I’m at the back door, he sent.
A minute later, he caught sight of her making her way up the path. She stepped into the orange light, and Trent’s breath stuck in his throat.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, staring at her. She wore a black dress that hugged and swelled and fell in all the right ways. Her hair had been swept up on top of her head, with the tail of a yellow ribbon draping over her shoulder.
“I don’t even have the shoes on yet.” She kicked off the flip flops she’d been wearing and balanced as she put on a bright yellow pair of heels.
“Wow,” Trent said, unable to articulate much more.
“Do I look like a bumblebee?”
Trent shook his head, gesturing for her to come closer. She did, but it seemed to take forever for her to take the few steps toward him.
“Are you sure?”
He took her into his arms for the first time as easily as if he’d done it countless times before. “No bumblebee.”
“I feel like a freaking bumblebee. I shouldn’t have let Gillian talk me into yellow heels.”
“I didn’t even know heels came in that color.”
She giggled and pushed against his chest. “Come on. We’re already late, and Aunt Mabel does not tolerate tardiness.”
He grinned down at her, glad for these few stolen moments. “All right, beautiful. Let’s go face your myriad of admirers.”
She reached up and ran her hand down his face again, her eyes seeming to memorize things he didn’t know he possessed. She inhaled, and when she exhaled, it was a bit shaky, the only indication of her nerves.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Ten
Lauren felt one breath away from exploding. She drew in one more lungful of fresh air before committing to entering the Mansion. Trent’s hand in hers made her feel like a real princess, because he was all dressed up like a dashing prince. If she’d thought he was handsome in jeans and a T-shirt, she was utterly drooling at him in his full uniform, complete with the hat.
The music inside the building was loud but classical, creating an ambiance that invited polite chatter and laughter, casual dancing, and light snacking on the hors d’oeuvres.
Lauren didn’t take anything from the tray as it went past, as knotted as her stomach was. Trent bypassed the drinks and one-bites as well, and he instead steered her over to another cop.
“Lauren, this is a friend of mine, Jason Zimmerman.”
“Oh, of course,” she said. “You’re Jennie’s brother.”
“He hates being introduced like that.” Trent chuckled.
“Oh.” Lauren felt like she’d been hit with a bucket of ice water. “It’s just…Jennie is the artist we commissioned for the new wing. So I know her.”
Lauren didn’t know everyone in town, though with every job she did, she met more.
“Jennie’s great,” Jason said with a smile, clearly not annoyed as being introduced as Jennie’s brother.
“Where’s the family?” Trent asked, and Lauren inched just a little closer to him. Being held in the garden had felt wonderful, and she wanted to touch him, keep him close.
He glanced at her, clear questions in his eyes, and she slipped her arm through his as Jason looked around and said his family was here somewhere.
“There’s Aunt Mabel,” Lauren said, pointing toward the front of the ballroom. “I better go see if she needs anything.”
Trent came with her, his hand as solid as cement in hers. Lauren tried not to pay attention to her walking, but she didn’t spend a lot of time in heels, and it was much more difficult to navigate the uneven stone floor than she’d anticipated.
“Your seats are at the front table.” Mabel pointed toward the table near the head table. “I’ll introduce you at some point.” She bustled off in the direction of the kitchen, her sparkly, silver outfit throwing glamour everywhere.
“Should we go sit down?” Trent asked.
“Yes.” Lauren didn’t want to stand and mingle, not if she had the option of sitting and doing the same thing. Only Gene and his wife sat at the front table when they arrived, and Lauren smoothed her skirt before she took her seat.
“You remember Gene,” she said to Trent. “And his wife Sabrina.”
“Nice to meet you.” Trent shook their hands as Lauren contemplated how she’d introduce him.
“So are you two dating?” Sabrina asked as she lifted her glass of pink lemonade to her lips. She looked at Lauren, and it was obvious the question was innocent.
Trent looked at her too, and Lauren met his eye, trying to get an idea of how she should answer.
“Yes,” she said with a giggle. “I think you could say we’re dating.” She glanced at Sabrina and volleyed her gaze back to Trent. “Right?”
He smiled, one of the biggest grins she’d seen him wear yet, and said, “Yes, we’re dating.” And with that, he lifted his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his body.
The moment lasted for such a short time, but Lauren still felt cold when he dropped his arm and focused on pouring himself a glass of water.
Jennie arrived then, taking the seat next to Trent with a “Hey, guys.” Bennett sat next to her, and while Lauren knew they were dating, it was still a relief to see their fingers intertwined. They both looked a bit nervous.
“Did Mabel tell you guys about the photographers?” she asked, and Bennett jerked his attention to her.
“Photographers?”
“She’s called every magazine and newspaper within a hundred miles. She’ll want us to talk about our pieces.” Lauren gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll be fine.”
Bennett turned to Jennie and started having a hushed conversation about his pieces and what in the world he was supposed to say.
Lauren felt the same way. In her experience no one much cared about a general contractor. She wasn’t an architect or anything, though a lot of what she did was envisioning a space and filling it purposefully. She was more like an interior designer who could nail stuff together and hang huge pieces of art.
Her right shoulder still ached from that tree Jennie had done. Beautiful as it was, it weighed a ton, and Lauren had to make sure it stayed stuck to the wall forever. After all, she couldn’t have the thing toppling over on any of Great Aunt Mabel’s brides.
Trent spoke to Bennett about his K9 dogs, and Lauren listened, wishing she knew more about police dogs and what they did. So she decided to ask, “And what are you training them to do?”
Trent focused his gorgeous eyes back on her, and as if Lauren wasn’t already nervous enough. She cut a quick glance toward her great aunt, who wore a silver, glittery dress and spoke to someone Lauren didn’t know.
She knew Aunt Mabel would be calling her up to the front, that the photographers hovering at the back of the ballroom would start snapping pictures, that she’d have to give interviews later. Lauren hoped she could string together coherent sentences that wouldn’t be edited too much.
“I’m hoping they can become narcotics dogs,” he said. “We don’t see a lot of drugs up here, but they can go to other teams once they’re certified.”
“You’ll send them away?” Lauren’s eyebrows went up. She’d seen Trent with those dogs, and he obviously loved them.
“I’m training them to be working dogs,” he said. “And we don’t need four narcotics dogs in Hawthorne Harbor.” He gave her a small smile. “The only reason Chief Herrin lets me train them is to get some recognition with the feds.”
“Really?”
Before he could answer, Mabel made her way to the front banquet table and said, “Good evening.” She wore a smile that could charm nations. “Welcome to Magleby Mansion. We’ll eat first, do a short program, and then the west wing will be unveiled.” She clapped her hands together, and everyone started applauding, Lauren included.
“Our local tradesmen and artisans who worked on the wing are seated to my left.”
Lauren’s heart
gave a little hop, then a leap, as she stood and acknowledged the people clapping for her. She’d be called up after dinner was served, and she hoped every hair was in the proper place.
“You’ll be able to meet them all in the west wing, where they’ll talk about their creations and vision.” She nodded toward the back of the room, and the wait staff came forward, plates of hot food already in their hands.
Lauren glanced at Trent and smiled, comforted when he reached under the table and squeezed her hand, a small grin on his face too. He was kind, and strong, and quiet, and Lauren really liked him.
Probably too much.
“Prime rib,” Trent said. “Wow.” He picked up his fork and knife. “Wilson would be so jealous.”
Lauren couldn’t help laughing as she picked up her silverware too.
“What?” Trent asked.
“You just said your dog would be jealous of your meal.” She looked at him and giggled again, glad when he chuckled too.
A flush crawled up his neck and into his face, or maybe Lauren was just imagining it because the lighting was low and twinkly.
“I guess my life is a little tied up in the dogs,” he said. “And Porter.”
“I mean, I get it,” she said. “I live, breathe, and eat construction.” And sometimes the sawdust was a little bitter on her tongue, and it served to remind her that she didn’t have a whole lot going on in her social life.
“Porter thinks you’re made of gold,” Trent said. “He’s asking me to buy him a hammer. A real one.” Trent shook his head, but his grin was wide and warm.
“I’m glad,” Lauren said, still not quite sure how to relate to anyone if there weren’t hammers and nails involved. She put a bite of steak and potatoes in her mouth, and groaned. “Aunt Mabel can never die.”
Trent nodded, eating at twice the speed of Lauren. “What will happen when Mabel Magleby dies?” he asked.
Lauren took a roll and split it with her knife. “Uh, I’m going to inherit the Mansion.” She cleared her throat.
That got Trent to stop eating. “You are?”
“I mean.” Lauren shrugged and looked toward her great aunt. “She never married and has no children, and I’m the….” She wasn’t sure what she was. Aunt Mabel had other relatives, probably ones better suited to run the most prestigious place to hold an event than Lauren was. But Mabel had asked Lauren if she’d run it, and she’d said she would.
“At least, that was the plan a few years ago,” she said, looking back at Trent. “I’m not aware of a will change.”
He leaned back in his chair, his plate practically empty, even of the green stuff. “And what are you going to do with the Magleby Mansion?” He grinned at her in such a way that she couldn’t look away from his mouth.
“I have no idea, honestly.” She half-laughed and half-scoffed. “I figured I’d hire a manager, someone who does what Mabel does so I can keep doing my construction business.” She honestly hadn’t thought about it, but she took another look at Aunt Mabel. It was clear the woman was getting up there in age, and she certainly wouldn’t be around forever, even if she did joke that she would be.
Lauren had just finished her bread when Aunt Mabel stood again. She snatched up her napkin and wiped her mouth. “I’m almost up.”
“Do I have to go up there with you?” Trent asked.
She shook her head, her eyes glued to her aunt. “No, but can you stay by me once we go upstairs?”
“Of course.” He reached under the table and took her hand in his again.
“And now, I’d like to call up the brains and the muscle behind this job,” Mabel said. “My great-niece Lauren Michaels.”
She squeezed Trent’s hand and stood, her smile hitched in place and feeling a bit plastic. Thankfully, she didn’t wobble in her step as she went up front. The photographers click, click, clicked, and Lauren waved at the crowd.
Mabel glanced at Jaime, and the lights lowered until it was nearly pitch black in the ballroom. Then a projector brightened and a movie began. Lauren stood off to the side with Mabel’s weathered hand on her arm to keep the older woman steady.
It started out with a trip up the stone steps to the west wing, each shot masterfully done, and Lauren leaned down to Mabel. “This is great. Who did you end up going with?”
“Stevenson’s,” Mabel said. The video continued through all the rooms in the wing, and then panned to Mabel who sat in one of the window seats.
“I wanted something better for my brides, though Magleby Mansion has always been the premier place to be married. And they deserve the best. So I hired the best.” She smiled, that glowing, grandmotherly smile that made Lauren feel warm inside and out.
“And Lauren Michaels and her team have given every bride who comes to Magleby Mansion exactly what they deserve. Jennie Zimmerman has created masterful pieces. Bennett Patterson has graced the room with beautiful furniture. And so it is that I invite you all to go upstairs and enter the west wing. Take your time. Examine every piece. It’s all waiting for you here at Magleby Mansion.”
The video faded at the same rate the lights came up, and the crowd stood.
“Do you want to go first?” Lauren asked.
“No,” Mabel said. “We go last, dear.”
So Lauren stood with Mabel, glad when Trent walked up to them, and stood right at Lauren’s side.
“You look so handsome, Officer Baker,” Mabel said, grinning up at him. “Just like my—” Her voice cut off, and a profound sense of sadness overshadowed her face. It only stayed for a moment, and then her charisma and smile returned.
Lauren glanced at Trent, who beamed down at Mabel. “Your who, Mabel?”
She reached up and patted her hair. “I had a beau once. A suitor. He wore the uniform, same as you.”
Lauren’s insides danced with this story she’d never heard. “Aunt Mabel,” she said in a surprised tone. “Who was this beau?”
“It’s our turn, dear.” She started toward the few steps that led up the head table, and Lauren let Trent help her down them. He kept his arm linked through hers and escorted her out of the ballroom, his head bent as they continued to talk. It wasn’t until they were yards in front of her, stepping onto the first stair that led to the second level that Lauren realized she was still standing there, mute and watching them.
She’d always liked Trent Baker, but watching him help her great aunt hit her right in the soft parts of her heart. Totally unfair.
She hurried after them, hoping she didn’t twist an ankle in her haste. Arriving last in the west wing left her to face the reporters as a mob, and without Trent at her side.
“Miss Michaels,” one asked. “How long does a job like this take someone with a business your size?”
“How big is your crew?”
Lauren looked past all the unfamiliar faces and found Gene. He startled and came over to join her, and in the next moment, Trent was there too. Lauren’s nerves settled, and she took a deep breath.
“Well,” she said. “Mabel Magleby hired us about six months ago, and planning began immediately. I work with a team of three as our core group, and we call in other tradesmen as needed. You’ll see their work in here too, obviously, and you can talk to each of them.”
She smiled as a camera clicked, as someone else asked another question. It was Trent, standing partially behind her, the light pressure he put on her back with his palm that kept her grounded as she answered.
Chapter Eleven
Trent had liked Lauren before the dinner at Magleby Mansion. But to watch her conduct herself with grace and charm left his pulse bouncing around his chest like one of those rubber balls Porter liked to get out of the machines at the grocery store.
He kept his palm pressed to her back to steady himself, and as the interviews broke up and Lauren started gliding through the room, she affixed her hand in his, claiming him in front of everyone.
He liked it. So much more than he thought he would, and he tried to push back the biting guilt
that suddenly chomped on his gut. Savannah would’ve loved an event like this, the robin’s egg blue paint color on the wall, the intricacy of the sculptures, the mirror frame, the doors on the cabinetry.
She’d loved everything about design, and as he shadowed Lauren through the west wing, he realized that just because she installed curtain rods and hung drywall didn’t mean she didn’t see the same things Savannah had.
Lauren knew what each room needed, and how to install it. The tour took an agonizingly long time, and he was grateful Eliza had agreed to take Porter. The boy would’ve been bored to death, as Trent found his own attention waning in the second room.
Finally, everything was done, all the questions asked and answered, and Lauren turned to him. Her full lips distracted him, as did the way her fingers slipped up his jacket to his collar. “Having fun?”
“A little,” he said, wishing the fabric of his uniform wasn’t so thick. She looked tired and sleepy, but he couldn’t help asking, “Want to take a walk around the grounds?”
She slipped her arm through his and pointed him toward the exit. “Sounds lovely.”
Trent’s nerves fired, but he managed to calm himself by the time they made it down the steps and outside. The night had cooled quite a bit, and he took a deep breath of the sea air as they paused on the front steps.
“The food was good,” she said.
“It always is here,” he agreed, glancing at her. “So, Lauren. Where do you live?” Maybe he should get some basics out of the way.
“Just down the hill actually. It’s a little piece of property my family owns.” She gave him a smile that nearly undid him and made him think about kissing her before the night was up. Could he do that? Would she think it inappropriate?
But she had said they were dating, and Trent had agreed. So holding hands with her felt natural, and he tried not to get too far inside his head. It was a strange maze in there, and he wanted to enjoy tonight.
“Do you like living in Hawthorne Harbor?” he asked, feeling like a moron. What kind of conversation was this? She was just so beautiful, and so poised, and Trent felt at least ten leagues below her. His gut tightened, and he wished he had his dogs with him so he could steal some of their comfort.
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