A Wedding in Cornwall

by Laura Briggs

  ***

  The reception's party was in full swing an hour after the ceremony was over. The string quartet had been replaced by the pop singer and a band, and the modern skyscraper of a cake had been dissected for the hundred or so guests of the bride and groom.

  Petal and Donald looked happy as the best man toasted them with champagne, and as they posed with friends and family for private photos snapped by mobile phones. Petal seemed especially pleased by how much attention her dress and shoes were garnering from the handful of exclusive feature journalists and photographers who were allowed to stay for the event. As I checked on the progress of the catering staff, I caught a glimpse of her serene smile as she lifted the hem of her long wedding dress to let a photographer take a close up of the glittering designer shoes. For once, it made me glad that I was wearing a pair of plain, unadorned heels.

  "Isn't it exciting?" Gemma asked me, under her breath. I could see her cheeks were flushed with excitement, in contrast to her dignified black and white service uniform. In her hands, a nearly-empty tray that had once held Dinah's mini whortleberry pies topped with clotted cream and dark chocolate shavings.

  "I think we've pulled it off," I said, forgetting momentarily whether this had the same meaning in English vernacular or not. "That is, it's a success. For all of us. It couldn't have been a better day if we had designed every part of it."

  "It's a good thing Dinah made a little extra fudge," Gemma added, in a whisper. "The kitchen's almost out of tarts and pasties."

  Charlotte had decorated her mini meat pies beautifully, with elegant crimped edges and a decorative swirl of pastry on each one. I knew she would be proud of how many famous people had declared them the best they'd ever eaten. Even if they weren't the hearty full-size 'oggies' she was famous for in the village.

  "Is there still enough champagne?" I asked.

  "A crateful," she answered, then slipped back to circulating among the crowd.

  I felt Lady Amanda squeeze my arm, briefly. "A smashing success, isn't it?" she said, echoing part of my words from before. She was wearing an elegant dress — her best frock from a London designer, she informed me, which she generally wore to formal events at Cliffs House.

  "Are you pleased with today?" I asked, feigning curiosity with this question. "Did I meet your standards for a proper event planner? Because now's your chance to fire me, if not."

  "Silly of you," said Lady Amanda, with a no-nonsense look. "Of course we're pleased. And don't think you're going anywhere anytime soon. We have a charity ball for the Tsunami Recovery Foundation and a wedding booked with an American couple in the diary for next month."

  "So soon?"

  "Not feeling quite up to the job of chief event planner?" Lady Amanda's eyes twinkled.

  "I've never felt better about it, actually," I answered. "Now, if you'll pardon me — boss — I think I'll grab a quick bite to eat and make sure Dinah doesn't need an extra hand finishing those caviar canapés." I gave her a smile as I slipped from the room.

  A few couples were dancing in the main hall to the strains of music from the reception. A cluster of guests were giggling loudly as they viewed something on the screen of a mobile phone — I was guessing that a few extra rounds of champagne influenced their good spirits. Shrugging my black wrap more securely around my satin party dress, I crossed the room, not to the kitchen but the open main doors of Cliffs House.

  Outside, the garden was peaceful, the light soft as the sun moved behind a cloud for a moment. It was my first moment to myself since the wedding began, and I spent it thinking of Matthew. I couldn't help it, partly because the unused bouquet of flowers I had made — the vastly inferior one — was now sitting in a vase on the table close by.

  A smile tugged my lips again. This one, a softer, more wistful one than before. I rested my head against the door's frame for a moment, remembering the look in his eyes when he handed me the box of flowers. Had I been imagining it — or was that look —

  "Quite all right, Ms. Morgen?" Geoff was behind me.

  "Fine," I answered. "Just getting a quick breath of air."

  "If you say so." He smiled as he continued on to the kitchen. "And, by the way — congratulations on your first assignment."

  "Thanks," I answered. My first congratulations, I thought, in my first moment as a full-fledged event planner. One who knows that everyone who helps you with the smallest of tasks is the real reason you didn't fail.

  There was still a couple or two dancing in the main hall by the time the event was over. Donald and Petal Price-Parker had driven away in a sporty foreign car, destined for a private plane and a honeymoon in Rio de Janeiro. Trixie, who had not caught the bouquet, had pouted until the best man and a group of 'fresh young things' from the couple's circle of friends swept her off in a red convertible to some party spot in Truro. The last of the empty trays and glasses had been carted away by the serving staff, the last of the food and drink stored away once more.

  I stepped out the hall's main doors, into the cool evening air. The sun was setting, the last of the sunset disappearing on the horizon, transforming the garden into shapes and shadows, even where a couple of guests had requested — and lit — lawn torches along the pathway from the front courtyard to the gardens. I walked in that direction, hugging my wrap around myself, and ignoring my pinched toes from too many hours on my feet in high heels. In my arms, the bouquet of lilies from the vase in the main hall, their water-soaked stems and damp paper carefully wrapped in floral plastic.

  I was halfway to the cliff's path when I saw him standing by the shrub-lined walkway outside the main garden. Matthew, only wearing a suit instead of his clean, casual clothes from earlier. He looked handsome, dashing, and as if he was waiting for someone. Seeing him there caught me by surprise.

  "Hi," I said, at last.

  "Hello," he answered.

  I was flustered. The words I should be saying had gotten lost, probably because I hadn't expected to say anything. "I, um, was going to leave these for you," I said. "Along your seat by the cliffs. A way to say 'thank you' for the ones you brought this morning to save me from an apology."

  I paused, then kept talking, because Matthew hadn't said anything. "Actually, I owed you an apology anyway," I continued. "Not just for being rude in the beginning, but for not being as understanding as I should be. I was hurt. I had no right to be hurt that you hadn't told me, but I was, and it made me less of a friend ...."

  I was babbling now. What was I saying? Matthew was still looking at me, but I imagined he was looking at an insane, flustered woman. I was sure I was blushing, and I was afraid even the growing darkness wouldn't hide it.

  I took a deep breath. "So here," I said, holding the flowers out to him. "It's a little weird, I know, but it was the only thing I could think of right now."

  "I accept it," he said. "The gift and the apology." He smiled at me. "But I didn't come here for that."

  "Oh. Of course not." I was recovering a little now — since I had managed to avoid any physical contact with Matt, I could hide my confusion better the longer I talked. "I'm sure you have plans. I just wanted to leave those for you. There's a card tucked in there, by the way. Just a quick note — but it says things better than I'm saying them now."

  "You said them perfectly fine," he answered.

  If he didn't stop looking at me, I was going to start crumbling apart again. The heat in my face was spreading everywhere. I had run out of words to say, so we were both going to stand here silently unless Matt had something to add.

  "I want you to believe me when I say I'm not in love with Petal anymore," he said. "I won't deny that it hurt to see her. But it was more about my pride than my heart after all these years. I had been avoiding facing her, and when I finally did, I knew for sure that while I might change many things about my past ... I wouldn't change the part where she and I parted ways."

  I had stopped breathing as I listened. As I looked into those dark eyes, in what little daylight was
left to us. "I believe you," I answered, softly.

  "Do you?" he said.

  "Of course," I said. "You have a very honest face. I can tell you're not lying to me." I managed to remain serious and not crack a smile with this reply. But I could see Matthew's tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  "I'm glad," he said. "I assume that you're not going anywhere — that you're not packing up and leaving Cornwall now that the wedding is over?"

  "According to Lady Amanda, I'm indispensable," I answered, with a shrug. "She already has two more events she wants me to plan. So, no, I'm not going anywhere."

  "Good," he said. And smiled again.

  I stepped closer to him. "I'm sorry," I said. "It's just ... there's something I have to do. Because a bouquet really isn't enough to say thank you —"

  I ended this statement short by pressing my lips against Matt's, gently. It was a quick, soft kiss, but enough to tell me that a longer one would be just as good. My hand brushed against his sleeve, the distance between us as close as it was before in the parlor at Rosemoor Cottage.

  I drew back, giving myself a moment to catch my breath. "Anyway, that's my thanks," I said. "For everything." I glanced up at his eyes quickly, then looked away. My skin tingled with the electricity of this decision, my brain swept away by the sudden boldness of actually doing this.

  Matt stood very still afterwards. The look on his face — the tender one I remembered from the cliffs — gave me hope that this hadn't been something very stupid on my part.

  "Why are you here?" I asked. My voice was soft.

  "To ask you if you were free this evening," he answered, just as softly. "And if you would like to go for a walk. With me."

  "I would love to," I answered.

  He held out his hand to me. I took hold of it, feeling my arm tucked protectively beneath his own a moment later as we entered the avenues of the hedge-lined gardens. I glanced back at the lights of Cliffs House before they disappeared from sight, then turned back to the path, and the view of Matt walking beside me.

  It was amazing the difference a few words and a single kiss could make. Even with only his arm through mine, I could feel the electricity from crossing the line between friendship and something more.

  "Is there a garden on the grounds worth seeing by moonlight?" I asked. Partly joking as dusk enveloped us, deepening the shadows of the rhododendrons around us.

  I felt Matthew's laugh even before it escaped his lips. "Funny you should ask," he said.

  Even without seeing them, I could imagine the look in his dark eyes. I found it was everything I thought it would be and more. I had my chance, and wouldn't trade it for anything — not a prince in shining armor or a hero brooding in a gothic manor.

  And definitely not for a football player with a flashy sports car.

  Find the sequels, A CHRISTMAS IN CORNWALL and

  A COTTAGE IN CORNWALL from your favorite retailers here

  Special Excerpt from PICTURE MR. PERFECT