The Best-Made Plans

by Leigh Michaels

  Penn signed his bill with a flourish. “This isn’t for the gate. The cabin needs a bit of work before I can be comfortable there.”

  “The cabin needs — you mean you’re going to stay?”

  His eyebrows went up slightly. “You sound amazed. No, it’s even more than amazement. You sound seriously offended at the idea that I’m going to be around for a while. Now why…?”

  “Never mind what I think,” Kaitlyn said hastily. A while? That could be anything from a couple of weeks to the summer — no longer, if he was staying in the cabin. “The truth is you’re between jobs at the moment, right?”

  Penn smiled. “You’re too fast for me, darling.”

  “Were you fired this time, or did you just walk away?”

  “Oh, I walked away,” he said airily. “That looks so much better on my résumé than being bounced off the job. Besides, job or no job, I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world. So I thought I’d better stay right here so you’d know where to send the invitation.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” she muttered and dropped her pile of purchases next to the cash register. A package of tape fell off the stack and rolled halfway to the door; Penn retrieved it and leaned against the counter to watch.

  “I’ll bet it will be a real exhibition.” He must have seen the sparks flare in her eyes, for he added smoothly, “I mean, of course, that you must be planning to have all the frills, just to show your clients everything that’s available.”

  She had to bite her tongue, but she managed not to answer.

  “Come to think of it, you might not need invitations,” Penn mused. “You could just put advertisements in the newspaper. You could turn the whole thing into a demonstration bridal fair and deduct the entire cost from your income tax as a business expense.”

  She swallowed hard and forced herself to smile. “Thank you very much for your advice, Penn, but—”

  “I won’t even send you a bill for the consultation.” He held the door for her and appealed to a young man with a shaggy mustache who was just coming in. “Stan, that’s right, isn’t it? If someone in Kaitlyn’s position throws a sample wedding and invites all her prospective clients, it’s a legitimate business expense – correct?”

  “Why ask me?” the young man said with a shrug. “I don’t specialize in tax law. But as long as we’re talking of prospective clients, do you have a business card, Kaitlyn? The wedding won’t be till next year, but—”

  Penn looked shocked. “You, too?” he groaned. “Is there a damned virus in the water supply around here?”

  Kaitlyn rummaged in her bag and handed the young man her card with a smile. “Give my best wishes to Elaine,” she said softly, and then, because Stan was looking very pink all of a sudden, she put a card into Penn’s hand, as well. “Just in case the virus catches up with you, too.”

  “Thank you,” Penn said politely. “I’ll put it with my collection of oddities from around the world.” He glanced at the card as they walked across the parking lot. “Kaitlyn Ross, Wedding Consultant. Is that all? Oh, it’s elegant all right, with the copperplate script, but how very dull.”

  “Reliable,” Kaitlyn snapped. “Conservative. Solid. Not dull.”

  “I’m disappointed. Here I thought you’d have called your business something cute — something original. It’s not too late to change, you know. I’ve got the perfect name — The Bridal Path. And your slogan could be something like, ‘Now you no longer have to trot down the long road to a blissful wedding by yourself’.”

  “Penn, that’s the worst... Please don’t tell me you’ve been in advertising, too.”

  “All right,” Penn said happily. “I won’t.”

  She threw her bag into the back of her car with unnecessary force. It was foolish to trade gibes with a man who had nothing better to do than think up new ones.

  She wondered if he ever got tired of living that way.

  *****

  Sabrina caught up with her in the ladies’ room at the country club that night. “You have to do something,” she announced. “Karl is determined that he’s going to have Penn Caldwell as his best man, and I swear to heaven if he does—”

  “He won’t,” Kaitlyn told her soothingly. “Karl’s not crazy, and he’s not a gambler; he knows the kind of strange notion that is apt to flit into Penn’s head at the last instant. The odds ate he’d decide to take off for Tahiti or Botswana with your wedding ring still in his pocket.”

  Sabrina screeched, “And that thought is supposed to comfort me?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s too late to order another tuxedo from the rental place. I made sure of that today, so if Karl makes any more noise about it, tell him to call me.”

  She was still shaking her head over the incident when she got back to the dining room. How Karl and Sabrina were going to work out real issues when they couldn’t agree on a best man—

  Oh, well, I don’t have to guarantee the success of the marriage, only the wedding day!

  A couple of minutes later Marcus asked what on earth she was brooding about. “You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said,” he accused.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that I think this next wedding is going to be the death of me. I’m learning the hard way that a wedding that’s twice the size of the usual one doesn’t present double the problems — it’s more like a multiple of ten.” She fidgeted with her dinner fork. “And when the bride and groom start fighting, too, things get impossible. It’s a shame all my clients can’t be like Laura McCarthy; she’s a doll. Oh, I forgot to tell you the latest! Stan Spaulding and Elaine—”

  “Another wedding?” Marcus’s tone was notably lacking in enthusiasm.

  “Not till next year sometime.”

  Marcus sighed and reached for the wine bottle to refill her glass. “Perhaps you shouldn’t book things so far ahead, Kaitlyn.”

  She stared at him in stupefaction. “How else could I run the sort of business I’m in? It takes the better part of a year to plan and arrange a big wedding.”

  “I know it does. But I’ve been giving the matter a lot of thought. Are you certain you’re going to want to continue your business after we’re married?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was cool and firm. “Why on earth do you ask?”

  “Because you must admit it’s a problem, darling. Whenever we have a chance to be together, you’re tied up with a wedding.”

  “On the weekends, yes. The rest of the time, you’re tied up with your business.”

  “Kaitlyn, be reasonable.”

  “I am being reasonable. I agree there’s a problem. But who says we have to be together on weekends? Can’t you adjust your schedule sometimes? I’m nearly always free in the mornings.”

  His voice went up slightly with annoyance. “I can’t very well entertain clients to dinner at nine in the morning, can I?”

  “Oh — so we’re not really talking just about time together, but your obligations and how I fit into them?”

  “You know it’s more than that. But as far as entertaining my clients, that’s an important part of my job, and I’d like to have you share in that when we’re married.” He reached across the table for her hand. “I’d like to have you use that unique flair of yours for me, too—to arrange parties and make sure people have fun. Isn’t that part of what being married is, Kaitlyn? Sharing things like that?”

  She couldn’t disagree with him – exactly. She wanted to support his career and be a valuable part of it. And she didn’t want to quarrel about it; they were hardly even engaged, and already they were fighting. “Of course, Marcus.” Her voice was subdued. “But the subject came up rather suddenly, that’s all. I love my job, and the idea of giving it up completely, coming out of the blue like that...”

  “You’re barely breaking even,” Marcus said coolly.

  “But I’m not doing it for the money. As long as I can support myself — which I’m doing, by the way…”

  He smiled and squeezed her hand. “But you won’
t have to support yourself for long.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a tiny velvet-covered box. “I wanted to give you this before I left.” He flicked the tiny latch on the box and lifted the lid.

  The ring inside was a wide gold band, with a gigantic marquise diamond surrounded by tiny rubies. Her gaze lifted to meet his eyes. “Before you leave? Where are you going?”

  “Louisiana. It’s a business trip.” He took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. “I’ll see you Friday evening when I get home. We can have dinner and talk over our own wedding plans for a change.”

  She shook her head. “Friday is Sabrina’s rehearsal.”

  And with the wedding on Saturday night, she wouldn’t have a free minute that day, either.

  Marcus sighed. “Sunday, then,” he said firmly. “I’ll be bringing a couple of the corporation’s executives back with me. We can play golf.”

  Sunday would be nearly as bad, with all the cleanup to be done after the extravaganza of the wedding. But she nodded. She’d fit it all in somehow.

  Marcus was right. Their schedules did collide regularly, and it wasn’t going to get any better. Or any worse, either, she supposed, but now it was going to be more obvious, because they would want to spend all their time together.

  Something would have to give.

  *****

  Heaven smiled on Sabrina Hart’s wedding day. In early June, Springhill could be miserably humid and sticky, but this Saturday was flawless. The late-afternoon sun was shining, but it wasn’t beating down on the concrete and imported tile that surrounded the Harts’ backyard pool. There was a gentle breeze, just enough to stir the leaves of the tulip trees, but not enough to tug at the centerpieces already in place on the pool-side tables or threaten to tip over the huge bouquets that were now floating placidly in the water. There had been enough rain so that the lawn was lush and green, but not so much that the flowers in the brilliant borders had been beaten down. In short, if Kaitlyn had picked out each condition from some mail-order catalog and assembled the day herself, it could not have been more perfect.

  Inside, the caterer’s men were putting the last of the bridal cakes into place on the huge banquet table, atop a cloud of pale yellow chiffon. Kaitlyn hovered nearby, breath held, until the last cake was safely balanced on its foot-tall pillars. Then she relaxed a little, but she stayed to watch as yards of yellow ribbon and lace were draped and twisted gently into place to coordinate the multitude of small cakes, each one a different flavor, into one huge spun-sugar sculpture topped with fresh flowers. The caterer gave a final nod to the result, and one of his assistants flipped a switch to illuminate hundreds of tiny twinkling lights that had been wound through the chiffon cloud and between the cakes. The cake looked like a fairy confection — as if it was floating in the stars.

  Kaitlyn gave a thumbs-up signal to the caterer and ran a practiced eye over the rest of the huge living room. A portable bar had been set up at each end, already well stocked. The food? Well, she’d simply have to have faith on that question; it would arrive while they were all at the church.

  There was nothing more to be done here now. She checked her tiny wristwatch and started back through the house to make sure Sabrina and all her bridesmaids were dressed on schedule.

  Giggles greeted her in the bedroom wing, which seemed to be full of girls rustling around in full-skirted buttercup-yellow gowns. In front of the huge triple mirror in the master bedroom Sabrina stood in her white satin gown, cut so low that it barely clung to her shoulders, clasping a cascade of white orchids while Jill struggled to get the train to lie just right across the carpet.

  Kaitlyn suffered one sharp pang of panic. What was Jill doing here? Then she forced herself to relax. “I thought your partner was doing the pictures today,” she said.

  Jill gave her an absentminded half-smile and turned to pick up her camera. “We were both going to work this one. But his daughter was in a car accident this morning.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “She’ll be fine, but he was pretty shaken up, and of course he wanted to be with her. Look down at your flowers, Sabrina. That’s right — now a soft, romantic smile.”

  It looked more like a pout to Kaitlyn. She decided to ignore the unexpected change of photographers; there was nothing that could be done about it now. Sabrina’s pictures would not suffer with Jill in charge.

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. From this moment on, until late tonight when the last guest left, there would not be an instant to let down her guard. Fortunately, Kaitlyn told herself, she thrived on this kind of stress.

  “The limousines will be here in half an hour,” she said. “Everybody ready? Any loose buttons or slipping zippers? Let’s get them fixed now. Don’t forget your hair spray and lipstick, girls.”

  She cajoled them into the cars and off to the church, and she pushed the speed limit herself in order to have a little extra time to check the details in the sanctuary before the slower-paced limousines arrived. It was a larger church than any she had worked in before, and it was even more difficult to make sure that each blossom and candle and ribbon was in place while still staying out of sight herself.

  The carillon struck the hour, and the familiar expectant hush fell over the church as Kaitlyn made her way down the side aisle. This time it was Penn who gave her a thumbs-up sign from the congregation — Penn, sitting beside Audrey Ross and wearing a dark gray summer suit, not the white tie and tails that the ushers were garbed in. Kaitlyn breathed a little easier at the sight. She hadn’t quite been able to shake the notion that despite the agreement she’d reached with Karl to leave Penn out of things, they might pull a substitution at the last minute.

  The bride’s limousine was just pulling up. Jill was waiting at the door, camera in hand, and Sabrina’s mother was hovering in the foyer. “You’re late,” she accused. “The whole wedding is late.”

  “The bells are just finishing,” Kaitlyn said calmly. “Sabrina’s beautiful music would get lost in all that clamor if it tried to compete, don’t you think?” She summoned an usher. “Now don’t worry about another thing, Mrs. Hart. I promise it will all go smoothly.”

  Mrs. Hart did not seem comforted by the reassurance, but she went off down the aisle. Kaitlyn smiled. The mother of the bride was practically guaranteed to have a nervous spasm or to lose her temper in the last minutes before the ceremony. Sometimes Kaitlyn made bets with herself as to which it would be — and she’d been right this time.

  Sabrina came up the stairs on her father’s arm. “Right on time,” Kaitlyn said, and when the photographer did nothing, she added, “Jill?”

  Jill jumped. “Sorry, Kaitlyn. I’m moving a bit slower than usual today.”

  “I’m not surprised. You look awfully tired, trying to do it all.” Then she saw pain twist Jill’s face, and she added, with horrible certainty, “Except it’s more than just being tired, isn’t it? Oh Lord, Jill, you’re in labor, aren’t you?”

  Jill struggled to smile. “Of course not. The babies aren’t due for two weeks.”

  “Twins?” the matron of honor asked, with almost-ghoulish cheerfulness. “Don’t twins always come early?”

  “They’d better not appear on my wedding day,” Sabrina said through clenched teeth.

  Her father cleared his throat. “What day it is doesn’t make much difference to babies, Sabrina. If it was me, Miss Ross, I’d get her to the hospital right away.”

  Kaitlyn looked at him in astonishment; she’d almost forgotten he was there. As a matter of fact, those were the first words she could recall him saying through the whole long year of planning this wedding.

  Jill shook her head. “Let’s just get the wedding under way. I can’t leave you in the lurch, and—”

  This time the pain was obviously worse. A fine mist of perspiration appeared on Jill’s lovely face, and she didn’t object when Mr. Hart eased her into a nearby chair.

  Kaitlyn’s head felt like a kettle drum. “Ye
s, you can leave! As soon as I find your husband, you’re going to the hospital. Now give me that camera,” she ordered. “I’ll take the damned pictures myself if I have to.” And I may have to, she thought grimly. With Jill’s partner tending to his injured daughter, and no other professional studio in Springhill, and a wedding ready to start...

  Sabrina’s eyes were wide with shock.

  The church was totally silent when Kaitlyn went in. The last softly-played love song had ended, the organist was waiting for her cue to start the wedding march, and the expectant hush of a few minutes before was mutating into an anxious stillness.

  Kaitlyn could almost hear the congregation wondering what was wrong. Had the bride not arrived, after all? Had the groom walked out? Had someone — oh, what a deliciously scandalous idea! — come forward with a reason why these two should not be wed?

  From the front pew Sabrina’s mother was staring at the altar, eyes narrowed with suspicion. The blithe reassurance Kaitlyn had given the woman just a few minutes ago tasted bitter in her mouth now. “I promise it will all go smoothly.”

  That was why people hired a wedding consultant in the first place. If she didn’t deliver on it, she could kiss any future recommendations goodbye. That would be bad enough, but she couldn’t picture Mrs. Hart simply being silent, either; the woman would no doubt tell everyone who would listen exactly what her opinion was of Kaitlyn Ross. Business would go downhill — and Marcus might get his wish after all.

  At least she had a good excuse for quitting, she told herself in a feeble attempt to be positive. If she said she was giving it up because Marcus didn’t want her to work, it wouldn’t look as if she’d been run out of business.

  She found Jill’s husband and sent him out to the anteroom, then let her gaze rove over the congregation, trying to remember who might be enough of a camera buff to take over Jill’s complicated equipment now. There must be someone here who could fill in. There was always one in every crowd who insisted on having a picture of everything. There had to be someone who had experience beyond vacation snapshots...