by Baird, Ginny
Connie breathed a sigh of relief, hugging her mother. “Thank goodness the damage wasn’t permanent.”
“The word is no one will ever know…unless they use a magnifying glass.”
“You didn’t tell Aunt Mona?”
“Heavens! And encourage her to add another chapter in that dreadful book? Not on your life.”
Connie walked to the counter and poured them two cups of coffee. “I’m glad it’s all worked out.” She shot her mom a sad glance. “Most of it anyhow.”
“Has he called?” Elizabeth asked with a worried frown.
“A couple of times.”
“And?”
“And it was hard. Awkward. There really isn’t much to say.”
“How about let’s get together for dinner?”
Connie sat with surprise. “That’s a little forward.”
Elizabeth leaned over, lightly touching her arm. “Come on, you’re miserable without him.”
“But I thought none of you could stand Mac?”
Elizabeth sipped from her cup, then set it down. “It wasn’t Mac, per se, but rather the shock of everything surrounding him at the time.”
“Like the tattered dress?”
“That didn’t help.”
“People make mistakes.”
“Of course they do.” Elizabeth studied her daughter. “How do you know you’re not making one now?”
Connie thoughtfully gazed at her mom. “Sometimes things are too weird to go back, you know? It’s not like we were ever really dating.”
“I’m sorry, Connie,” her mom said, sounding as if she meant it. After a beat, she said, “Tell me about that new venture of yours. Sugar Shots, you say it’s called?”
Connie felt her face brighten. “Yes, and I’ve got a couple of investors already. Parents from the children’s museum.”
“That’s wonderful. What will you sell?”
“Baked goods and photographs of what I make.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Sugar Shots will be a bakery boutique,” Connie explained, “focusing on miniatures. Miniature pies, miniature cakes, little tiny cookies, and the like.”
“Oh, how cute!”
“Yes. And I plan to photograph everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when I cater a party with a selection of minis styled to the hostess’s direction, I’ll take commemorative photos of the food’s presentation and frame them like this.” She produced an example of a high-resolution photograph in a frame overlaid with the words, Happy fifth birthday, Minnie. The picture was of a layered “cake” made from five tiers of tiny pink cupcakes crowned with confectionary tiaras.
“That’s darling,” Elizabeth said. “Very clever.”
“The cool thing is, I’ll keep duplicate photos in the shop and hang them on the walls. That way, I’ll have samples for other customers to examine as I’m building my client base.”
Her mom’s face glowed warmly. “I’m so proud of you for thinking this out.”
“I knew I’d get around to something eventually. My mind had just been too cluttered to see the whole thing through.”
“What helped clear it?”
“A bit of fresh air.”
“Huh?”
“Have you ever noticed that when you’re outdoors—like biking or something?–you can think that much better?”
“No, I can’t say that I have.” She shrugged and smiled brightly. “The important thing is, it’s worked for you. I’m so happy for you, Connie. After all this time, you’re finally on your way.”
Six months later, Mac stood with satisfaction outside his new storefront. He’d worked hard to obtain the bank loan, but the interest rate he’d secured was a good one, and he had no doubt he’d be turning a profit shortly. He heard a happy bark and spun in surprise to see Hank ambling up from the parking lot. Well, what do you know? Carting a little Labrador puppy, with a bright red ribbon tied around its neck.
“What’s this?” he asked as Hank approached.
“A little house-warming gift.”
Mac was immediately taken in by the huge puppy paws and big brown eyes. He accepted the dog, scratching it under the chin. “Hey there, little guy. What’s your name?”
“Chance,” Hank said with a grin. “The Second.”
The pup wiggled up to lick Mac’s face, and a lump welled in his throat.
“Thanks, man…” He slapped Hank’s arm, steeling his emotions. “You’re the best.”
Hank’s gaze swept across the store’s façade. “Looking good. When do you open up?”
“First of next week.”
“That’s awesome. Congrats.”
The dog gave Mac another puppy kiss, and he laughed heartily, snuggling it close. “You really were crazy nice to do this.”
Hank surveyed his friend. “Got plans for the rest of the afternoon?”
“Me and Chance?” Mac asked with a laugh. “Not really.”
“Then let’s drive into town. Grab a cup of coffee.”
“Hank,” Mac said with a grin. “You’ve got a date.”
Hank chuckled, patting the puppy’s head. “It’s about time.”
As they approached the café district, Hank said, “There are a lot of new places that have opened up around here. Just let me know when you want to stop.”
Mac held the puppy in his lap, seeing Hank was right. There were a number of shops he didn’t recognize, including one with its front window filled with photographs of… Wait a minute. Food? Something vague tugged at the back of his mind, but he wasn’t sure what.
“Sugar Shots?” he said to Hank. “Have you heard of that one?”
“Is it a coffee shop?”
Mac didn’t know, but for some reason, the name intrigued him. “How about we check it out?”
“Sounds good to me,” Hank said, pulling into the next vacant parking space.
When Mac and Hank entered the store, they saw it was a cute bakery. They did sell coffee and lattes and cappuccinos…and chai, along with a whole host of miniature confections, ranging from cupcakes to little iced scones. It was a small operation, with a smattering of tables for two near the big front window. Only a few of them were occupied by well-coiffed ladies swapping gossip over java and tiny jelly donuts. No one was behind the counter at the moment. But one of the ladies assured them the owner would be right out, as she oohed and aahed over Mac’s puppy. “We’ll have to ask about the dog,” Hank said.
Mac noted two empty tables on the sidewalk beside the shop’s door. “It’s all right. We can sit outside.” He cradled the puppy in his arms and scanned the framed pictures on the walls. That was when it hit him. The name of the woman who loved taking photos of food…
“Connie!” he cried with surprise as she bustled out of the kitchen with a teapot and a basket of goodies on a tray. She was moving fast, on a straight trajectory toward him and the dog.
Blue eyes lit up with wonder. “Mac?”
Chance squirmed in Mac’s arms. “Whoa there, fella,” he said, trying to control the wiggling dog. He lowered the pup to the floor, and Chance bounded toward Connie, barking excitedly. She glanced down, hefting her heavy tray higher. “Well, hello… Whoa… Whoa!” she yelped. To her horror, the tray tilted and its contents began to slide. The pup yapped happily underneath the tilting tray, on the verge of having the whole weight of it dropped on him as it slid from Connie’s grip. “Oh no!” she cried, watching the scalding hot teapot and everything else plummet.
Mac leaped forward, pouncing on Connie and pushing the tray to the side while calling out like a madman, “Chance!” Both lost their footing and tumbled, but Mac held her close, breaking her fall with his arms behind her and her head cradled in his hands.
The dog darted under a table with a whimper as the teapot exploded in streams of hot liquid and ceramic shards, and scones bounced out of their basket.
Connie looked up at Mac, who lay flat on top of her, pinning he
r to the floor. “Are you all right?” he asked, his face coloring beneath his beard.
“I think so,” she said, still reeling from the moment. Of all people! Mac McCormack, that incredibly handsome outdoorsman. And right here on top of her. Connie realized café patrons were staring and felt her temperature rise.
He seemed lost in her eyes, then snapped himself out of it. “Good. That’s really good,” he said, rolling off her so she could once again breathe. He offered her his hands and pulled her into a sitting position. Chance scrambled out from under a table and loped over, picking up a scone along the way.
“Why, who’s this?” Connie asked with delight, as the pup dropped the scone and scrambled up in her lap, putting its paws on her shoulders to lick her face.
Mac rocked back on his knees with a smile. “Chance.”
Connie laughed at the pup’s tickling wet kisses. “Chance?” she asked, patting his furry head.
“The Second!” Hank called from nearby.
Connie glanced at him and smiled. She hadn’t even noticed he was here. Of course, that would have been difficult with a gorgeous blast from her past landing on top of her. It was hard to forget what being in Mac’s arms had been like. Harder still to erase the memory of his sexy kisses. She’d tried to forget and move on with her life, and she’d really been doing quite well. In her mind, she’d totally convinced herself that she was over him. Now, seeing him in person, her heart felt otherwise. By the look in his eyes, he felt otherwise too. She didn’t know if he’d planned it or if serendipity had brought him to her shop. But one way or another, it seemed a magical twist of fate. A sign too blatant to ignore. She grinned at Mac and tilted her chin, hoping that he’d say yes. “Second chance?”
His face warmed all over as he held her gaze. “I’d like that.”
Epilogue
A small flower girl tossed white rose petals down the aisle ahead of her as she strode in perfectly measured steps. Connie stood behind her in the narthex, glowing radiantly. Mac could spot her from the front of the church and couldn’t wait for her to join him at the altar so the priest could make her his bride. Of all the crazy things that had happened to him in his life, falling out of that tree and nearly landing on Connie had been the single most important. For that hapless event had set in motion a whole series of others that led to this wonderful moment here.
Grandpa Oliver wheeled up beside Connie, prepared to escort her down the aisle. She’d talked it over with her parents and all agreed it would be the highlight of her grandfather’s life. He had lived to see his final granddaughter married in the family dress, and, my, didn’t she look beautiful wearing it. Just like an angel, in fact. Mac chuckled to himself, recalling his initial impression of Connie with a halo, and knew that, for the eternity of their marriage, he would always be in heaven.
At the back of the church, Connie caught sight of Mac standing beside Hank at the altar. He was a vision in a tuxedo and boutonniere, and had offered to shave his beard, but Connie had said, “Don’t you dare.” She adored her rugged mountain man exactly as he was and looked forward to many years of proving just how much she loved him. It was June fifteenth, and they’d set this date on purpose. It was precisely one year since they’d met during Connie and Linda’s ill-fated girls’ getaway. Connie smiled to herself, thinking that sometimes mishaps led to happy endings, and that when you found the right guy, free falling wasn’t so hard.
“You look beautiful,” Grandpa Oliver told her. “Just like your grandmother.”
“I’ll take that as a very big compliment.”
Her grandpa glanced sideways as her brother approached. To Connie’s surprise, he was carrying a cane. He passed it to her grandpa, who accepted it with a nod. “Thanks, Ollie.”
Connie looked from one to the other in wonder. “What’s this?”
“I’ve dreamed of this day your whole life,” her grandpa said. “And I promised your grandmother long ago I’d see it through.”
To her amazement, he steadied his cane on the floor and leaned forward. A few hoarse coughs erupted from his chest, but he pounded it with his fist, quieting himself.
“Grandpa, maybe—”
“Please.” He met her eyes as he stood on shaky legs. “Indulge me.” He stabilized himself, then straightened, shooting her a grin. “I’ve been practicing up.”
Tears welled in Connie’s eyes as she took her grandfather’s arm. “I love you so much.”
“I know you do,” he said with a smile. “And I love you. The beautiful thing is”—he glanced down the aisle toward Mac—“now he will love you too.”
The processional began to play, and Connie’s heart soared. This was the best day of her life, and they were all about to get even better. As her grandpa led her forward, guests turned in amazement with gasps and whispers behind raised hands. Yes, he’d surprised them all and rallied to this special occasion. Connie would never forget this day or her grandfather. He would live in her heart forever, and the family tradition would carry on.
The End
A Note from the Author
Thanks for reading Must-Have Husband, a story that is based on a true tradition within my own family. Many years ago, my grandmother envisioned an heirloom wedding gown for her descendants. I was bride number fifteen to wear it, and to date twenty-nine brides have donned the family dress. If you enjoyed this book, please help other people find it.
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