I Do--Or Do I?

by Karen King

  I Do?

  Karen King

  Local journalist Cassie is getting married to hot-shot, reliable Timothy and his mother Sylvia nicknamed ‘Monster-in-Law’ wants to plan the entire wedding. When Sylvia books the exclusive ID Images to take photographs of the extravagant do, Cassie has no idea what she’s walking into.

  The elusive JM, ID Images’ newest photographer, just so happens to be Jared, Cassie’s first love and ex-fiancé, who broke off their engagement to travel and take photos of far-reaching wonders. He’s back to pay for his next wild adventure.

  Cassie decides it’s best to pretend not to know him, but when she’s asked to write an article for her newspaper, she’s tasked with a column surrounding all things wedding related. When Cassie jokingly writes a column meant for herself depicting her situation, a co-worker submits it in place of the real article and it’s soon making headlines, with readers asking the age old question - Who Will She Choose?

  Dedication

  To Beth Jones, who discovered ‘I Do – Or Do I?’ in the slush pile and loved it enough to champion it. Thank you, Beth.

  Acknowledgements

  To my friend and fellow author, Ann Evans, for drawing on her years as a feature writer on the Coventry Telegraph to answer my many questions on journalism, to Rob Tysall of Tysall’s Photography for answering my questions on photography, to my four daughters Julie, Michelle, Lucie and Naomi for being a constant source of inspiration and who might just find snippets of themselves in here somewhere, my editors Rebecca Lloyd and Alex Davies for their invaluable advice and expertise, all the team at Accent for believing in me and publishing this book, and to my husband Dave for his unfailing love and support and to who I’m very glad I finally said ‘I Do!’

  CONTENTS

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Other Accent Press Titles

  One

  ‘June! That’s only two months away!’ Sam squealed down the phone. ‘You can’t plan a wedding in two months.’

  Which is exactly what Cassie had told Timothy when his mother, Sylvia, had suggested it. She could hardly believe she’d let them both talk her in to it.

  ‘The thing is, Sylvia heard there was a cancellation at Hollington Castle and she booked it for us. It’s a really sought after venue and we’d be mad to turn it down,’ she told Sam.

  ‘Are those Sylvia’s words or yours?’

  ‘Sylvia’s,’ Cassie admitted. ‘She’s right, though. We got a good price, too, because of the cancellation. Timothy and I went to look around yesterday and it’s an amazing place. It dates back from the eighteenth century, you know.’

  ‘You only got engaged on Valentine’s Day,’ Sam pointed out. ‘I thought you weren’t planning on getting married until next year?’

  ‘We weren’t, but it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. It’s normally booked up at least eighteen months ahead. Especially in the summer.’ She was repeating Timothy’s words to her yesterday when she’d expressed some doubt about arranging the wedding so quickly. ‘You do want to marry me, don’t you, darling?’ he’d said, and when she’d assured him she did he’d pooh-poohed her protest that two months wasn’t long enough to plan a wedding, saying his mother would help, and she’d found herself agreeing. Now it was all arranged, the venue was booked, they were getting married on 26th June – and she was starting to panic. How the hell was she supposed to organise everything in that time? There was her dress, the bridesmaids’ dresses, invitations, flowers, food, reception, favours, wedding cake … she was hyperventilating just thinking about it.

  ‘Look I know it’s short notice but you will be my maid of honour, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ She could just see Sam, jumping up and down with excitement. ‘Oh, I was hoping you’d ask me.’

  ‘Of course I’d ask you, you’re my best friend. Who else would I want?’ Cassie told her. ‘Can you meet me for lunch and I’ll fill you in on all the details? Twelve thirty at Benjo’s? We’ve got an appointment with the photographer this morning so I can tell you all about that, too.’

  ‘What, already? I’m guessing that’s Sylvia’s doing, too?’

  ‘Yes, the people who cancelled the wedding had booked I.D. Images so of course they have a cancellation too, and Sylvia knows Daniel, the “D” in I.D., so he’s agreed to hold the slot for us. If we want it.’

  Sam whistled. ‘As if you’d turn that down!’ She paused. ‘I thought you were going to the Discover France show today.’

  ‘I was, but Sylvia booked the appointment and Timothy can’t make it. He’s got to work.’

  ‘Whereas you just mess around… ’

  Cassie sighed. Sylvia never took Cassie’s job as a features writer for the local newspaper seriously. Timothy was a partner in a law firm, whereas Cassie filled in time until she became Timothy’s wife as far as Sylvia was concerned. Sylvia had given up her secretarial job when she married Timothy’s father and devoted her whole life to looking after him, then Amanda and Timothy when they came along. She made it obvious that she expected Cassie to do the same when she married Timothy, even though Cassie had clearly stated that she had no intention of giving up work. ‘Luckily, Owen’s cool about it. He said I can swap my day off.’

  ‘Well, it seems you’ve got a lot to fill me in on. Can’t wait.’ She could hear the grin in Sam’s voice. ‘Catch you later.’

  Cassie had just finished the call when Timothy came into the room. ‘Spreading the good news?’ He smiled. He opened the wardrobe, pulled out the sliding tie rack, and selected a navy pin-striped tie.

  ‘I was just telling Sam about the cancellation and I’ve asked her to be my maid of honour,’ Cassie told him.

  ‘Really?’ He sounded surprised. ‘I think Amanda was hoping you’d ask her.’

  The thought of asking Timothy’s sister had never occurred to her. She’d only met her a few times and Amanda had been rather cool towards her. ‘Is she? Oh, but Sam’s my best friend. We’ve always promised we’d be maid of honour at each other’s wedding.’ This was not strictly true, as they had never actually discussed it, but it was taken as a given. She couldn’t imagine getting married without Sam by her side, and would be gutted if Sam didn’t ask her to be maid of honour when she and Paul eventually got married.

  ‘Of course, if that’s what you want. Now you have remembered that you’re meeting Mother at the wedding photographer’s today, haven’t you?’ Timothy asked, expertly tying a knot in his tie. ‘Don’t be late, will you? You know how she hates to be kept waiting.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there in plenty of time,’ she promised.

  ‘Good. I wish I could make it too but I’ve got an important meeting.’ He picked up his briefcase. ‘I know you and Mother are quite capable of handling it and you can fill me in on all the details later.’ He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and was gone.

  Cassie took the sugar out of the cupboard,
put a spoonful into her coffee, and began sipping slowly. She was dreading spending the morning with Timothy’s mother. She was so … controlling. They’d only been engaged two months and already Sylvia seemed to be taking over everything, suggesting that Cassie watch her weight (‘There’s nothing worse than a fat bride, dear’), booking the venue (although she had to admit that Hollington Castle was gorgeous), and now choosing the photographer.

  I shouldn’t be so hard on her, Cassie reprimanded herself. It’s only natural that Sylvia wants her only son to have the best wedding possible. Cassie’s mother would love to be involved more but it was the holiday season in Cyprus and she was too busy running the guest house with Cassie’s stepfather, Steve. They were coming over for the wedding, of course. Her father would be there too, to give her away – thank goodness her parents’ split had been quite amicable, with both parents feeling they’d outgrown each other.

  She reached for her mobile as it started to ring. That was probably Sylvia now, checking what outfit she was wearing. But when she glanced at the screen she was surprised to see it was Owen. Surely he wasn’t going to tell her he needed her in work today after all?

  ‘Hi, Owen,’ she said. ‘I’m guessing you’re not phoning for a friendly chat.’

  ‘I’ve had a brilliant idea,’ he boomed. She flinched and moved the phone away from her ear. ‘I want you to write a weekly column for me in the Saturday Femail section.’

  Blimey, another feature. How many did he think she could write? They were all so stretched thinly at the moment; he seriously ought to think about employing more staff to cope with all his brilliant ideas. She didn’t dare say that, though. Owen was a good boss but he had a short fuse. ‘Er … OK. Anything in particular you want me to cover?’

  ‘Yes, which is why I’m ringing. You know we’re doing a summer wedding feature – well, I’m going to expand on that. I want you to write a weekly sort of bride-to-be diary. You know, telling our readers about your efforts to get the perfect wedding dress, choosing a photographer, the wedding cake, and how you’ve only got two months to do it all. I reckon it’ll be really popular. What d’you think?’

  She frowned: writing wedding features didn’t really float her boat. Mind you, a regular feature in the glossy weekend supplement would be nice although she wasn’t sure Timothy would approve. He was a very private person and would hate his personal life being put out there for everyone to read. And Sylvia would definitely consider it tacky.

  ‘You can use a pseudonym and I wouldn’t expect you to name the photographer, venue, or anything like that,’ Owen continued. ‘Just write a humorous, helpful account that our readers can relate to. As you’re about to go to the photographer’s I thought you might like to make some notes for the column. Obviously keep it light-hearted. No heavy promo, but we could offer some advertising space to photographers, wedding dress retailers, etc. It could be just the boost we need for our circulation figures.’

  She could see Owen’s point; a regular feature like that would have mega-reader interest. At least it would mean any time off she needed to organise the wedding would be research for the article. And if she was writing under a pseudonym, then Timothy and Sylvia wouldn’t know it was her. Not that either of them ever read anything she’d written.

  ‘OK, no problem.’

  ‘Fab. Get me the first diary entry by 4 p.m. on Wednesday before the subs go home. It’ll go in this Saturday’s edition.’

  That quick! ‘I’ll get straight on to it,’ she promised.

  Cassie’s mind was racing with things to put in the column. Maybe she could include a list of things to ask the photographer, or things that might go wrong. There must be some photographic disasters she could find if she did an internet search. She jotted down a few quick thoughts in her notebook, then pulled on a denim jacket and picked up her bag. She’d better get going. Sylvia would be annoyed if she was late.

  She plugged in her satnav and keyed in the postcode to the I.D. Images studio. She’d heard the name, of course. The initials stood for Imogen and Daniel, who were a high-profile photography couple who covered all the top society and celebrity weddings and were only ever known by their first names. I should think myself lucky, she thought as she started up the car. Most girls would give anything for a dream wedding like this.

  She’d never hankered after a big wedding; a quiet family affair was more her style. She wasn’t one of those women who planned her wedding years in advance, flicked through bridal magazines, and chose the dress and bridesmaids’ outfits even before she had the groom. Not even when she had the groom, actually. So it was ironic that she was now planning a big wedding with all the pomp and palaver that came with it. She thought of the beach wedding she’d once dreamed of. Just her and … she shook the memory from her mind. It was history. They’d been nothing more than kids. Today wasn’t the day for a trip down memory lane and dragging up old heartache. Timothy was a wonderful, supportive, reliable fiancé who only wanted the best for her. And Sylvia might be a little over-enthusiastic – make that, pushy – but she meant well.

  The traffic was horrendous. It took Cassie half an hour to drive to the studio and another ten minutes to find a parking space. By the time she arrived she had three missed calls – which she’d ignored but guessed (correctly) were from Sylvia. She parked the car at the back of the studio and hurriedly made her way to the front, where Sylvia was pacing around outside. She looked smart and stylish, dressed in navy trousers with a navy and white patterned blouse, navy and white pin-striped blazer, navy shoes, and a matching navy handbag, her ash-blonde hair immaculately coiffured in her usual ‘just stepped out of the hairdressers’ style. Cassie didn’t need to be able to see her face clearly to know she’d be wearing a layer of make-up. Sylvia never left the house looking anything but her best – Cassie was sure that if anyone knocked the door before she was ready to face the world Sylvia would refuse to open it. She looked pointedly at her watch when she saw Cassie walking towards her.

  ‘Cassandra, our appointment was five minutes ago,’ she said irritably. ‘I’ve had to apologise and assure them you were on your way. It’s so embarrassing. You know how important punctuality is.’ She was wearing her disappointed face. ‘It took me considerable effort to get this appointment. Surely I don’t need to remind you that I.D. Images is one of the most sought-after agencies in the country. Their photographers are booked up months in advance. In fact, if it wasn’t for the cancellation we’d have no chance of getting an appointment at all.’

  ‘Sorry, Sylvia. There was so much traffic,’ Cassie apologised. No matter how hard she tried she always seemed to let Sylvia down.

  ‘Well you’re here now, but it’s always best to allow that bit longer for traffic, dear.’ Sylvia pursed her lips as she looked Cassie up and down, her feet resting a moment on the red nail varnished toes peeping out from her sandals. ‘I thought you were going on to work? I must say you’re dressed rather more … casual … than I expected. First impressions are so important, you know.’

  Cassie felt her cheeks flush as she bit back a response. They were meeting the photographer to discuss the requirements for the wedding, not having a photoshoot! ‘I’ve had to swap my day off so I can make this appointment,’ she pointed out. ‘I’m meeting a friend for lunch, so I didn’t see the need to wear anything smart. We’re just discussing arrangements, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, but …’ Sylvia waved her hand dismissively. ‘Oh well, nothing can be done about it now, and that dress does have a certain charm.’ Sylvia turned towards the door. ‘Come along, dear, we have an appointment with their new photographer. J.M. Daniel said he’s an award-winning photographer who normally works abroad and has joined them for the summer. We don’t want to keep him waiting. There are plenty of other couples on the waiting list for a cancellation. We’re lucky to get an appointment, you know.’

  She wished Sylvia would stop telling her how lucky she was. Lucky that she was marrying Timothy, lucky that Sylvia was so well-c
onnected and could pull so many strings. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

  Don’t be such a bitch, she told herself. Timothy was well aware how pushy his mother was and had begged her to be patient with her. ‘I know she’s annoying, sweetheart, but she means well,’ he’d said when Cassie had mentioned that she felt like the wedding was being hijacked. ‘Humour her for me, will you?’

  Then she felt horrible for being so mean and grumpy and had instantly agreed. Timothy could always sweet-talk her in to anything. He was such a charmer. He had a tougher side to him though, and a reputation for being deadly in the courtroom.

  ‘Cassandra!’ Sylvia’s sharp tone jolted Cassie back to the present. The older woman was standing at the reception desk looking rather irritably at her. Cassie quickly joined her, trying not to be intimidated by the plush, brown leather seating, expensive prints hanging on the walls, exquisite figurines, and strategically placed vases of colourful, aromatic flowers. She wished now that she’d donned something a bit more sophisticated than the maxi dress she’d picked up in Puerto Banus market when she and Timothy were on holiday in Marbella last autumn. Come to think of it, Timothy had looked her up and down when she’d put it on this morning but he hadn’t said anything. He seldom did; his look was enough but today Cassie had been too distracted to take much notice of it.

  ‘Ah good, the bride-to-be has arrived,’ the receptionist said. ‘We’re cutting it a bit fine, as J.M. has another appointment soon.’ She picked up the phone and pressed a button. ‘Mrs Campbell and Miss Tyler are here now, J.M.’ She paused. ‘Certainly.’ As she put the receiver down she smiled at them. ‘Do take a seat. J.M. will see you in a few minutes.’

  J.M. Cassie hated it when people called themselves by their initials: it was one thing using initials for the name of the business, I.D. Images, but to refer to yourself as J.M. was ridiculously pompous. She hoped this photographer wasn’t as pretentious as he sounded.

  She idly picked up a copy of Society Brides and started to flick through it, almost choking at the price of some of the wedding dresses. You could put a deposit down on a house with that much money!