“Oh, wow,” Serena said, eyeing her flowers still.
“Good luck,” said Ford.
“Catch you later.” Wesley grinned.
Serena waved the tips of her fingers and smiled in their general direction.
“They were perfectly friendly,” Greer said low as they walked away. “But not as friendly as they were before the contest.”
“She’s nervous,” Ford said. “That’s all. And focused on what she has to do.”
“You’re right,” Greer said.
They were back at their table. Ford bent over, grabbed one side of the peg wall they’d borrowed from her friend Pete—who’d built it for a school carnival years before—and which they’d painted pink that morning. Greer took the other side. Together they hoisted it onto the table. It rested on an A-shaped frame that kept it secure and standing. The front side with the pegs was perpendicular to the table and made an eye-catching—if currently empty—display.
“This is going to be really cool.” She was speaking to Ford even as she was eyeing her pink wooden backdrop.
He was next to her now, his arms crossed over his chest, his eye also on the display. And then he took a sideways step so he could be closer to her. “May I, madam?” He held his arm out.
“Sure,” she said.
He curved his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “I’ve enjoyed this day. And don’t worry, the doughnut people will come.”
“If they don’t, we’ll look pretty silly.” She laughed. “Thanks for being part of why I’m happy right now.” She looked him right in the eye.
“That was kind of you.” Deep inside he let a glow of contentment push down any misgivings he had about opening up too much. Holding her felt exactly right. “And I’d like to say, in the words of Gus and Drake, ‘Right back atcha, dude.’”
“I mean it.” She turned slightly, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek.
“Thanks.” That was more than sweet to him. That was a validation he sorely needed. When Teddy left him, he wondered if he was able to make anyone happy. He turned Greer in his arms just a little bit. “Hey, we’re in a fake engagement. How about a public display of affection? It’s what we’re supposed to do, right?”
“It can’t hurt.”
He kissed her full on the mouth. Then they pulled apart. He liked her. A lot.
Her brows shot up, and her eyes were a little wary. “Are you faking it until you make it right now? Because if so, you’re really good at it. I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy.”
He contemplated telling her the truth, that he was getting a massive crush on her. But at the last second he changed his mind. “I’m absolutely playing the wedding game,” he said. “Am I doing it well?” He strove for a happy-go-lucky grin.
“Too well.” Her face lit up. “The doughnut people are here!” she said, and rushed to the top of the stairs to greet them.
“Right,” he murmured as he watched her go. “The doughnut people are here.” Let her think he was simply pretending. That he thought of her as nothing more than a new and great friend. It was best that way.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Okay, so let me describe it,” Greer was saying on the phone to Ella, who was down with a stomach bug and couldn’t come to the bake-off. Ella refused to use a smartphone. She was on a flip phone kick. She wanted to go back to a simpler time, probably because her other Sicilian grandmother had come to live with the family. Ella’s latest nonna refused to watch TV or listen to any singer on the radio who became famous after Frank Sinatra. And the newest nonna hated Alexa, the talking streaming device. She thought Alexa was possessed.
So Greer couldn’t send Ella a smartphone camera photo of her cake display.
“Tell me every detail about the table,” said Ella. “I’ll pass everything on to Miss Thing.”
Miss Thing was cooking supper for their elderly accountant so she could get free tax advice on her winnings from The Price Is Right. She’d invited Pete from Roastbusters to join them because he’d made a special drink in her honor when she came back from Hollywood: The Price Is Right cappuccino, made with California almond syrup and a dollar-bill sign drizzled on top of the froth in caramel. When someone ordered it, Pete would say the person’s name, then, “Come on down!”
Miss Thing had ordered it every day since being back. So had Greer, as a matter of fact.
“Well,” Greer began, “there’s a big sign I painted on wooden planks Pete nailed together for me. It says A HOLE LOTTA LOVE. You know, hole, H-O-L-E. Because our wedding cake theme is doughnuts.”
Ella laughed.
“It looks very cute and vintage,” said Greer.
“You’re so artistic,” Ella said.
“Thanks, and then we have this pegboard I borrowed from Pete and painted bright pink this morning.”
“It’s already dry?”
“Oh, yeah. Hours ago. And on every peg—which we wrapped in parchment paper—we hung doughnuts. All different kinds.”
“Oh, my God, I love it,” said Ella.
“And then we have small glass bottles I converted into vases and they’re sitting on top of the pegboard. They’re filled with white, blue, and pink hydrangeas Macy’s little neighbors picked for me today from their mother’s garden, with her permission. And next to the vases is the word DOUGHNUTS written in metal marquee letters that light up. I got that at HomeGoods this afternoon.”
“What a find!” Ella said.
“I know. I was so excited! The A HOLE LOTTA LOVE sign is on the left-hand side of the front of the table. On the right side is the actual doughnut wedding cake.”
“You have that and the doughnuts on the pegs?”
“The doughnuts on the pegs are for the public. They can take one home with them in a little paper bag that says, ‘Glazed and Delicious from the Mr. and Mrs.’ and at the bottom of the bag it says, ‘Greer and Ford.’”
“How’d you get that printed up so fast?”
“I called in a favor to our printing company.” Greer saw Pierre’s henchwoman Kiki out of the corner of her eye, and cringed inside. She’d looked her up on Facebook and Google and found out the woman basically had nothing to lose by hitching her wagon to Pierre’s.
Kiki was waving her arms around and yelling at Henny.
“I have to go very soon,” Greer said fast to Ella. “We have three minutes until the door opens. But let me quickly tell you about the doughnut wedding cake. Have you heard about the Golden Doughnut?”
“No.”
“Forbes wrote about it. A single doughnut covered in a gold icing with little shavings of twenty-four-carat gold on top. You can get it for a hundred dollars in New York.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. So I asked my local doughnut vendor to make me a gorgeous tower of pink-frosted doughnuts, with beautiful tone-on-tone pink nonpareils sprinkled on them, and I surrounded them with more flowers from Macy’s neighbor’s garden, so they look very pretty, like we’re at a backyard reception. But at the very top of the pink tower, out of reach of prying hands but easily visible, the vendor is putting her own version of the Golden Doughnut. It’s really going to stand out. She’s making true metallic gold icing that has a hint of champagne in it, and I actually think she’s putting gold flake on top. One of the members of the public will win it. But they can’t be eligible to take it home unless they vote for me. I checked with Henny, and she said that’s fine. It shows initiative. She said no one is stopping the other brides from doing something creative to win votes. She told us that at the beginning, too.”
“You’re so smart to listen so well! Do you have a sign that says, ‘Win the Golden Doughnut?’”
“I actually have a shirt on that says that. I made one for Ford, too. It’s a tight white T-shirt, and it shows off his pecs.”
“Smart.”
“And Macy’s little neighbors are carrying baskets filled with slips of paper they’re handing out that say, ‘Win the Golden Doughnut.’”
/> “Adorable.”
“Of course, they want to win it.” Greer chuckled. “I’m going to have to get the vendor to make them one later. There’s a table with copies of all five cakes that the public can taste test samples from, but I intentionally told the doughnut people not to make a Golden Doughnut for that cake. It has to be one-of-a-kind.”
“Smart. How will you find out exactly who voted for you so you can choose a winner?”
“Easy. They have to put their ballots in a box on my table. So when they do, I’ll have them sign a little notebook with their name and phone number. That way I can keep track and text whoever wins. They don’t even have to stay to the end. I’ll deliver the doughnut if they have to leave, even if they live fifty miles away.”
“Wow. That’s dedication.”
“It’s all I can think of to do.”
“You were too hard on the doughnut idea,” Ella said. “Everyone loves doughnuts. A lot of gorgeous wedding cakes are just for show. You slice into them, and they’re meh.”
“I’ve had cakes like those, but these vendors are amazing, Ella.”
“I’m sure they are. But believe in your Golden Doughnut!”
“I will.”
“What do the other displays look like?”
“Very pretty. All of the cakes are stunning. Wesley and Serena’s is probably the prettiest and coolest. It’s a beaded cake. But only two other finalists are giving away little wedding favors, and neither giveaway has a wow factor. At one table with a gorgeous lace cake there are mints made in little wrappers with the bride and her groom’s names on them. And at a table with a tropical-themed cake, they have beer cozies printed with the couple’s names and wedding date on them.”
“And you have your doughnut wall and a chance to win the Golden Doughnut.”
“Right. Wesley and Serena have a collection of beautiful photos of themselves doing different things, in gorgeous frames. That’s it. But the overall feel to their table is very classic and romantic, more than any of the others.”
“You’re going for the vintage, homestyle look,” said Ella.
“Yes. We’re dealing with doughnuts, after all.”
“Honey, you played this right. I don’t see how you can lose. Even if the other wedding cakes are prettier.”
Greer started feeling hopeful. “I tried really, really hard to make the best of what I’m working with.”
“And I think it will pay off,” said Ella. “Have any of the other brides said anything to you about your display? And your Golden Doughnut shirt?”
“No, but they’re looking nervous. Serena seems a little angry.”
“Well, she can take her anger and stuff it. Ford proposed to you, fair and square, and you had no idea it was coming. And before that, you were willing to present yourself as a partnerless bride, and the audience loved it enough to vote you into the finals. You’ve done nothing wrong. So where’s Ford now?”
“He’s heading my way. He went outside and up and down the line of people waiting to get in. He introduced himself and showed off his shirt.”
Ella laughed. “He’s adorable.”
“He is pretty cute.”
“Seen him naked yet?” Ella asked.
“Hey, now,” said Greer.
“Tell me when you do. Oops, my latest nonna might have heard me say that. She just hit her cane hard on the floor. She pretends to be deaf but only when it suits her. Gotta go.”
Greer said good-bye and hung up right as Kiki opened the doors to the ballroom and the public poured in. The crowd was composed mainly of younger women, but there were some families, too, with small children, and older couples who simply loved love and wanted to check out how other people celebrated weddings.
Greer’s table was besieged immediately.
And the crowd didn’t stop. She got so many entries to win the Golden Doughnut, her ballot box was stuffed to the top. She had to keep pushing votes down. And everyone thanked her over and over for the doughnut wall. They loved it! Little kids beamed when they got to hold their bag with a doughnut of their choice tucked inside. Young women thought the doughnut wall would be a great addition to their wedding receptions, especially when Greer mentioned it would be nice with a coffee bar nearby. She showed them a sign she’d seen on Pinterest that said, WE GO TOGETHER LIKE COFFEE AND DONUTS.
And everyone laughed at the A HOLE LOTTA LOVE sign.
She hardly got to see Ford. He was busy meeting people at the other end of the table, and then, of course, they had to take him away for the blindfolded taste test. Two of the five future spouses guessed their bride’s cake accurately: Wesley and Ford. The other three didn’t, and those brides weren’t very happy because now Serena and Greer’s votes would be doubled.
Greer made eye contact with Serena when both their guys guessed right. Greer clapped, and she grinned at Serena. Serena smiled back but didn’t show her teeth, a telltale sign of a woman not pleased.
Whatever. Greer could only do Greer, and Serena could act however she wanted. And sure, tensions were running high, and a little pique was to be expected when a person was desperate for a dress and someone else wanted the exact same one.
In fact, the other four brides, having seen the success of the Golden Doughnut giveaway, quickly came up with their own. Toni got her friend to bring in a hundred-dollar Target gift card. Carol gave away three months’ worth of yoga lessons at her studio. Lisa offered to bake twelve dozen homemade granola bars, good for freezing, and Serena took off her watch and put it on the table.
“She’s kidding, right?” Macy said when she saw that. She’d arrived late because she’d had to attend a board meeting at Deacon’s nonprofit, the Sustainability Project. “It’s a Rolex.”
“I don’t think she’s kidding.” Greer sighed.
“Maybe it’s a fake,” said Macy.
“I doubt it.” Greer folded her arms and watched her ballot box stay just the way it was. Not a single new vote came in after the Rolex got put out. In fact, two people came over and said they knew just where their ballots were at the top of Greer’s box, and they wanted to take them back. Of course, she let them, and they brought them straight over to Serena’s table and stuffed them in her ballot box.
The votes would be tallied by Henny and a representative from Channel Four a half hour before the event ended.
“Please tell me Kiki isn’t involved in the ballot counting,” Greer asked Henny, when Henny came over to check on her.
La Di Da’s manager rolled her eyes. “No, thank goodness. But she told me to tell you she’s here to help you in any way.”
“You mean all the future brides, right?”
“No,” Henny said, eyeing Greer over her spectacles. “Just you.”
Greer wished she had on her reading glasses so she could eye Henny right back. “I don’t like what you’re implying, Henny. Kiki and I aren’t in cahoots, I’ll have you know.”
“Sorry.” Henny looked mildly abashed. “I just don’t understand her interest in you in particular.”
“Pierre wants Kiki to intimidate me out of the competition. Her offering to help me is something you might hear a goon say in The Godfather to someone who’s about to get axed.”
“Oh, dear.” Henny fingered her pearls. “Pierre would do that?”
“Henny. Please. You know him as well as I do. Of course, he would. He doesn’t like me being in the contest. We have a history, you see. We could never find him a match at Two Love Lane.”
Henny gave her a tentative smile. “I feel for you.” She paused. “He’s not easy to get along with. Thank you for being honest with me and for bringing such interest and enthusiasm to this competition. You certainly know how to shake things up.”
“You’re welcome,” Greer said.
At the end of the evening, she gave away the Golden Doughnut to a Mr. Percival Remount of Folly Beach.
“I’ll never eat it,” he said, and then changed his mind and took a bite out of it right then and there, whic
h made Greer love him.
She also lost the bake-off to Serena.
Right after Henny made the announcement, someone started playing Queen’s Greatest Hits over speakers hidden in the walls somewhere.
At their table Serena and Wesley hugged each other hard, but while they were hugging, Serena peeked at Greer over Wesley’s shoulder.
Greer waved.
Serena squeezed her eyes shut and kept hugging Wesley.
“I hope it was worth losing a Rolex,” Greer yelled to Ford over the music.
“At least we got second place,” Ford yelled back. “You told me you had to get that to have a chance to win.”
“Right,” said Greer, and tugged on his hand, then kissed him with almost everything in her—she held something back—but it was still way better than hugging like Serena and Wesley. And everyone watched.
“Hurrah!” her two favorite little kids yelled, the ones who’d visited her at Macy’s garden shed. Their mommy tried hard to cover their eyes.
Greer took note and stopped immediately. Ford would understand.
“Let’s dance!” she said. “Another One Bites the Dust” was playing. The little kids danced with her, and so did some teens and grownups. Ford walked away to give a party favor bag of doughnuts to an old lady in a wheelchair.
Macy came running over and started dancing next to Greer. “You’re not at all like yourself. Ever since we got back from The Price Is Right. You’re making out. Dancing. Smiling way more than usual. Did you have any vodka before you got here?”
“No,” said Greer. “I’m just having fun. I hope you are, too.”
“It was wonderful,” said Macy. “But aren’t you worried about not winning the gown?”
“I—” Greer shut her mouth and opened it again. “Of course, I am.” But then she smiled. She couldn’t help it. She was thinking about Ford in his “Win the Golden Doughnut” shirt. He looked so hot! She hoped he’d wear it always, just to remember today. And if they didn’t get to sleep together soon, she was going to die of frustration.
“Greer.” Macy snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Greer!”
“What?”
A Wedding At Two Love Lane Page 17