Stand-In Groom bob-1

by Kaye Dacus

  Her cell phone buzzed and started playing “That’s Amore.”

  “Hello, George.”

  He didn’t respond immediately, and her smile faltered.

  “Anne, I—we—something has come up.”

  She trudged into the living room and sank into her big chair. “That’s okay if you have to cancel tonight.”

  “Oh no, it’s not about tonight—well, it is, but it isn’t—” He let out a frustrated breath into the phone. “I’m making a muck of this. Here’s the issue. Mr. Ballantine just received word from his agent that he’s gotten a call for Mr. Ballantine to star in what’s sure to be one of the biggest movies he’s ever done. Mr. Ballantine doesn’t want to turn it down.”

  Anne frowned. “Okay.”

  “The movie starts filming in September in New Zealand for ten weeks.”

  “Ten—oh. So they want to postpone the wedding?” A tingle started at the base of her skull. Postponing the wedding would mean George would be around that much longer.

  “Well, no. They’d like to move the wedding up to the last weekend in August.”

  Anne’s fantasy of George being around for an additional two or three months crashed into a heap of anxiety. “Last weekend in August? With everything we have left to do? Are they still determined to have it the same size?”

  “Yes. Everything still the same, just moved up almost two months. Anne, I know this is an imposition on you. But Mr. Ballantine has instructed me to spare no expense in making it happen. Do you—do you think it can be done?”

  Her stomach started churning again. Six weeks to do what was going to be difficult in four months. “Of course. But I think instead of going out for dinner tonight, we should have something delivered to my office and work on a new timeline.”

  The relief in his sigh was palpable through the phone. “I’ll meet you at your office at six. I lo… I’ll pick up dinner. What do you fancy?”

  Anne left the choice of meal up to him—she wouldn’t be able to eat anything anyway—and bade him farewell for the time being.

  So much for a leisurely, romantic dinner.

  Chapter 25

  The weeks between the engagement party and Courtney’s wedding sped by, even though Anne did everything to utilize every minute of every day. After a quick trip to New York to get Cliff settled into his Manhattan condo, George returned to Bonneterre to assist her with anything she needed.

  He helped her avoid the media—including Kristin and Greg, the couple who’d pretended to be potential clients to try to pump her for information on the wedding. The looks on their faces when George had walked into the office and recognized them brought a smile to her face every time she thought about it.

  She admired and respected him…and she was falling madly in love with him. She couldn’t start her day until she’d talked to him on the phone, and she couldn’t sleep at night until they’d prayed together to close out the day. At least once a week, they went out on what she called “real” dates—just the two of them with none of her family present—where they didn’t discuss anything remotely related to their jobs.

  He enjoyed spending a lot of time with her family, which was understandable, given his estrangement from his own relatives. She could be happy for him that as adults, he and his youngest brother had reconnected with each other and were now friends, even though Henry lived in Australia. George’s pride in his brother’s success as a barrister specializing in entertainment industry law shone through whenever he spoke Henry’s name. She imagined Henry to be a lot like Forbes, explaining the close friendship between George and her cousin.

  As the wedding drew closer, Anne saw more of George but spent less time connecting with him. She was past the point of no return in the relationship, yet had no confirmation George felt the same.

  The memory of their conversation about whether a marriage based on friendship could survive continued to haunt her, especially given the fact George didn’t exhibit any more romantic interest than he had in the beginning—saying good-bye with a kiss on the cheek, taking her hand only when assisting her in or out of the car or when they prayed over their meals.

  Between the doubts over their relationship and the details of the impending wedding, Anne barely slept the week before the event. She needed every minute of each day to make sure everything was ready, every contingency plan in place, every reservation confirmed.

  In the early hours of Friday morning, she tossed and turned, going over the schedule for that night’s rehearsal and dinner. She’d only seen Cliff a few times since the engagement party. If she was going to resolve her past, she had to do it this weekend. She had to talk to him. No longer did she seethe with anger whenever she saw him. From the way he treated Courtney, she could tell he genuinely loved the girl. But he still had a lot of explaining to do.

  Thunder shook the house, and she groaned. She couldn’t understand why anyone in Louisiana would want an outdoor wedding. One of two things inevitably happened: unbearable heat or torrential rain. Or both. The weather guy on Channel Six said the rain would move through today and the weekend would be clear. She hoped for once he knew what he was talking about.

  She crawled out of bed and stumbled down the hall to her home office. She jiggled the mouse, and the computer screen came alive, showing the rain contingency she’d been working on before trying to go to bed at midnight.

  Why couldn’t George just come out and say it? I love you. Did he? Maybe it was a British thing, this reluctance to be demonstrative or say the words aloud. A cultural difference. Given his loveless childhood, he might even be afraid of saying it. Yes. That was most likely the case. He loved her but was afraid to say so for fear of… what? Losing her?

  She grimaced in wry understanding. He had as many issues with cultivating a relationship as she did. She just needed to give him time. If he could get his visa status worked out and join her as a partner, they’d have all the time they needed.

  She saved the document, shut down the computer, and returned to bed, lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the rain against her bedroom windows.

  * * *

  George rolled out of bed before the alarm sounded. He took his Bible and prayer journal out onto the back porch, along with a large mug of Mama Ketty’s strong coffee, and tried to still his thoughts long enough to concentrate on God’s Word.

  “I know the plans that I have for you,” God had said through the prophet Jeremiah. “Plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.”

  He clasped his hands, elbows on the edge of the iron scroll table, and leaned his forehead against his thumbs. “O God, the King Eternal. I haven’t always tried to follow Your plan for my life. But now I ask You to bless my steps as I walk in what I believe is Your plan in asking Anne to marry me. I love her more dearly than I ever knew possible, and she is my hope for the future. I know it was Your divine plan that brought us together. Thank You for blessing me with her. Please prepare her heart to receive my proposal…and to understand the haste with which I will ask her to wed with me so we do not have to part.

  “As we go into the whirlwind this weekend, I ask You to strengthen Anne and give her the courage and grace she needs to speak with Cliff and finally, once and for all, forgive him. I pray You’ll bless Courtney and Cliff in their new life together. Amen.”

  He leaned back in the chair and sipped his coffee and watched as the rain fell in sheets across the lush green yard. Even if it stopped in an hour or two, would the ground still be soggy Saturday? It wouldn’t do to have the guests’ chairs sinking into the newly leveled and sodded yard.

  “George, what are we going to do?”

  He stood at the sound of Courtney’s voice. “Don’t fret. It’s not supposed to last the day.”

  In loose-fitting, blue-plaid seersucker pants and a misshapen white T-shirt with no makeup and her dark hair pulled into a ponytail atop her head, Courtney looked more like a thirteen-year-old desperately in need of loving parents than a young woman abo
ut to get married in a public spectacle. She sat in the other chair, pulled her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them.

  “What are you doing downstairs? I thought we discussed how the ground floor is for employees. It’s not appropriate for you to be down here. Mama Ketty or I will bring your breakfast to you upstairs—on the balcony, if you wish.”

  “It’s boring upstairs. George, before I moved here, I was living in a sorority house just off the UCLA campus with two other girls in the same room, and nearly one hundred others in the house. I’m not used to being alone so much.” She rested her chin on her knees. “I wish Cliff hadn’t gone off to New York right after the party. Or at least that he’d been able to come back for longer than two days at a time. It’s so hard to be separated from the one you love.”

  He tried not to laugh at the philosophical tone of her voice as he regained his seat. “Yes. It’s hard.”

  She leaned her head to the side to look at him. “But you don’t have that problem, do you?” She grinned. “You and Miss Anne are hardly ever apart.”

  His face burned and he scowled, staring out at the rain.

  Courtney laughed, leaned over, and wrapped her arms around his, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m happy for you. I’m just sad, because I have a feeling it means you won’t be working for Cliff much longer, which means I won’t get to see you anymore, except when we come home for visits.”

  He rested his right hand atop hers. “Yes. We’ll always be here for you, whenever you need to get away from the chaos of life under the examining glass.”

  “Mama’s coming back from the Riviera today. I don’t think she’s going to be happy with the wedding.”

  He squeezed her hands and reached for his coffee. “It’s not her wedding, so what does it signify?”

  “I don’t want her making a scene. Miss Anne has worked so hard on everything, and I don’t want Mama to say something to offend her.”

  “I believe Anne has a clear understanding of mothers of the bride. Perhaps, though, your mother’s jet lag will keep her from raising too much of a stir.”

  “George, I can’t find—” Mama Ketty stopped and propped her fists on her ample hips. “Young’un, you’re supposed to be upstairs for your breakfast, not down here mingling with the hired staff.”

  Courtney didn’t budge from her clinging position. “Oh, Mama Ketty, you and George aren’t just hired staff. You’re family.”

  Mama Ketty clucked and went back inside, shaking her head.

  Contentment nearly burst his heart. Only one person missing and his family would be complete. Soon, though… He kissed the top of Courtney’s head. “I don’t know about you, young miss, but I for one am famished.”

  Instead of letting go, Courtney hugged his arm tighter. “George. Do you think… I mean, would it be inappropriate… ?”

  He rested his cheek against her hair. “Spit it out, lass.”

  “Do you think it would be okay for you to walk me down the aisle? Do you think people would think it’s weird?”

  He swallowed hard. Walk her down the aisle? Take on the duty of the father of the bride? He cleared his throat. “It’s your wedding. You can do whatever you wish, weird or not.”

  “Then I want you to walk me down the aisle. I want you to give me away like my daddy would have if he was still alive. Do you think Anne will think it’s okay?”

  He squeezed her hands. “We’ll talk to her this morning.” Despite his best efforts, his voice came out gruff with barely suppressed emotion.

  “She’s more like the mother of the bride than Mama. I wish…” She heaved a sigh. “I wish I didn’t have to invite Mama, that I could have just you and Miss Anne there with me. And then when y’all get married, I’ll be like your adopted daughter.”

  “When we get married?” He chuckled. “You’re assuming quite a lot.”

  “Oh, y’all will get married. And soon, too, I figure. You may think I’m oblivbious to what goes on around me, but I know you picked up the engagement ring when we went to get my jewelry last week. So when are you going to propose?”

  He didn’t have to hide his smile at her oblivious mispronunciation. “Saturday night, after the wedding.”

  “At the reception?”

  “Most likely. Probably after you’ve made your exit. She won’t be able to slow down a moment before then.”

  “But I want to see her after you give her the ring.”

  “All right. I’ll find a time to propose that’s convenient for you.” He kissed the top of her head again. “Come on. Let’s go eat before Mama Ketty comes after us again.”

  * * *

  Humidity rose in nearly visible waves from the wet ground as the sun started its western descent. Anne slogged barefoot through the soggy yard toward George, holding the end of a measuring tape in one hand, cradling a clipboard in the other.

  “There’s nothing for it. We’re just going to have to figure out some way to make the ground hard by Saturday.”

  George laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “There’s nothing for it? Where do you pick up such idiosyncratic phrases?”

  “Some strange English guy I know. He says weird things like that all the time.”

  He squeezed her tight a moment longer, then released her. “Has Courtney talked to you?”

  “About what?”

  “About me.”

  Anne’s right eyebrow shot up. “About you?”

  “Yes. She’s gotten it in her mind that she wants me to walk her down the aisle.” He took Anne’s hand, tucked it under his elbow, and began to practice by walking her back toward the house. She released the end of the tape measure, and it snaked back toward her cousin Jonathan.

  “Oh, that’s so sweet. I don’t have a problem with it if that’s what she wants. But what will Cliff think?”

  “That’s the crux of the matter. I don’t think he would appreciate his hired man escorting his bride down the aisle.” He smiled in remembrance of Courtney’s outburst of emotion this morning. “Even if the bride considers me to be part of her family.”

  “I guess the question then becomes, whose wishes are more important to us at this point in time? Cliff is footing the bill for this shindig but has taken no interest in the proceedings.”

  “I’m all in favor of giving Courtney whatever she wants.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I know you are. And she deserves to have someone in her life who feels that way about her.”

  “And she does—two of us.” He sighed. “Mrs. Landry returned from France a few hours ago. Courtney’s afraid she’ll make a scene tonight.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can to rein that woman in. I managed to keep her down to a dull roar at Courtney’s sisters’ weddings. I’ll try to find some trivial—but time-consuming—task for her so she feels like she’s being helpful but is out of the way. She’s really not going to like the idea of you giving her daughter away. She didn’t even like it when one of Courtney’s sisters asked their brother to be her escort.”

  “Courtney has a brother?”

  “He hasn’t had any contact with the family since that fiasco, about three years ago. Courtney was fifteen, so she should remember it pretty clearly.”

  “I’ll talk to her again and make sure it’s what she really wants to do.”

  “I’ve always thought that if anyone in that family were ever going to stand up to that woman, it would be Courtney. She has an inner strength that most of her sisters could never hope to possess. They all let Mrs. Landry run roughshod over them. I tried to manage her, but they gave in to her demands so easily, I ended up planning the weddings to her liking rather than the brides’.”

  They ascended the steps to the porch behind the service entrance. Above, Anne’s staff hung pink floral swags from the upper balconies that wrapped around the house. They’d be doing it all again on Saturday with fresh garlands of white flowers. Nothing but the best for their girl. Maybe in another twenty or so years, she and George
would get to do this for their own child.

  He stopped and pulled Anne into his arms and kissed the side of her neck.

  Her hands rested on his shoulders, one hand toying with the hair at the back of his neck, a bemused expression in her eyes. “What was that for?”

  He winked and took her by the hand to lead her into the house. “Just because.”

  * * *

  At six, Cliff’s limousine arrived from the airport. George instructed the butler’s assistant to meet the car at the service entrance and carry the luggage up back stairs. He’d had difficulty training the Americans on the staff the proprieties that the British butler he’d hired took as a matter of course, but his efforts were proving rewarding. In the last few days with the full staff on the job every morning by seven o’clock, the house ran with English precision. Even Mama Ketty had been impressed.

  Electronic planner in hand, George met Cliff in the front foyer. “Good evening, sir. Welcome home. How was your trip?”

  “Long and tiresome.” Cliff started up the stairs. “Have someone bring me a Mountain Dew and a fried bologna sandwich.”

  George nodded at the butler, who left his post at the door to relay the message to Mama Ketty. “Would you like to go over your schedule?”

  His employer stopped in the middle of the wide staircase. “Yeah. I guess we have to. Come on up.”

  At George’s request, the valet he’d hired for Cliff for the weekend had laid out several outfits across the bed. The young man followed the assistant butler into the bedroom-sized dressing closet and proceeded to unpack for their employer. George nodded his dismissal at the assistant butler and took out his stylus.

  The schedule Anne had e-mailed him for the evening made up the majority of today’s agenda. George read through the line items as Cliff went about the suite from bathroom to closet.