“Baby,” Miranda muttered.
Aña waved the absent Bernie’s comment off. She helped Calista search through a velvet jewelry pouch. “I can’t help it. No matter how old you girls get, I still think of you as my babies…” Her words faded as she withdrew a triple-strand pearl bracelet. She took a hard, motherly look at Miranda, and then her eyes went wide. “Baby?”
Valiantly fighting back tears, the tip of Miranda’s nose pinked as she nodded.
“Oh my baby,” Aña gasped. “My little girl!” She took Miranda in her arms.
“Don’t be disappointed in me, Mama,” Miranda managed.
Aña drew away enough to cup Miranda’s face in both of her hands. “Never. Honey, I’m surprised, but it’s a good surprise. Isn’t it?”
“Hello?” Calista sang. “Remember me? The bride? What’s going on?”
“You’re going to be an aunt,” Miranda said. “And a godmother.”
Calista grinned as she clasped the pearl bracelet onto her left wrist. “I was wondering when you’d finally get around to telling us.”
“Did Dad tell you?” Miranda asked. “Or was it Bernie?”
Calista neatly folded her hands over her knee. “You’re lucky I’m getting married today, or I’d be pissed that you told Bernie and Dad before you told me. I figured it out on my own, actually. I suspected it at the final dress fitting. You looked like you’d gained at least one cup size. Plus, you had to lie on the floor to zip your jeans up.”
Miranda sat down on the chaise near the vanity table. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Callie. I didn’t want this whole baby thing to steal any thunder from your wedding. If it had gotten out any sooner, the media would have turned this place upside down and inside out.”
Calista took her sister’s hand. “I checked my messages this morning and Lucas called me from Conwy. He said he’s been trying to reach you. He knows about the pregnancy, doesn’t he?”
Miranda nodded. She brought her thumb to her lips, to gnaw on her cuticle, but Calista grabbed her hand and held it in her lap. “You just had a one-hundred dollar manicure,” Calista said. “If you’re hungry, have a cracker.”
“How do you and Lucas plan to handle this, Miranda?” Aña asked.
“I’m not sure what’s going to happen, Mom. I’m going to call him after the wedding.”
None of the Penney women knew that Bernie had returned until he cleared his throat from the archway adjoining the dressing room to the living room. “About the wedding, kitten,” he began. “We need to talk about Lucas and that remark Jordan made in yesterday’s paper. Did you see it, or hear about it on television?”
Miranda rolled her eyes. “I was right there when he said it.”
Clayton, dressed in a black tuxedo with a white vest and cravat, poked his head into the room. “My lovely ladies, it’s time.”
Miranda went to a small side table and picked up her sister’s bouquet. The scent of gardenias, ranunculus and stephanotis trailed Miranda as she crossed the room to Bernie. “I haven’t picked up a Herald-Star since I quit the place. You’d better go sit. We can talk later.”
“Miranda, honey,” Bernie started anxiously, “I don’t have proof to the contrary, but I have a sneaking suspicion that an unexpected guest might crash this wedding.”
“That’s why the Boston Police are patrolling the entrance and exits.” Miranda shooed Bernie toward the door while Aña gathered the train of Calista’s gown. “Thanks to Jordan, all of New England knows about Calista’s wedding.”
“But sweetie, Lucas thinks that you and Jordan—”
“If you say that name one more time, I’ll beat you with my ranunculus,” Miranda threatened.
“Which name?” Bernie asked.
“Either of them. Now go. I have a wedding to get through, then I can think about sorting out the rest of my life.” She patted her belly. “The rest of our lives.”
“That’s just it,” Bernie persisted. “I’m worried about what a sudden shock might do to you or your baby. If you’d only listen for one second, I—”
“Bernie!” Miranda snapped. “Nothing will go wrong today. This will be a gorgeous ceremony. It’ll be a wedding to remember.”
Bernie’s face suddenly relaxed and the tension left his shoulders as he accepted Miranda’s final edict. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.” He gave her cheek a tender caress before he turned and left the room.
“Are you ready, soon-to-be Mrs. Alec Henderson?” Miranda asked her sister.
Calista’s smile was affirmation enough, but she said, “I’m ready, Mama!” as she slapped her big sister a hearty high-five.
* * *
Security problems at Boston’s Logan Airport kept Lucas’s plane circling New England for two hours before the pilot finally got clearance to land at Manchester International in New Hampshire. A flight steward had radioed ahead to arrange ground transportation to Boston, and by five p.m., Lucas was ordering his driver to break as many driving laws as possible to get to the Park Plaza on time.
Lucas had been traveling for the better part of a day. He drummed his thumb against his thigh and nervously tapped his foot, mentally willing something to happen to delay the wedding. He prayed for something small—an unstitched hem, a tardy clergyman, a squirrel loose in the pews—that would buy him more time. Karmic velocity doubled back on him when his limousine abruptly slowed as they crossed the boundary line into Suffolk County.
“What the devil is the problem?” Lucas demanded. “Whatever it is, can’t you drive around it?”
“The Red Sox have a doubleheader at Fenway, and this is a really nice June day,” the driver said apologetically. “Everybody’s heading for the ballpark, the Public Gardens, the Common and the Esplanade. This is I-93 in Boston. There’s always been traffic, there’ll always be traffic.”
“Tell me, how far are we from the Park Plaza Castle?”
The driver, more familiar with New Hampshire’s sites, checked his Global Positioning System for the castle’s proximity. “About two miles, as the crow flies.” He shook his head as he looked at the five-lane river of bumper-to-bumper traffic ahead of him on I-93. “In this traffic, about forty-five minutes.”
Lucas sneered at the digital clock built into the limo’s wet bar. “How would I get to the castle from here? On foot?”
The driver told him. Lucas closed his eyes to better visualize the driver’s directions, then he bolted from the back of the car. “Good luck!” he heard the driver call after him as he wove his way through the sea of motionless automobiles.
A few drivers recognized him and honked their horns as he hopped over their bumpers. Lucas ran along the shoulder of the off-ramp leading to the Museum of Science and the Arena where he had first met Miranda during his ill-fated opening night show in Boston. Traffic was even more snarled at the five-way intersection at the bottom of the off-ramp, but Lucas managed to safely jaywalk to the Charles River side of Storrow Drive.
“You!” shouted a mounted Boston Police officer who trotted up to Lucas from the river walk. “Don’t you know that jaywalking is a citable offense?”
“No, officer, I didn’t,” Lucas said breathlessly. The driver hadn’t exaggerated about the nice weather. Cold pellets of sweat ran down Lucas’s back within the lightweight leather jacket he wore. He stripped the thing off and cast it aside as he spoke to the police officer. “Perhaps you can help me, Officer. My girlfriend is getting married as we speak, and—”
The policeman tipped his round white helmet from his forehead, revealing a dark-brown bald head dotted with sweat. “Hold on, Romeo. Seems to me that if she’s off somewhere getting married and you’re here impeding the flow of traffic on Storrow Drive, she’s not your girlfriend.”
“I don’t have time to explain.” Lucas forced himself to stay calm. He would never be able to stop the wedding from a jail cell. “My name is Lucas Fletcher. The woman who’s getting married is Miranda Penney. She’s…”
“Loco Yoko!” the officer yelled, sn
apping his thick fingers. “I thought you looked familiar! My wife’s been following you and the Penney woman in the Star.” The officer dismounted and withdrew a notepad from his breast pocket. “Could I get your autograph for my wife? Her name is Delores. We just had a baby and she’s been a little down in the dumps, with all the night feedings and the crying. She’s crazy about you, and an autograph would be just the thing to put a smile on her face.”
As slow as traffic had been before Lucas was stopped, it was now at a standstill as drivers and passengers alike recognized Lucas. One enterprising tourist hung halfway out of the passenger side window, snapping photos of Lucas as his car crept past. Another young man, at his female driver’s insistence, hopped out of his car, grabbed Lucas’s leather coat, and then got back into the car, which kept on rolling. Lucas was deaf to the driver’s delighted screams.
“Officer,” Lucas said gravely, glancing furtively at a car that appeared to be parking right in the middle of the road, “if you get me to the Park Plaza Castle in the next five minutes, I swear to you on my own life that I will come to your house and not only personally give your Delores my autograph, I will vacuum, mop, polish, launder nappies, prepare supper and sing your new sprog to sleep before I leave.” Lucas eyed the officer’s disinterested, though fit-looking, horse. “Can you help me?”
The policeman’s hands tightened around his horse’s reins. His sweaty, sun-blackened face split in a huge grin as he held his other hand out to Lucas. “Officer Brian Petrie, Boston Mounted Police at your service, Mr. Fletcher.” The two men shook. “Let’s get you to that wedding.”
* * *
Miranda barely heard the clergyman’s words as she stood with Calista before two hundred and fifty friends and members of the Penney and Henderson families. In one hand she clutched a small bouquet of peach and white ranunculus, the moisture from her palm dampening the wide satin band binding their stems. In the other, she held onto a cane, which helped her stand on her broken foot. To spare Miranda the awkwardness of hobbling down the aisle at the end of the ceremony, Calista had decided that the wedding party would disperse with the guests, rather than pairing up and trodding after the newlyweds. Miranda was glad that she wouldn’t have to walk with Jordan. The last thing she wanted to see was a photograph of herself paired with Jordan, forever mounted in Calista’s wedding album.
She stole a peek over her shoulder. The inside of the castle was predominantly empty space. The walls had been hung with thick garlands of ivy, roses and gardenias that nicely concealed the heraldic banners and flags painted on the walls. Two sections of folding chairs covered in pale peach chintz lined the cement floor. High above them, wooden beams supported a giant chandelier comprised of hundreds of tiny light bulbs.
Miranda swallowed a longing sigh. The Park Plaza Castle was a lovely, romantic place to hold a fairy tale wedding…but it looked like it was made of Lego and cardboard compared to Conwy.
Miranda tried to focus on the cleric’s words of love, devotion and fidelity rather than on her intense desire to be elsewhere. Her whole body ached with the urge to take off right now, to toss her bouquet aside, scuttle down the aisle, and hail a taxi to take her to Logan Airport. Calista’s reception would be glorious, but what was a three-tiered cinnamon chocolate cake and artsy scallop seviche hors d’oeuvres compared to Fenway Franks with Lucas at Conwy?
I have to go to him, Miranda thought. I had the fairy tale. I had what my sister has, what my mother thought she had, what every woman in this world wants. I had someone who loved me, truly.
She closed her eyes and bit back tears, hoping Lucas loved her still. I’ll find out, soon enough, she supposed, deciding right then and there that she would be heading for Logan just as soon as Calista and Alec returned down the aisle as man and wife.
* * *
Wizard’s mighty flanks rippled with muscle as he galloped down Arlington Street, easily parting traffic. The police horse’s ears laid almost flat as he navigated his way past SUVs and compact cars that pulled to the left and right to avoid his massive hooves. When the Park Plaza Castle came in view, Lucas allowed himself a welcome rush of relief.
“I hope we got you here in time,” Officer Petrie called to Lucas, who was climbing out of the passenger side of a candy-apple red, late-model Buick before it had even come to a complete stop.
“Thank you,” Lucas said warmly to the blue-haired driver. She had been on her way to her granddaughter’s apartment on Huntington Ave. when Officer Petrie had walked onto Storrow Drive and enlisted her aid in getting Lucas to the castle. The old woman had been startled and disbelieving, at first, but like most women, she fell victim to Lucas’s heartfelt charm and good looks. The woman’s sweet, genteel demeanor hid a lead foot that easily kept up with Officers Petrie and Wizard, who had blazed a clear trail to the castle.
“Remember what you promised my Delores,” Officer Petrie called after Lucas, who leaped the police sawhorses that had been set up in anticipation of a rowdy crowd. “And good luck!”
Lucas rounded the front of the building. Two policemen at the door tried to bar his entry, but Officer Petrie rode up to explain everything. Lucas shoved open the doors and, like a force of nature, he marched down the long, petal-strewn aisle. He saw the bride’s white dress and gossamer veil; he saw the broad back of the groom in a tuxedo. Faintly, he heard a male voice state, “With the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, it is my happy honor to pronounce—”
“No!” Lucas hollered, gaining speed as his voice gathered force. “I won’t allow this wedding to continue!”
Every head in the place turned to look at him. Lucas took special note of the bride’s. For the first time in his life, he blushed before a full house.
“Mr. Fletcher, I presume?” Calista’s casual inquiry carried through the profound silence of the room.
“Y-You…” Lucas stammered. “But I understood that Miranda…I saw it in the newspaper.” He ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair as he approached the altar. He was blind to the doe-eyed looks women threw him as he passed each row of seats. “Jordan Duquette said that he was walking down the aisle with Miranda tonight.”
Alec whipped around and glared at Jordan.
“I was misquoted, man,” Jordan said, his hands up in surrender.
“I’m glad to finally meet you, Mr. Fletcher,” Calista said.
“Calista,” Lucas whispered, squinting his eyes in embarrassment. “It’s your wedding. I should have remembered.”
“Lucas.”
He drew up short when Miranda spoke his name and his eyes met hers. Completely gobstruck by the sight of her, his feet were the only part of him capable of movement. They carried him to her, where she stood with her eyes perfectly round in surprise. Her hand trembled as she brought it to his brow and touched him, making sure that he was real and not some gorgeous phantom she had conjured to amuse herself during the clergyman’s long-winded sermon. His hair and his white shirt were windblown and his cheeks were ruddy, as though he had run to her all the way from Wales.
Lucas put one hand on her waist and lay the other against her jawline. “I always suspected that you were a goddess. Tonight, you well look the part.”
She leaned her head in close to him, aware that the entire congregation was listening to her every word. “I was going to fly to Wales right after the wedding.” She threw her arms around him, crushing her bouquet against his back. “I wanted to apologize and to tell you that I was wrong. I was so wrong about us and about you.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, afraid to believe that she meant what she’d just said.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Absolutely?” He searched her eyes for any sign of doubt.
“Absolu—” was all she got out before Lucas caught her up in a kiss that obliterated the anguish and uncertainty of the past months.
“I’m so happy for the two of you,” Calista said, her eyes tearing. “But do you suppose you could finish this quickly?
I’m getting a little married here.”
“I humbly beg your forgiveness, Calista, Alec, for my untimely interruption,” Lucas said, “but the future of this ceremony is entirely up to Miranda. I won’t leave until she answers one question.”
Miranda’s heart hammered against her ribs when Lucas turned back to her, his love and desire shining in his heavenly eyes.
“Marry me,” he said.
“That’s not a question,” she whispered.
“I know. It’s a choice.”
“Then I accept,” she smiled.
Fine worry lines in his forehead melted in the light of his exultant smile. “You’ll marry me?”
“Yes,” Miranda laughed softly. “Yes!” she said, and it echoed through the castle.
Lucas folded her into his arms and kissed her, their hands moving over each other’s faces as though hundreds of people weren’t watching them. “You won’t be sorry,” Lucas told her.
“Neither will you,” Miranda said.
“So is this to be a double ceremony?” the cleric asked.
“No,” Miranda said. “My, uh, fiancé was just taking a seat.”
“Sorry,” Lucas said sheepishly. “If I’m not terribly mistaken, the conniving Mr. Reilly has likely saved a place for me. But I’ll, uh, just park it right here.” He backed his way toward the first pew and squeezed in between the two flower girls, Alec’s nine- and ten-year-old nieces, who smiled up at him as though he were one of Disney’s charming princes. “Carry on, please,” Lucas nodded toward the cleric.
“Where was I?” the amused clergyman said.
“You were at the finale,” Calista reminded him.
“Ah, yes.” He cleared his throat with a little laugh. “By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts—and with the gracious blessing of Mr. Lucas Fletcher—I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Henderson, you may kiss your bride.”
With the exception of Lucas and Miranda, everyone applauded as Alec turned Calista in his arms, executed a showy dip, and kissed her. Lucas and Miranda missed it all, having eyes only for each other.
Crush Page 29