“Let me see.” Penn lifted her foot into his lap. “You’re right. You must have had a wrinkle in your sock.”
“Thank you for the expert diagnosis, Dr. Caldwell,” she said sweetly, and tried to pull away.
He held on to her foot with both hands and began to massage the sole. His touch was firm and strong as he worked from the base of her toes across the ball of her foot. When he reached the more sensitive instep, she wriggled and had to brace herself with her hands clasped on the edge of the bench to keep from losing her balance. “That tickles, Penn,” she protested.
But he did not let go, just sat there cradling her foot in the palm of his hand, looking at her. The gray of his eyes had gone dark and smoky.
Kaitlyn felt her heart thud alarmingly as he started to lean toward her. A kiss for old times’ sake — she could hear him saying it even though he hadn’t made a sound.
“No,” she whispered.
“You’re still the most kissable girl in Springhill,” he replied softly.
You taught me that, she thought. You taught me long and patiently...
“Don’t try to bring back those easy days of summer, Penn,” she said. “They’re gone. We’re different people now, so just let those memories rest in peace.”
His grip loosened — more in surprise, she thought, than agreement. Kaitlyn shoved her feet into her street shoes and pushed her skates into her tote bag and jumped up.
They were at peace. At least for the moment. But it seemed likely that it would be an uneasy peace.
CHAPTER 6
The hotel coffee shop was Kaitlyn’s favorite place to have breakfast; she often brought her clients here a day or two before their wedding for a final conference. The tables were big enough to spread paperwork out, the omelets were the best in a hundred miles and the coffee came in large, thick mugs supplemented by a thermal pot, so it was never necessary to wait for a refill. The coffee shop wasn’t particularly classy, but that was all to the good, too. With the hours counting down to the wedding, with all the elegant arrangements made and nothing left to do for the next forty-eight hours but worry, the bride was often nervous enough to upset her orange juice or pour syrup all over herself. At least at the coffee shop it did no real damage.
Kaitlyn glanced through the neatly written pages that held every important detail about Laura McCarthy’s wedding, and transferred a couple of notes to her list of things to do today. She was so absorbed that for a moment she didn’t hear the man who stopped beside her table, and finally he repeated, “Kaitlyn, darling, do you mind if I join you?” His hand hovered above the chair next to hers, but it was a formality, just one more example of Marcus’s beautiful manners.
Kaitlyn looked up from the folder. “Oh — no, I wouldn’t mind at all, except that I’m waiting for a couple of clients.”
Marcus’s lips tightened slightly. “I see. New ones?”
“No, they’re almost-finished ones. It’s a last-minute conference so I can check details once more and give them a final pep talk.”
“Of course.” His tone was faintly ironic. “Then I’ll just sit down a moment until they arrive.”
Kaitlyn suppressed a sigh and put the folder out of sight. She knew everything that was in there, anyway. She ought to; she’d been over it often enough. There had to be a way to cut down the sheer amount of time she spent fussing over each ceremony. But if she stopped being such a perfectionist, then upsets like the mess at Sabrina Hart’s wedding would happen much more often.
That idea was enough to make her shiver and be even more determined not to overlook anything.
“What about after breakfast?” Marcus said. “I’ve got an easy morning, so I could be flexible.”
She looked at him in astonishment. “I thought your friendly executives were still hanging around.”
“They are. But they’ve hinted I really ought to get out of the office a little more — do some volunteer work, be seen around the community, make a few more contacts. Perhaps we could play nine holes of golf or something.”
Kaitlyn shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got a preliminary conference with the Wagners today. They’re celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary in a few months.”
Marcus’s voice had a rough edge. “You suggested yourself that I take a morning off now and then so we could see each other, Kaitlyn.”
“But I didn’t say I would be free any morning at random. If you had asked ahead of time, I probably could have rearranged my calendar. I’m very busy this week.”
“Not too busy to spend last evening on skates.”
His voice was cool, and every muscle in Kaitlyn’s body tensed. She wanted to ask him how he knew — was Penn interfering again? — but she knew better. The question alone would make her look guilty.
“Honestly, Kaitlyn, of all the middle-class pastimes, roller skating has got to be at the head of the list.”
He made it sound like something slightly off-color, Kaitlyn thought. “No, I’d say that bowling is seen as the primary middle-class hobby. And I happen to like that, too. I’m sorry if it upsets you, but I guess I’m just middle-class, Marcus. I was born that way. My father worked on a manufacturing line, and—”
“Darling, I’m sorry. Of course I didn’t mean that there was anything wrong with you, or with your background. You’ll learn to enjoy other things, as well, I’m sure, when you have a chance to experience them.”
She ground her teeth together, but she didn’t answer.
“And of course you need to relax.” He put his hand over her fingers, which lay rigid on the edge of the table. “I’m glad you had a good time last night, truly I am. It was unforgivable of me to lose my temper like that.” He smiled down at her. “I’m just a bit irritable this morning, I suppose. We were trying to get some serious matters taken care of at the club last night, and there was a very noisy party in the next room. It left me with a pounding headache that still hasn’t gone away entirely.”
She didn’t quite trust herself to answer, but fortunately, she didn’t have to; Laura and her fiancé arrived just then. Marcus rose and shook hands with the young man. “I was just on my way,” he explained punctiliously. “Jack Bailey? — now where...? Oh, you were the one having the party at the country club last night.” His glance at Kaitlyn was expressive.
“It was Jack’s bachelor party,” Laura said curtly, and Marcus nodded as if that explained a lot.
Kaitlyn eyed the young man over the edge of her menu, which she could practically recite by heart. Jack Bailey looked a little worse for wear this morning, as if he’d been up far too late last night and had too much to drink, as well. A bachelor party in the middle of the week? That was strange. But she supposed it made sense, since most of Jack’s family and friends were from out of town, for them to come a few days early instead of making the trip twice. He ordered only coffee, which confirmed her suspicions, and sat silent through most of the discussion. Laura, too, was quieter than usual, Kaitlyn thought, and only picked at her food. Well, every bride reacted differently; it was one of the things Kaitlyn liked best about her business.
Kaitlyn finished her omelet and checked her list again. “Have you received any last-minute responses?” she asked.
Laura pulled a handful of cards from her handbag.
Kaitlyn flipped through them. “I’ll do a count and get a final number to the caterer today. You’ll need to pick up your tuxedo, Jack, and remind your ushers to pick up theirs. Make sure they try everything on, too. Rental places make mistakes sometimes, and it’s much easier to get trousers re-hemmed today than it will be on Saturday.”
“Oh,” he said. “Sure.”
Kaitlyn would have liked to pour coffee on him, just to see if he was paying attention to any external stimuli at all.
Instead, she turned to Laura. “You’ve broken in your shoes and practiced doing your makeup and hair style?”
Laura nodded.
“Then the only thing left for you to do is relax and en
joy yourself and get your attendants to the rehearsal on time,” Kaitlyn told her with a smile. “I won’t keep you any longer.” She put her pen down and closed the folder.
Jack Bailey jumped up, brushed a quick kiss on his bride’s cheek, and hurried out, muttering something about getting to work.
So much for the tuxedos. I’ll probably end up getting them myself, and passing them out at the rehearsal tomorrow. We’ll just have to hope they fit....
“I’ll remind the ushers,” Laura said quietly.
Kaitlyn debated with herself while she paid the bill, but she finally said, “Is everything all right between you two?”
Laura didn’t look quite squarely at her. “Sure. Jack’s got a lot on his mind.” But it was almost halfhearted, as if it was herself she was really trying to convince.
Kaitlyn nodded. “You’ve had a fight.” It wasn’t a question.
Laura’s chin wobbled a little. She bit her lip and whispered, “Last night.”
Over the bachelor party, no doubt. A party loud enough to penetrate the entire country club must have included more than enough drinking and general nonsense to upset a bride who was already on edge. It wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened; it was bad judgment on Jack Bailey’s part, perhaps, but no more than that.
“I see,” Kaitlyn said gently. “It’s not unusual, you know. Practically every couple has a zinger of a fight not long before the wedding.” As a matter of fact, she thought, remembering the way she and Marcus had snapped at each other this morning, sometimes it doesn’t even have to be close to the wedding day.
“Do they?” Laura asked.
“It doesn’t mean you aren’t suited, you know. Or that you shouldn’t be married.”
“That’s what my mother says. That I should just ignore it, I mean.”
“Well, she’s right.” Kaitlyn patted Laura’s shoulder. “It’s only tension, you know. It builds up till something has to give. Some people have that fight at the church. Others manage to hold it off till after the wedding, and then have a tremendous blowup on their honeymoon. That would be a whole lot worse.”
“I suppose so.”
“Perhaps you and Jack are lucky to get it over with now.” There was a reassuring smile in Kaitlyn’s voice. “Have a good time at your bridesmaids’ lunch.”
Laura nodded, and Kaitlyn stood on the sidewalk in front of the hotel for a long time, watching till she was out of sight. She suddenly felt exhausted.
The things I do for my brides. She could hang out a shingle as a pre-marriage counselor on top of everything else. Perhaps Marcus was right about how difficult it would be to balance everything.
After Laura’s wedding was over, Kaitlyn was going to have to do some serious thinking about where she wanted to go from here.
*****
The Ross home was beginning to look like a warehouse, with boxes piled to the ceiling on every corner and no flat surface bare of clutter. Kaitlyn managed to clear the kitchen table of pots, pans, bowls and baking sheets that filled it by simply dumping them into several big cartons and writing Salvation Army in bold black letters on the sides. Then she piled the boxes against a wall, washed her hands and spread out the computerized address list for Kathy Warren’s wedding. The event wasn’t until September, but it would take a full week to address all of the invitations. Kaitlyn opened the boxes of stationery and filled her calligraphy pen with ink. Still, it wasn’t as big an affair as Sabrina Hart’s had been, thank heaven.
She lined the boxes up and began. The invitation itself. The cover sheet of tissue. The response card, with its own small stamped envelope. The second invitation, where needed, to the dinner reception. The inner envelope, with only the names neatly lettered. The outer envelope, carefully addressed and sealed. And, at long last, the name checked off the list.
She set the thick packet aside and said, “One down. A mere four hundred ninety-nine to go.”
Behind her, Penn said, “This must be the boring part of your job.”
Kaitlyn jumped and dropped her pen. Ink splattered, but fortunately it missed the expensive engraving.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt at all today, and his bronzed skin looked damp — almost shiny. There were streaks of dust and what looked like oil here and there on his arms and chest, and his jeans were filthy. But despite the surface dirt, he smelled of soap and the warmth of summer days.
You’ve got summer on the brain, Kaitlyn told herself.
“Are those the invitations to your wedding?” He leaned over her shoulder to look more closely at her work.
“Damn it, Penn, don’t you dare touch these things.” She threw her arms across the piles of invitations covering the table. “Of course they’re not for my wedding. It’s far too early.”
“I thought you might have moved it up.” He read the finely-engraved script. “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t forget about sending one to me.”
“I couldn’t possibly forget you,” Kaitlyn grumbled.
He smiled, and sketched a bow. “Thank you for the compliment. I’m relieved to know that I won’t have to follow the mailman around, asking if he might have mislaid my invitation.”
He’d do it, too. If, of course, he was still in Springhill — but there was no point in worrying about it now. “What have you been up to, anyway? You look as if you’ve been crawling through a coal mine.”
“That’s close,” he congratulated her. “I’m cleaning out the basement. Your mother didn’t think the movers should pack up every half-used can of paint and every scrap of wood in your father’s workshop, but she wasn’t sure what to keep.”
“Oh — is that why the pickup truck full of junk is blocking the driveway so I couldn’t get in?” She should have known he’d be driving something of the sort. She supposed he needed it when he was working on a house. And it was quite appropriate, actually, for a man who cared so little about material possessions. Still, for Penn Caldwell to be getting around in a faded, half- rusted-out truck—
“Would you rather I blocked the drive so you couldn’t get out?” He took a newspaper-wrapped tumbler from a box, tossed the paper into another box and filled the glass with ice and water. He perched on the edge of the counter and studied her, one foot swinging.
She watched the play of muscles in his arm and chest as he drank, and wondered what he’d look like when he was lifting something heavy.
Enough, she told herself, and turned back to her invitations.
“Audrey thought perhaps I could use some of the tools and supplies,” Penn went on.
Kaitlyn didn’t look up. “So now you’re running a salvage operation? I’m not surprised.”
“Didn’t you know your mother has a soft touch for a bum? She’s going to give me a plate of leftovers for doing this, too.”
“Funny. Very funny.”
He got up to refill his glass and put his head inside the refrigerator to inspect the contents. “I see the joke’s on me,” he said mournfully. “No leftovers. Are you and Audrey living on cold cuts these days? But since you haven’t paid me for those photographs yet, I don’t have much choice. If I’m going to eat at all—”
“I offered you standard pay.”
He leaned around the refrigerator door and looked her over speculatively. “Kitten, don’t be silly. If I hadn’t come to the rescue, Mrs. Hart would have made sausage hors d’oeuvres out of you. That’s got to be worth more than ordinary wages.”
“So send me a bill. We can negotiate.”
Penn looked thoughtful. “All right. I’ll start at a million bucks.”
Kaitlyn didn’t even glance up. “I think there’s a twenty in my wallet. Take it or leave it.”
“Well, we have lots of room for compromise.” Penn washed his hands, then took the package of cold cuts from the refrigerator and unearthed a loaf of bread from under the packing supplies stacked on top of the dishwasher. “Seriously, though, do you mind if Audrey gives me some of your dad’s tools?”
“Why wou
ld I mind? I’m not into drills and saws and whatever else he had down there.”
Penn shrugged. “I thought it was possible Marcus might be coveting them.” Possible, the tone seemed to say, but hardly likely, considering that it’s Marcus, after all.
Kaitlyn refused to take offense. If Penn wanted to believe that no man could be truly masculine without being comfortable in a woodworking shop, that was his problem —not hers. “I don’t think Marcus has ever been in the basement, so I doubt he’s given the contents any thought at all. You’re welcome to take the works.” She smiled. “Just knock the value off what I owe you for the pictures, all right?”
Penn snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Wait till you hear this. Have I got a deal for you!”
“Hold it a minute.” Kaitlyn spelled a troublesome name out letter by letter as she addressed an envelope, and then set it aside and leaned back in her chair. “All right. Let me have it.”
“You and Marcus will need somewhere to live after you’re married, right? And I’ve got a nice little piece of property.”
So he’d gotten the Delaney place, after all. No wonder Stephanie had been too busy this week to remember that Kaitlyn needed an apartment. “And you’re suggesting you build a house for Marcus and me? No, thanks.”
“I’ll just add the cost of the pictures on top of the building,” he added helpfully. “Marcus will never notice it. Not the full million, of course; I’ll give you a break on that.”
“I’m touched,” she said dryly. Kaitlyn could almost hear what Marcus would have to say about the idea of Penn building a house for them. “But no thanks. We won’t be interested in building for a couple of years at least.”
“What’s the matter? Has Marcus overreached himself and ruined his credit rating?”
“Of course not. But in a year or two we’ll know more about our lifestyle and the way we want to live.”
“I get it. Whether you want to have kids and all. Do you?”
The Best-Made Plans Page 9
