New Year's Wedding

by Muriel Jensen

  Grady encouraged him again to sit. “I think she was at first,” he said, also speaking quietly, “but her brother and sister don’t care. None of us does, so she’s getting over it.” He took the chair at a right angle to the sofa.

  “Good. She works very hard at what she does and has never been one to think of herself as better than anybody. I was so happy for her that Jack found her.”

  “We all had a great time in Texas.”

  “Yes, Cassie told me you were there, too.”

  “I’d just been dumped by a girlfriend and Ben...” he said with a philosophical shrug. “He’d gone there to talk to Corie...” That was true. Poorly detailed, but true. “He’s my partner in the police department here. He felt sorry for me, needed help with something and invited me to Texas.”

  “Cassie tells me she fainted in your arms when she got there.”

  “And that will always be one of my fondest memories. She hadn’t eaten anything before her flight out of Ireland and, despite how tough she is, she was pretty fragile.”

  Donald nodded, watching him but not saying anything, so he went on. “You seem to know all about how we got here. Amazing plane, by the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I think she’s enjoying Beggar’s Bay. She said you’re thinking of retiring.”

  “I am. My work was fun for a long time, but now I need a less hectic pace.” He seemed to think back. “I remember loving Beggar’s Bay when I lived here with Cassie, Corie. And Jack’s mom.”

  “Do you have somewhere to stay or would you like to stay with us? I’m sure Cassie would love that.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  There was a moment’s silence while Donald’s expression changed to one of regret. “Cassie’s mother was a lovely woman when she was sober, but, for whatever reason, she couldn’t manage to live that way very long. Even for her kids or for me.” He looked into Grady’s eyes. “Are you wondering how a drug counselor could so betray a client by falling in love with her?”

  Grady leaned back. “I don’t feel qualified to judge anybody. And, as a cop, I see a lot of things that defy understanding or explanation. Life’s tricky.”

  “We just fell in love. For a while it was pretty great. She stopped using and I got to know her wonderful kids. Unfortunately it lasted just long enough for Cassie to be born, then the stress of having to cope with real life and a new baby did her in and she started using again.

  “When Cassie was six months old, I told Charlene I was leaving and taking the baby with me. She called her advocate at Adult and Family Services and put on a great front of being the perfect woman and mother, and I was denied full custody.

  “I left. Moved to Maine. I learned Charlene had killed her boyfriend, and the kids were being sent back to their fathers. So, I did get my daughter, though under sad circumstances.”

  Grady decided he liked Donald Chapman. He was mistaken about what had happened then, but it wasn’t Grady’s place to clarify that. “She often talks about what a happy childhood she had with you. In fact, she feels guilty about it because Jack and Corie had such a hard time for a while.”

  Grady’s mother appeared with two plates holding slices of her orange-cranberry bread. He stared at her for a minute, thinking she looked like someone else’s mother. His had never been this fashionable. She’d taken the coat off to reveal a red sweater and black slacks. The sweater had a fancy collar with wooden buttons that seemed to button nothing. Interesting concept.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Grady stood to pull out the rocker she usually preferred so that she could sit with her back to the fireplace. “This bread sustains the Beggar’s Bay police and fire departments during the holidays,” he told Donald.

  “I can’t sit yet,” Diane said. “I’m supposed to find out if you want her caramelly coffee or the usual stuff you drink.”

  Donald’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me she brought that dulce de leche stuff with her?”

  “She claims she never travels without it.”

  “Then, I’ll have some. I’ve learned to like it, too.”

  Grady pulled his mother back. “You sit and entertain Donald—”

  “Don,” Donald corrected. “Please.”

  “Don, with stories about Beggar’s Bay. He lived here for a while. I’ll help Cassie with the coffee.”

  He noticed that she smiled shyly at Don. The world was filled with wonders.

  * * *

  CASSIE UTTERED A little cry of surprise when she was suddenly spun around and inclined sideways. She gripped the arms that suspended her. Grady’s. “What are you doing?” she demanded on a giggle.

  “It’s called a dip,” he said gravely.

  “And why didn’t you execute this dip on the dance floor earlier?”

  “There wasn’t room. And I think it goes with the tango.”

  Still hanging from his arms, she reminded gravely, “But we haven’t tangoed.”

  He brought her up swiftly, theatrically, so that they were face-to-face, their lips barely an inch from each other’s. Her hair had fallen from its artful arrangement atop her head and was in disarray all around her.

  “We have tangoed around each other,” he said with a deliberately devilish quirk to his eyebrow, “since the day I brought you here. I’m tired of it.”

  She couldn’t breathe as all her body’s processes halted. But her senses worked. He smelled of that spicy aftershave he always used, held her with a strength that was exhilarating while making her feel completely safe, and he was a sight to behold—a hank of old-gold hair fallen onto his eyebrow, pale eyes with their dark rims completely focused on her, lips firmly together as though preparing to make a statement. He said, “On New Year’s Day, immediately after the wedding, we’re going to figure out when I’m going to visit you in Paris. I’m wild about you, Cassie.” He looked into her eyes then crushed her to him. “Meanwhile, your dad’s going to hang out with us for the wedding.”

  She hugged him back fiercely, so happy he didn’t mind accommodating yet another of her family, ecstatic that he wanted to visit her. “Oh, thank you, Grady. He can have the loft and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “No, he can have my room.”

  As he placed a hand to her cheek and kissed her, she felt that every ounce of his energy was entangled with every ounce of hers. But a little cautionary corner of her brain said to her, “Wild about you” isn’t the same as “I love you,” is it?

  She reasoned that she wouldn’t want him to say “I love you” if he didn’t mean it.

  If he’s wild about you, why doesn’t he mean it?

  She turned off the little voice in favor of living the moment. This was almost the end of the old year, and the end of her old life. Well, she might have to do a lot of the same things, but she’d be different inside. She had a father, a brother, a sister. And a man she was not afraid to admit she loved.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ON NEW YEAR’S EVE, Cassie’s call to Denise confirmed that the flowers were on their way. She took the rest of the ribbon to the florist at Beggar’s Bouquet. Denise showed her the small basket whose handle she would wind with ribbon for the flower girl, and told her to try not to worry, that despite the shortage of time, she’d done hundreds of weddings and all would be well.

  Cassie stopped at Robertson’s Party Supplies and bought napkins, paper cups, two sizes of paper plates, and plastic wine glasses. She rented a couple of white table covers.

  In an uncharacteristically edgy mood, she went grocery shopping. Judging by the snack trays she’d prepared the other day from the contents of Grady’s fridge, and his preference for cherry fritters, she guessed non-fat, gluten-free and dairy-free were not priorities. She was enjoying having time to cook.

  She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, unless i
t was Grady’s insistence that he was “wild about” her. She tried to be cheered by the fact that the details of the wedding were under control, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the flimsy nature of that declaration. The kiss had felt very genuine, and he wanted to visit her in Paris. He even seemed pleased that she’d be coming back to Beggar’s Bay to stay. She was in love—even if it had only been a week. The time between Christmas and New Year’s Day was charmed, alive with miracles and magic. But was he in love, too?

  She understood that his inclination toward realism was hard to fight, particularly because of who she was and how she lived.

  She was the woman who’d made him leave the Texas Christmas get-together early, who’d invited herself into his life by having nowhere to go when they got to Beggar’s Bay. She was the one who’d scared him with her reaction to the elevator and turned his home into a wedding warehouse. She’d put him on top of a ladder then awakened him in the middle of the night with her own desire.

  He’d known that however much she wanted and needed him, she’d change his life forever. And he wouldn’t want that.

  She’d faced that realization several times over the past few days, but it seemed to put her in a particularly dark place today. It took her to the past.

  She knew with certainty that it was impossible to make someone love you. Her own mother, for example. She didn’t remember her, but she knew that drugs had been more important to Charlene than her own children. And some of her father’s girlfriends had been kind to her, but others had resented her presence in his life and hadn’t cared to get to know her.

  She’d met some wonderful men while modeling, but none she’d considered interesting enough, or desirable enough, for closer contact. Some had wanted her body, her money, or to share her spotlight. Fortunately she’d been clever enough to see through them.

  There was nothing false about Grady, but it seemed hard for him to believe the same was true about her.

  She turned onto the road that led to Grady’s home, feeling grim. It wasn’t like her to inhabit a bad mood for any length of time, but it had been an unusual week. She had to cut herself some slack.

  She waved at the FedEx deliveryman who had just left Grady’s driveway. She wondered what had arrived and found she didn’t really care. Her mood was darkening further.

  That was probably why the sight of the young man in the long raincoat who’d been watching her two days ago made suppressed anger rise out of her like shrapnel out of a detonated bomb. She screeched the truck to a stop as she spotted him looking out from behind a tree. He had the grace to look embarrassed as he took her photo.

  She ran out of the truck and straight for him. He didn’t seem to know what to do. He held the camera in front of him, apparently thinking it would give him some protection. But all the years of having to be polite to the paparazzi so they wouldn’t take an ugly photo of her, or having to tolerate their pesky presence so they wouldn’t report she was a harridan, came to the fore. Well, that was no longer a concern. The whole world thought she was a dragon. What did it matter now?

  He watched her come at him, his mouth in a startled O as he clutched the camera to his chest. She yanked it from him and threw it to the ground. “You’ll get out of here if you know what’s good for you!” she shouted, backing him up against the tree he’d hidden behind.

  He was slightly shorter than she was and clearly so astonished that he didn’t fight back. “I’m here for my sister’s wedding and if I see you there...” She smacked both hands on his shoulders to convince him that she spoke the truth. “I will personally beat you with your own camera!”

  “But I...” he tried to say, sidling away from the tree. She didn’t listen. She shoved him backward again. Surprised, he tripped and rolled down the slope until a fallen tree stopped him. She slid down sideways and tried to stop before she hit him, but had too much momentum. She fell on top of him and they screamed together.

  “I want you gone!” she yelled at him, sitting up and ripping leaves from her hair and shoulders. She grabbed the lapels of his coat and shook him. “Nothing and no one is going to spoil this for my sister and my family! No one!” She scrambled to her knees and tried to yank him up, too, but he was too heavy.

  “Miss Chapman!” he said, his voice a little shrill and desperate. “I—”

  “I don’t want to hear it, you camera monkey!” She tried to pull him up again, and he pushed himself against the log with one hand while trying to dislodge her hand on his coat with the other.

  * * *

  GRADY WAS PAYING for two coffees at the cart near the edge of town when he heard Ben shout his name. He turned and saw Ben’s furious beckoning. Great. His mocha was going to get cold again. What was it this time? He wasn’t going into the blackberry bushes again. It cost him thirty dollars to get his uniform cleaned and free of stickers. And he was truly sick and tired of dealing with petty disputes. Why couldn’t people just learn to get along, already? Because it was a challenging world and if you didn’t take a fighting stance, the other guy would hit you first.

  Cassie would hate that philosophy, but he knew it to be true. He slapped lids on the cups and ran back to the car, hot coffee bouncing through the drinking holes and burning his hand.

  “What?” he demanded of Ben. “Traffic accident? Domestic?”

  “Um...seems to be an assault.” Ben got back in the car, secured his belt and started it up. Grady placed their coffees in the console’s holder and buckled up.

  “On the docks?”

  “No.”

  Grady turned to look at Ben. He was being deliberately evasive as he backed out of the parking spot and started up Black Bear Ridge Road.

  “Where?” he asked. There wasn’t much up this road. He knew that because he lived at the end of it. “The crew building the assisted-living facility?”

  “No.” Ben shot him a glance. “Dispatch gave me your address.”

  “What? No one’s home. Cassie had errands to run and her dad’s driving around with my mom.”

  “Well, it sounds as though Cassie’s now home and beating the crap out of some photographer. A FedEx truck driver called it in.”

  “Oh, God.”

  On one level he couldn’t imagine that. On another he knew her to be full of surprises.

  Ben screeched to a halt just before Grady’s house. The FedEx truck had pulled off the road and the driver was pointing down the slope to the creek.

  Grady jumped out of the car and saw that Cassie was indeed slapping someone around near the bottom of the slope. Right off the road beside him, he saw a camera lying in several pieces atop a fern.

  He crab-walked down the slope, Ben right behind him. Cassie seemed to be trying to pull the man to his feet but she didn’t quite have the muscle, and the man was scrabbling in the mud, trying to fight her off. Both of them were filthy.

  Grady reached for Cassie’s arm and was rewarded with a backhand to his shin and then, as he leaned over, an elbow to his throat.

  “Cassidy!” he shouted.

  The action stopped as though a video had frozen. She looked up at him in complete shock, mud smeared across her face and in her hair. “What are you doing home?” she demanded.

  “We got a call that you were assaulting someone,” he said, caught between dark amusement and disbelief.

  “I am!” she said, pulling herself together. She gave the man lying in shock on the ground a fist to his ribs.

  He groaned and curled into a fetal position. “Miss Chapman, please listen!”

  “That’s enough, Cassie.” Grady put both hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet while Ben lent the other man a hand up. Grady had to put himself between them to prevent Cassie from landing another blow.

  “The paparazzi are not going to ruin Corie’s wedding!” she shouted, reaching around Grady to stab an a
ccusatory finger in the photographer’s direction. “He’s out of here if I have to put him in his car myself!”

  The man in question was caked in mud from head to toe and all over his elegant coat. There was a scratch on his face and his hands were bloody, as though he’d landed a punch.

  “Did you hit her?” Grady demanded of the man, turning to Cassie to look her over. She was muddy, but didn’t look injured.

  The man appeared exhausted. “No, I didn’t. She stepped on my hand.”

  “Where’s your car?” Ben asked.

  “I don’t have one,” the man replied, trying to brush off his coat but succeeding only in getting his hands even muddier. “We came in a cab.”

  “You and the other paparazzi?”

  Sighing heavily, the man shifted his weight and replanted his stance. “I’m not a photographer. I’m a lawyer. A law student, actually. Oliver Browning.”

  “He’s lying!” Cassie accused. “He has a camera.”

  “It’s Mrs. Manning’s camera.”

  The Manning name stopped all of them. Cassie’s eyebrows drew together. She and her siblings had all once been Mannings, but none of them used that name now. Jack was a Palmer, Corie’s last name was Ochoa and about to change to Palmer, and Cassie’s last name was Chapman. “What do you mean? Who is Mrs. Manning?”

  He shrugged inside his coat as though trying to realign his battered body. “Eleanor Manning, my client,” he said. “Your grandmother.”

  * * *

  “I...DON’T HAVE a grandmother,” Cassie said weakly.

  Oliver nodded, studying her with caution. “Yes, you do. She and your grandfather lost track of your mother when you were little. She only just found you when she saw you in the news. But I should let her tell you about it. I left her by the house. She wanted photos of your meeting her for the first time, and I heard you coming. I figured it had to be you since you’re the last house on the road. So I got behind the tree to get a candid shot.” He put the back of his hand to the scratches on his face and just held it there. “Not such a great idea as it turned out.”