Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island

by Cara C. Putman

  “Mr. Tomkin. What can I do for you?” Anything he needed couldn’t be harder than dealing with Mrs. Matthews and Jonathan.

  Chapter 12

  The man ignored the art as he approached the counter. He had the intent focus of a man on a mission from which he would not be distracted. By the set of his chin, she wasn’t certain she’d like whatever had brought him to the studio. Maybe she should have stayed on the phone.

  “Alanna, we need someone talented like you to set up shop in this town. You’ll notice there aren’t any attorneys.”

  She took a step back and sank onto the stool her mother used. “We’ve never needed them when Mackinaw City and St. Ignace have attorneys.”

  “Not true. We need someone who’s involved here.”

  The thought of practicing law on the island made her skin itch. She fought not to scratch her arms as she stared at him. “I already work in Grand Rapids.”

  “For someone else. Here you could work for yourself.”

  “No thanks.”

  He stared a moment as if formulating his next argument then shrugged. “Think about it. I’m here because I need your help on a foundation matter. Your dad was instrumental as a founding member. Now he’s gone, and you can fill his shoes.” He set his padfolio on the counter and pulled out a paper. “Here’s the agenda for the next meeting. As you’ll see, we have many important items to discuss and vote on.”

  The bell jingled, but Alanna focused on Gerald. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Alanna Stone.” She turned with a start. Brendan Tomkin? What was he doing here, with the same baby face and nose-in-the-air look he’d had in high school? “I heard you were back.”

  He’d changed since high school, bulked up and thickened from the scrawny high schooler. He approached his dad with a strut. “Ready to grab a bite?”

  Gerald glanced at his watch and frowned. “I was in the middle of an important conversation.”

  “Come on, Pops. I’m hungry. Alanna will still be here when we’re done.”

  Alanna bit back a sharp comment but forced her lips to curve. “We can talk after the meeting.”

  “I suppose. It really is urgent.” He turned to his son. “Where are your manners?”

  Brendan rolled his eyes before he plastered on a crooked smile. “Like to join us, Alanna?”

  “I really can’t. Have to stay here.”

  Brendan made a motion toward her. “See?”

  Gerald mouthed, “Sorry.” Alanna shrugged. It looked like at the core Brendan hadn’t changed since high school. “How are you doing, Brendan?”

  “Fine. Selling insurance like crazy on the mainland. Why?”

  “I just thought with the anniversary of Grady’s death you might be … melancholy.” Boy, that sounded stupid, and the look he gave her reinforced that.

  “Why would that matter?”

  “You were friends. Always looked like good friends.”

  “Not really. The island didn’t give me too many options. Our school didn’t need two guys jockeying for the girls. He just thought he was in my league. Besides, he was too pompous for my taste. He thought he was better than the rest of us. Too bad he couldn’t swim better.” Brendan grabbed his dad’s arm and tugged him toward the door. “Catch ya later, Alanna.”

  Not if she could help it. If her class had contained more than eight students, she never would have spent any time with Brendan as a teen. His attitude hadn’t changed, and even then it made her want to listen to fingernails on a chalkboard rather than his self-important monologues.

  Alanna watched the two round the sidewalk a moment then tried to remember what she’d been doing when Mr. Tomkin showed up. From the brief moment with Brendan, it seemed clear he’d inherited his father’s pushy personality. She shook off the moment, shoved the paperwork to the side, and picked up the phone. Maybe she’d catch Mom between doctors’ appointments and visiting Dad. She dialed the number and left a quick message at the beep.

  “Mom, call me on my cell as soon as you get this. I need to ask you some questions about the studio.”

  She set the phone back on the hook. She’d never thought of practicing law on Mackinac Island. But then she’d never considered going to law school until the police interviewed Trevor after Grady’s death. Dad had found an attorney, but the man hadn’t impressed her. She’d determined to treat her clients differently. With respect and full information about what was happening in their matters. Could she find the kind of cases she loved up here? Complex litigation like the murder trial she’d just braved. Cases that required a creative approach to pull the jury and judge into the story.

  While the cases drained her, she loved the puzzle of putting together a compelling defense. But the last murder trial had really zapped her energy. The thought of diving into another case that would consume every hour and spare thought exhausted her. Should she consider the slower approach of small-town practice?

  Who was she kidding? The last thing she wanted to do was stay here. She shouldn’t entertain the idea.

  Alanna rolled the mouse back and forth, waking the computer from sleep mode. First, she placed an ad in the Grand Rapids Press. It would run online immediately and in the paper after Memorial Day, and she prayed the right person would read and apply. Then she opened a spreadsheet that listed paintings, artists, and if an item had sold. Maybe she could figure out who her parents bought art from. If she could determine that, she could see if a painting had been mislabeled.

  Mom used to fill the studio with her own pieces; then, as she built a following that spread across the region thanks to the island’s faithful visitors, she slowly added other artists. Usually they were friends from the art community or they had a resonating style. Either way, the studio acquired a more eclectic feel. Maybe with managing others’ art, Mom had less time to create her own.

  The bell on the front door jangled as a group of tourists entered. Alanna stood and approached the group of middle-aged couples.

  “Is there anything I can help you find?”

  A woman with bouncing copper curls turned to her with a grin. “A souvenir. I need something that will help me remember this remarkable place.”

  “It is that.” Alanna made a mental note to find smaller pieces to display. Anything less pricey than the big canvasses currently in the showroom. Shouldn’t Mom have done that a long time ago? Like the art professor suggested, a rack of postcards and assorted note cards based on Mom’s paintings would be a simple improvement. “I’ll check the back, but perhaps you’ll find something in one of the pieces here. Is there a certain place that is especially meaningful?”

  “The Grand Hotel. I’d love a scene that makes me think of Somewhere in Time.“

  Alanna hid a smile as the woman gushed about the old movie filmed at the landmark hotel starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour. Surely any of the paintings would satisfy that criteria.

  She slipped into the back and rummaged through a stack of smaller canvasses. These didn’t have frames and looked unfinished compared to the ones hanging on the walls in the main room. She pulled several of the smaller pieces to the side and inspected them to make sure someone had stretched the canvas tight. She could display several immediately at a lower price point many of the island’s tourists could afford. By leaving the framing to the purchaser, they could perfectly match the frame to their décor.

  Muffled voices carried to her as she carried the art to the showroom.

  “These really are nice pieces.” A gentleman in khakis and a polo shirt stood in front of a large watercolor. Alanna bit off a frown when she saw it wasn’t one of Mom’s pieces. “The artist has a nice eye.”

  “Only the best at the Painted Stone.” Alanna arranged the small canvasses on the countertop. “Here are a few pieces that might interest you as well.”

  The woman with the curly hair hurried to the counter. “Oh, these are perfect. How much?”

  “Two hundred and fifty dollars each.” She hoped her mom hadn’t
agreed to pay the artists more.

  Another woman, this one about ten years younger than the others, walked over. “Why aren’t they framed?”

  Time to test her theory. “To allow you to frame a bit of the island in a way that fits your style.”

  “Hmmm.” The woman tapped a lacquered fingernail against her lip and studied the paintings. “Interesting idea, but I prefer those I don’t have to work on.”

  “Don’t worry about her.” The redhead leaned across the counter and made a show of lowering her voice. “She likes to think she’s an interior designer. We just call her the know-it-all.”

  The man next to her snorted while Alanna bit her lip to keep from smiling. “What brings you to Mackinac?”

  “A niece’s wedding, which corresponds to our thirtieth anniversary. I keep telling Ted he’s getting twice the bang for his dollars. A wedding trip and a second honeymoon.”

  Her husband bumped against her side and grinned at her. “That’s my Alice—always thinking, even if you aren’t always kind.”

  Confusion furrowed the redhead’s brow before a flash of something like indignation replaced it. “Leanna is a know-it-all. She knows it, too, don’t you, darling?” Alice put a hand on her hip and a pout on her lips.

  “Sure enough. Mark likes me with a bit of contrariness.”

  “See?”

  Her husband leaned down and kissed Alice’s pout off. “Find anything you want?”

  “I’ve already got it.” She grinned at him with a look that came only after years of marriage.

  “You do?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and Alice laughed.

  “Yep, but if you’d like to make me really happy, there’s a little painting over here I’d love to take home.”

  Alanna tried not to let her longing for a love like that mar the moment as Alice led Ted to a medium-sized painting of the porch at the Grand with a beautiful gold frame. The red geraniums that lined the porch provided a pop of color against the white rockers and yellow awnings. Alanna closed her eyes to block the view of the lovebirds considering the painting. She was ridiculous, really. She didn’t know what that couple had been through or endured, only that they seemed to reap the reward now.

  Would she ever have the same? A lifetime of love to come home to?

  The image seemed improbable even as she longed for it. A partner-track attorney at even a medium-sized firm had to give too much time to her job to have an outside life. The partners had only allowed her this time off after realizing she’d fried her last brain cell in the murder trial. It wasn’t the fact her family needed her, but the idea she could embarrass the firm as easily as she’d brought it positive media. Though she didn’t think working at an art studio qualified as a vacation.

  The low ding from the computer let her know she had e-mail waiting. As Ted tugged the painting from the wall, she winced. Maybe the e-mail would be from the perfect person who had found the online listing already. This person could sweep onto the island, take over the studio, and allow her to return to Grand Rapids.

  “This is the one.” Ted slammed the painting down on the counter, scattering canvasses.

  “Be careful, you big lug. I don’t want it damaged before we leave the store.”

  Ted winked at Alanna before he turned to Alice. “Of course not, though then we wouldn’t have to haul this monstrosity back.”

  “Whatcha calling a monstrosity? You’ll look at that every day in our dining room.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  If a twinkle hadn’t lit his eyes, Alanna might have created a reason he couldn’t buy that particular piece. Instead, she gladly swiped his credit card and then swaddled the painting in bubble wrap. “I added an extra layer to protect it from bumping.”

  Leanna tapped a bubble until it popped. “It’d take another layer to get it through the weekend. You have no idea how rough and tumble these two are.”

  Her husband walked up and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You want one?”

  “Of these?” She ran a finger around the room. “Not on your life. They aren’t our style.”

  As the couples exited with Ted lugging the painting against his chest, good-natured bickering followed them.

  Another ding reminded her to check e-mail. If she didn’t get some résumés in pronto, she’d need to place more than one old-fashioned newspaper ad. While part of her wondered if anyone still read the paper, she had to try something, because she couldn’t stay on the island indefinitely. Not if she wanted to keep her real job at the firm.

  After a few clicks, her in-box filled the screen. One looked like a promising prospect for the job. Then she opened the résumé and changed her mind. If a person couldn’t spell basic words, she didn’t want to trust that person with her parents’ livelihood. Guess she’d keep praying and looking.

  As she scrolled down the list of e-mail, she didn’t see anything worth answering until she reached an e-mail from her brother. Maybe he had an update on Dad’s condition. She opened the e-mail.

  A groan slipped out as she scanned it.

  Chapter 13

  Weight pressed against Jonathan throughout the afternoon. He raced around downtown finalizing the details for the wedding rehearsal and ceremony. The events would run flawlessly, but he couldn’t focus on them. Instead, the image of Alanna’s blond hair serving as a frame that partly hid her face kept cropping up. He’d drive it from his mind, only to have her image reappear.

  He hadn’t been this distracted—well, ever.

  He strived to be the consummate professional, completely devoted to his work. Then she returned. And his brain didn’t comply with his instructions anymore. The more he told himself to focus and get the job done, the more his thoughts strayed. And that didn’t mention the chaos she brought to his personal life.

  When he finally returned to his office, he sank into his chair. He swiveled away from the computer and rubbed his face. He didn’t need the distraction. Not now. Not from her.

  His cell phone vibrated against his hip. “Jonathan Covington.”

  “Hear anything from the artist?” Edward Morris’s unmistakable voice telegraphed he had other things on his mind.

  “I’ve talked to her daughter. I should know something soon.” Like whether Rachelle still painted. Had her arthritis flared up, causing painting to be too painful?

  “All right. There isn’t much time. I’m willing to pay for an original.”

  “I’ll feel her out before connecting you. Mrs. Stone is a very good artist.”

  “You’re hesitating.”

  “Only because her husband has health issues that might require her focus.”

  “That I understand.”

  Jonathan nodded. Edward could understand those pressures. “How is Bonnie?”

  “Holding up. I think our plans for the anniversary celebration have given her something to focus on. A date to live for.”

  “I’ll do all I can to make it everything she dreams.”

  A moment of silence, and then Edward sighed. “I’m counting on it.”

  After he hung up, Jonathan stared out his office window. This was an important event. It was smaller than many he organized, but if he made it memorable for Bonnie Morris, all his effort and time would be worthwhile. Her fight with cancer reminded him too much of his mother’s. He stopped to pray for Bonnie.

  Tugging the Lyster wedding file in front of him, he double-checked the myriad details involved in the intimate event. Based on the guest list, he could expect new clients from this wedding. If there was one thing he’d learned in event planning, it was that each event generated future leads.

  After confirming the setup for the rehearsal dinner, Jonathan pulled out the Standeford file. This couple had differing views on how their wedding should play out, with the groom refusing to bow to the bride. Did he really want to tackle the job of bringing harmony to the event? After a moment of prayer, he dove back into his notes. Ideas began to flow on how to incorporate a movie
theme along with the more formal tone the groom and his mother wanted.

  He pulled up his planning software and plugged in details. An hour later, he had the outlines of a proposal. He’d expand it later, but for now he needed to check in with Theresa Lyster. Her phone rang to voice mail, and he started a message when she buzzed him.

  “Jonathan Covington, if I weren’t getting married in a few days, I’d kiss you.”

  He laughed at her giddy words. “Analise and Nicole did a great job?”

  “Phenomenal. I may have to move here just to have them keep me relaxed. What a wonderful idea!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He heard a rustling, then Theresa whispered, “You should take Jaclyn to dinner and add it to Daddy’s bill.”

  Jonathan laughed. “That’s not how I do business, but tell Jaclyn I’ll meet her at Man O’ War at seven.”

  Theresa repeated his words. “Thanks again for everything.”

  “My pleasure.” He hung up, grinning. If only it were so easy to keep everyone satisfied.

  He turned back to his computer and printed the Standeford proposal. Then he spent a few minutes fleshing out thoughts for the Wenzes’ anniversary celebration before shoving his files in his bag. After dinner with Jaclyn, he’d work from home.

  As he dodged foot traffic on the way to Man O’ War, Jonathan whistled a Michael Bublé tune—one of Jaclyn’s favorites. When he walked through the restaurant’s door, he scanned the dining room for Jaclyn. Often she arrived first to claim a great table for them, but he didn’t spot her. He approached the hostess.

  “How many?” The gal spoke with a slight accent, one he couldn’t place, but she blended with the numerous international students who found summer employment on the island.

  “Two.”

  “Yes, sir.” Another sign she wasn’t a native, or she’d know his name. “It’ll be fifteen to twenty minutes.”

  He gave her his name and accepted a pager. Guess he had a few minutes to wander, though she warned him the pager had a limited range.