by Liz Johnson
The confusion on the faces on the other side of the table eased, but Natalie couldn’t help but dissect what they were almost certainly thinking.
Exactly how much of the honeymoon are they having?
Sure. She was thirty-two years old. And it was none of their business. But that had never stopped this town from talking about her—closed doors or not.
Maybe that was why she had insisted on her own room at the inn—always insisted on her own room, actually. Or maybe it was the way her mother had always looked at her and said, “If you hadn’t come along …” Like Natalie was the reason she’d been stuck in a small town and stuck with Rick O’Ryan.
Or maybe she insisted because of that time in junior high school when she’d overheard one of the newly married Sunday school teachers gushing to her best friend about how thankful she was she’d waited.
Whatever had prompted her to tell Russell she wanted to wait, he’d agreed. And this wasn’t the moment to be hashing it out even in the corner of her mind.
Natalie had nothing to regret.
Except his flippant use of the word honeymoon, and whatever rumors that might stir up in small-town minds.
“What day do you think?” Russell tapped the back of her hand with his thumb.
Neither. But that wasn’t an option.
“Wednesday?”
She nodded. “That sounds fine.”
Caden’s smile doubled in size, setting off two incandescent dimples. “Wonderful. I’ll have Marie put you on the schedule.”
“Have me put who on what schedule?” Marie Sloane wasn’t particularly tall, but her presence filled the room as she sashayed up to the table. The lines around her mouth testified that her life hadn’t been easy, but there was a joy deep in her eyes that pricked at the back of Natalie’s neck. She held an empty serving tray in front of her midsection, her slender fingers and thin arms clearly weighed down by the ornate silver platter.
“Natalie and Russell are going to take my cooking class next Wednesday.”
Marie’s smile matched her chef’s. “Perfect. I’ll put you on the calendar, and we’ll add the cost to your bill.”
“Good deal.” Russell pressed his palm to the tabletop. “Now, my brother promised to show us around this place.”
“Actually, could I steal Natalie for a moment?” Marie caught Natalie’s gaze, her smile faltering for an instant. It wasn’t particularly noticeable, and the men didn’t stop their side conversation.
Still, Natalie’s insides took a painful nosedive. Maybe brides had a sixth sense about these things. When the default wedding planner asked for a private conversation, something had almost certainly gone wrong. And if something went wrong—if anything went awry—she was sure to be the topic of every whispered conversation behind fluttering hands.
Fear bubbled in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes closed against the urge to slide under the table, forcing herself to find control.
Whatever it is, it’s okay. We still have time.
The firm voice in her head was familiar—one she used often. But it was enough to get her eyes open and the concierge smile in place.
If Marie noticed her moment of panic, she said nothing, so Natalie pushed her chair back and rose. “Of course.” To Russell she said, “I’ll meet up with you both later.”
“We’ll wait for you.”
She risked another glance at Marie, whose generous lips were pinched with the smallest hint of the strain that echoed in her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you when we’re through.”
A consummate hostess, Marie waved to the men, squeezed Caden’s arm, and led the way to the hallway on the far side of the kitchen. A door at the back wall opened to a tight office with just enough room for a wooden desk and rolling chair.
Marie didn’t bother to close the door behind them, and Natalie took that as a good sign. Even if it was more likely because there wasn’t room for them to both fit into the closed office.
“I have some bad news.” At least Marie didn’t beat around the bush.
“How bad?”
“The community center is double-booked for the day of your wedding and is backing out.”
Natalie could do nothing but let her mouth hang open for the longest ten seconds of her life. She couldn’t manage to blink so was privy to every moment of Marie’s pained expression and distress-filled eyes.
“I’m so sorry.” Marie’s forehead wrinkled with the pain it must have taken to explain the situation that she hadn’t caused. After all, they’d been working together over email for months to secure all the necessary arrangements for the wedding. Marie had always erred on the side of overly professional—double-checking every reservation and confirming every request.
Natalie’s boss at the Heritage Hotel would have loved having a Marie in his sales and special events office.
But all of Marie’s skills hadn’t kept trouble away.
Invitations had been sent out, and wedding guests had already booked flights and paid deposits on rooms at the Red Door and nearby cabins. More than a hundred and fifty guests were about to descend on North Rustico, filling every rentable room within a ten-mile radius for several days before and after the wedding.
They all expected a ceremony at the church and then a big party at the community center. Even if they had to spill tables onto the lawn to fit all the guests.
Now they had no place to host the party. No place to entertain their guests.
And no way to avoid a scandal.
Finally Natalie found her tongue and used it as soon as it worked. “But the invitations went out weeks ago. And we have a contract. And … and …” She searched for any argument to make her case. “We paid a deposit.”
Marie nodded. “I know. I told her all of that, but she wouldn’t budge. She said it had been rented months before you signed the agreement with them.” With a shake of her head and a shrug, she sighed. “At least Stella agreed to refund your deposit.”
“Stella? Burke?”
Marie’s lips puckered to the side, her nod barely a confirmation but enough to set off the alarms in Natalie’s chest. The clanging inside made it down her arms until her hands shook no matter how hard she clenched them.
Perfect. Of course Stella was the one scheduling out the community center. She was probably still president of the ladies’ auxiliary too.
And she was still out for retribution—for something that was as much Natalie’s fault as the family she’d been born into.
But logic had never been Stella Burke’s strong suit. No, her specialty was revenge. And holding on to bitterness.
Natalie forced out a slow breath as Marie pressed a hand to her arm. “Do you have a history with Stella?”
“Ha.” Her laugh was breathless at best. Hostile was probably more accurate. “Marie, I have a history with everyone in this town.” Exactly seventeen years of embarrassing memories churned inside her. “It’s no coincidence that our location has become unavailable at the last minute.”
Maybe she’d expected Marie to pull back or act shocked, but she didn’t. Instead wild curls shook around her shoulders in a slow dance. Marie leaned in, her gaze narrowing. “Oh, I have a few of those relationships too. But here’s the thing. I’m on your side. So is Caden. And Seth and Adam too. Not to mention your handsome fiancé. You’re not alone.”
Something inside her swooped. Maybe it was a flush of joy at the mention of Russell.
More likely it was the strange feeling of not being on her own.
Not since she’d left the Crick—and Justin—behind had anyone spoken words like that to her.
She’d been doing life alone since her best friend had abandoned their plan. Not even Russell spoke words like that over her.
Suddenly someone switched on the faucet, and her eyes gushed with tears so fast she couldn’t knuckle them away before one escaped down her cheek.
“I’m sorry. I’m—this is all a mess.”
Marie chuckled and squeezed h
er arm. “Honey, this office has seen more than its fair share of tears. Weddings are hard. Lots of moving parts and people and emotions. But we’re going to figure this out.”
Weddings. Right. Marie thought Natalie was a mess because she’d lost the reception location, and if Stella Burke had any say in things, she’d most likely lose the church for the ceremony too.
Marie hadn’t seen her unspeakably awkward run-in with Justin at Grady’s the day before. She didn’t know about more than twenty-five years of memories. She didn’t know about a childhood of climbing trees under the island sun.
She definitely didn’t know that the second-to-last step up to the lighthouse creaked and that Justin had always stepped on it extra hard to make sure he didn’t surprise her.
And that he’d always known where to find her—and when she most needed him to.
Most of all, Marie didn’t know that Justin had understood that leaving her alone would hurt the worst. And that he’d done just that late one June night.
She blinked hard as the tears kept coming, washing down burning cheeks.
Marie grabbed both of her hands, careful of the three-carat diamond on her finger. “It’ll be all right. I have an idea.”
Natalie sniffed against the tide from within. “You do?”
Leaning forward, Marie let a secret smile trickle into place. “How would you feel about getting married in a barn?”
“A barn?” Something inside her tried to warn her to run for cover, but she could manage only the insipid repetition. “Like a barn, barn?”
“More like a renovated barn. It’s seen some weather and needs a few new boards. Maybe a little paint. But we’ll clean it up and add some island decorations to balance the rustic setting.”
She tried to imagine the picture Marie painted, but instead her mind conjured only one barn. It had been old even when she was a child. But that couldn’t be the one.
Papa Kane had said it wasn’t fit for man or beast. That’s why he’d built the new one. Or at least started on it.
“It has one of the prettiest views on the north shore. All jagged red cliffs, summer wildflowers, and ocean as far as your eye can see.” Marie’s voice drifted like a daydream.
Natalie’s heart seized.
There was only one barn on the island that refused to give up such prime real estate. She was shaking her head before the thought even fully formed. “No.”
“But you haven’t even seen it.” Marie’s eyes grew wide. “We’ll make it perfect. We can put the right touches on it. Make it match your taste.”
“It’s not a good idea. There has to be another option.”
Marie lifted her shoulders as her nose wrinkled. “What did you have in mind? Where could we set up fifteen round tops? Grady’s?”
“What’s wrong with Grady’s?” She meant it as a challenge, but the words fell flat. They both knew that the town’s restaurant couldn’t hold seventy-five people comfortably, let alone a hundred and fifty of the music industry’s finest.
Marie rolled her eyes just enough to suggest that Natalie should be serious.
“Okay. Fine. Not Grady’s. What about the Lions Club?”
“They require a membership. And you’d have to cut your guest list in half.” Suddenly Marie pressed her hand to her stomach, a twinge in the corner of her mouth catching Natalie’s attention. “And before you suggest the beach, who are you going to hire to keep the birds at bay?”
Rats. She had been about to suggest a waterfront reception. But Marie was right. Between the birds, dragonflies, and mosquitoes, her guests wouldn’t have a moment of rest. And forget the cake. It would attract everything with wings for miles.
“We have to come up with another option.” Even as she said the words, she feared they were impossible. Still, her voice was stronger than usual. Harder.
Marie didn’t appear to be intimidated. “Won’t you at least take a look at it? Just think about it, and—” Suddenly her face turned white like a veil had dropped into place. Her eyes became glassy, and she pressed a hand over her mouth.
“Are you all right?” Natalie began to reach out but quickly jerked her hand back when Marie waved her off.
Marie held up a finger to indicate that she just needed a moment, but suddenly her shoulders shook and she squeezed past Natalie, ducked into the hall, and disappeared down the back stairwell. Natalie’s stomach gave a sympathetic swoop, and she pressed her hands to her face, forcing her thoughts to Marie’s last words.
Think about it, indeed. What did she have to think about? She had exactly one option for the reception.
The old barn at Kane Dairy.
Her stomach sank as she sagged against the doorjamb. She was going to have to see him. Again.
And this time it would be on his turf.
4
Justin cranked the wheel of his truck, and his tires spit mud and grass as he skidded to a stop beside Marie’s little sedan. The pasture hadn’t seen much use in a decade. But he couldn’t bring himself to repurpose the land or tear down the first building his grandfather had added.
A gust of wind picked at loose shingles, slapping them together as he kicked open his door and slammed it closed behind him. A section of peeling paint along the front of the barn rippled under the sun’s brilliance, and he frowned. Hands on his hips, he surveyed the adjacent wall. The salt water and wind had bleached patches at their whim, and small holes along the foundation were clearly entrances for whatever rodents had been seeking shelter. Then there was the section of roof that had been shredded by the last hurricane. It wouldn’t stand up to a light drizzle, which was why he’d sent one of his hands to clear out any remaining straw.
The old girl was barely stable. And ugly as all get-out.
There was no way Natalie would agree to have her wedding in this barn.
That was enough to put a smile on his face as he stepped through the open door from the sunshine to the darkness. Blinking several times, he tried to adjust to the dimness, but all he could see were the dust motes dancing in the beams of light coming through the holes in the roof.
He rubbed his eyes with his fists, and they finally cleared enough to make out the silhouette of a slender woman in the far corner, her face turned up toward the exposed beams and cathedral ceiling.
“Justin, thanks for meeting us.”
He spun in the direction of the voice, only then seeing a second figure. Marie.
Which meant that the other half of “us” was …
Lungs constricting and acid backing up his throat, he swung his gaze back to the other woman. She met his stare, her eyes blue and fierce and holding back a thousand brutal words.
“Natalie.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but somehow her name made it through his gritted teeth.
Marie’s eyebrows rose, her eyes lighting with surprise. Then she shook her head and laughed ruefully. “Of course you know each other. You probably grew up together. I keep forgetting that this was your home long before I showed up.”
Natalie’s smile to the other woman was kind, forgiving. But as her attention moved to him, it turned to steel, cutting into his chest and beating at his heart.
He could go. He could up and walk away.
Just like she had.
The urge to take off only grew stronger with every rise and fall of her narrow shoulders. Her slim-cut jacket didn’t do much to add to her nearly nonexistent intimidation factor. It was hard for her to look like she was in charge when she barely reached his shoulder. When they were kids, he could nearly touch his thumb and middle finger around her arm above her elbow.
She was just as skinny now, but the flash in her eyes was new. And it struck at him like an axe to rotted wood.
Whoa.
He grabbed at his chest, as though to hold in whatever her searing gaze had let loose. But there was nothing on his flannel shirt except for a mud stain it had sustained years ago.
“Justin.” Her chin dipped in what appeared to be a conciliatory nod. On
ly her gaze never left his and never let up. The ire in her voice was thicker than peanut butter on a sandwich.
What had her so riled up? He was the one who had been wronged. She was the one who broke their pact.
Clearly she hadn’t gotten the notice about that.
It didn’t matter that they’d spit on their palms and shaken hands to seal their deal when they were twelve. It sure as fire wouldn’t have made a difference if they’d agreed to it the day before she left.
They’d said forever. Always. Together.
But she’d disappeared. And now she had the audacity to show up on his land. In his barn.
For her wedding.
He fought the sudden urge to spit on the cement floor. But his mom had taught him better than to be so uninhibited in front of a lady. And everyone in town knew Marie was just that.
“This place is perfect.” Marie’s sudden outburst drew both of their gazes. She inhaled through her nose like she couldn’t get enough of the smell of musty hay, wet wood, and the memory of a thousand cows. “Don’t you see it?”
He shook his head at the same time as Natalie, who apparently caught his motion and immediately froze.
With a sweep of her arm, Marie introduced them to her vision. “Twinkle lights hanging from all of the beams across the ceiling. Fifteen round tables over here. White tablecloths with mini milk bucket centerpieces. The head table right under this beam with strings of light hanging behind the bride and groom. Caden’s most delicious cake on a table in that corner.” She tiptoed away from the main entrance. “And over here all of your loved ones swaying and spinning on the dance floor to the music of the island. Can’t you just see the fiddle player along that wall, beside a man with a guitar, stomping his foot? Of course, it’ll need a good cleaning and a bit of touch-up work. Some paint on the outside and a rich cherry stain on the internal walls and exposed beams. Maybe a coat of paint over the floor.” She offered a secret smile. “And a bit of airing out.”
Understatement of the century. No amount of airing out was going to erase the current bovine perfume.