Please Say I Do

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  He watched the advance of the cardboard cake, idly wondering who had first come up with the idea of putting a stripper inside. Probably a woman, he decided, lifting his glass to his lips. Men didn’t associate strippers with a wedding cake. The two things just weren’t congruous. Stripper. Bride. Stripper…

  The top of the frilly confection shook free, flicking vanilla frosting in all directions, even into Rik’s glass of champagne. But he didn’t notice. His attention was on the head of the woman emerging from inside the cake. Her hair was honey brown, but it wasn’t the color that had him frozen in alarm. It was the haircut The feathery, frothy cut.

  Even before the bare shoulders topped the cake, even before the gold lamé swimsuit sparkled in the light, even before she wiggled around to face the rapt attention of the male audience, Rik felt the color drain from his face. The glass fell from his hands and crashed in silvery splinters at his feet, and from his throat came a stunned and raspy, “Hallie!”

  HALLIE HAD NEVER BEEN hustled in her life. But when Rik met her at the bottom of the gigantic cake, hastily wrapped her in his Hawaiian shirt and hurried her out of the Lanai ballroom via the kitchen, she decided she’d been missing out. Being hustled by Rik had its good points.

  Just as they entered the kitchen, the wind gave a mighty screech, the lights flickered and went out. Rik paused in the darkness, his silent anger as loud as any yelling Hallie had ever heard. Then, little by little, lights came on. A flashlight. A candle. Another candle. And another.

  In the flickering lights springing up across the kitchen, Hallie saw Chef Charles, Grumbling Dave and Kimo. “Isn’t this cozy?” she said, flushed with embarrassment, success and the exhilarating tautness of Rik’s hands clamped, respectively, on her arm and waist. He might be angry with her—well, obviously he was—but at least he had been beside her when the lights went out, and he was with her now. They moved cautiously around a cooktop and wound up next to Kimo.

  “Hi,” Hallie whispered, afraid to say anything to Rik unless he spoke to her first.

  “Hi,” Kimo whispered back.

  “How is it you manage to be everywhere in this hotel at once?”

  “I’m a triplet,” Kimo said. “It’s just easier to use one name than to confuse the guests.”

  “Triplet”, Hallie repeated, knowing if they weren’t stranded in a dark kitchen surrounded by flickering candlelight, she’d have been thoroughly delighted by the explanation. “Did you hear that, Rik? Kimo is a triplet”

  Rik growled something unintelligible, obviously unimpressed by anything less than quadruplets. Hallie took the candle someone—Dave, she thought—handed to her, and she held it steady while someone else— Charles, she thought this time—lit it from the one he held. She, in turn, held her tiny flame to Rik’s candle and watched his face as the fire caught between their two wicks. For one breathless moment their eyes held, and every doubt Hallie had about their future together melted away.

  “What the hell were you doing?” he asked suddenly, gruffly. “You had no business being at that party.”

  “I was there to prove a point,” she told him, emboldened by the darkness and the tiny fires that flickered and bobbed all around them. “I wanted you to see that I’m not afraid to do. something really stupid.”

  “And what does that prove?”

  She swallowed. “I think I love you.”

  Someone jostled them, pushing them closer together. Rik cleared his throat. “When are you going to know for sure?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe never.”

  “So, what am I supposed to do? Wait until you decide?”

  She lifted her shoulder in a plaintive shrug, her chin in a challenge. “It’s a double-dog dare, Mr. Austin. A risk you’ll just have to take.”

  Rik’s candle bobbed as he ran his free hand through his hair. “We need to talk.”

  “Come on, people, let’s get these candles out to the lobby. Get them distributed. You know the drill.” A new voice permeated the congested kitchen, a commanding voice. A voice of authority. A vaguely familiar voice. “Hey, you two!” The voice turned on them. “Grab a box of candles and help. This is no time for mushy stuff. Get the lead out.”

  Dave moved past them, a box of candles under each arm and a stack of boxes in his hands. He was suddenly the man in charge, and Hallie couldn’t stop staring at him, amazed that the candlelight cast him in such a different light.

  Kimo clapped his hands near her. “You heard the boss, people. Let’s move!”

  “Boss?” Hallie whispered. “Dave?”

  Dave gave her a wink in passing. “You didn’t think I push a broom for a living, did you? Let’s go! Move! Move! Move!”

  Everyone moved, even Rik and Hallie. Caught in the can-do spirit of the employees, they were whisked out of the kitchen and into the lobby amid a sea of frightened, reassurance-seeking guests. Hallie handed out candles until her box was empty, then she touched her lighted candle to unlit wick after unlit wick.

  A blanket of candlelight settled on the lobby as the storm screamed and beat against the shore. Someone had a radio that for a short while sputtered out reports on Hurricane Bonnie, then fell into a staticky silence. Across the room, someone sat down at the piano and began to play. Gershwin. Rhapsody in Blue.

  As suddenly as she’d lost him in the crowd, Rik was beside her. “I believe this is my dance,” he said softly, taking her hand.

  She blushed, although no one could see. “Don’t be silly. There isn’t room to—”

  “Ms. Bernhardt,” he interrupted. “This is my fantasy and I don’t care how crowded it is, I’m going to dance with you.” He took her hand and started toward a vacant space near the piano, but she pulled back.

  “I can’t dance,” she whispered tightly. “I don’t know how.”

  He stopped and held his candle closer to her face. “You were about to do a striptease before the electricity went off.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I was only going to make sure you saw how uninhibited I could be, and then I was going to kiss Jack and run out of the room. See? No dancing involved.”

  “Then it’s time you learned.” He led her around sitting guests and standing guests, around the front desk and behind the piano. There he blew his candle out and set it aside, took her candle and set it beside his. “We don’t need candlelight,” he said as he drew her into his arms. “We’re Astaire and Rogers.”

  The music played and Hallie danced, held tightly in Rik’s arms. When the music stopped, they didn’t. They kept on dancing and dancing. In the silence. In the shadowed dark. “Rik?” she whispered. “I was wrong.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “I mean about being in love with you.”

  “You were wrong about that, too. You already know for sure that you love me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t argue, Hallie.” It was a tender warning and his arms didn’t loosen their gentle hold of her in the slightest. “You love me and that’s final. I’ll spend the next five years shivering in the prim and proper winters of Boston convincing you that you cannot live without me. I’ll fly those chintzy helicopter holiday flights around the city. I’ll get a job training fresh-faced kids how to handle a chopper. I might even do traffic reports for the radio stations.”

  “You’d do traffic reports for me?” she asked, impressed.

  “Yes.” He shuddered, but only a little. And she loved him all the more for it.

  “It won’t work,” she told him.

  “Yes, it will,” he told her.

  She shook her head, liking the way her hair swung against her cheeks with the movement. “It won’t work because I won’t be in Boston.”

  “You won’t?”

  “Uh-uh. I’m tired of planning happy endings for other people. I’ve decided to plan one of my own.”

  He groaned. “A wedding?”

  “Just a ceremony. A few friends. Family. Speaking of which, where’s Sam?”

&nbs
p; “He’s safe with Dani. Why? Is he invited?”

  “Of course. I mean, if I’m going to be his aunt Hallie, he should be there, don’t you think?”

  Rik hugged her close. The piano player picked them up in midstep with a softly romantic Clair de lune. “So, Hallie,” he said, “if we’re not going to live in Boston, where are we going to be?”

  “Oh, offhand, I’d say Paradise. As long as you swear you won’t rescue any beautiful women when I’m not around.”

  “What about ugly women when you are around?”

  “Careful, now. I’m new at this. And I’m not entirely certain about my sudden career shift. What if I regret closing the bridal shop? What if we need the money? What if I open one here? Or go to work for Dave? What if—”

  “What if you stop talking?” he suggested. “This is still my fantasy, you know.”

  “It’s your fantasy to dance in a too small space, in a too dark room, surrounded by faces in shadow, with a woman who doesn’t know how to dance?” She laid her head on his shoulder. “Now, Rik, if this is your idea of a cutting-edge fantasy…”

  “It is.”

  She sighed with a happiness she’d thought was gone with the wind. “Well then, I have no objection. Considering that I’m crazy in love with you.”

  “Are you wearing your glasses?” he asked.

  “No. Is there something I need to see?”

  He shook his head, rubbing his chin against her hair. “Just me, loving you.”

  “Lucky me.” She tilted her face to his, delighting in the unfocused blur that was the man she would love for the rest of her life. “Be honest, Rik,” she teased gently. “It’s the haircut you love, isn’t it?”

  “It’s the haircut,” he agreed, and then he kissed her.

  Epilogue

  A tropical breeze zipped through the open lanai to puff the gauzy pink ribbons draped, ceiling to floor, over the main table. Above a perky ukulele tune, low-pitched conversations were interspersed with soft laughter and the soft chink of silverware on china. A baby blanket full of pastel-wrapped packages dangled from the wooden beak of a giant stork as it stood guard at the far end of the gift table. From an inconspicuous corner of the Lanai ballroom, Kimo supervised the wait staff as they removed plates, poured coffee and refilled glasses.

  “I’d like to propose a toast.” Danforth Brewster stood at the center table, dressed in sailor white, wearing a blue lei and a wide smile. “To my—” From the seat beside him, Babs tugged on his shirtsleeve and he bent to listen to her private whisper. With a nod, he straightened again and extended his glass. “In honor of the mother-to-be, I’d like to propose a nonalcoholic toast. To my son-in-law Mitch and to his son, my grandson, Carter. If not for them, I’d still be outnumbered by the women in this family.”

  The applause spattered, the toast was drunk, Dan sat down and was replaced by Mitch, who had his hands full keeping six-month-old Carter’s fingers out of a tall glass of orange juice.

  “I’d like to propose a toast,” Mitch said. “To my wife, Bentley, the extraordinary woman who gave birth to this future Pulitzer prize-winning journalist.” He held up Carter’s baby hand like a referee at the end of a boxing match. Laughter followed Mitch’s gesture and died down as he raised Carter’s bottle in a salute. “And I also want to toast the one person who made this all possible…Hurricane Bonnie!’’

  Bentley tugged on his sleeve and he leaned down to hear her. Then, straightening, he hoisted Carter onto his shoulder.

  “I’ve just been informed that Hurricane Bonnie is not a person and cannot be toasted. So I’ll amend my appreciation and say a hearty, ‘Hear! Hear!’ to my sisterin-law, Stephanie. If it hadn’t been for her eloping with Thomas on the eve of her wedding to Jack, Carter and I might not be here now. So, Stephanie—” he raised the baby bottle “—here’s to last-minute escapes! And to the diapers you’ll be changing for the next twentyfour months!”

  Good-natured laughter swept the room as Stephanie pushed back her chair and levered her very bulky belly past the edge of the table. Her husband, Thomas, hovered beside her like a watchful mother hen.

  “Thanks, Mitch,” Stephanie said. “I have a couple of toasts to make my self…if I can stay on my feet that long. I know I look like I could go into labor any minute, but the doctor assures me it’ll be another eight weeks.” She smiled at Dan and patted her stomach. “He also tells me to paint the babies’ room pink, so you’d better enjoy the next couple of months, Dad, because once the triplets arrive, you’re going to be seriously outnumbered all over again!”

  She accepted the glass of juice Thomas handed to her and lifted it in a toast. “Two years ago this week, Thomas Calhoun walked into the Honolulu airport and changed my mind about marrying my good friend Jack Keaton. I guess Hurricane Bonnie had a little something to do with it, too,” she said with a smile for Thomas. “It took the full wrath of Mother Nature to bring about the happiness you see all about you today. And now, two years later, I’d like, to say thank you to a very special man in my life. I can’t begin to tell you what a wonderful person he is. He was always there when I needed a friend and I’ll be forever grateful that I didn’t break his heart. Jack, stand up.”

  Jack stood reluctantly and smiled down at the woman beside him. “Since we’re being sentimental today,” he began, “I’ll toast the only woman in the world who could have broken my heart but didn’t. Dani, you’re one in a million and I love you.” He bent to give his wife an affectionate kiss before he continued. “And in case there’s anyone here who hasn’t met my daughter, Bonnie…” He lifted his little girl out of her mother’s arms and held her up like the proud papa he was. “Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

  There were oohs and aahs all around. Jack handed Bonnie over to the eager arms of her grandmother, Mona, then lifted his champagne glass in another toast. “When it comes to friendship, there’s one person I have to acknowledge. He’s been my partner, my conscience and my best pal for more years than I can recall. If he hadn’t been so stubbornly certain that I wasn’t in love with Stephanie or so doggone determined to talk me out of marrying her, I might not have met Dani. It was Rik’s harebrained idea to borrow a baby and hire a stork. I have to thank Lynn and Keanu—” he nodded across the room at the couple “—for the loan of Sam. Dani and I will always be grateful for the thirty-six hours we spent with the little guy. And just between you and me, I’m convinced he’s Cupid.”

  “Hiya, Jack!” Across the room, almost three-year-old Sam balanced between his parents’ chairs and waved a model helicopter. “Wanna see my hopter?”

  “Later, buddy,” Jack called back as he lifted his glass. “As I was saying, let’s drink to my friend through fair and stormy weather…Rik Austin.”

  From her place at the table, Hallie watched, her heart bursting with happiness, as Rik acknowledged the toast with a modest smile. How could any man be so gorgeous, she wondered with smug satisfaction. Even the sunscreen he put on just to please her hadn’t dulled the golden tone of his skin. And his eyes were still the heart-stopping blue of Blue Hawaii He was successful, too. His tour business had exceeded even his high expectations, and her own event-planning service was thriving. Hawaii was home to her now. She’d even grown to love the ocean and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Sometimes she told Rik that the island climate had cured her allergies, but she knew in her heart that happiness was the real remedy.

  She’d had no idea love would be so lovely the second time around. But, then, that was the great thing about love. You couldn’t believe in it until it happened to you…and then you couldn’t do anything except believe in it.

  Rik made her life rich with love and laughter. He was her happiness, her heart. And in a little less than eight months, he’d be her partner in the adventure of parenthood—a joint venture he’d been anticipating for a very long time. She hugged her bliss as her husband accepted Jack’s tribute to their friendship.

  “Thanks, Jack,” Rik
said. “I’d like to make a toast, too. Not to my wife, although she deserves one for bringing together such a great baby shower.” His smile stole her breath away with its tenderness. “And not to the guest of honor, although I’m certain Stephanie would like a stiff drink every time she thinks about her impending multiple births. I’d like to toast all of the mothers and mothers-to-be in this room. May your children bring you joy and may love fill your lives.”

  “Hear, hear.” The murmur moved through the room, and as Rik raised his glass to her, Hallie downed the orange juice in a long swallow.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Kimo stepped forward and cleared his throat. “But I just heard that the tropical storm in the Pacific is now officially Hurricane Nicholas. It poses no threat to the Islands, but the wind is picking up and I wanted to assure you—”

  The scraping of chairs drowned out whatever reassurances Kimo offered, and in the general exodus from the ballroom, Rik caught Hallie’s elbow. “You weren’t thinking you could get out of here without me, were you?”

  “Don’t be silly.” She smiled up at him, oblivious to everything except the swell of love in her heart. “You know my fantasy about being stranded in a storm with you.”

  “I’ll bet you say that to all your husbands.”

  “No. Only you.”

  “Then I’m a lucky guy.” He reached out to give her stomach a reverent pat. “A damn lucky guy.”

  “Yes, you are.” Hallie smiled at him, happier than she’d ever dreamed of being. “Now, if we hurry, we can be safe and snug in our favorite hotel room before the crowd reaches the elevators.”

  “Mrs. Austin,” Rik asked. “What do you intend to do in the thirteenth room on the thirteenth floor of this hotel?”

  “Ride out the hurricane…and maybe, if you’re lucky, try out a couple of new fantasies.”