by Kait Nolan
“Thank you all for coming, and so quickly. By now, you’re all aware that the Episcopal Church has not only suffered storm damage but that the repair efforts headed up by Jensen Construction have uncovered extensive termite damage. Numerous invitations have been extended around town to see that the congregation is welcome for services, but we’re left with the issue of a wedding without a venue, set for this weekend.” Sandy strode out toward the center of the gym, meeting the eyes of friends, neighbors, business owners she’d known for years. “My question for all of you is what we’re going to do to see that Cam and Norah’s wedding still happens on time.”
“They can have my barn!” Abe Costello piped up. “It hasn’t had animals in it for a good three years, and could be done up right cute with a good cleaning and some twinkle lights.” The idea of the cantankerous owner of the Wishful Co-Op and Farm Supply handling twinkle lights was enough to warm Sandy’s heart. But he had, after all, made a pretty penny when Norah purchased more than two hundred acres of his family land.
“But is there space for all the guests?” Babette Wofford, owner of Brides and Belles, asked. “How many are y’all expecting?”
“Two hundred at last count,” Sandy announced. “Many of whom are coming from out of town.”
“What about a backyard ceremony? I’ve got space for a bunch of folding chairs and a pretty little spot at the edge of the woods,” Lorna van Buren offered. “And Cam put in such a sweet garden back there last summer.”
Molly Montgomery, co-owner of Wishful Discount Drugs and head of the citizen’s coalition Norah founded nearly two years before, stood up. “If you’re going outdoor ceremony, why not have it out at Hope Springs in the park? Cam designed it, and Norah donated the land, so it seems fitting.”
Sandy felt hope begin to stir. This was the beginnings of a plan. “It’s a thought. And certainly, the location is plenty meaningful to them both.” They’d fallen in love during the fight to save the land around Hope Springs from GrandGoods, the big box warehouse store that had wanted to set up shop right on its banks.
Cassie Callister, owner of the Daily Grind, clapped her hands with enthusiasm. “We could certainly rent enough chairs, set up an arbor or something with flowers right by the lake. It could be beautiful.”
Tyler Edison, Brody’s fiancée, spoke up. “There’s no power source out there, though. You’d be working off generators, which would be pretty noisy.”
“And what about rain?” Mama Pearl asked. “Ain’t nobody know what the weather’s gonna do this time of year. Could be gorgeous, could be a monsoon.”
“The green.” A low, male voice carried above the babble of the crowd.
Searching it out, Sandy pivoted toward the door to find Trey standing, suit jacket draped over one shoulder, shirtsleeves rolled up, and his tie loosened. Everything in her wanted to stride over and bury her hands in his thick hair and kiss him. The image was so strong in her mind, she entirely lost her train of thought. “What?”
“Have it on the town green,” he said. “It’s a central location, large enough to accommodate chairs and such for an outdoor ceremony, and a sizable event tent for the reception. There’d be power easily available. And it’s so...them. That’s where Norah started bringing this town back to life.”
A murmur swept through the assembly and it occurred to her that most here probably had no idea who Trey was.
Sandy beamed. “That’s...perfect. They fell in love over saving the town. What better place to take their vows than in the middle of it?”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment of the point, his own lips curving in a secret smile that had a flush creeping up her neck. Sandy quickly turned away.
“Is that kind of thing allowed in the city?” Molly asked.
“I’m the mayor. And I can’t think of a single person who’d object.” Sandy shot a glance at the three city councilmen and women in attendance and got no resistance.
Tucker McGee, one of Cam’s groomsmen, spoke up. “Not to be a party pooper, but that still doesn’t cover the issue of rain.”
Trey fielded that one, too. “Tents can be rented. That’d cover rain and wind. And we could get some heaters if it turns cold.”
“Would something like that be available on such short notice?” Sandy asked.
“I’ll see that they are, if that’s what we decide to do.”
He’d buy a set himself if they weren’t available. She’d learned that much about him. After the meeting, they’d have to have a word about the responsibility of expenses. The church repairs might have been a tax write-off, but the tents wouldn’t be, and she didn’t feel right allowing him to foot the bill.
Discussion after that turned fast and furious. Molly divided everyone into work groups and Sandy let her. If there was one thing she’d learned to do as mayor, it was how to delegate. And as one of Sandy’s oldest friends, Molly would make certain things were done right. By the time everyone filed out forty-five minutes later, there was a plan in place and Sandy actually had faith they’d pull it off. As Mama Pearl had said, everyone loved Cam and Norah and wanted to see them happy.
“Madam Mayor.” Trey sidled up as she finally bid Molly good night. “That was quite the turnout.”
Behind him, Molly went brows up, pointing at Trey and fanning herself.
Sandy held in a snort of laughter and answered Trey instead. “That is Wishful at its finest.”
“It’s one of the things I appreciate most about this town. How y’all come together for a good cause. It’s the kind of thing you want to be able to say about the place you call home.” There was a gravity to his words that made her wonder if he was making more than idle conversation.
“Well now, little sister, when were you planning on introducing us to your…friend?”
Big brothers never ceased to be annoying. Smoothing her expression into unperturbed lines—it wouldn’t do to let him know he was getting to her—Sandy turned to face her eldest brother Peter. His wife Liz stood at his side, her eyes jumping between Sandy and Trey with avid curiosity. Bless her nosy, romantic heart. If they managed to keep their marriage under wraps for longer than a few weeks, it would be a miracle.
Undaunted, Trey offered his hand. “Gerald Peyton. My friends call me Trey.”
Sandy shot him a look. It was the first time she’d heard him introduce himself as Trey since college. “Trey, my brother Pete and my sister-in-law, Liz.”
The men shook, and she didn’t miss the subtle power play there.
Oh, for God’s sake.
“Appreciate you helping out with the wedding,” Pete said.
“Happy to. I’m very fond of Norah.”
“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with my sister.”
“Peter,” Sandy barked.
Her brother didn’t even blink at the rebuke. “Just looking out for you.”
“In case it’s escaped your notice, I’m a grown woman, who can look out for herself, and has for several decades now.”
“It’s nice to see how close all you Campbells are as a family,” Trey said easily. “I look forward to getting to know y’all better.”
“Well, isn’t that just lovely to hear?” Helen purred. “I say bring him to family dinner. Tomorrow night.”
Sandy wished for a wall to thunk her head against. “It’s Ava’s welcome home dinner tomorrow night, Mom.”
“Exactly! More reason to celebrate!”
“Ava?” Trey asked.
“My other niece,” Sandy explained, her mind already spinning for some kind of excuse. Spending time as a couple with her entire family was entirely out of the question. “Reed’s sister. She’s a photojournalist, who’s spent the past five years in the Middle East. It’s rare she makes it home these days, but she wouldn’t have missed this wedding for the world.”
Trey was smiling like the cat that got the canary. “She sounds like a fascinating young woman. I look forward to meeting her. Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Campbell.”
>
Her mother blushed. “Oh now, you call me Helen. Seeing as we’re getting to know each other and all.”
As her family closed ranks, Sandy couldn’t help but think, We are in big trouble.
Chapter 9
Faced with the entire contingent of Campbells, Trey wondered if he could get them all to list off name, rank, and serial number. It might make them easier to remember. Miranda, the doctor, and Mitch, the architect, belonged to Sandy’s eldest brother, Pete, and his wife Liz. Reed, who owned the local bookstore, and his sister Ava, the prodigal Campbell whose return they were celebrating, belonged to middle brother, Jimmy, and his wife Anita. Then there were Cam and Norah, and Reed’s fiancée, Cecily Dixon. And Helen, the matriarch. There was definitely no forgetting Helen. Trey wasn’t sure if he should be more scared of potential interrogation or of being lured in by her charm. She had it in spades.
In the wake of dinner—a most excellent pot roast—they’d retreated to the living room. Multiple conversations ping-ponged around the room. He took a seat on the piano bench, content to sit back and watch. As a whole, the Campbells were a messy, involved, obviously loving family. It was such a contrast to the stiff upbringing he’d endured.
“You have a really big family,” he murmured as he accepted a post-dinner glass of wine from Sandy.
She hummed agreement as she sat beside him and lifted her own wine. “Nosy, too.”
That had been obvious in the less than subtle queries lobbed his way. But between Norah’s skillful intervention—God love her—and his own experience with routine press interviews, it hadn’t been too bad. And when questions edged too close to the secret they were keeping, it was easy enough to redirect the conversation to Ava and what she’d been covering in Afghanistan or to how the wedding plans were shaping up.
“Just have to make it through dessert, then smooth sailing.” Trey was ready to call the night a success.
“Assuming Pete ever gets back with the ice cream. What’s taking him so long?”
“I don’t know, but if he doesn’t hurry, I’m eating his share of apple pie,” Cam announced.
“While we’re waiting, I just want to take the opportunity to say how much we appreciate your help with our wedding, Gerald,” Norah said.
“I’m just one of many, but it’s my pleasure. And you’ll be happy to know, the tents have been ordered and should be here tomorrow.”
“Have Louis send me the bill for the rental,” Sandy said.
As if he was actually going to do that. Her salary as a public official was hardly enough to cover such an expense. But Trey understood the mix of pride and independence behind the request, and he’d already sorted out how to get around it. “I decided to buy a set for The Babylon. My events coordinator is delighted to have more to offer future clients, so everybody wins. Who knows? Maybe y’all will start a trend with weddings on the green.”
Sandy frowned. Trey looked back, knowing whatever argument she might make had no leg to stand on. Before she could lodge any further protests, the front door opened and Pete came in.
“About time!” Jimmy announced. “We were about to blaspheme and have pie without the a la mode.”
“I had good reason for delay.”
The easy, teasing mood evaporated at his serious tone. Pete’s attention fixed on Sandy. Trey tensed, his body going on alert at the feeling of threat in the air. He automatically wrapped an arm around her, wanting to shield her from whatever was to come. Something flickered over Pete’s face at the gesture.
“Whatever it is, spit it out,” she said.
“Waylan’s back in town.”
Trey felt the quick jerk of surprise and the quivering tension that coiled in Sandy’s shoulders, and he tightened his grip.
Her head fell forward as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course, he is.”
Pete offered Trey an apologetic look. “Sorry to drag you into family drama. Waylan is—”
“I know who he is.” Trey couldn’t keep the growl from his voice.
Across the room, Norah’s gaze sharpened, zeroing in on his arm around Sandy’s shoulder, on the hand she’d lifted instinctively to cover his, linking them. Trey gave a short, sharp shake of his head. He’d deal with that later.
“Where?” Cam’s one quiet word held a wealth of rage that Trey could respect. He felt an equal measure bubbling in his own blood—thirty years of banked frustration and leashed protective instincts.
“I don’t know where he’s staying, though the list of options certainly isn’t long,” Pete continued. “He was sitting at the light when I came out of McSweeny’s.”
Miranda stood, her hands curling to fists. “Wouldn’t take long to find out. A few phone calls, at most.”
“Are you sure it was him?” Liz asked.
“Positive.”
“Please tell me he’s gone bald and acquired a beer belly over the past twenty years,” Anita put in.
Pete shook his head, setting the ice cream on the coffee table. “No. He looks almost exactly the same. Older. But still recognizable.”
“Your hands aren’t bruised, so I know you didn’t chase after to confront him.” Sandy had gone pale, but her voice was steady.
“Against my better judgment, no,” Pete admitted.
Mitch cracked his knuckles. “I say we make those calls, stick dessert on the backburner, and go find a handy rail to run the son of a bitch out of town on.”
“I’ll drive,” Helen declared.
Trey approved of how they immediately circled the wagons. Campbells clearly protected their own. It made him feel a little better, knowing she hadn’t been entirely alone in those years after he’d left.
“None of you are doing anything.” Sandy rose, giving each of them a long look that said she meant business. Her gaze landed on Trey, those hazel eyes spitting fire. “None of you,” she repeated.
Are you fucking kidding me?
She’d done this in college. Forbad him from interfering every time he’d wanted to thrash Waylan for making her cry. Trey hated being hamstrung now as much as he had then. But for her sake, he worked on chaining down his temper.
“I’ll handle it,” Sandy insisted. “I’ve always handled it.”
Pete snapped to attention. “What do you mean you’ve always handled it?”
“When did you last hear from him?” Jimmy demanded.
She blew out an irritated breath. “Most recently…about four years ago.”
Cam exploded up from his seat. “When you were in the middle of—”
Sandy cut him off, her words simmering with frustration and impatience. “Yes. And I dealt with it.”
In the middle of her chemo treatment. The bastard had harassed her, while she was being ravaged by cancer and poison. The temper Trey had tamped down flared with a vengeance.
“You should have told me, Mom. You should have let me handle it. Handle him.”
“I know exactly what your version of handling it would entail, and I’m not having you brought up on assault charges against your father.”
“It’d be worth it,” Cam growled.
“And it would solve nothing.”
Quivering with frustration, he stared his mother down. “It’s my job to protect you.”
“Same goes. You’re still my baby.” Sandy crossed and took his face in her hands. “He doesn’t have the power to hurt me anymore, Campbell. He hasn’t for years. He’s just an…irritation. An inconvenience. I’ll never let him be more than that. Not again.”
“Why is he even in town?” Norah asked.
“Maybe he wants to see Cam?” Cecily suggested. She seemed the least blood-thirsty of the group.
“He hasn’t bothered with that since I was sixteen.” Trey could hear the hurt and resentment beneath the flat, matter-of-fact words and knew exactly why Sandy had chosen to handle Waylan herself.
“Maybe he’s here for the wedding?” Liz suggested.
“I don’t know how he’d know,” Sandy said. �
��We certainly didn’t invite him.”
“It’s been all over Facebook. He’s bound to still be friends with somebody here,” Norah pointed out.
“Why did he come back before?” Trey asked, proud that his tone came out as conversational instead of a roar.
The color was back in Sandy’s cheeks, though whether it was from embarrassment or temper, Trey couldn’t say. She shrugged. “It’s always the same. He wants money because he’s blown what he has in pursuit of the next big thing. I never give it, and he slinks back off to whatever hole he came from. He’ll do the same this time.”
Something didn’t feel right about that, apart from the utter wrongness of the fact that he’d come back to the woman he left practically destitute and asked for more. But Trey filed that away to deal with later. “He’s easily dealt with.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Don’t. I’ll handle it.”
Trey rose from his seat and prowled over to her. “Like you handled it thirty years ago?”
Temper flared in those hazel eyes and a muscle jumped in her jaw. “I did what I thought was best.”
“You were wrong.” This wasn’t the time or place for this conversation, but Trey couldn’t seem to stop the words. “You were wrong then, and you’re wrong now. This pacifistic, path of least disruption isn’t the way to deal with a threat, as evidenced by the fact that he keeps coming back.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s not a threat. He’s an annoyance. You going off half-cocked makes him more important than he is. Just let it go.”
Let it go? Was she insane?
“No. You don’t get to ask that of me. Not again. Not now.” He took a step closer, reaching out to cup her cheek, brushing a thumb over the shadow his memory clearly cast on her face. “Do you think I’ve forgotten?”
She sighed, a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “It’s been thirty years.”