Though my mother updated the décor and renovated when necessary, much of the house remained the same out of respect for our family history. We might be wealthy now, but our ancestors arrived here with nothing and built this home, and eventually the town, with their own blood, sweat, and tears.
I’d never forgotten that I owed all I had to my hard-working ancestors. A fact that made me feel even guiltier that I couldn’t be the man my father wanted me to be. The son who would carry on the family business.
I glanced at him over the rim of my coffee cup as I took a sip, letting the aromatic caffeine revive me. There was ample room between us as we pretended to be occupied with breakfast, but it felt like the walls were shrinking in on me again. The tension between my father and I was always there—small but palpable. Not that we’d ever talk about it.
My family did a good job of avoiding difficult topics.
In the last year that I’d been living with my parents, my father and I danced around the real issues, about what really brought me home, and why my future was so aimless. But he wasn’t the only one to blame. I was just as much a coward as he was an avoider. Honestly, it was easier that way. I didn’t want to talk about my past, about Rachel, about how much of a failure I was.
All I wanted to do was get through a meal without my father reminding me that I was letting him down too.
I reached forward, picking up the carafe of freshly squeezed orange juice and poured some into a waiting glass as I glanced around the dining room. My mother was usually here by now to provide a buffer between my father and I. Remembering our conversation from earlier, I wondered if she was already throwing herself into the details of Ivy’s wedding. That gave me a spark of hope. Having my sister here would help keep my father’s attention off of me.
“Why are you dressed like a mechanic?” my father asked suddenly.
I snapped out of my thoughts in time to see him lay his newspaper down. Never a good sign. That meant his attention was now fully on me.
I searched for something to say, any topic to steer him away from scrutinizing my life choices. The paper gave me what I needed.
On the front page, I could see an entire spread announcing my little sister’s upcoming nuptials. I winced at the sight of it, wishing my family didn't always choose the flashiest path possible. I’m sure my mother was just eager to share her excitement, but to me it seemed a bit excessive to flaunt a wedding announcement as front page news. Especially when actual newsworthy tragedies often didn’t get the attention they deserved.
Again, my mind wandered back to that smoke-filled day and my hands began to shake.
“Rowan?” my father questioned, bringing me back to the present.
I set the glass of orange juice down and rubbed my trembling palms on my jeans. I glanced at my simple white t-shirt and then back at my father, wondering if this was truly what he thought a mechanic would wear.
He just blinked at me, one critical eyebrow lifting toward his graying hairline waiting for my explanation.
“I found Ivy’s old bicycle in storage a while back,” I replied with a shrug. “I figured I’d get it all fixed up for her since she’s coming home soon. She used to love that thing.”
My father gave a nod of acknowledgment, his eyes going distant. He was no doubt thinking about the peculiarity of his little girl getting married.
He wasn’t the only one. It was strange indeed.
Like my mother, I could hardly believe Ivy was the one getting married first.
As the oldest, I’d always assumed I would be the first to wed, but it seemed I’d failed at yet another thing. Instead of me, it was Ivy, the youngest, paving a path for the rest of us.
None of my brothers had managed to find everlasting love either. Only my little sister seemed to have success in matters of the heart. What was even more incomprehensible was that it was with a boy she’d met right here in Bradford Cove.
I could vividly recall my brothers and I teasing Brooks Hale for chasing Ivy around the playground when they were little kids. But what did I know about love? Brooks’ persistence had paid off. He’d known what he wanted and never gave up. Now he and Ivy were adults and head-over-heels for one another, coming back home for what the newspaper hailed as the wedding of the year.
My mother would love that description.
As if summoned by my thoughts of her, my mother suddenly appeared at the entrance of the grand dining room hugging her cellphone to her chest. She wasn’t the most tech-savvy member of our family but that never stopped her from having the newest phone, even if she barely knew how to use it.
“You wouldn’t believe who just called me!” she announced cheerily. “I was just going over the list of vendors that Ivy wants for her wedding when I got a call from the florist in town.”
“Word spreads fast,” my father remarked. “Especially when it has to do with our family. Everyone wants to help.”
My mother nodded and settled beside me. I grabbed her coffee cup and filled it, passing it over. She smiled at me gratefully and took a long sip, savoring the perfectly roasted beans before continuing to speak.
“It was that adorable little florist’s shop, Mabel’s. She’s going to send out a young lady to give us an estimate and go over some of their packages.”
My father gazed down at the paper with Ivy and Brooks’ photo on it before cocking his head. His once dark, now silver hair glinted in the light shining in through the window behind him. “Don’t you think Ivy will want one of her fancy New York vendors to handle the flowers?” he asked doubtfully.
My mother waved her hand dismissively. “Local is always better, dear. Don’t you think? And you’re always saying we need to support local businesses in Bradford Cove.”
“It’s true,” he replied, his eyes shifting to me. “If everyone just keeps moving away and outsourcing services there won’t be much of a town left.”
My mother nodded. “Well, Ivy’s wedding is the perfect way to breathe some new life into this town.”
“It’s Ivy’s wedding,” I argued. “Shouldn’t she have a say?”
“She’ll understand,” my mother replied. “In fact, I think Mabel’s will be able to deliver an even better product than anyone in New York. It’s the soil and the water here, it’s just better. Plus, how could Ivy say no to some native blooms? I named her after one. They’re practically in her blood.”
I hid a grin behind the rim of my coffee mug.
“What?” my mother pressed.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Row. Tell me what you’re smirking about.”
“I’m just wondering if Ivy knows what she’s in for hosting her wedding here. It sounds like you’ve already worked out your argument to convince her to go with Mabel’s,” I teased.
She laughed. “How am I doing? Do you think she’ll bite?”
I smirked. “Sounds pretty convincing to me.”
Honestly, I had no idea if my sister would go for it. She’d outgrown our small town just like the rest of us. The fact that she was a high end party planner in Manhattan didn’t bode well for Mabel’s winning the job either. Like my mother, Ivy was a woman of impeccable taste and strong opinions. Watching them go head-to-head over the wedding plans would be interesting, to say the least.
My mother’s smile widened for a second and then faded slightly as her gaze swept over me, no doubt taking in the dark circles beneath my eyes. “Did you end up going back to sleep last night, Row?”
“Of course,” I answered smoothly, despite the fact that it was a lie.
I’d tossed and turned until the sun finally broke through the haze of night and then I’d gotten up to go for a long jog around the perimeter of the estate. It had become a near daily ritual thanks to my many sleepless nights. But I didn’t particularly mind. I could do worse than running the beautiful grounds of our family estate.
There was just something about the shimmering ocean beyond the deep saltwater cove that d
rew me in. I loved watching the early morning light scatter across its rippling crests like diamonds. Sometimes I’d end my run at the boathouse just so I could sit on the dock and watch the water, knowing the deep cool pool beneath my feet continued all the way out to sea.
It’d helped relax me and took my mind off things for a while. Not to mention that this new routine of mine had me in the best shape of my life. Well, best physical shape. My mind was still a mess and my heart . . . well, my heart was beyond repair.
“When does Ivy get in?” I asked, changing the subject.
My mother checked her watch. “It should be soon.”
“Would’ve been sooner if she let me send the plane,” my father grumbled.
“Don’t get me started.” My mother sighed, as if the thought of her daughter flying commercial was physically painful. “Anyway, she called me when she was getting on the plane and that was hours ago.”
“What about Cole and Ash?” I asked.
“With your brothers your guess is as good as mine.”
My mother feigned annoyance, but I could tell she was brimming with excitement to see all her children again. She was practically vibrating in her chair, still clinging to her phone waiting for news of Ivy’s arrival.
Even though neither parent would admit it, Ivy was the favorite. I didn’t blame them. She was probably my favorite sibling too. Despite being the youngest, Ivy was quick to listen and offer sage advice. She’d been the mediator of many a squabble between my brothers and I during our youth. She just radiated joy. It was impossible not to smile in her presence.
Truthfully, I couldn’t wait for her arrival either. I could certainly do with a bit more joy in my life. If I was lucky, maybe some of Ivy’s energy would rub off on me.
My mother bit her lip and checked her watch again. “The girl from Mabel’s is probably going to be here soon. I'm going to introduce her to Gerald, the groundskeeper, so he can show her around before giving us a quote on how much it would cost to decorate—” The sudden ringing of her phone interrupted her.
Glancing at her phone, my mother yelped, a huge smile lighting up her face. “Ivy!” she cried excitedly, clutching the phone to her ear. “Have you landed? How was the flight?”
I could hear something happening on the other end, but whatever it was didn’t sound good. Ivy’s normally bubbly voice was sharp and shrill. As she spoke, I watched my mother’s face begin to pale.
“I . . . What, dear? The address? You don’t remember your own address? Oh! Oh no! The dress?” My mother shrieked with a frantic gasp.
My father and I looked at one another in bewilderment as she shot to her feet so abruptly that her chair fell over behind her. I reached over and righted it, keeping one startled eye on my mother.
“Oh, honey . . .” she whispered, clutching her pearls like Ivy had just told her the world was ending. “That’s dreadful. You try to calm down and hang tight. I’ll be right here. Mama’s going to fix this for you. Don’t you worry, baby,” she said with a sudden firmness that made my father hide behind his paper again.
Breathless, my mother hung up the phone and whirled toward me. “Something terrible has happened,” she announced.
My father dared to peek out from over the paper. “Well, Ivy is alive, isn’t she? It can’t be that bad.”
After shooting a withering look at my father, my mother looked back at me with pursed lips. “Your sister’s wedding dress . . .” she trailed off and fanned her face, gasping in another shallow pant of air.
I almost asked her to sit down so she didn’t pass out.
“Your sister’s wedding dress is lost. Apparently, the flight crew misplaced it during their layover. Ivy’s distraught as can be. Bless her heart. I'm going to go to the airport and demand they fix this.”
“Do you need me to come with you?” my father offered, though I knew the last thing he wanted was to alter his routine to deal with anything wedding dress related.
“No, dear, I know you’ve got things to do. But Rowan . . .” she said, sinking down into the chair next to me and taking my hand pleadingly.
“Yes?” I bit back a chuckle, gazing at my mother’s overtly dramatic expression. I knew she just wanted Ivy to have the most perfect wedding possible and any hitch in that plan threatened to derail it, but for once I agreed with my father. This wasn’t life and death. It was just a dress and it would almost certainly turn up. If not, it wasn’t like Ivy couldn’t afford another one.
“Row, do you think you could meet with the florist for me? I already mentioned to her that she would be discussing things with our groundskeeper so all you need to do is take her to Gerald. He can handle the rest. The young lady’s name is Tess.”
I gave my mother’s hand a squeeze. “I think I can handle that, Mom,” I assured her, resisting the urge to give her a formal salute with how sternly she was conveying orders.
She gave a relieved sigh and leapt to her feet, kissing my cheek and then my father’s before rushing out of the room. I listened to the fading sound of her heels clicking on the tile and then the rev of her engine before her tires squealed carrying her away.
My father gazed at me silently, looking as though he was considering saying something. Mercifully, he changed his mind and focused back on his newspaper.
I finished my coffee in silence and then headed out to the garage to work on Ivy’s bike, grateful that her wedding was offering me a momentary distraction.
Chapter 4
Tess
The largest house I’d ever seen loomed in front of me. Not that I would call this place a house, it was more like a castle.
Dozens of windows gleamed from the impressive ivy-covered stone walls of the Victorian estate that must’ve been built at some point in the eighteen hundreds. I wasn’t exactly an architecture buff, but I’d seen photos of mansions like this on the glossy covers of postcards and storybooks growing up.
I could hardly believe a place like this was even real, much less that I was about to pitch a wedding to the people who lived here.
I blinked hard, hoping to spot at least a crack in the pavement or some wilted roses or even a gray cloud overhead to appear, but the place remained immaculate. It made me feel even more ridiculous for attempting this.
My eyes skimmed over the nearby acreage, taking in the perfect thrush of green grass and the peaceful rippling of a large inlet that gave way to a meandered salt marsh behind the home. Beyond that was the ocean. The Bradford’s own private cove housed a fleet of sailboats bobbing on the horizon. My view of the shimmering oasis was partially obscured by a building that must be the boathouse. I tried not to think about how many of my own humble dwellings would’ve fit in the structure that was solely dedicated to nautical toys.
Mabel and Hal couldn’t believe that I didn't know who Ivy Bradford was. And no wonder—her home was unreal!
Appalled that I wasn’t aware that there was a historic Bradford family of Bradford Cove, Mabel and Hal gave me a quick history lesson to get me up to speed.
I wasn’t completely blind. I’d seen their name here and there, but I thought it was just in homage to the town’s name. How was I supposed to know it was a nod to the founding family, whose ancestors still dwelled here?
I’d only been living here a year, after all, and I tended to keep to myself. I liked to spend as much time as I could working and keeping myself busy. I didn’t have idle time for gossip about the people who’d apparently founded this place. But now, I was sort of wishing I had. Especially since it was becoming evident just how accustomed to abundant luxury the Bradfords were.
How in the world was I ever going to be able to sell these people our flowers? I’d spent every spare moment since convincing Mabel and Hal to let me pitch this crazy idea, creating wedding packages that I could show the Bradfords. I was prepared, but I usually sold our services by connecting with the people looking to make a purchase. But I had no clue how to connect with the Bradfords. They clearly had it all and weren’t shy abou
t showing it off.
I hesitantly climbed out of my Jeep and stood in the driveway a moment to take it all in. It certainly was a dreamy place for a wedding. I wasn’t even sure they needed to hire a florist with all the natural beauty that existed here.
A beautiful fountain flowed from the center of the roundabout driveway, crystal clear water gushing from the mouths of two fish statues that leapt toward the sky. Fairytale-worthy vines curled up the black shutters of the monstrous home, buds of flowers blooming from them.
I shook my head as I soaked in the exuberant wealth. Even though Mabel had been sure to show me pictures so I was prepared for the estate’s grandeur, it seemed almost surreal that a place like this should exist outside of storybooks.
Why would the Bradford’s even have accepted an offer from a place like Mabel’s?
They could definitely afford the finest florist money could buy. Mabel and Hal didn’t specialize in the exotic, expensive blooms a place like this would demand. I wasn’t knocking my employers. Hal grew gorgeous flowers that he tended with his own hands, but the Bradfords could afford so much more.
Was the appointment just to humor us?
I glanced around, wondering if I was just wasting my time. A warm breeze swept around me, tossing brown hair into my eyes. I forced it back just as a man appeared around the corner of the ridiculously large garage . . . or maybe it was a stable?
“Excuse me,” he called, his voice gruff and deep and something else . . . something . . . sad. “Are you Tess?”
“Yes!” I replied, wincing when my voice came off slightly too high-pitched.
I never got nervous making sales calls but being in the shadow of a real life castle had me off my game. It didn’t help that I knew this single sale would not only give Mabel and Hal a much needed check but also boost their sales for years to come if they could list a Bradford wedding on their portfolio.
I took a deep breath to calm my suddenly brimming nerves. My whole body felt like it was tingling. My hands were clammy and sweat gathered at the back of my neck as I tried to pull in a few calming breaths before forcing a blinding smile onto my face despite the fact that my heart was racing.
Palmetto Passion: A Sweet Small Town Family Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 1) Page 3