Here Comes the Bride (Chapel of Love Book 3)

by Hope Ramsay

  Courtney left the room, and Amy came in bearing her bouquet.

  “Have you heard from Andrew?” she asked.

  Amy shook her head. “No one seems to know where he is. Dad saw him last night but he was gone this morning. Courtney pressed Matt into service,” she said with a smile. “Everyone is amused by that.”

  From beyond the open door, the unmistakable strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D greeted her ears, although today’s organist wasn’t nearly the musician she’d had for her first wedding day.

  “It’s time,” Amy said and helped Laurie with her train. Meanwhile Courtney grabbed Roxy’s bouquet and hotfooted down the aisle in her black business suit.

  “Okay, it’s your turn,” Amy whispered. And for the second time in six weeks, Laurie headed down the aisle toward her groom. She kept her gaze straight ahead, focused on Brandon, thankful that Andrew wasn’t there to distract her.

  Brandon looked so handsome standing there with a sheen of tears in his bright blue eyes. His mouth curled at the corner and exposed his adorable dimple. He winked at her.

  Wait. Stop. Why did she resent the fact that Brandon was behaving exactly the way she’d fantasized a million times? Those fantasies had fallen apart six weeks ago.

  With each step, her dress seemed to weigh her down. The bodice once again morphed into a tourniquet shutting off her air supply. By the time she reached the altar and the music faded, she felt just like a small creature caught in a very large trap.

  Andrew drove all the way back to D.C. in the early hours of Sunday morning. His head pounded for all sixty miles from the bourbon he’d anesthetized himself with last night. His gut churned with anger.

  He’d been used. By Noah. By Pam. By his own father.

  And for what? To get Laurie and Brandon back together even though any fool could see they were wrong for each other. He would not, could not, stand there beside Brandon and watch it happen.

  But coming home didn’t make him feel any better. He paced, and then he got out a few dishes and threw them against the tile floor. Venting his anger didn’t make him feel any better.

  He had to stop the wedding. Not boycott it.

  Dammit.

  It was after ten o’clock when he fired up the Audi and headed west. There had been a four-car pileup on Route 7 just west of Tyson’s Corner that backed up traffic for miles. He decided to backtrack and get on the Dulles Toll Road. And good thing too because he hit more traffic in Leesburg. It was after noon by the time he pulled the Audi into the parking lot at the Laurel Chapel.

  He raced up the steps, busted through the doors, and tore down the aisle like a crazy man.

  The moment he saw Laurie’s beautiful face, something in his chest eased. It didn’t look as if they’d exchanged rings yet.

  “Am I too late?” he asked in a breathless voice.

  “Not at all, dude,” Matt said. “But hey, you could have dressed better.”

  It wasn’t until that moment that Andrew realized he was wearing the same jeans and T-shirt from last night.

  “Here, why don’t you take the rings?” Matt said.

  “I don’t want the rings,” Andrew replied. He looked at the officiant. “Have we gotten to the speak now or forever hold your peace part?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, “I was just getting to that. Did you wish to raise an objection?” An enigmatic smile played on her lips.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “What?” Brandon got all up in his face but Andrew ignored him. He was too busy looking at Laurie, where the strain of the last few weeks showed in the dark circles under her eyes and in the pallor of her face. She looked as if she was about to go down for the count.

  Andrew stepped around Brandon and captured Laurie by the shoulders just as she started to collapse. He lifted her up into his arms and would have carried her off like a rogue pirate, but her dress had a gigantic train on it. So he ended up standing there staring at the congregation that was composed almost entirely of his family.

  He noted, with some consternation, that the older generation of Lyndons—Charles, Mark, Pam, and his father—were smiling. Even Brandon’s father seemed amused.

  Andrew turned toward Brandon, who might have been the only person in the room who didn’t have a smile on his face. His expression could only be called “thunderstruck.” His mouth hung open, his brow knitted into a frown, and a slow spark of realization lit up his gaze.

  “You lied to me,” Brandon said. It wasn’t a question.

  “No, not entirely,” Andrew said.

  “What does that mean?”

  Andrew didn’t answer because the officiant said, “Excuse me, but I think we need to take the bride someplace where she can lie down and maybe get something to eat. I’ll bet she didn’t eat a thing this morning. Once we get her blood sugar up, she’ll be good to go. I see this happen a lot.”

  “I’d be happy to take her someplace to recover,” Andrew said. “If someone would do something about the dress’s train.”

  “No, I’ll take her. She’s my bride,” Brandon declared.

  Andrew glared at his best friend. “Yeah, but possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

  Just then, Amy came flying down the aisle. “Come on, I’ll open up the Churchill Suite. It’s empty right at the moment. Courtney, grab her train.”

  “Got it,” Courtney said from behind.

  “No, wait. You can’t just whisk her away like that,” Brandon said. “I mean, this is my wedding, for God’s sake.”

  “Is it?” Courtney asked in a tight voice. “You’re the guy who dumped her and then went off with Matt to pick up chicks. What happened, Brandon? Did you realize just how lonely Matt was?”

  “Wait a sec,” Matt said. “I’m not lonely.”

  “Maybe not yet. But I hope one day you are. Because, honestly, guys like you irritate the crap out of me. Come on, Andrew. Let’s get out of here.”

  Andrew started up the aisle just as Ryan Pierce came through the open doors with Noah Wilson and his ex-wife following. Susan and Noah looked as if they’d slept in their clothes.

  “I’m sorry, y’all,” Ryan said with a little smile. “Courtney called me a while ago, frantic because the father of the bride had gone missing. She gave me a description of the man’s car, and it turned out we had him and the missus in the county lockup.”

  “For what?” Andrew asked.

  “For indecent—”

  “Shut up,” Noah said. “This is my daughter’s wedding. Uh, I think?” Noah looked around, taking in the chaotic scene.

  “Oh my God, what have you done to Laurie? Unhand her this minute,” Laurie’s mother said. Then she frowned. “Why are you carrying her and not Brandon?”

  “Yes, Andrew,” a voice came from somewhere behind him that he immediately recognized as his father’s. “We’re all wondering that.”

  Just then Laurie’s eyes fluttered open. They were the most beautiful shade of hazel. “Andrew,” she whispered.

  “I’m here. I’ve got you. And when you hear the story I have to tell you, you won’t believe it.”

  The corner of her lip curled up. “Oh, thank God. I had this awful dream that I married Brandon.”

  “What?” Brandon said. “It’s not a dream. I mean, we’re not married yet. But we will—”

  “No,” Andrew said.

  “No, what?”

  “No. I’m saying no. You and Laurie are not getting married.”

  “What are you saying? Did you and Laurie…” Brandon didn’t finish the sentence, and Andrew wasn’t inclined to finish it for him.

  Instead he looked down at Laurie. Now that she was awake, she shifted a little and encircled his neck with her arms. Her head rested on his shoulder, and the weight felt perfect. She gazed into his eyes with her mouth slightly parted. He wanted to kiss her. To claim her. To make her his own.

  “Oh, look at them,” Aunt Pam said. “They are so darling together. Noah, I think our Plan B actually worked.”


  Laurie blinked. “What plan?”

  “Ignore her,” Andrew said. “Besides, I have something important I need to say. That night before Emma’s wedding, I lied to you. The truth is, I’m just not very good at relationships without strings attached. After that night, you were constantly on my mind. I wanted to find a way to tell you how I felt. I started to call you dozens of times, but one thing after another got in the way. Val turned up, and Brandon changed his mind, and…and then I decided it would be best to keep my mouth shut.

  “Everyone seemed so happy that you and Brandon were getting back together. And I knew if I said anything, I would make everyone angry or sad or something. Anyway…” He stopped talking, suddenly aware of the audience in the church, hanging on every word he said. He took a big breath. “Laurie, the truth is, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  Laurie caressed his cheek with her cool, soft hand. “I have a confession to make too. I guess I’m not as modern and adult as I thought. I know what I said about no strings and experience and all that, but…I fell in love with you too. Last Saturday all I wanted was for you to tell Brandon to get lost, only…”

  “Only I was trying to mediate when I should have been telling you how I felt. Is that it?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, let me tell you exactly how I feel, Laurie. I think you deserve someone who will support your career, and respect you, and cherish you. And I’ve been sitting back, watching one guy after another fail on that score. Especially Brandon.

  “So here’s the thing. I’ve resigned from Wilson Kavanaugh, and I’m pretty sure that there’s an open position at Lyndon, Lyndon & Kopp because August told me last week that if I ever left Wilson Kavanaugh, he wanted to recruit me. So we can be together, and you don’t have to give up your job or your research career.”

  A few tears escaped her eyes. “Thank you. But you know, even though I love you, I think I need time before I try getting married again.”

  “Of course you do. I’m patient. I’ll wait. But one day you will marry me, consider that a promise right here and right now. And one day, I also promise that we’ll find a way to laugh about how we were played.”

  “Played?”

  “Yeah. Your father and my aunt played us like a pair of violins. How are you feeling? Do you need to lie down?”

  She shook her head. “No. I kind of like it up here. Do you really love me?”

  “I do. Do you love me?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, in that case, since you’ve both said I do, I think you should kiss the bride,” the justice of the peace said with humor dripping from her voice.

  And Andrew did.

  Privileged Amy Lyndon needs the one thing she has never had before—a job.

  Her boss, Dusty McNeil, is going to give her the one thing she never expected—love.

  A preview of A Small-Town Bride follows.

  Eagle Hill Manor had been built in the late 1800s in the style of an antebellum mansion, with a massive portico held up by a dozen classical columns. David’s wife, Willow, had recently refurbished and enlarged the place, adding a gazebo and a swimming pool on the west lawn, converting an old carriage house into a sizable reception hall, and restoring the manor’s many outbuildings to create guest cottages with quaint porches and window boxes.

  The December issue of Brides magazine had done a seven-page feature article on the manor house, with photos of the inn’s sweeping half-circle staircase and guest rooms decorated for the holidays and images of the nearby Laurel Chapel all blinged out for a Christmas wedding. The magazine had also praised the inn’s food and beverage operations, as well as its daily breakfast service.

  That famous breakfast was still being served when Amy dashed up the steps onto the front portico and through the double doors into the lobby. She got as far as the dining room and stopped. Willow was there, making the rounds of the tables and chatting up her patrons.

  Even though Willow had only married into the Lyndon family, she still managed to convey the air of power and authority that every Lyndon was supposed to have. She had a master’s degree from Wharton and had single-handedly exposed a huge case of Medicare fraud, winning a million-dollar settlement from Restero Corporation. A lot of that money had gone into the inn’s restoration, although Willow also had a silent partner in her business—Jeff Talbert, a bona fide billionaire and another one of Amy’s exceptional first cousins.

  David, yet another one of Amy’s brilliant first cousins, had walked away from a career in politics in order to marry Willow.

  Amy couldn’t imagine any man giving up anything for her. Unlike Willow, she was an ordinary person. Not brilliant and not particularly stunning. She stood barely five feet tall with absolutely no breasts to speak of and standard-issue brown hair that went limp whenever it rained. She had a degree in English from a small, liberal arts college that catered to rich students with less-than-stellar SAT scores. She did not speak in full sentences or have an Ivy League education like Willow. She was, in a word, unremarkable.

  In a family composed of smart, beautiful, well-educated people, Amy was a poser.

  The moment Willow spied her lurking in the doorway, she concluded her conversation and proceeded across the dining room, surprise all over her face. “Wow, Amy, you’re up early. Have you come to talk about the wedding?”

  Damn. Damn. Damn. Had Grady posted lies about her on Facebook? With her phone out of commission, Amy had no way of finding out. She would kill him if he had. She met Willow’s probing stare. “No. I’m here to apply for the job. And for the record, I’m not engaged.”

  Willow’s eyes widened a moment as she gave Amy’s outfit the once-over. Right. Bad move. Showing up for a job interview wearing sneakers probably ranked right up there on the things-not-to-do-during-a-job-interview list on Gen Y Girl.

  “Which job are you talking about?” Willow asked.

  “The event planner job. I don’t have a lot of work experience, but I was the social secretary of my college sorority. And I’ve been a maid of honor seven times. I know a lot about weddings, believe me.”

  Willow’s green eyes softened. “Oh, Amy, I’m sorry. I had no idea you were interested in a job. I filled the event planner job yesterday. Honestly, I thought you were—”

  “No, I’m not marrying Grady.” She balled her hands into fists. “Everyone needs to get that in their heads, okay?”

  Willow took a step forward. “Are you all right?”

  “Uh, yeah, I’m good. But I need a job,” she said on a shaky sigh as a tear escaped from her right eye. She turned her back on Willow, forcing herself to walk slowly toward the door breathing normally even though her pulse had taken off like a runaway jet engine.

  “I have another job opening, if you’re interested. It’s seasonal, and it only pays minimum wage,” Willow said to her back.

  Amy stopped. Did she want a minimum-wage job? No. But what other choice did she have? In the let’s-face-reality department, she had no skills and no real experience, and with a résumé like that, she should probably expect to start at the absolute bottom.

  She turned. “I’ll take it,” she said.

  Willow cocked her head. “Don’t you even want to know what the job is?”

  “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

  “It’s on the grounds crew. We need extra hands in the summertime to keep up with the gardening chores and setups for weddings and other events. It’s a lot of physical labor. You up for that?”

  Amy nodded. Physical labor didn’t sound like much fun, especially since it had been months since she’d visited the gym. But, on the other hand, becoming a laborer was exactly the kind of thing that would annoy the crap out of Daddy. And that thought warmed her through and through. He’d be so sorry he’d locked her out of the house, drained her bank account, and left her with only enough money to buy eggs Benedict at the Red Fern.

  “Okay,” Willow said with a nod. “The job is yours. You’ll be reporting to the Eagle Hill facilit
ies director, Dusty McNeil.”

  * * *

  Dusty loved his little office with the big picture window and the view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It occupied space in the new outbuilding everyone called “the barn,” because it had replaced the old one that had been there for a century. This building was much more than a barn, however. It served as the state-of-the-art headquarters for Eagle Hill Manor’s facility-management team. It had Internet, a workshop, garage space for a fleet of golf carts and utility vehicles, and storage for all manner of folding chairs, tables, trellises, tents, columns, pedestals, and fountains.

  It also had a kennel for Sven, Natalie Lyndon’s gigantic labradoodle, a doggie obedience school dropout three times over. Right now the dog was being a good boy, sitting at Dusty’s feet while Dusty enjoyed his second cup of coffee. In Dusty’s opinion, Sven needed a firmer hand and a little more attention—something ten-year-old Natalie didn’t quite get and her busy parents had no time for. That was Dusty’s fault in some ways, because he’d been the one to give the dog to Natalie in the first place, the Christmas before last.

  He gave Sven’s head a little scratch as he reviewed the upcoming schedule for the day. The Chapman-Cuddy wedding would be taking place at one o’clock in the Laurel Chapel with a small reception under a tent on the terrace to follow. The Ganis-McQuade two-hundred-guest wedding reception was scheduled to begin at six o’clock in the Carriage House.

  Dusty was jotting down notes for the day’s activities when Sven suddenly sprang to his feet and started barking. “Hush,” he directed, just as Willow knocked on the door frame of his always-open office door.

  “Got a minute?” she asked as Sven jumped up on her, earning him a scolding. “Why is he here?” she asked.

  “Because he gets lonely when Natalie’s at school. He keeps me company in the mornings, and I return the favor.”

  Willow gave him the evil eye. “Maybe you should have kept him instead of giving him to Natalie.”

  Yeah, maybe he should have, but he didn’t have room for Sven in his tiny house or his single life. “What’s up?” he asked, ignoring the gibe.