Wedding Cake and Big Mistakes

by Nancy Naigle

  Carolanne rushed off to the bedroom to change, then came back with the dress in a garment bag. “Here you go,” she said, handing it off to Milly.

  Milly draped it over her arm. “Connor’s smitten. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

  Carolanne squared her shoulders. “He is not.”

  “Yes. He most certainly is. Did you see the way his mouth hung open when he saw you in that dress?”

  “It’s the dress.”

  Jill folded her arms across her chest. “No. It was you. And what is this with him making himself all at home—coming and going from your place? Something hot is in y’all’s future.”

  “Stop it. We’re friends. Just like he is with every other girl who grew up in this town.” Carolanne knew Connor lumbering into the apartment was going to fuel their romantic hearts. OK, well, he didn’t really lumber. Why was it she still thought of him as the overweight kid from school? The only thing big about Connor Buckham these days was his lumberjack-size arms and tight abs. Oh, and that snoring. She could hear that from across the hall some nights.

  “He’s a great guy,” Jill said, “and it’s clear he’s crazy about you. What’s not to love?”

  “Don’t throw that L-word around so casually. Connor’s a huge flirt. That’s why we all loved him in school, even now, but not like that.”

  “Now he’s a grown man—a fit, hot, and successful man—and he’s not flirting with everybody. He’s flirting with you. Flirting of that kind is very different.” Jill hugged her arms across her chest. “Admit it. It’s romantic.”

  “No. It’s not romantic. You’re romantic—a die-hard romantic.” Carolanne knew she was venturing down a blind alley when it came to shaking Jill off this subject. When it came to love, Jill Clemmons was like a hound on a rabbit trail.

  “Friendship’s a great foundation for a relationship,” said Milly. “Look at Jill and Garrett.”

  “That’s different. We’re not that kind of friends. It’s business between us. He barely dates since his mom died, and you know I’m not going to be running down the path of sharing my life with someone else. I like making my own decisions and living by my own rules.”

  “You need to let that go,” Milly warned. “That’s your baggage talking. Leave the past where it is and move on.”

  “I have dealt with it. I’ve totally moved on,” Carolanne said. Why do I have to defend myself?

  “Well, you don’t really deal with stuff, you kind of ignore it,” Jill said. “I’m sure it was a coping mechanism as a little girl, but eventually, you do have to deal with this stuff.”

  “There’s nothing to deal with. I’m fine.” Carolanne wished sometimes that it was just that easy, but she knew better. “Besides, this isn’t just about dad baggage. Some people just weren’t meant to be a part of a couple—like me—and that’s OK. Everyone thinks it’s so easy to deal with the past. Well, it’s not.”

  “You’re the only one making it not easy—making every man pay for everything your daddy ever did wrong. It’s not right, Carolanne. If your momma were here, she’d tell you so.”

  “If Momma were here, it never would’ve happened.”

  “Probably true.” Milly’s voice softened. “Your daddy loved your momma. When y’all lost her, he lost a piece of himself. He’s not a bad man.”

  And he stopped being a good father the day momma died, too. “He was the town drunk.”

  “He wasn’t a drunk. It was the reaction to your momma dying, and you know that. Everyone knew how much he loved your mother. He was a well-respected part of this town for years. Everyone still loved him, and he’s made great progress. He hasn’t slipped in a couple years now.”

  “Or he’s just getting more discreet, which would’ve been nice when I was a kid. What’s the difference?”

  Jill moved closer to Carolanne and took her hand.

  “That’s not fair. I know it wasn’t easy for you, but it wasn’t easy for him, either. Don’t discount the road he’s traveled.” Milly settled her gaze on Carolanne. “And more important, don’t let it shortchange your own happiness.”

  “I’m happy just the way I am. I have a wonderful job. I’m getting ready to move into my dream house. I have great friends. What more could I want?”

  “You know the answer to that question.” Milly gathered her things. Her lips pulled into a tense line. “I know you wish I’d drop this, but I’m at the age now that I don’t have time not to tell you what’s on my mind. Honey, you need to take the past and throw a big ol’ shovel of dirt over it and leave it be. Your future is in your hands. It’s time you gave yourself the chance you deserve.”

  Carolanne started to say something, but Jill gave her a look that made her hold back. “Thanks, Milly,” she forced.

  Milly smiled, looking quite pleased with herself for winning that round. “I’ll have this back to you in a jiffy, dear.”

  “I’ll drive you home, Milly.” Jill grabbed her keys and followed Milly toward the door.

  “It’s just a block or two. I can walk if you want to stay and visit.”

  “I have to get to the artisan center and get that inventory on the shelves for the grand opening.” Jill hugged Carolanne. “Thanks for getting your butt up out of bed so early and being pleasant. I know how you hate mornings.”

  “You got that right, but that’s what best friends do.” Carolanne closed the door behind them. Milly’s words replayed in her head. Your future will be as good as you let it be.

  Chapter Two

  Milly tapped her fingers on the door to Connor’s apartment as she and Jill walked toward the stairs. “Good seeing you, Connor.”

  “Bye, beautiful,” he called through the closed door.

  “You say that to all the girls.” Milly’s voice trailed as she descended the stairs.

  I don’t say that to all the girls. Connor scrubbed his hand across his chin, remembering saying exactly that about Carolanne just a little while ago. Maybe I do.

  But when he’d said it to Carolanne earlier, he’d meant it—felt it. She’d looked amazing standing there in that fancy dress. That put an appealing twist on their all-business relationship. Her deep-red hair, not reddish-blond like his own, had hung down her back in a tangle of curls that accentuated where her lower back curved into her tight little rear end—a perfect one he hadn’t noticed before, one his hands were now eager to touch. Off-limits. Not only would it be bad business, but it would be pretty weird to get serious with Carolanne since her dad and I became such good friends when Mom took sick.

  He tossed the newspaper aside, irritated by the thrilling current moving through him as he pictured his business partner in a little less—OK, a whole lot less—than that bridesmaid dress.

  Trying to put the sexy image out of his mind, he dialed his voice mail and picked up his messages. He saved two of them that were business, wrote down the number from one, and deleted the rest, which were all from Katherine, whose voice poured like honey through the line.

  Horny. That explained his reaction to Carolanne. He dialed Katherine’s number, and she answered on the first ring.

  “Got your message,” Connor said.

  “It’s good to hear your voice. I’ve missed you,” she cooed. “How’ve you been?”

  “Busy. Good. You?”

  “Don’t you miss me? I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. Wondering if you’d completely forgotten about me up here, and that just makes Katherine sad.”

  What is it that makes women think baby talk is sexy? And what’s with that third person stuff? “Nope. I won’t forget you.” There was more to a relationship than hot sex. Though sex with her was better than great, he’d also expected that she’d be there for him in other ways. Truth was, though, after the way she’d played that convenient disappearing act when Mom became so ill, he kind of wished he could.

  She let out an exaggerated sigh across the line. “It’s been over a month since we’ve even talked.”

  “Couldn’t have been th
at long.”

  “Well, actually, I can tell you exactly how long it’s been. It’s been twenty-seven days since we talked and forty-one since you held me in those big arms of yours and made me wiggle out of control.”

  Look who’s counting now. It’d been nice if you’d been counting when Mom was sick. Could’ve used your support then. Instead, it was Carolanne at my side.

  “It’s not like you to ignore me like this. I was thinking about coming down your way to visit. Feel like company?”

  His hesitation left an awkward void. “It’s not the best time.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re becoming all work and no play. You know that’s no fun.”

  “Jill and Garrett’s wedding is this weekend. I’m going to be tied up with that, then I’ll be helping a friend move.” The thought of Carolanne moving out hammered at him like a sucker punch. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. It had been the plan the whole time, but now that it was happening, he didn’t relish the idea much.

  “Don’t need a date for the wedding?”

  Hell, she’d expect me to buy her a dress and fly her down. Been down this path before. “I’m in it, and you’re not the sit-by-yourself kind of girl. It’s really not your kind of party, Katherine.”

  “Well, I guess you’d know.”

  “That I would.” Katherine was a socialite from her highlighted tips to the fancy painted toes she shoves into those designer shoes, and as pretty as all that looked, she couldn’t find any pleasure in anything that was just down-home good fun.

  “All right. Well, I’ll just be up here in Chicago thinking about you. Let’s talk soon. OK?”

  “Sure. Yeah, soon.” He shoved the phone in his pocket. If all he needed was a good time, Katherine would sure fit the bill, but then, she required way too much energy on his part, and he wasn’t up to exerting it or the price tag that went along with it.

  Connor heard Carolanne’s apartment door slam across the hall. He got up from the leather couch and listened to her heels click like a metronome down the hall. He stepped out onto the landing.

  Carolanne descended the stairs in dark trousers and a white blouse. Her French braid hung neat and tidily down her back, like it did every day. Things were back to normal. It was like this morning had never happened. Only it had, and he wouldn’t soon forget the sweet smell of her hair as she’d stepped down off that stool.

  He fought for restraint not to call after her and ask her to come back up to his apartment. Until an hour ago, she’d been the freckle-faced friend who’d slung back beers with the best of them, kept his crushes a secret, and played wingman for him all through college.

  Who’ll be my wingman to catch you? The unexpected thought made him nervous.

  He turned around and went back inside. It suddenly felt like a good time for a run. He changed into shorts and a T-shirt, took the stairs two at a time, then ran straight out the front door toward the park without a second look through the glass door of their office, which took up the whole first floor of the old bank building.

  The familiar rhythm of his running shoes against the sidewalk gradually pushed all those awkward thoughts aside. He hoped that tight coil in his gut would release, too, because those thoughts about Carolanne were nothing but bad news. No sense screwing up a good business relationship. Mixing business and pleasure—never a good idea.

  The day was warming up, as was typical for Virginia in late May. The temperature was only in the eighties, but the humidity hung heavy in the air, making it feel much hotter as he ran up the block.

  He jogged in place until the one streetlight turned green and he could cross into the park. His shirt was already damp and sticking to his body. The jogging path was empty since most people were already at work by now. That was one of the best things about having his own law practice and answering to no one else. He could build in time for his workouts and extracurricular activities.

  The same old questions pounded out against the pavement. Impossible relationships. He always picked the girls who were taken or unattainable, and before, maybe that had been by design.

  Things had been different since his mom had died. She’d always wanted to be a grandmother. That ship had sailed, but now that she was gone, he’d been thinking more about settling down and having that family and kids she’d always wished for him.

  If I’m ever going to settle down and have a family, I’m going to have to break that trend.

  An image of Carolanne on a blanket in the park—under the big magnolia—with a child on her lap and holding up a glass of sweet tea for him as he ran by made him pick up speed. Right. Hell, Carolanne was more against marriage than Katherine was. At least Katherine pretended that someday she’d want to get married, just not now. Carolanne had vowed she’d never get married, and she seemed pretty comfortable with that decision—and there was the law practice thing, too.

  What would normally have been a good forty-five-minute run, he completed in just over thirty minutes. Sweaty and feeling more in control, Connor slowed to a walk on Main Street. Through the wide glass front window of Baxter and Buckham, he saw Carolanne greeting her first clients of the day. He still had time before his first meeting, so he headed up the block to Mac’s Bakery. He’d need the sugar rush to get him through the meeting with Mrs. Avery. Ever since Pearl Clemmons died and everyone heard about her video will, half the seniors in this town wanted to do the same thing to supplement their written wills.

  At this rate, he’d be able to add producer and director to his résumé. It was a hassle, but the good boy whom his mom raised couldn’t say no to the old folks that he’d respected all his life.

  Connor sucked in a big whiff of the salty bacon coming from the diner, but he wasn’t dressed for a sit-down breakfast, so he continued toward the sweet, sugary smells from Mac’s Bakery just a few doors down. He nodded to a woman he recognized from the gym.

  The planter boxes around each lamppost down the block overflowed with flowers. One type flaunted petals in a soft hue of color that reminded him of Carolanne’s dress this morning. Good thing Milly and Jill had been there. If they hadn’t been there, he probably would’ve really acted the fool. If I’d gotten there before they had, she might not have been wearing that dress by the time they arrived. He laughed aloud at the big-talk thought. Wishful thinking, man.

  Giant candy-blue letters in an arch spelled out MAC’S BAKERY across the center of the storefront window. Connor’s appetite grew as he pulled open the door and the smell of fresh bread and cinnamon wrapped around him. Glass cases filled with colorful cakes, cookies, and homemade bread baked fresh this morning filled the space.

  He glanced at the corner display boasting Mac’s achievements. Trophies and ribbons flanked pictures of him appearing on that cable television cook-off. Too bad it had ended in disaster when Mac’s cake came up just a smidgen short in the height requirement.

  Connor stood in line as Mac’s son, Derek, passed white wax-lined bags of goodies over the counter to customer after customer.

  Mac came out from the back of the store with a bear claw on a plate so fresh that Connor could see the steam and smell the buttery cinnamon wafting across the room. Mac served a woman sitting in one of the five bright-blue chairs that snugged up against the stainless steel counter, then leaned across the counter in conversation.

  “Good morning, Mac,” Connor called across the room. “Got any more of those fresh bear claws?”

  Mac lifted his head with a smile. “Just finished a batch.” He raised a finger in the air, then hustled through the small space. Pans clanked in the back room. He poked his head back around the corner. “Just one?”

  “Make it two,” Connor said with a thumbs-up. “I need a cup of coffee, too. Large.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes, regular.” Connor hesitated. “Don’t most folks drink coffee with their pastries?”

  “You haven’t bought a cup of coffee from me in months. I figured you had something against my coffee.”


  Geez. Is everyone keeping tabs on me now? “No, man. Not that. Ever since Carolanne joined the practice, I’ve been having coffee there. She makes a mean pot of coffee—about the only thing she can cook—but this morning she had plans and I got shorted.”

  Mac walked back out and set the box and cup of coffee on the counter. “Coffee’s on the house, then.”

  “Thanks. Looks like I’ll be having coffee down here more often. She’s getting ready to move into her new place.” Connor tipped his head toward the kid behind the cash register. “How’s that workin’ out for you?”

  “Derek? Great. He’d rather work nights and sleep all morning, but we’re working that out.”

  “I’m sure you were the same way when you were in your early twenties.”

  “Oh yeah, and he’s a much better baker at twenty-three than I was, but he’s into all that fancy new-way stuff. You know me, I’m old school.”

  “Nothing wrong with old school,” Connor said.

  Mac exchanged a glance with the woman nibbling her pastry, then moved in closer to Connor and lowered his voice. “Hey, I need to talk to you about some legal business, too, when you have some time.”

  “Stop by the office. You know I can always make time for you.”

  “Great. I’ll do that.” Mac’s attention shifted to the doorway as the buzzer welcomed another customer.

  Sheriff Scott Calvin walked in, lifting his bright-red on-the-go travel mug in a friendly hello. “Connor. Good morning. Hey, Mac, can I get a quick refill?”

  Mac snagged the mug and spun around to fill the cup. “In a hurry?”

  “Hadn’t planned to be, but I just got a call that those doggone kids have pulled the chain down over at the old Dixon farm again, and I’m short a deputy this morning.”

  Connor snickered. “Our legacy continues. All those wild times we had there—the next generation is just trying to top us. Remember when we got your Jeep stuck up to the axles after Hurricane Floyd? It was fun as heck four-wheelin’ through that mud bog. Well, until we got caught.”