Her Best Friend’s Wedding

by Abby Gaines

  Meg’s dad had built the backyard gate between the two houses so the two girls could visit without having to go near the road. It hadn’t been used in a while, judging by the creak of the hinges.

  The Kincaids’ dining room was the downstairs front room on this side. Sadie skulked past the kitchen and bathroom…then started to worry that shortsighted Mr. Fargo across the street might phone the cops. She stopped acting suspiciously and walked boldly up to Nancy’s prize gardenia bush. She would snap off one of the white blossoms and use it as her excuse for loitering.

  She chose a bloom and twisted. Nothing happened.

  Sadie jiggled the stalk from side to side. Still nothing.

  “Come off, you stupid damn flower.”

  This plant had stems of steel.

  Next time she came spying, she’d bring pruning shears.

  At last the blossom broke off, losing a few petals as it came free. Sadie took a deep, relieved sniff of its heavy perfume. Armed with her alibi, she headed for the front corner of the house.

  Like her mother’s, Nancy’s dining-room window was covered by a semisheer curtain. Sadie heard Nancy’s voice through the smaller, open window at the top. It sounded like… Had she just said church?

  With a swift glance across the road to check that there was no sign of Mr. Fargo, Sadie crouched beneath the window. She dropped the gardenia and gripped the ledge. Slowly she raised her head.

  Four pairs of feet rested beneath Nancy’s reproduction Louis XVI dining table. Through the mesh of the curtain Sadie distinguished Meg’s sandals and Daniel’s loafers—hooray, they weren’t in bed together. She risked rising a bit higher. Nancy’s black pumps and a pair of sneakers. Male or female?

  “What the hell are you doing?” said a deep voice from behind her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  INSTINCT MADE SADIE duck down, then, as she came up again, she banged her head on the window ledge.

  “Ow!”

  “What’s going on?” Trey’s hand closed around her arm. He dragged her aside, mercifully out of view of the window.

  Sadie rubbed hard at her head. “That hurt.”

  “Why are you spying?”

  She tugged herself free so she could chafe her arm where he’d gripped her. “Where did you come from?” she countered.

  “I live here.”

  “No, you don’t.” Sadie knew he had a house on the other side of Cordova. Five whole minutes away.

  He sighed. “You’re still a know-it-all. Okay, my mother lives here and she considers it my home, even if I don’t.” He hooked his thumbs in his jeans and stared her down. “What are you doing?” he asked again.

  Devoid of a rational answer, Sadie played for time. “You still didn’t tell me where you came from.”

  “I was on the porch. I heard someone cussing out the plants.”

  The flower she’d had so much trouble detaching. She bent and snatched it up. “I was in my room and I smelled this amazing scent, so I came down to pick a gardenia.”

  He glanced at her parents’ house. “You did well smelling those with your bedroom window closed.”

  “How do you know my window’s closed?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Then after you got your flower…” he prompted.

  “Then, Miss Marple, I heard an unfamiliar voice, so I thought I’d see who your mom had visiting.”

  “Uh-huh.” His gaze flicked over her pj top, which unfortunately had shrunk in the wash. It was too tight across the front and the gap between top and pants bared an inch or so of midriff. “Hmm,” he said.

  As if she hadn’t heard enough of hmm. Which she now understood didn’t mean wow.

  “I’m going home,” she said crossly. “Good night.”

  The gleam in his eyes reminded her of the few times he’d paid her enough attention to bait her back in their teens. Mostly they’d ignored each other—the jock and the science geek had nothing in common.

  She took a step away, then turned. “So who is visiting your mom?”

  “None of your business. Though you’d be very interested,” he taunted.

  It really was the minister, here to talk about weddings.

  “Sadie? You okay? You’ve gone white.”

  “Huh?” She blinked.

  Trey cursed. He grabbed her hand and led her around the front of the house, where he pushed her down onto the porch swing. “I always thought it was a good thing your parents sent you to genius school—it stopped you turning out like Meg’s scatterbrained friends,” he said. “But you grew up a hell of a weird woman.”

  Just what Sadie needed—another reminder she didn’t fit in. And she didn’t believe that backhanded compliment, since he’d dated several of Meg’s “scatterbrained” friends.

  “Just tell me who’s visiting your mom.” Her voice wobbled. I’m losing my grip. She grasped the edge of the swing seat as if it was an extension of her sanity.

  “I would have thought you’d recognize that LeSabre.”

  She held her breath, waiting for the ax to fall.

  His knee nudged the swing, setting it rocking. “The minister’s car, remember?”

  “The minister is visiting your mom?” It came out high-pitched.

  “Not him, his wife.” He left the railing to sit next to her, disrupting the swing’s motion.

  Sadie planted her feet on the porch, stilling the swing. “The minister’s wife is visiting with your mom.”

  “That’s what I said.” He rubbed his chin. “For a girl who got the highest SATs I know of and won a full scholarship to Princeton from the Outstanding Tennesseans Foundation, you’re kinda slow.”

  “I just took a blow to the head.” She scowled and rubbed the sore spot where she’d collided with the window.

  He grinned, and it made him look like the quarterback again.

  “So why is the minister’s wife here?” she asked.

  “Mom’s paying her to do the flowers for the lunch on Sunday. There’s a list of jobs a mile long for the likes of you and me, so Mom thought she’d need the help.”

  Nancy had been an active member of the community her whole life, and her sixtieth birthday was a two-day event—the Saturday-night barbecue for “family,” which included the Beechams, and a lunch for her wide circle of friends, as well as family, on Sunday.

  Two events where Sadie would have to watch Meg and Daniel canoodling, and fool everyone into believing she didn’t care. “It’s great we can all celebrate Nancy’s birthday with her,” she said, reminding herself of the one positive in all of this.

  Trey sobered. He scuffed the porch with his shoe. “Yeah.”

  Five years ago his mother had suffered a stroke. Fairly severe, but she’d recovered faster than the doctors expected, with only a barely discernible limp and a slight slowness of speech to show for it.

  Sadie cleared her throat. “What do you think of Daniel?”

  “Nice guy, far as I could tell.”

  “He’s not Meg’s usual type, though, is he?” She twisted to face Trey. He was sitting closer than she realized, and she ended up looking right at his lips. Which made her think about Daniel and that kiss…

  He grimaced. “Sadie, I think I know the real reason you were skulking around tonight.”

  She pressed her hand to her mouth, but not fast enough to prevent a mortified cry escaping.

  “I have to tell you—” he drew back and the swing creaked “—there’s no point.”

  She closed her eyes. Please, make him stop.

  “I know you got dumped recently….”

  Her eyes flew open. Her mom had told the whole world about her supposed breakup?

  “But—” Trey spread his hands in a gesture of regret “—I’m not interested.”

  It took a second for his words to pierce her humiliation. “You think I was spying on you? That I like you?”

  She couldn’t decide if she was relieved he hadn’t guessed the truth or outraged at his inflated opinion of his own charms.

 
He shrugged. “I find it hard to believe this trespassing incident is about your curiosity over who visits my mom. I figure you’re looking for a distraction from your broken heart.”

  “Did my mother really say I got dumped?” she demanded.

  He winced. “Uh, I heard it from Mom. Maybe she just said it was a breakup. The point is, Sadie, even if you weren’t my sister’s best friend, practically family, I’d never date—”

  “—a geek like me,” she finished. It wasn’t just her own family who insisted on making her feel like an outsider. She stood up. “You’ve been in Cordova too long, Trey. Out in the big wide world, people don’t get hung up on labels that—”

  “Whoa.” His eyes glinted as he looked up at her. “I was going to say I’d never date someone on the rebound.”

  “Oh. Right.” Time to put an end to this discussion before she laid out all her insecurities for his scrutiny. Sadie took a step backward, and her ankle bumped the iron swing stand, hard.

  “Ouch!” She reached down to rub her ankle, exposing more of her midriff to Trey. Which he would probably interpret as an attempt at seduction. “You don’t have to worry about my interest in you,” she said. “Like the male worker ant, it doesn’t exist.”

  “What?” He stood, and as she was barefoot, he had more inches on her than she remembered.

  “All worker ants are female,” she explained.

  “Is this your convoluted way of saying you weren’t spying on me?”

  “Exactly,” she said, relieved.

  His brow relaxed and he chuckled. “You might need to simplify things if you want to be understood by the folks around here, Ms. Sadie.” His deep voice lengthened to a country drawl.

  She rolled her eyes. “This discussion is unproductive—”

  “Like the male worker ant,” he suggested helpfully.

  “—so I’m leaving.” She hobbled across the porch on her sore foot. “Good night, Trey.”

  He dropped back onto the swing. “I don’t know about good,” he reflected, “but you sure made it more interesting.”

  “Glad one of us enjoyed it,” Sadie muttered.

  IT HAD BEEN A sweltering day, and now with Gerry Beecham’s famous gin-and-juniper-marinated pork chops sizzling on the grill alongside a mustard-coated beef fillet and a ton of hot dogs for the kids, Saturday night in the Beechams’ backyard was hot as fire.

  Trey flipped the hot dogs Gerry had asked him to keep an eye on; only Gerry himself felt qualified to prod the chops or the fillet. Everyone had worked hard today—dividing along strict gender lines into cooks and cleaners, or handymen—to get ready for tomorrow’s lunch. Now they were enjoying a well-earned evening of relaxation.

  Trey rubbed the back of his neck. The heat was bringing him out in hives. Or maybe it wasn’t the heat, maybe it was all this togetherness. He was trying to spend less time with his family, not more. He was happy to celebrate his mom’s birthday, but this kind of gathering—full of married couples talking about their kids and their camping vacations and their SUVs—was the worst.

  His gaze tracked his mom, talking to her cousin and Mary-Beth, then his flighty sister, standing next to sturdy Dr. Daniel. In Meg’s case, a dose of suburbia would be a good thing. An excellent thing.

  Trey didn’t need to look farther to know exactly where Sadie was, which he found slightly disconcerting. She was his kid sister’s sensible best friend, part of the wallpaper of his life—and like wallpaper, he generally didn’t notice her.

  But this weekend…something was off about Sadie. She wasn’t herself. Different enough that he couldn’t ignore her. Which was how he knew she’d spent the past fifteen minutes jiggling her baby nephew on one hip while explaining plant reproduction to a bunch of kids, using Mary-Beth’s prize-winning Golden Spangles camellia for demonstration.

  “And when the bee carries the pollen from one plant to another,” she concluded triumphantly as Trey listened, “that’s when you get pretty flowers.”

  One of her nieces, about five years old—he couldn’t remember her name—put up her hand.

  “Do you have a question about vegetative reproduction, Caitlyn?” Sadie asked, pleased. “I admit, I did skip a few steps, honey.”

  “What kind of flowers do princesses like best?” Caitlyn asked.

  Sadie blinked. “Princesses…uh, princesses aren’t my area of expertise, honey.”

  Trey felt his shoulders relax. That was more like the Sadie he knew. She’d never been one of the girlie-girls, which was doubtless why that radiant smile she’d bestowed on him when she arrived yesterday had spooked him. The Sadie he knew was down-to-earth, calm, aloof. Wallpaper.

  Meg called to her. As Sadie handed the baby to Merrilee and went to join his sister and Daniel, Trey was too aware of her figure in her white capris and yellow tank.

  It felt as if someone had redecorated.

  He flipped a hot dog and it burst out of its skin, startling him. Trey took a step back from the spitting fat. So Sadie Beecham had grown some curves that he’d only just got around to noticing. Big deal. Trey was over Cordova women, just as he was over everything else about his life here.

  “Trey?” Meg called. “Can you come here?”

  “Kyle, how about I leave these hot dogs with you?” Trey asked Sadie’s brother. After a ceremonial fist bump and handover of the tongs—barbecues were a major ritual around here—he took his beer and joined the others.

  “Save me from these two, please.” Meg waved at Daniel and Sadie. “They’re trying to baffle me with science and it’s depressingly easy.”

  Daniel ran a finger across her shoulder. “Sweetheart, we’re just warming up.” He winked at Sadie.

  Meg groaned.

  “We’re talking about whether Sadie’s work with new wheat strains for the developing world could help diabetes-prone kids here in the U.S.A.,” Daniel explained to Trey.

  “I’ve heard wheat can cause diabetes in some people,” Trey said. He’d read something about it in New Scientist.

  Sadie squinted at him, as if she’d had no idea he spoke Science. “That’s type 1 diabetes,” she said dismissively. She turned to Daniel. “In theory, if you raised the protein level, thus lowering the glycemic index, wheat-based foods would pose a lower risk to type 2 diabetes patients.”

  “Which would make life much easier for low-income families who can’t afford a low-wheat diet,” Daniel said.

  He and Sadie grinned at each other.

  Then Sadie reached behind her to lift her hair off her neck, a cooling-down gesture that lifted her breasts. Daniel lowered his gaze to her cleavage. And left it there a second longer than reflex dictated.

  What the—? Trey accepted the other man’s dropped gaze was an instinctive response to Sadie’s movement, but the guy shouldn’t linger, not when he was dating Trey’s sister.

  Trey stepped in front of Sadie to block Daniel’s view.

  “Can’t we talk about books?” Meg asked. “English was my best subject. I wiped science from my brain after I dropped it in tenth grade.” She held up a hand. “When I say books, I don’t mean that Russian stuff you two read.”

  “I’m enjoying that book of yours,” Daniel told Meg. “The Politics of Poverty. Brilliant.”

  “Hey, that’s mine.” Sadie edged around Trey to get back in the conversation. “I lent it to Meg.”

  “Oops.” Meg faked a guilty look, and Daniel laughed.

  “You should read it. You’d enjoy it, Meg.” Unconsciously Sadie fingered a lock of her hair. It had been mousy-brown when she was younger, Trey remembered. Today it had gleaming gold highlights.

  As if he was mirroring her, Daniel stroked Meg’s dark hair.

  Immediately Sadie’s hand dropped to her stomach, as if she felt nauseated. Her eyes on Daniel were wide and unhappy.

  Trey’s sister-protection sensors went on high alert. He tried to shut them off—Meg’s expectation that other people would fix her problems irritated him like nothing else—but old habits died
hard.

  Sadie likes Daniel. That was why she’d been sneaking around his mom’s place last night.

  It couldn’t be true…could it?

  As Meg leaned into Daniel and they began a murmured conversation of what sounded like mutual, breathless compliments, Sadie blinked suspiciously fast.

  Dammit!

  Trey leaned into her. “Get a grip,” he muttered.

  She started, which at least pulled her attention off the doc. “Excuse me?”

  His hand closed around her elbow; he turned her so she couldn’t see Meg. “Quit looking as if you’re about to commit suttee on the grill because my sister’s boyfriend touched her.”

  She tugged, but he didn’t release her. “That’s ridiculous,” she hissed.

  “Exactly. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Meg asked.

  They froze. Sadie turned beet-red to the roots of her hair.

  “Sadie’s telling me about her exciting life as a future Nobel laureate,” Trey said. Meg’s gaze traveled to the hold he had on her friend’s elbow, so he let go. “You must have some interesting colleagues at that lab of yours, Sadie.”

  “Uh…” she said.

  “Intelligent guys on a decent income,” he clarified. “Have you dated anyone there?” As in, go find your own man. Leave Meg’s alone.

  “You’re being weird, Trey,” Meg said.

  “Are those your criteria, Sadie?” Daniel teased. “I didn’t know you were looking.”

  Sadie’s brother Jesse approached, bearing a bowl of chips. “No ordinary guy will do for Sadie,” he said, butting in to the conversation. “He’ll need to be a genius, the noble do-gooder type, willing to treat her with the awe she’s used to.”

  Sadie took a couple of chips with one hand and punched Jesse’s shoulder with the other. “Shut up.”

  “Those are some high standards, Sadiebug.” Daniel took a handful of chips but his gaze remained on Sadie. His expression held fondness and…was that regret? And what was with the Sadiebug?