The Duplicate Bride

by Ginny Baird

  So she daintily sipped from her water glass and said, “Could you please pass that great-looking blueberry jam? I thought I might put a very small bit on my…dry toast.”

  “Here you are,” Margaret said, handing it over, badly tilting the crystal serving dish loaded with jam so that its small spoon nearly jettisoned toward the table.

  Hope lunged for the glass container, righting it quickly to keep the gooey blueberry goodness from spilling over the rim of the dish and onto her plate. Although, at this point, she was so hungry she could probably lap it up with her tongue.

  At least there were extra treats back at the carriage house. She’d have a huge snack later if she couldn’t get enough to eat here. In the meantime, she was determined to make an ally out of difficult Grandmother Margaret. Even if the effort nearly killed her—and it probably would.

  She startled the older woman by gently patting her arm. “I’m so glad you’re joining in the wedding planner meeting tomorrow. Things just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  When Margaret stared at her in surprise, Hope added, “Thank you.”

  Margaret dabbed her lips with a napkin and said, “Yes, of course. Glad to do it.”

  As she lowered her arm, Hope noticed a gorgeous charm bracelet on her wrist. It contained five dangling sterling silver hearts inlaid with individual heart-shaped rubies.

  “That’s so pretty,” Hope said, admiring the jewelry. “How long have you had it?”

  “Thank you,” Margaret said primly. “My mother gave it to me when Parker was born. There was only one heart charm on it then.”

  Hope made an educated guess. “The other four are for your grandchildren?”

  A slight smile cracked through Margaret’s stern veneer. “Why, yes.”

  Hope smiled as warmly as she could. “I think that’s a beautiful keepsake.”

  “It is beautiful, and I do intend to keep it.” She exchanged an insiders’ glance with Chad. “That is, until Sally gets married.”

  Brent chuckled at this. “You could have a long wait, Grandmother.”

  “She’ll find the right one,” Elsa said with confidence. “He just hasn’t come along yet.”

  Parker’s blue eyes twinkled as he addressed Brent and Hope. “She just hasn’t gotten ‘lucky in love’ yet, like you kids.”

  “Everyone gets lucky in time.” Grandpa Chad chortled, and Grandmother Margaret swatted him.

  “Mind your manners, husband.”

  “What did I say?” He gave her a look of utmost innocence, and everybody laughed.

  …

  A short time later, Brent deftly worked the safe’s combination in the den.

  “So?” Hope asked, wondering if their cell-phone sequestering was over. “This is it, then? All bets are off?”

  He popped open the safe, extracting only one of the phones: hers. “I wouldn’t say ‘off.’ How about ‘on hold temporarily’? Just so you can touch base with Hope to make sure she’s all right. And yes, okay. While you’re at it, you might as well check in with Rachel about the Martin wedding.” He handed Hope her phone. “Afterwards, we can put it away again. Even if it’s just for twenty-four more hours. I can live without mine if you can live without yours.”

  “Sure I can,” she said, not wanting to act like it was a big deal.

  She glanced down at her phone, noting several alerts on the screen. Her battery was also nearly dead. Although the reception was perfect, she decided to fib about that so she could step outdoors. “I’ll just step outside and make those calls.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here.”

  She pulled a face. “Reception.”

  “Ahh, gotcha.” He seemed to think on this too long. “Although, I’ve never had—”

  “Be right back,” she said, striding to the door.

  “Good, because I’ve got a fun plan for this afternoon.”

  Hope turned on her heel. “Plan?”

  “Just a little surprise. You’ll see.”

  She nodded and walked outdoors, taking a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs by the firepit. The view of the water was gorgeous from here. Then again, this entire place was phenomenal.

  There was a slew of text messages on her phone from Jackie, but rather than take time to read them, she called her sister instead.

  Relief surged through her when Jackie answered on the first ring. Then, her sister hurled an accusation. “Where on earth have you been, and why aren’t you answering your phone?”

  “It’s a long story, all right?”

  “Let’s hope it’s a good one. I started worrying when I couldn’t get through, so I had to call the landline.”

  “I know. Grandpa Chad told me.”

  “Okay, good. So you got the update.”

  “You’re not coming until Wednesday? Seriously?”

  “Afternoon, okay? I’ll make it in time for the clambake.” When she didn’t answer, Jackie continued. “Eleanor will fill you in on the whole itinerary in the morning.”

  “What about Meredith? Isn’t she coming tomorrow?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jackie said, like she hadn’t considered this. “Oops. I kind of forgot about that part, but don’t worry. I’ll talk to her. Fill her in.”

  “You mean she’ll know?”

  “She has to. Otherwise she’ll figure things out. She is my bestie.”

  “I don’t know if I can fool Mom. What if she figures things out and blabs?”

  “She can’t. You’ll have to finesse it.”

  Hope blew out a hard breath, agitated with Jackie for putting her in this position. She was equally annoyed with herself for not stopping this whole thing the moment it began. What had started out as one short day had suddenly morphed into three, and Hope couldn’t decide who she was more furious with: Jackie or herself. “This has to be your last delay. I mean it. Things with Brent are becoming challenging.”

  “Challenging how?”

  “He’s locked away our cell phones.”

  “Then how are you on it now?”

  “It’s only temporary. We’re going to put my phone back in the safe until tomorrow when I get off.”

  “Safe?”

  Hope lowered her voice. “Brent’s very serious about making things work.”

  “Oh.” Jackie sounded surprised at first, then curious. “Is he?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Jackie? Tell me that this is a marriage of ahhh”—she froze in horror as Grandmother Margaret rounded a boxwood hedge. She held clippers in her hands and wore garden gloves—“made in heaven.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I just want you to be prepared. For a very romantic wedding.”

  Jackie sounded totally confused. “Naturally it will be romantic. All weddings are.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s true, especially for couples who are in love.”

  “Hope. Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

  Margaret sternly strode toward her, then pivoted and began clipping roses from the flower garden. Even with her back turned, Hope could tell Brent’s grandmother was listening with her eagle ears.

  “Will you look at the time,” Hope said. “I’d better run. I’m so sorry you’re still sick and hope you feel better soon.” She dropped her voice into a whisper and hissed, “Super soon, okay?” Then she clicked off and peered at Margaret.

  “I take it that was your sister?”

  “Yeah, she’s doing a little better and is hoping to be here by Wednesday.”

  “Wednesday now? Oh, dear. She’s going to miss the tea.”

  “She feels terrible about that.” Hope forced a smile. “But she’ll be here for the boil.”

  “Boil?”

  “Er…bake. Clambake.”

  “We wouldn’t want your sister to miss that.�
�

  “No.”

  “Or any of the rest of it.”

  Hope swallowed hard. “Most definitely not.”

  Margaret stared at her a long while and seemed to be deciphering something. “You know,” she said, briefly glancing toward the house. “My grandson has a very big heart.”

  “Oh, yes. Very big. Big, big. Huge.”

  Margaret locked on her gaze, and Hope held her breath, her heart hammering against her rib cage. “You won’t break it?”

  “No, I…couldn’t—wouldn’t dare.”

  Margaret clipped another flower, grasping it by the stem. “Let’s hope not,” she said, returning her attention to her flower gathering.

  Chapter Seven

  Brent helped Hope into the canoe he’d carried on the roof of his SUV away from town and over a one-lane bridge.

  Several others launched kayaks from the same small inlet.

  “Canoeing. Who knew?” Of course, she’d suspected that when she’d seen the boat strapped to the top of his vehicle, but Brent had been very cagey about what they were actually doing today, until he’d pulled over and parked in the shade in a nearby spot.

  “Wanted to surprise you,” he said with a crooked grin. “I hope it’s working.”

  “Consider me surprised.” Hope climbed into the wobbly craft while Brent steadied it in his hands. They both wore bulky life vests, making it hard to maneuver gracefully with the canoe bobbing back and forth. She felt carefree and daring and more than a little excited about having this adventure with Brent.

  Although she’d told Jackie she’d try not to be alone with him, this wasn’t exactly breaking her word. There were tons of other people around, including more vessels out on the water.

  Brent joined her in the canoe, hoisting himself inside it with one deft move and seating himself on the other bench. He looked really great today in a red T-shirt and khaki shorts that showed off his muscular thighs.

  If Hope had known they were going canoeing, she might have dressed more sporty. But Brent had said she was fine in her sunflower-patterned halter dress and sandals. At least she’d brought along a big sun hat. Plus, before leaving the house, he’d suggested she apply sunscreen.

  “My brother Derrick built this,” he said, his eyes roving over the canoe’s sleek lines. “You won’t find too many more like it: hand-crafted out of wood.”

  She perused the canoe again, marveling at Derrick’s talent. “That’s impressive.”

  “There’s a boatbuilding school nearby. He’s one of their instructors.”

  “I can see why.”

  He picked up one of the canoe paddles that he’d set on the floor next to an old-fashioned picnic basket with a flap lid. “You might want to hang on while I push us off. Once we clear the shore, it will be smooth sailing.”

  “Or paddling, as the case may be,” Hope said lightly, and Brent laughed.

  “Yeah, that.” His eyes sparkled, and she dropped her chin, embarrassed to be enjoying his attention.

  He was trying so hard to take her on a fun date. And it was working. Only not on the person he thought she was—his fiancée, Jackie. How could Brent so easily believe she was Jackie? Hope had puzzled through it a dozen times and hadn’t arrived at a good answer.

  This only proved what she suspected from the start. Brent didn’t really know her sister. And Jackie only surface-level knew him. What a messed-up situation. But Jackie could have helped with that. If she’d gotten to Blue Hill on time like she was supposed to, it would be her in this canoe now, not Hope.

  So Hope shouldn’t feel guilty for having a good time. It was a harmless picnic, after all. And out in the open, in the middle of broad daylight.

  Brent settled back on his bench and dipped his paddle into the water before stroking it back toward his hip in a practiced rhythm. Soon, they were gliding over the water.

  Hope glanced at the second paddle on the floor, feeling she should do her part. “Want me to help?”

  “Naw.” He grinned, and butterflies flitted about in her belly. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  Sunshine glistened across the waves, and gulls called overhead in the nearly clear blue sky. The temperature was warm but pleasant, and a gentle breeze blew around them, riffling Hope’s hair beneath her sun hat. She had to hold it on at one point when the wind kicked up.

  She settled in to enjoy the view of the shore as they moved away from it. “Look. There’s your grandparents’ house!” she cried, spying the big white house with the cozy carriage house located alongside it, divided by the garden hedge.

  “Yeah, it looks a lot smaller from here.” He smiled and steered them to the right and away from the house.

  “Where are we off to?”

  “Someplace special,” he promised. “You’ll see.”

  She was almost sorry that Jackie was missing this. Selfishly, though, she secretly savored Brent’s company. She knew he wasn’t her groom. But it was awfully fun to get caught up in the fantasy. And that’s all this was, honestly. A fantasy that would be over soon.

  How depressing.

  “You’ve never told me certain things about yourself, you know,” Brent said after a pause.

  “Oh yeah?” Hope asked, sensing she needed to tread carefully. “Like what?”

  He quirked a grin. “Your favorite color.”

  She laughed in relief, having expected something deep and meaningful. “That’s easy,” she said, smiling back at him. “It’s blueberry blue.”

  “Not any ol’ blue?” he teased. “But blueberry blue?”

  “No other blue will do,” she proclaimed.

  He surveyed her features. “When did you decide that?”

  “When I was a kid living in Blue Hill.”

  “Then I’m glad that you’re back here in summertime, so you can be awash in your favorite color.”

  Hope giggled at the twinkle in his eye. “What’s yours?”

  “My what?”

  “Don’t play cute with me,” she said with a saucy air because she was enjoying their light banter. “Your favorite color.”

  “Haven’t got one.”

  “That is so not fair. And so not true.”

  “I’m serious. I like all colors equally.”

  “Nobody likes all colors equally.”

  “Okay, then. Blueberry blue.”

  “Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. “You made that up.”

  “I do love blueberries. My mom makes the best muffins. It’s too bad you can’t eat them.”

  “Oh, I…could make an exception.” Hope bit her lip. “To be polite.”

  He shot her an amused look. “One muffin’s not going to hurt you, anyway. You’re perfect just the way you are. Besides that, we’re going running in the morning.”

  “Ha,” she said, kind of hoping he’d forgotten. “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” he said, relenting. “It’s red. My favorite color is red.”

  “Red?”

  “Sure. Like the Boston Red Sox.” He kept paddling with ease. “Now you ask me something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything in the world.”

  “Are we, like, on ‘favorite color’ level, or can I ask for the den safe combination?”

  Brent belly laughed at this. “You can ask, but I’m not telling. After we’re married, though?” He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  “Okay, fine.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll ask.” It took her a couple of minutes to think up the question. “What were you like as a kid?”

  “Oh…pretty perfect.”

  “Maybe I should ask your sibs?”

  “True.” He repressed a grin. “They might dish.”

  “So, there is dirt on baby Brent?” She envisioned a miniature version of him playing outdoors and making mud pies, an
d she nearly snorted.

  “I did not make mud pies.”

  Hope gasped. “But, how did you know—?’”

  “Probably because I can read your mind.”

  Eeep. Thankfully, he was wrong about that.

  “I mean it, though. Seriously.”

  “Wild guess. And anyway,” he said nonchalantly. “You told me you and your sister used to do that when you were little.”

  “Uh, right.” Hope’s heart sank. So, Brent and Jackie had engaged in some discussions about their childhoods, and here she was, thinking her conversation with Brent was unique. “I bet you got a kick out of everything else, too.”

  “Would have if I could have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We never finished that conversation. You took that call. About the Martin wedding.”

  “The Martins. Oh, yeah.”

  “You know,” he said seriously. “It hasn’t always been about them. You had that other wedding before. What was the bride’s name? Covington?”

  “Hmm. I think so?”

  “This Maine air must be doing you good if you’ve already wiped that.”

  “Well, it was stressful…all that wedding planning.”

  “I know.” He gave her an earnest look. “Which is why it’s good you’re finally relaxing.” He dipped his hand into the water and flicked a fine spray of chilly droplets toward her. They speckled her bare arms and cheeks.

  “Hey!” she yelped, but she was laughing. She stuck her hand in the water and cupped at bit of it in her palm, flinging it in Brent’s direction.

  He chuckled as the splatter landed in the center of his T-shirt. “Bull’s-eye.”

  Hope grimaced. She hadn’t meant to get him that wet. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll dry.”

  “You never really answered my question.”

  “You first.”

  “On what?”

  “How about the kid thing?”

  She sucked in a breath, wondering how much to share.

  “What games did you like to play, for example?” He steered them toward a cove. “Bet you planned weddings for your dolls.”

  “Would have if I could have, but our mom didn’t believe in us having them.”

  “Weddings or dolls?” he teased.