Summer at Lake Haven

by RaeAnne Thayne

  He spotted his father rearranging chairs with McKenzie Kilpatrick and Eliza Caine and immediately headed in their direction.

  “We’re here to help. Three Summerhills reporting for duty. What can we do?”

  McKenzie threw him a look of vast relief. “Thank you! We had a bit of a crisis when one of the dogs escaped from the garage and came barreling through. I’m afraid he messed up the garlands on the chairs.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Eliza said. “Boomer can be such a rascal.”

  “No harm done,” McKenzie said. “We can fix it.”

  “We can help you put the chairs into their correct positions,” Thomas said, looking serious and concerned in his adorable little gray suit.

  She looked down at him with a broad smile. “That would be extremely helpful, kind sir.”

  He and the children helped set the chairs back into rows while McKenzie rearranged the garlands. After that, they carried out more flowers to put on the guestbook table and even helped usher people to their seats.

  They were so busy he didn’t have the chance to see Samantha again until just prior to the ceremony, when he and the children were finally seated and most of the guests had arrived.

  He had saved the seat next to him for her and was relieved when she slid into it, a bit more disheveled than she had been when they arrived.

  Somehow her slight disarray only managed to make her look even more glorious.

  “Everything okay?” he asked in an undertone.

  “It is now. I had to sew like the wind to make some major repairs on the mother of the groom’s dress. I hope I never have to do that again,” she said vehemently.

  He spotted the woman in question walking in on Josh’s arm. She looked lovely in a rose-colored dress that perfectly matched some of the flowers in the garlands draped on the rows of chair.

  Even looking at her dress closely, he couldn’t see any evidence of Samantha’s handiwork.

  “I’ll assume she didn’t buy that dress from you,” he said.

  “No. She ordered it online apparently, without even trying it on. First they sent the wrong size. Then, because of a shipping delay, this one didn’t arrive until yesterday. It needed a slight alteration in the bodice but the person who worked on it last-minute did a slipshod job of it. I think she should be good now. It should hold together, as long as she doesn’t go crazy on the dance floor later.”

  “Once again, you save the day.”

  She gave him a grateful look, but before she could answer, Josh and the woman who would be marrying them whom Ian had met the evening before at the rehearsal dinner, the reverend at the church Gemma attended in town, moved to the front. A moment later, the quartet began playing the music his sister had chosen for her bridal processional.

  Ian held his breath as Gemma came gliding down the aisle on his father’s arm, alight with happiness and stunning in the dress Samantha had made. It was perfect for her, as if the dressmaker had somehow managed to bottle her personality and weave it into cloth.

  He heard a sigh coming from Amelia and looked down to find her hands clasped together, pressed tightly to her chest, as she watched her aunt make her way down the aisle, her arm tucked through their father’s.

  Hardly showing any sign of her limp, Gemma glided toward her groom, who stood with eyes suspiciously moist as he watched her.

  The moment was profoundly perfect, as lovely and romantic as he could ever imagine a wedding.

  Beside him, he saw Samantha wipe away happy tears. He reached for her hand and held it in his, not caring who might see.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SAMANTHA ALWAYS SHED a tear or two at weddings, caught up in the romance and the beauty of two separate lives combining to become one. This one, though, seemed to hit her particularly hard.

  She found a sweet tenderness in watching the stunned joy on Josh Bailey’s handsome face as he watched his beautiful bride make her way down the flower-strewn aisle toward him.

  Gemma must have been crying a little, too, though Samantha couldn’t see it. She only guessed it when Josh pulled a handkerchief out of the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket and pressed it with heartbreakingly gentle care to one of Gemma’s eyes and then the other.

  The gesture was so tender and emotional it stole her breath.

  Sam didn’t have anyone to wipe her tears away. That was suddenly, starkly apparent. If she wanted to see the world clearly, it was up to her to wipe her own blasted eyes.

  She reached into her trusty bag for the lace hanky she had brought along. She sniffled a little, dabbing at her eyes, when she suddenly felt a hand on hers.

  Ian.

  He didn’t look at her, his gaze focused on his sister and her groom, but his fingers curled around Samantha’s, warm and comforting.

  Her breath caught, her heart pounding, and she wanted this moment to continue forever, frozen in her memory. A beautiful bride and groom, many of her friends and neighbors filling the seats around her and Ian and his children next to her.

  She loved him. The undeniable truth of it poured through her like that fading sunlight on the water.

  She had suspected as much for a long time, probably since that first kiss that had left her so shaken.

  There was no denying it now, when he held her hand with such gentleness that she felt more tears spill out.

  This wasn’t like anything she had felt before. It was raw and painful, as if her heart had been flayed open.

  She loved him more than she imagined it possible to love another person. He was a good, kind, honorable, wonderful man who treated her with respect and concern and who cared deeply about his children and his family.

  How could she not love a man like him?

  His thumb rubbed against hers and she closed her eyes, trying to absorb every sensation of this moment to sear into her memory.

  He was leaving in only a few days. How would she bear it?

  This time, she feared, Starry-eyed Sam would never be the same. Impending heartbreak loomed on the horizon like a dark cloud filled with devastation.

  She couldn’t stop him from leaving. The only thing within her power was right now, this moment. She would simply have to do her best to enjoy the rest of Gemma’s wedding activities.

  Tomorrow would be soon enough to begin processing the pain.

  * * *

  SHORTLY AFTER THE CEREMONY—after vows and rings had been exchanged, a tender kiss had sealed the union and they had embraced nearly everyone there who was eager to offer congratulations—the chairs were moved to the edge of the large white awning to clear a space for dancing.

  While Ian and his children helped move furniture, Samantha hurried toward the refreshment table to see if she could help with anything.

  “The caterers seem to have everything under control,” Eliza assured her. “Just go enjoy yourself.”

  She felt a raw, almost hysterical laugh score her throat at that advice. How could she enjoy herself with the heavy weight of impending sadness bearing down on her?

  She grabbed a flute of champagne and took a sip just as Margaret approached her and grabbed her free hand in both of hers.

  “That dress. Oh, Samantha. Thank you. My baby girl was the most beautiful bride. I can’t tell you how many people have mentioned her gorgeous gown to me.”

  “Gemma would have been beautiful, no matter what she wore.”

  “But that gown put everything over the top. You should know I consider you the heroine of this wedding. You not only designed Gemma’s gown, you altered my pitiful dress into something completely perfect and now you’ve turned Sally’s wardrobe disaster into a triumph. What would we have done without you?”

  “Probably found another seamstress,” Samantha said.

  “No one as good as you,” Margaret insisted staunchly. “You’re amazingly talented.”

 
“Thank you.” She couldn’t help but be honored and touched at the praise.

  “You’re welcome. Look, I know this isn’t the time to discuss this, in the middle of the celebrations, but I feel I have to say this now while I’m thinking about it. Who knows when I’ll have another chance to talk to you. You really must consider expanding your operation.”

  She stared, astonished at the unexpected suggestion.

  “I’m quite serious about this, darling.” Ian’s mother beamed. “I consider you my own personal discovery. Well, technically Gemma discovered you but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, I have friends in the London and Paris fashion industry, friends who would be very excited about someone with your talent. I would love to connect you with them. What do you think?”

  Samantha nearly dropped her champagne. “You want to connect me with designers in London and Paris?”

  “Well, I have a few contacts in New York but I’m afraid most of my friends in the business are overseas. I promise, once I start posting pictures of Gemma’s gown, they’ll be begging me to tell them who designed it. If you’re strategic, you could leverage those contacts into entirely new markets.”

  New markets. She could barely handle the dress orders she already had. How could she even think about expanding?

  She could hire other seamstresses. It wasn’t a new idea but perhaps she had to consider it more seriously now.

  She knew many talented seamstresses who would be eager for the work. She could focus on designing and let someone else handle the work of taking those designs and bringing them to life.

  The possibilities started wildly spinning in her head. For a moment, she felt giddy, imagining it.

  Just as quickly, she drew a breath and yanked down the curtain on the images.

  She knew exactly what her mother would say if she were here. She could almost hear Linda’s echoing in her head.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, Samantha, and go all starry-eyed again. Why would she make you an offer like that? What’s in it for her? Anyone can promise you anything. But when it comes down to the nitty-gritty, will they deliver? Most of the time, no, and you’ll only end up hurt for dreaming too big.

  What would she possibly be able to offer designers in Paris and London, a small-town boutique owner and wedding gown designer like her?

  She was about to thank Margaret for her enthusiasm but tell her no thank you, that she had a safe, comfortable business here in Haven Point, where she knew her customers and could design bespoke gowns for them on a smaller scale. Before the words could come out, she caught herself.

  What was she thinking? How could she turn down such an offer?

  This could quite possibly turn into an incredible opportunity for her and she was about to close the door on it, simply because of what she could imagine her mother saying.

  Linda was gone. What she might or might not have thought about Samantha expanding her dressmaking business didn’t matter anymore.

  Sam had spent her entire life trying and failing to make her mother happy. Maybe, just maybe, it was time she focused more on doing what was necessary to make herself happy.

  She felt as if an earthquake had just ripped through, shaking the foundation of everything she believed about herself.

  She was talented. No matter what her mother might have said about dreaming too big, she wanted to take this chance.

  More than likely, it wouldn’t lead to anything. So what? If she tried and nothing happened, she wouldn’t be any worse or better off than she was right now. She would still be in exactly the same situation, running a very successful boutique and creating custom gowns for a few select brides.

  Margaret could clearly see her emotional turmoil. She squeezed Sam’s hand again. “You’ve been given a gift, my dear. I would never say you’re wasting it here because I don’t think that at all. You do wonderful work. But imagine what you might do if you looked outside of Haven Point!”

  “You could be right,” she said warily.

  “I am right. If you send me photos of a few of your favorite gowns you’ve created, I can deliver them to some select, well-placed friends. I can’t make any promises but I would utterly love the chance to help you try wedging a foot in the door.”

  “Thank you. I would appreciate that very much,” she said before she could talk herself out of it.

  “Oh, hurrah.” Margaret gave an exultant laugh and hugged her, champagne and all. Samantha gripped it aloft tightly so she didn’t spill all over Margaret’s dress, which she had worked so hard to alter.

  “Before we leave town, we have to exchange contact info. I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear anything.”

  She would at least have some connection with his family after they returned to England. She wasn’t sure if that would make things easier or harder. She cared about Ian’s family as much as she cared about him.

  How had they all become so precious to her?

  Henry came over just as Margaret released her.

  “There you are,” he said, looking at his wife with so much love it made Samantha want to cry.

  “Yes. Here I am. Is there a problem?”

  He took her hand. “No problem at all. They’re about to start the dancing, that’s all. I’ll be taking our girl out for the traditional father-daughter dance and thought you might want to be there when I do. After that, of course, I’ll be looking for my favorite dancing partner.”

  Margaret rolled her eyes a little. “With my bad knee, you know I can’t dance the way I used to.”

  “I can’t, either. Which makes us perfect for each other,” he said, squeezing her hand.

  To her chagrin, Samantha felt more tears gather at the sweetness between the two of them. It was a very good thing she had used waterproof mascara.

  She had seen too few examples of seasoned romance in her life. Certainly not in her own childhood. She had very few memories of her own parents demonstrating love for each other.

  She could recall her mother’s deep grief after her father killed himself but it seemed to have quickly shifted to anger and betrayal. Only a few months after her father’s death, her mother didn’t like to hear his name from anyone, especially Samantha.

  Margaret and Henry were clearly still in love, despite having children in their thirties and despite the shared pain of losing one of those children. She found it sweet and tender but somehow edged with a bittersweet rind, like orange peels.

  She desperately wanted this same kind of relationship with their son, something that would last through generations.

  Instead, she had only a few days to savor her time with him. After that, all of them would be gone.

  “I do hope you’ll save a dance for me,” Lord Henry said with that warm, fatherly smile she was coming to adore.

  “I would be honored,” she told him. “For now, you should probably go find Gemma. She’ll be waiting for you.”

  “I meant what I said. You’re going places,” Margaret told her as Henry started leading her toward the dance floor. “Send me those pictures.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  She might not be able to have Ian but she had other dreams that might still come true, with enough work.

  It was small consolation, but consolation nonetheless.

  * * *

  HE COULDN’T REMEMBER a wedding he had enjoyed more. His own would certainly not even make the top twenty.

  Ian moved around the dance floor with his daughter, savoring the night and the stars and the music.

  Everything about the event was magical, from the setting to the flowers to the company.

  He was beyond happy Gemma had found a man who fit her so perfectly and brought out the best in his sister. She had been through so much and deserved every ounce of happiness she had found with Josh Bailey. He foresaw a future of joy and contentment for both of them.


  “Dad! You’re not counting right.” Amelia sounded more exasperated than annoyed.

  “Sorry. You know I’m not much of a dancer. When I have to dance, I mostly stand in one place and sway, I’m afraid. If you want true dancing, you may have to stick with your little brother. He seems to be slaying it.”

  They both turned to admire Thomas, who was currently dancing with Samantha. Ian’s son was gyrating his little heart out while she mostly stood by and watched him with a delighted smile that seemed to arrow straight through to Ian’s own heart.

  He adored that she seemed to love his children. He could tell it was genuine, too, not an act she was putting on in an effort to impress him.

  “Weddings are fun,” Amelia said with a happy sigh. “Can we go to another one sometime soon?”

  “I am afraid we don’t know anyone else getting married any time soon. At least not that I can think of right now. Most of our friends are already married.”

  Amelia didn’t appear bothered by that. “We could always go to weddings for people we don’t know.”

  “That’s not the way it works, usually,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.

  He imagined dressing up in wedding finery with Amelia and crashing weddings of people he didn’t know, simply for the fun of it. The idea made him smile as he twirled his daughter past his parents on the dance floor. Margaret and Henry looked perfectly matched, as always.

  The music ended at that moment and his father dropped his arms from his wife. “I believe I would like to cut in, if you don’t mind,” he said to Ian. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to dance with my granddaughter. Though I must say, she looks entirely too grown up tonight. When did you become such a lovely young lady?”

  Amelia giggled, clearly pleased. “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Stop growing,” her grandfather ordered. Unfortunately, for all Lord Henry’s influence and power in certain sectors, he held no sway when it came to the inevitable progression of time.