by Robyn Carr
Colin and Patrick arrived in Virgin River on the twenty-third and did a little grumbling about Maureen’s proposed adventure, even suggesting once or twice that she’d officially lost her mind completely. But early on the twenty-fourth George paid his first visit to Luke’s house, and it didn’t take them long to begin joking about this nutty idea, this idea that no one was going to take with complete seriousness until certain things happened—like the sale of the condo, the purchase of an RV, the solidification of these crazy plans. The quick acceptance of George came not so much because of George’s natural wit and charm, but because Maureen was so different when he was around. He gentled her; her smile was almost girlish, and the Enforcer had turned into a woman in love. After a couple of hours of general comradery, Colin shook George’s hand and said, “My man, we should have hired you years ago to soften up the old girl.”
“I heard that,” Maureen said from the kitchen.
The next day when everyone was milling around in Luke’s house Rosie burst through the door, coat open and curls flying. She looked around at all the people, hunting for her grandmother. When she spotted her in the kitchen, she squealed and ran to her. “Gramma Moween! Mommy and Daddy is habbing a wedding! And then Daddy’s going to Iwack! It’s bery important!”
Dead silence hung in the air. The men in the living room all slowly stood.
Maureen smoothed Rosie’s curls. “Is that right?” she asked.
“Uh-huh. And before he goes to Iwack, we’re getting us a cawendar and I will make a X on ebry day till he comes home. He’s going in his plane—’member his plane? The big plane? It’s a bery important job!” She stopped talking for a moment and looked around at the room full of people. Softly, she asked her grandmother, “Is that the uncles?”
“They are,” Maureen said. “And very anxious to meet you.” She laughed softly. “You always enter a room with flair, Rosie, I’ll give you that.”
The door opened and Franci preceded Sean into the house. They took in the still, silent crowd, Rosie with her arms locked around Maureen’s neck. Sean smiled. “Well, I guess you got the news,” he said. He hooked an arm around Franci’s shoulders. “Having a daughter like Rosie is better than a town crier. If you can stick around a few extra days, there’s going to be a wedding.”
On December 27 there was a notice on the door of the bar that said that Jack’s would be closed at 5:00 p.m. for a private party. Paige and Preacher worked all day to prepare a wonderful prime-rib dinner with all the trimmings. Preacher worked his art on a beautiful, two-tiered white wedding cake. Maureen and Shelby were at the bar promptly at five, putting out centerpieces they’d made themselves—pine boughs strung with holly and white roses. The Riordan brothers made a special run into the valley for wine and champagne to add to the bar stock, while Ellie and Noah Baldwin showed up with rolls of wide, silver ribbon, white paper doves and strands of small twinkling lights to decorate the bar and buffet table. The bar was transformed for a wedding reception.
At a little before 7:00 p.m. people started to gather around outside the bar, bundled up in their finest outdoor suits, coats and capes. By the time Jack turned on the Christmas tree lights at exactly seven, there were sixty people holding small lit candles.
With precision timing, Noah took his place in front of Virgin River’s very special tree—decorated in red, white, blue and gold, adorned with military unit patches. He had his Bible in hand, standing before a formidable group of Riordans, friends and neighbors. George held Maureen’s hand and Vivian looped her arm through Carl’s. For this unusual wedding there were no chairs; the ceremony wouldn’t be long and the setting was perfect. They made a wide semicircle around the tree, about five rows deep.
First out of the bar doors came Shelby and Luke; Luke wore his wedding suit while Shelby was decked out in a lovely new mauve-colored knee-length coat with black fur trim and black boots. She carried a bouquet of holly and white roses. Next came the bride and groom and flower girl. Franci wore a beautiful full-length white coat with white fur collar and cuffs and a matching fur hat that completely covered her super short hair; she carried a slightly larger bouquet of holly and roses. On her feet were white high-heeled boots. Rosie had a matching short coat and little white boots. Sean was resplendent in his air force dress blues, complete with hat.
Holding hands with Rose, the bride and groom walked down from the porch, over to the front of the magnificent tree, and stood between Shelby and Luke. They bent, one at a time, to put a little kiss on Rosie’s cheeks before she was moved to the side to stand with her aunt Shelby. And that left Sean and Franci facing each other, holding each other’s hands in front of a tree that was decorated to pay homage to the men and women who were in service to their country.
Right on cue, a light snow began to fall, the flakes glittering down to the ground in candlelight.
Noah said, “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here together to join a very special man, woman and child in holy matrimony….”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am deeply grateful for the continued and dedicated early readings and fantastic suggestions made by my friend Michelle Mazzanti of the Henderson District Public Libraries. I count on you more than you’ll ever know.
Kate Bandy and Sharon Lampert, my dear friends, my right arm and my left, thank you for early reads, traveling with me on book business and staking out bookstores to hand sell books.
Colleen Gleason, you scary-smart writer you, my deep appreciation for critiquing, brainstorming, reading early drafts and making the most fantastic suggestions.
I have the most wonderful team assisting and keeping me straight, giving moral and professional support, and I’d be so lost without you. Thank you Nancy Berland of the Berland PR Agency, Liza Dawson of Liza Dawson Associates, Inc., and Valerie Gray, Executive Editor of MIRA Books. You are true goddesses.
Thanks to Jeanne Devlin of the Berland Agency and Cissy Hartley of Writerspace.com. I reap the benefits of your many hours of creative work. I am so lucky to have you in my camp.
It is with humble appreciation I’d like to thank the entire Harlequin team. I know that I have the fun job and you do all the heavy lifting and I am profoundly grateful. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this fabulous opportunity to spend every day in Virgin River.
Thanks to the men and women who gather at the virtual Jack’s Bar online—your enthusiasm is often the bright light on a cloudy day. You’re like family and I enjoy your company so much. Special thanks to Ing Cruz, the brain power behind Jack’s—you are a gem!
And finally, to the thousands of readers who have written with comments and suggestions, with your personal stories and encouragement, I am indebted to you. I take each e-mail very seriously and you’ll never know how much it means to me that you take the time to write.
Bless you.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4763-9
ANGEL’S PEAK
Copyright © 2010 by Robyn Carr.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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