounds during the day.

  “Posh? Where does she think you come from, Chelsea?”

  His family couldn’t afford to look at the houses in Chelsea, let alone live there.

  “You just tell her you’re a regular bloke from Stanmore,” Mum instructed.

  “I could tell her that exactly, but it wouldn’t mean anything to her. She doesn’t know anything about London.”

  “Then you’ll have to show her.”

  He pushed out a breath. “I tried when she was here last, but I could tell I wasn’t making a very good impression.”

  The scent of pine hung on the cool breeze. Matt could feel some of his stress slipping away. There was nothing like fresh air and the outdoors to clear his mind.

  “Have you called her?” Mum asked. “Maybe if you took her out for coffee or something, she might get to see the real you. Somewhere away from work.”

  “I don’t have her number.”

  “So call the sister, the one getting married.”

  Mum and Barney were both crazy. “I can’t call a client asking for personal information about her family members.”

  “Why on earth not?”

  “For one thing, it’s unprofessional.”

  “Then I’ll have to start wishing on my star again.”

  He stopped in his tracks. “Don’t do that, Mum.”

  She had a metal star hanging in her kitchen that, ever since he was a child, she’d made wishes on any time her kids needs to be guilted into doing something.

  “Star on my Wall—” Her typical beginning to any wish. “—find Matt a way to talk to this girl who knows a lot about roses but who thinks he’s posh. Matt needs a second chance.”

  “Mum.”

  “Star on my Wall, convince Matt that he can call this girl and still be a stuffy professional like he thinks he needs to be.”

  He held back a laugh. “Are you done?”

  “For now.”

  His mother had always been enjoyably nutty. “I miss you, Mum.”

  “I’d tell you to move back home, then, but since you’ve gone and made yourself an official American, I don’t suppose that’s going to happen.”

  “You should move here.” He knew what her answer would be; they’d had this conversation before.

  “Maybe if you don’t get your act together and find yourself a nice girl, I’ll do that and find one for you myself.”

  That was a threat if he’d ever heard one. “No need. I’m certain I’ll—”

  The words died. His feet froze. Larry, the Sainsbury House gardener, was talking to someone by the rose garden. It was a young woman in a ratty pair of jeans, and a button-down flannel work shirt, with hair a familiar shade of light brown.

  “Matt?” Mum’s voice hardly registered.

  He was certain that Abby was talking to Larry. But why was she there?

  “Matt?” Mum asked again.

  “I... uh, I gotta go.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  He began walking toward the roses. He lowered his voice. “She’s here.” “Abby. The girl I’ve been telling you about. She’s here at my work.”

  “The star does it again! Go talk to her, dear. Quickly. But call me tomorrow and tell me all about it.”

  “Sure. Bye, Mum.”

  He walked toward Abby and Larry with no idea what he meant to say. Larry spotted him before he had time to figure it out.

  “Hey, Matt.” Larry was the only person at Sainsbury House who didn’t call him Matthew.

  He nodded a greeting, but turned almost immediately to Abby. “Hi. What brings you around?”

  She blushed a little. Was she embarrassed or happy to see him? He hoped happy. He really hoped. “I’ve come to save your roses.”

  “Save the roses?”

  Larry nodded. “She noticed when she was here that we have black rot in a few of the bushes. She brought a special formula to treat it.”

  Her cheeks were still red, and she didn’t quite meet Matt’s eyes. What did that mean? A good sign? Bad?

  “Abby works at the Northwinds Nursery,” Larry added.

  That explained a few things. He was surprised she’d made the drive out just to tend a few rose bushes. Sainsbury House wasn’t really near anything. “You cannot stand to see an innocent plant suffer, is that it?”

  Her blush deepened, but her shoulders straightened. “I only thought your gardener would appreciate knowing what we did to save our bushes from this awhile back. Black rot can be stubborn.”

  Though he couldn’t be entirely sure, Matt suspected he’d offended her somehow. Maybe this was simply more of her assumption that he was arrogant.

  Let her see for herself. Mum’s advice echoed in his mind. He could do that.

  “What’s the formula?” he asked.

  Larry explained it, but in terms Matt wasn’t entirely familiar with. He tried to follow but didn’t do a very good job. When the chemicals and explanations wrapped up, he simply threw out an, “Ah,” and left it at that. “Does it work?”

  “Of course
it does,” Abby insisted. “I wouldn’t have driven all this way for something that wouldn’t help.”

  He’d rubbed her wrong again. It was Sainsbury House that did it. He had to act... well, for lack of a better word, posh while he was there. Even when he tried to be himself, he couldn’t do it entirely.

  “I was about to go get some lunch.” Invite her to go. His stomach twisted a little with nervousness. “Would you like to join me?”

  She was clearly surprised.

  Say yes. Say yes.

  “We’re going to look at a few more plants,” she said after a moment’s pause. “So I’m going to be kind of busy.”

  “Sure.” He tried to shrug it off, but the rejection stung. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really wanted to impress a girl. He had no idea how Abby Grover had reached that point so quickly, and after talking to her only twice. But she had. And he was blowing it. “If you two are going to be working through lunch, maybe I could pick you up something and bring it back.”

  Larry took him up on it right away. “Are you going by the sandwich place on third?”

  “Sure.”

  “I'll take a club with everything and a Coke.”

  Matt looked to Abby, hoping she would take him up on the offer. He could convince himself she had reasons to decline his offer—‌it was too inconvenient or something—‌but to not even let him bring her back lunch was harder to explain away. Maybe he would have to admit to himself she wasn’t interested.

  “BLT, no mayo,” Abby said.

  So she hadn’t brushed him off. For a minute, he was too surprised to even say anything. He pulled himself together. “Anything to drink?"

  “No. I brought some water with me.”

  With an eagerness he couldn't entirely explain, Matt made for his car. He repeated the order in his mind again and again, not wanting to get it wrong. When he got back, he meant to sit by the two of them while they did their gardening, even if nothing they said made any sense. He wanted to be there by her, to try to figure out if she disliked him as much as he was afraid she did.

  “You’re completely lost on her,” he muttered as he pulled out onto the small road leading away from Sainsbury House. He felt like a fool. He hardly knew Abby Grover, and he was already making a fool of himself over her.

  Fool or not, he was back in record time with three sandwiches and a Coke. Larry and Abby were still at the roses, but kneeling by the bushes, pruning.

  “Ready for a break?” he asked, holding up the bag.

  They both agreed, slipping off to a nearby spigot to wash their hands. Matt sat on a bench. Would Abby sit by him or take her sandwich somewhere else and avoid him entirely? Maybe he should try telling her he was just “a regular bloke from Stanmore.” It couldn’t hurt, right?

  He gave Larry his club sandwich. Larry handed him some money.

  “Yours wasn’t this much.” Matt started to give some of it back, but Larry shook his head.

  “That’s for mine and Abby’s. I talked her into letting me pay for her lunch, since she won’t let me pay her for the work she’s doing.”

  If Larry hadn’t been old enough to be Abby’s father, Matt might have been jealous.

  She came over. He held out her BLT, fully expecting her to take it and walk away. She sat on the bench beside him. That was promising.

  He tried to act casual, eating his sandwich like he couldn’t care less that the woman he’d been thinking about almost constantly for a week and a half was willingly sitting next to him. If she knew, she’d think he was a complete idiot.

  Abby and Larry talked about plant fungi and insect treatments. Matt listened but had nothing to add. He’d reached the end of his lunch break but hadn’t said more than a few words to Abby. He was supposed to call Mum and tell her how things went. “I watched her eat a sandwich, and I looked stupid while she talked about flowers.”

  Mum is going to laugh at me.

  And she did. A lot.

  For his part, Matt didn’t think it was very funny.

  Chapter Five

  “Matthew asked about you.”

  Abby examined the apples laid out at the produce stand, pretending her sister’s comment hadn’t made her breath catch. “Matthew Carlton?” she asked as though it didn’t matter.

  “Of course. Who else?”

  “I do know more than one person named Matthew.” Actually, she wasn’t sure she did. “What did he have to say?”

  “Only that you helped with a fungus or something in the roses and that he thought it was nice of you.”

  She felt a stab of disappointment. He hadn’t really asked about her, then. He’d simply mentioned her.

  Abby and Caroline moved to the next booth at the farmer’s market.

  “The bushes had a little black rot,” Abby explained. She bought a small bushel of blackberries from the farmer running the booth.

  “Black rot?” Caroline sounded absolutely horrified. “That will be gone before the wedding, won’t it?”

  “The roses will be gorgeous. I promise.”

  They walked along. Abby usually enjoyed the Sunday farmers’ markets, but Caroline was killing the joy.

  “And the flowers for the bouquets—”

  Abby jumped in before Caroline could ask the question she’d posed a thousand times in the months since Gregory proposed. “Emily is reliable and talented. You saw her work. I promise you, the bouquets will be amazing.”

  “How was your last fitting?” Caroline asked.

  Abby moaned. “The dress fits fine; it just looks ridiculous.”

  “It’s a perfect reproduction of World War I-era dress. It’s perfect.”

  Perfect was not the word Abby would have used. She would much rather spend her days dressed like she was then, in a comfy t-shirt and running shorts, wearing her worn-out running shoes. “That dress makes me look like a history nerd getting ready for Halloween.”

  Caroline threaded her arm through Abby’s. “It’ll be beautiful.”

  Abby shook her head at her sister’s romanticism. “Gregory must really like you.”

  Caroline’s eyes turned dreamy. “He does.”

  “Speaking of which.” Abby motioned ahead with her chin. “There he is. It must be noon.”

  “Isn’t he the cutest?” Caroline squealed a little.

  “Go ahead. I’m going to walk around the market for a while.”

  Caroline didn’t need more encouragement; she was off like a bolt of lightning. Abby watched her go with every bit as much amusement as envy. Though she’d never been the hopeless romantic her sister was, she did sometimes catch herself daydreaming about finding someone she could be that perfect with and for.

  Those daydreams eventually came to an abrupt end. Dirk the Jerk saw to that. He’d appeared in her life like a hero in a cliché romance novel. He was the wealthy, suave, dreamy hero who somehow decided to be interested in the plain, poor, awkward heroine. Except he turned out to be a complete jerk. She’d been blind about it for a while, but she’d finally realized how he saw her, never quite good enough.

  That was a year ago. Quit thinking about it.

  She sat on a bench overlooking the sprawling green fields of the park where the farmer’s market was held. The blackberries she’d bought worked well as comfort food. By the time she’d finished off half of the little basket of berries, Dirk the Jerk had almost completely left her thoughts. The park was peaceful, one of the things she liked most about coming to the markets. Children played on a nearby playground. People jogged the running paths. A disorganized soccer match covered a field to the left. To the right, people tossed balls back and forth.

  It was the greenery, though, that kept her attention. She loved plants. Loved them. The city had done a good job keeping things trimmed back and healthy at the park, but it could do with a few more flowering shrubs.

  “Heads up!”

  Abby processed the shouted warning just in time to duck out of the way of a flying soccer ball.

  On
e of the soccer guys came hustling over. “Sorry ’bout that.”

  She shrugged. “No problem.” She popped another blackberry in her mouth.

  “Abby Grover?” a second male voice asked.

  She froze, the berry half-chewed in her mouth. She only knew one person with an English accent. Sure enough, Matthew Carlton was coming in her direction.

  Abby swallowed a little too fast and choked a second on the berry. A quick swig from her water bottle had her almost composed by the time he reached the bench.

  “Playing a little soccer?” she managed to ask.

  He gave her a half smile. “I am playing football. The rest of these clowns are playing soccer.”

  His friend, who had retrieved the ball, laughed and slapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “Whatever you call it, we’re still wiping the grass with you.”

  Matthew stayed by the bench even after his friend rejoined the game. “Did you come for the market?”

  Abby nodded. “Never miss it. Caroline was with me.”

  At the look that flitted quickly across his face, she laughed out loud. Apparently Caroline hadn’t calmed down about the wedding arrangements over the couple weeks that had passed since selecting Sainsbury House.

  “Don’t worry,” Abby reassured him. “The future Mr. Caroline has taken her to lunch. She won’t stress out on you today.”

  He chuckled. “I wouldn’t bet on that. I’ll probably have a half-dozen emails from her waiting for me when I get in to work tomorrow.”

  “It’s good of you to put up with her.”

  He wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead. “She’s actually not that bad compared to some brides I’ve had to work with.”

  “Wow. I almost feel bad for you.”

  Matthew grinned at that. “Almost?”

  “Hey, Matt!” someone called from the soccer game. “Either quit flirting over there or bring her over here to play.”

  Matthew looked a little embarrassed. There was something very odd about a sophisticated, high-class, Englishman turning even the tiniest bit red. Dirk was never embarrassed by anything. Angry, sometimes, but not ever embarrassed.

  “Do you play football?” Matthew asked.