Saved by the Bride (Wedding Fever (Carina))

by Lowe, Fiona

  Hank smiled at Kathleen. “She does like things to be a particular way.”

  His unexpected words barreled into her, socking her hard. Hank always supported her. The fact he was agreeing with her mother added to her general unease which had been growing from the moment she’d proposed to him. Did he really want to marry her?

  You’re being ridiculous. He’s teasing you with mint julep talk. Of course he wants to marry you. This is the twenty-first century. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a woman proposing to the man she loves. But the reassurance sounded faint and wobbly and did nothing to relieve her anxiety. She looped her hands around Hank’s neck and pressed a kiss into his hair. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  He tilted his head back and his honey-brown eyes struggled to focus. “You found me.”

  Hank had the occasional beer at social gatherings but he didn’t drink much. Even so, his height and breadth meant he could usually handle more than one drink but this cocktail was Kathleen’s specialty and she was always liberal with the bourbon. “Did you have lunch?”

  He grinned up at her. “No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Bridey, you’re not his mother.” Kathleen patted the end of the lounge. “You need to relax. All this wedding planning is making you cross. Sit down, have a julep and start enjoying your vacation.”

  Hank patted her hand as if she was six and poured her a drink. “They’re surprisingly good, Brides.”

  She stared at her mother and fiancé who were both buzzed and she felt as out of place as the only sober person at a party can. She knew right then she wasn’t going to get any sense out of either of them. With a rising sense of panic she realized that the decision on the wedding venue was going to be put off yet again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Bridey saw Hank come downstairs the next morning wearing sunglasses, she silently handed him a glass of tomato juice and a handful of Vitamin B tablets. He’d crashed before dinner and had slept twelve hours straight. “What were you thinking?”

  He took a sip of the juice, shuddered and put the glass on the table as he gingerly sat on a chair. “Don’t start, Bridey.”

  He looked so unwell that she should have been sympathetic, but the unusual warning tone in his voice only ramped up her anger that had been simmering all night. She was furious with him, and her mother, for their impromptu lawn party that had ended up with her assisting both of them into their respective beds.

  She folded her arms. “Not drinking on an empty stomach is something they teach you at high school.”

  Hank’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I called in to see your mother who’d been expecting you or Finn. It was obvious she had cabin fever so I offered to set her up outside so she could enjoy the view, the breeze and do some reading. After I’d lugged everything she insisted she needed out under the tree and had arranged everything exactly the way she wanted, I was hot and sweaty. She offered me—” his fingers made quotation marks, “—‘a refreshing drink.’ I’d gulped down a glass before I had a clue what it was.”

  He rubbed his temples with a sigh. “I thought your family had Irish descendents, not Southern ones. You’re the one who should have warned me about your mother’s juleps.”

  “What can I say? The Irish love Irish whiskey, bourbon whiskey, any whiskey.” She knew without a doubt she should have visited her mother yesterday morning because Kathleen was finding it difficult being at Kylemore and hated being dependent on people. As a result, her mom was often pedantic and Hank had been the recipient of all those emotions yesterday.

  She quickly flattened the flicker of guilt and instead, justified to herself that the previous day’s discussions about wedding invitations with Annika was an essential part of the foundations for her and Hank’s future. She lugged a pile of magazines and her wedding planner from the side table, and with a thud, dumped them in front of Hank.

  He flinched at the noise.

  She didn’t care. Everything depended on their wedding being perfect and that started with choosing the right venue. That decision must happen today. Flicking open the brochures from the Newberry Library and three other venues, she said, “I sent you the links to all these places last week.” She smiled encouragingly. “So, where are we getting married?”

  Hank grimaced. “My head’s pounding, Bridey, and my mouth feels like the bottom of a birdcage.”

  “But you’ve read the information. Surely you must have some thoughts.”

  Hank took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite his long sleep, fatigue still cloaked him. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t checked out the links. Last week I worked seventeen hours a day and I’m not dealing with this until I’ve eaten something.”

  She couldn’t stop herself. “If you’d eaten something yesterday we wouldn’t be in this position.”

  He slowly slid his glasses back on his face and when he spoke his voice was cool. “Bridey, what’s going on?”

  All her frustrations of a delayed vacation and her rising fears generated by the weekend, collided and then morphed into a massive ball of disappointment. Disappointment edged with the golden gilt of fear—fear that Hank was slipping away from her. That he hadn’t proposed to her because he didn’t want to get married.

  She threw her arms up in the air as her insecurities ignited her Irish temper. “Nothing is going on and that’s the problem. I thought you came up here to see me, but instead you’ve spent time with everybody else in my family, and I’ve hardly seen you. Yesterday, when I finally found you, you were hammered. Now you’re going back to Chicago and if we’re getting married any time next year we’ve got decisions to make.”

  “Fine.” Without taking a close look at any of the brochures, he picked one up. “This one.”

  He doesn’t care. Her jaw tightened so much she could hardly speak. “Why?”

  He sighed. “Bridey, if you’re not happy with this choice then you choose.”

  No, you must be involved. She tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “I want to know why you chose this one.”

  He shrugged. “No particular reason. They all look the same.”

  Anger spurted. “No. They. Don’t.”

  Hank tapped every brochure’s picture of white-clothed tables and chairs. “Yes. They. Do.”

  With trembling fingers, she gathered up the brochures and shoved them back into the folder. “If you’re going to be a jerk about this then don’t even bother.”

  Censure shone in his eyes. “Now you’re sounding like a spoiled child.”

  Shock at his criticism combined with the sting of his words, making her angrier. “I’ve put down deposits on four venues so we could make a personal choice but all you’ve done is random selection. Do you have any idea what has to happen between now and next July? How many decisions have to be made about everything from where we get married to the honeymoon, and a million tiny details in between? How can me wanting our wedding to be perfect make me spoiled?” Her fist hit her heart. “At least I care, which is more than you do at the moment.”

  Every hair on his body seemed to rise and he pressed his palms flat against the table as if that action would prevent him from doing something he might regret. He levered himself up slowly, his face as hard as granite. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.
When you’ve got some perspective about the wedding plans, let me know.”

  For the first time ever, he turned his back on her and walked away.

  His unfamiliar anger sent panic swirling through her, bumping and clanging against all her fears. “Hank, wait!”

  But he disappeared though the door without a backward glance, and the rigid set of his shoulders told her there was absolutely no point following him.

  Her stomach churned and her heart beat so fast it threatened to bruise itself on her ribs. She couldn’t believe he’d left. They’d never argued about anything. Until the engagement. Her heart cramped. Since their engagement there’d been tiny disagreements, mostly over the party plans, but she’d smoothed them over. Today was very different.

  She spun the ring on her finger—the ring Hank had paid for. The ring she’d chosen and ordered because when she’d asked him about rings, he’d kissed her and said, “Choose the one that makes you happy.” At the time she’d thought it was the most romantic thing in the world for him to have said. Now her heart quivered with uncertainty. Was this ring just another example of him not caring about the wedding? Not caring about them? Why had he said yes to her proposal if he didn’t want to get married?

  He works for your father. He’s spent the weekend with your family. The traitorous thought seeped into her like poison. The enormous diamond sparkled in the sunshine that poured in through the windows. The ring that represented indestructible love. Her falling tears didn’t dent its mocking shine.

  * * *

  Annika loved the serenity of the cabin and the peace of the woods, but she missed Finn. She missed his laugh, she missed the warmth of his arms and, God help her, she missed the sex. Her body quivered at the merest thought of him but without Finn in bed next to her, the attraction of sleeping between the softness of high thread count sheets had faded quickly.

  He’d been caught up in Chicago longer then he’d expected but in an act that made her heart sing, he’d made a flying visit late on Tuesday, leaving again early Wednesday. She’d felt slightly guilty when his alarm had gone off at 5:00 a.m. because they hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep. The sex had been amazing as usual, but it was the lying in his arms with his fingers trailing through her hair, while they talked through the night, that she treasured most.

  She’d kept to their agreed routine of spending the mornings in the office and the afternoons in the studio, but to help the long Finn-less evenings pass she’d pulled a couple of really late nights in the studio. She hadn’t done any painting. She hadn’t even unrolled the first two canvases of Dawn and Day because despite what Finn thought, she was far too busy to start painting and just the thought of it had her running scared.

  Working late was good on so many levels and when she got back to the cabin she fell into an exhausted sleep which gave her no time to think about anything at all—especially how much she missed Finn. She couldn’t allow herself to miss him because all of this was very, very temporary. She hauled her mind back to the computer screen in the office and started checking the email folders she’d created so she could keep the AKP work totally separate from her correspondence connected with Whitetail. Every day she checked in with Ellery and checked her Whitetail mail, hoping there’d be a nibble of interest from the one hundred and eighty information packs she’d sent out.

  She hovered her mouse over an email from a Ty Dennison, not recognizing the name. She clicked the left side of the mouse.

  “Esther said you were looking for me, Annika?”

  She glanced up from the screen to see Sean strolling into the office with a smile on his face.

  “Morning, Sean. Yes, I was.” She picked up a black folder and handed it to him. “Finn asked me to give this to you.”

  His intelligent eyes gave her a dry look. “I heard the helicopter at six.”

  Something about the way he said it made her feel uncomfortable and it had nothing to do with the fact that Finn’s family had probably worked out they were sleeping together. “He wants to be in Chicago if anything else flares up with the Jazz Juice account.”

  He nodded slowly. “Of course he does.”

  The message buried in Sean’s words was clear. Finn spent the least amount of time possible with his father. “I’m sorry, Sean, I can only tell you what he told me.”

  “When do you expect him back?”

  Not soon enough. “Friday.”

  “Ah.” He tapped the folder on his thigh.

  She found herself blurting out, “Can I help with anything, Sean?” I’m already trying to get him to talk to you.

  “Not unless you’re a miracle worker.” He gave her a sad smile. “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of and this problem’s all mine and mine to fix.” He rested one buttock on the edge of her desk. “So, how are things with you, Annika? Sounds like you’re busy. I heard you on the radio this morning selling the concept of Whitetail as the new hub of heartland manufacturing.”

  She groaned. “I was trying hard to but it turns out the interviewer had just got engaged and she was more interested in talking about the wedding expo the town put on the day I went to court.”

  “Bridey tells me you might be designing her invitations so a bit of free advertising on the radio can’t hurt.”

  She was getting weary of trying to explain her concerns about Weddings That WOW. “I find it hard to imagine that it could provide the level of employment the town needs.”

  He rubbed his chin. “People spend a lot of money on weddings, Annika. Bridey’s almost bankrupted me on deposits alone, and yesterday she was mumbling something about a nine-thousand-dollar wedding cake.”

  “Nine thous—” Annika choked on her indrawn breath and started coughing violently.

  Sean rose and poured her a glass of water before handing it to her with a smile. “That was pretty much my reaction too. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  She nodded her goodbye, still trying to find her breath and after sipping the water she finally read the now opened email.

  Dear Ms. Jacobson,

  Long River Electronics is looking to expand and is interested in visiting your town. I wish to fly in next week and would appreciate you confirming Tuesday at 2 p.m. I look forward to meeting with you and touring the facilities.

  Ty Dennison

  CEO and owner of Long River Electronics

  Annika blinked and read it three times before she let out a whoop of delight. She grabbed her phone wanting to share the good news. Her fingers bounced over the keypad in excitement and it was only when the call defaulted to voice mail that she realized she’d phoned Finn instead of Ellery. She refused to consider that meant anything more than a momentary lapse due to excitement.

  * * *

  Kathleen was both bored and worried and the combination made her restless. Almost two weeks had passed since she’d injured herself and the swelling on her ankle had gone down but now the bruising had come up. A swirl of purple-and-yellow tie-dye marked her skin but at least she was graduating from crutches to a walking stick. This should have made her happy, but she was worried about her daughter.

  Bridey had visited her earlier in the day with a long list of wedding-related questions but whe
n Kathleen had offered up her requested opinions, Bridey had briskly rejected every single one of them, yet she seemed to be having trouble making any decisions at all. Finally, when she’d questioned Bridey about her almost zealot approach to the wedding, Bridey’s face had gone white and tight, she’d gathered up her magazines and computer, and she’d left.

  Kathleen knew something was bothering her but her daughter wasn’t saying what it was and with Finn currently in Chicago and unavailable to ask, she was at a loss. Not that she was certain Finn knew what Bridey’s problem was, or even if he did know, that he’d tell her. Her children had become very self-sufficient during the separation and divorce, and in many ways were a now a tight unit that excluded her. As painful as it was to admit, it had probably happened because she and Sean had been obsessed with trying to hurt each other. All that emotional energy had excluded the children. When she’d finally come out of the post-divorce funk and had started rebuilding her life, it had taken every ounce of strength she had. By the time she’d got herself together, the children appeared to have little need of her. She’d spent years trying to make it up to them but she’d never reclaimed all the ground she’d lost. Sean hadn’t even tried.

  Being back at the lake was one of the hardest things she’d done in years, and she was using every cent of the thousands of dollars she’d spent on yoga in the past decade to stay calm. The loss of the lake had cut deeply and she’d avoided coming to northern Wisconsin for nineteen years but when Bridey wanted her engagement party up here, of course she’d come. When Bridey had insisted she return to help her with the wedding plans, she’d come, never envisaging in a million years she’d have to stay at Kylemore. If that wasn’t tough enough, now Bridey was stressing out about the wedding which was still months away.

  She sighed and decided that fresh air and a change of scene were needed. She hobbled out to the deck and collapsed onto the lounge chair. Gray clouds hovered, cooling the day and the usually sparkling lake looked like she felt—dull and listless. Remembering her meditation, she focused on a tree on the shore and tried to let her mind empty of everything. Tried to find her hard-earned peace with herself and her life.