A Cottage Wedding

by Leigh Duncan

  She had to admit, though, the story was intriguing. A real Heart’s Landing love for the ages. Did Jason know it was a lie? Was that the reason for the streak of vulnerability she felt wafting from his wide shoulders? Or did it have to do with something else entirely?

  She palmed one hand to her face. In all the excitement of her arrival, she’d forgotten the message she was supposed to deliver. She cleared her throat. “Georgia at the train station said to say hello. She thought I was someone else at first. She asked me to tell you she’d let you know as soon as Clarissa arrives.”

  “I didn’t realize.” Jason’s foot hesitated the tiniest bit before it landed on the next step. “I’ll have to give Georgia a call. She has enough to do. She doesn’t need to waste her time.”

  Jason’s abrupt dismissal tingled her reporter’s antenna. “Who’s Clarissa anyway? A friend?” A girlfriend? Not that it was any of her business.

  “I thought so, but not anymore.” He turned to her. “I might as well tell you. You’ll probably find out anyway. Clarissa and I had been seeing each other for quite some time. She was supposed to be here this week to help with the evaluation. We were going to perform together at the Smith wedding on Sunday, and she had the lead part in the pageant next week. But business kept her in Boston, and we’ve had a, uh, falling out. My cousin Evelyn will take her place.”

  The intensity of his gaze sharpened, but she only shrugged. One of the most important aspects of putting on a large event like a wedding was the ability to roll with the punches. Something always went wrong. The wedding cake tumbled off its pedestal. The bouquet wilted. The train ripped away from the bride’s gown. A good staff addressed the problems with no one being the wiser. They served cupcakes adorned with tiny sparklers. They tossed the brown blossoms in the trash and had the bride carry her family Bible down the aisle. They reached for an emergency sewing kit and repaired the errant fabric. Being able to cope with a change in plans was an asset, not a detraction, and Jason’s backup plan sounded solid.

  “I’m sorry she cancelled on you,” she murmured while he waited for her to say something more. “Sometimes there’s no telling who’s going to let you down.”

  “Yeah. Better to find out now than later, I guess.” He paused at the landing. “I suspect she was just waiting for the right opportunity to break things off. It’s true what they say—long distance relationships are impossible to maintain.” He straightened. “The upside is that with Clarissa out of the picture, I’ll have more time to devote to my responsibilities around here.”

  Tara had to give the guy credit. When she’d discovered the numbers of dozens of other women in her boyfriend’s phone, when she’d learned he hadn’t even listed her as one of his Favorites, she’d cut that relationship off at the knees. It had been the right thing to do, but it had still taken two boxes of tissues and a vat of ice cream before she was over him. Jason’s breakup had to sting, too, but he wasn’t moping around like someone who’d recently had his heart broken. Quite the opposite. She doubted he’d have mentioned it at all if it hadn’t been for Georgia. Was that a guy’s perspective? Or had he sensed something wrong in the relationship all along? Whatever it was, when she looked up, he’d moved on. She followed him into the comfortable seating area that filled a cozy nook on the floor below the attic.

  In a gilt frame, a large picture mirror hung over a narrow table. The strategically placed counter made a convenient place for storing items ready to take downstairs. Books, photos, and a knitting basket gave the area a personal feel.

  “Originally, this floor was reserved for guests,” Jason said. “Once we opened the Cottage to the public, the family moved to the third floor. My quarters are on this side.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at a crooked corridor. “Evelyn’s are on the other.”

  Tara glanced down a hall that seemed to stretch forever. “Do you use the entire space?” A dozen apartments the size of hers in New York could fit into each area, with room to spare.

  Her question drew another healthy chuckle from Jason. “No. Most of the rooms are closed off to help keep expenses down. You wouldn’t believe what it costs to heat this place in the winter. Summers are almost as bad, although this year, we’ve been lucky. It hasn’t gotten too hot yet.”

  She’d noticed that on her way in from town. Thanks to an onshore breeze, temperatures outside had hovered near a comfortable seventy degrees. Regina had warned her that, because the short summers tended to be mild, many public places in Rhode Island didn’t offer central air-conditioning. But the Captain’s Cottage did. She was glad. For herself and for the women who chose this venue for their ceremonies. There was nothing worse than a testy, over-heated bride on her wedding day.

  “We reserve one room for guests. We can open the others any time, of course. There just doesn’t seem much point, considering Evelyn and I are the only ones left in the family.”

  It seemed a shame that after generations of Hearts had given the mansion such tender, loving care, there might not be anyone else to preserve the family’s legacy. She flipped a page in her notebook. “What’ll happen to the Captain’s Cottage after the two of you are gone? Assuming, of course, neither of you marry and have children.”

  “I wouldn’t rule that out for Evelyn.” Jason’s lips slanted to one side. “But it doesn’t look like marriage is in the hand I was dealt.”

  She hardly thought that likely. Why, she could name a dozen women who’d jump at the chance to go out with a smart, educated owner of a successful business. Toss in the fact that, with his regal bearing and winning smile, Jason was easily one of the most handsome men she’d ever met, and she’d bet once the word of his newly acquired single status got out, every unattached woman for miles around would find some excuse or another to stop by the Captain’s Cottage.

  Her focus had drifted dangerously afield. She reeled it in and listened carefully to the rest of his explanation.

  “Unless there are heirs, the estate will pass to the town of Heart’s Landing. I assume they’ll continue to run the Captain’s Cottage as a wedding venue as long as it breaks even.”

  An awareness in Jason’s gray eyes mirrored her own growing concern. How long the estate remained profitable would depend in large part on her opinion of his home town. The weight of that responsibility pressed down on her as they descended to the second floor, where she spied her luggage waiting in the hallway. The sound of a vacuum buzzed through the closed door.

  “It sounds as though they’re almost finished with your rooms. That’s good. I’d hate to inconvenience you any more than necessary.”

  “Please. It hasn’t been a bother. I’ve enjoyed the chance to get familiar with the Captain’s Cottage. You make a good tour guide.”

  At the compliment, a slight pink flush crept up Jason’s neck. “I’ve given you our largest apartment, the Azalea Suite. I hope you’ll be comfortable there, but if there’s anything thing you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “If I could get the Wi-Fi password, that’d be awesome.” She prepared to write it down.

  The rosy tinge on Jason’s neck crept an inch higher. He frowned. “We don’t offer service up here. Just downstairs. You’re welcome to use the dining room or the library any time you’d like. Both of those have a more than adequate signal.”

  No internet service in her room? That seemed odd, and she told him so.

  Jason opened the door to a nearby suite. The first room featured a plush sofa, low lighting, and a wet bar. Beyond it, a wide sleigh bed stood in a luxuriously appointed space. “Brides use these rooms to prep for their weddings. After the ceremony and reception, the newlyweds spend the night. We took a lot of surveys before we eliminated TVs and internet service on the upper floors. Our couples consistently didn’t want their brand-new spouses to get lost online. If they absolutely have to have service, they use the hotspot capability on their smart phones.”

  The
explanation made sense, though she’d wished she’d known about the restrictions ahead of time. If she had, she would’ve upgraded her phone before she left New York. She’d been hoping for a desk where she could spread out her work without worrying about someone barging in on her and reading her notes. A place of her own. Behind a door, preferably one with a sturdy lock. The lack of service wasn’t a deal breaker, though. She’d make do. She’d just have to be careful not to leave her work out where anyone could stumble across it.

  For a while she and Jason wandered up and down corridors, poking their heads into suites that bore the names of flowers and had decors to match. The smallest, The Tea Rose, made up for size with sumptuous furnishings. Gold-and-pink brocade topped the antique bed. Flocked print covered the walls. Airy and bright, it had a decidedly feminine appeal.

  Stargazer lilies adorned the next apartment. Opulent purple asters, another. She tried to keep track of the number of massive claw-footed tubs but lost count somewhere after six. Each bath had been outfitted with heated towel dispensers and an array of lotions and perfumes, all the comforts of a five-star hotel.

  “I’d be happy to stay in any of these. They’re so spacious and inviting,” she told her host. The grateful smile she received in return sent an unfamiliar shimmy through her middle.

  On the ground floor, Jason treated her to a behind-the-scenes look at what it took to put on a big wedding. From the covered awning that promised to shield vendors and their wares from the weather to a wide incline that led to a roomy staging area, no detail had been overlooked. An Aga cook stove stood alongside the latest in kitchen gadgetry in an immense kitchen where the gleaming granite countertops and racks of copper-clad kettles would make her dad green with envy. She opened a pantry door and stared at shelves that were better stocked than some grocery stores.

  “How does anyone make a sandwich in a place like this?” she asked. Which of the forty drawers of cutlery and tools held knives and forks? How would she ever find a loaf of bread?

  Jason must have noticed her consternation. “Not to worry,” he assured with his usual, unflappable charm. “Sweet rolls and two kinds of breakfast casseroles are served in the dining room each morning. We put out sandwiches and fruit at noon, cookies and snacks in mid-afternoon. We have a full-time chef on our payroll and at least one cook on duty around the clock.” He smiled. “You wouldn’t believe how many middle-of-the-night requests we fill for strawberries and whipped cream. If you want anything special, all you have to do is ask.”

  Judging from the size of the pantry and the side-by-side Sub-Zeros she’d spotted in the kitchen, Tara doubted she’d ever go hungry.

  They moved on, peering into a series of rooms that could handle wedding parties ranging from an intimate gathering of immediate family to stately affairs for three hundred or more. Each had its own unique features. A hand-carved mantle in one. A breathtaking view of the ocean in another. On the veranda, the scent of roses floated thickly between wide columns covered with climbing vines. Just as she’d thought, the larger of the two ballrooms was being prepped for a party.

  “A cocktail hour in your honor. Most of the local business owners will attend. They can’t wait to meet you. It’ll serve as the kickoff for the next ten days. Tomorrow night at six.”

  She noted the time. Glad she’d packed a few dressy dresses, she nodded.

  They ended up at the library, where leather-bound books crowded a small table. “The Captain’s journals and ship’s logs,” Jason explained.

  Her fingers itched to begin leafing through them. As much as she’d enjoyed her tour of the Cottage, as much as she’d found Heart’s Landing—and her host—to be utterly charming, she couldn’t afford to let personal feelings stand in the way of doing her job. Her career rested on Regina’s orders to debunk the myth of Captain Thaddeus. Unless she wanted to scrap any possibility of getting ahead at Weddings Today, she had to do what she’d set out to do.

  “Mind if I stay here for a while?” she asked.

  When Jason readily agreed, she settled down at one of the tables and took the first journal off the pile. Sure she’d find exactly what she needed in the old ship’s logs, she began reading.

  Chapter Six

  “You say this Tara person showed up a full day ahead of schedule? Why is she here? For the preliminary legwork or something?” A potent mix of disbelief and shock swirled in Greg Thomas’s voice.

  “It sounds as though she’s handling the entire review.” With the phone pressed against his ear, Jason flicked one end of the pen lying on his desk. Tip, clicker, tip, clicker. The pen spun in a dizzying circle.

  “Ms. Charm, when will she arrive then?”

  “I don’t think she’s coming.” Jason resisted the urge to sigh. In the past fifteen minutes, he and the mayor had covered this ground twice already.

  “At all?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Jason brushed his fingers through hair that would be due for a trim soon. His plan to catch the mayor up on all that had transpired since Tara’s unexpected appearance in his office yesterday kept wandering from the script. The man stubbornly clung to the original plan. “Regina begged off. The person she sent instead—Tara Stewart—seems nice enough. She’s sharp as a tack and has done her research. She knows more about Heart’s Landing than she lets on.”

  The mayor sneezed. “Excuse me. Allergies. The wife and I spent yesterday picking blackberries.” The conversation waited a beat while Greg gave his nose a noisy blow. “What do you think is going on?”

  “I’m not sure. If I had to guess, I’d say things could go one of two ways. According to Ms. Stewart, Regina Charm feared that her own experience here in Heart’s Landing might cloud her opinion and is simply giving us the best chance by sending someone impartial in her place.”

  “But you don’t think that’s it?”

  An uncomfortable feeling stirred in Jason’s gut. Someone at Regina’s level should be able to set aside her own prejudices. Since she hadn’t, it seemed far more likely that she’d tasked some innocent young reporter, like Tara, with carrying out her own agenda. Whatever that might be. “I wish I could say I didn’t have my doubts.”

  “Humph,” said the mayor, finally coming around to accept the situation. “I do, too. It’d be bad enough if our ranking slipped. We’d really take a hit if Ms. Stewart goes on the attack.”

  “Tell me about it.” He knew perfectly well what was at stake. Not that he thought for a moment that Tara, with her guileless smile and clear blue eyes, would deliberately set out to destroy the reputation of a town she’d never stepped foot in before yesterday.

  “Well, how’d things go then? You and she got along, didn’t you? Do you think we can trust her?”

  “It’s hard to tell.” Jason refused to sugar-coat things. “We only spent a few hours together. I gave her an in-depth tour of the Cottage. Her response was pretty positive.” To be honest, Tara’s reaction had been more enthusiastic than he’d have expected if she’d been sent here to do a hatchet job. “She seemed genuinely interested in the Cottage’s history. We might have something in common there.” As a child, he’d spent many a snowy winter’s day hidden away in the attic, poring through the Captain’s journals and logs. He’d imagined himself on the deck of the Mary S, battling pirates off the coast and sailing his ship safely through storms and calm seas. In his teens, he’d worked alongside his dad, restoring floors and wainscoting, learning how to preserve the house he’d inherit far sooner than anyone expected. He’d minored in early American History at college, and it was rare that he didn’t read a chapter or two of some historical treatise before he turned out the lights.

  “So you think she’s telling the truth? Oh, hold on a sec.”

  Jason held the ear piece away from his head while the mayor cleared his throat.

  “Okay. You were saying?”

  “It’s a little too e
arly for me to answer that. I barely know the woman.” If the mayor wanted someone to offer some insight into what made Tara Stewart tick, he was asking the wrong person. After all, Jason had known Clarissa for more than two years. Yet, her betrayal had still blindsided him. He’d do well to keep from making that mistake again, for all their sakes.

  “After the tour, then what did she do?”

  “She was intrigued by the library.” The Captain’s Cottage maintained a fine collection of early editions by American authors. Occasionally, one of their guests would suffer a bout of insomnia and wander downstairs in the middle of the night. The next morning, the staff sometimes found them curled up in one of the Queen Anne chairs with an aged copy of Little Women or Emerson’s Essays in their lap.

  “You didn’t take her out to dinner? Did you have other plans?”

  “I offered. She declined,” he answered shortly. The nerve of Greg, thinking he wouldn’t properly care for a guest in his house, whether she showed up a day early or not.

  “Don’t get your feathers in a dander. I didn’t mean to imply anything. My head feels like it’s full of cotton.”

  Jason took a breath. “Sorry. Guess I’m more on edge about this than I thought.” He gave his pen another push and watched it spin. The next week was bound to take a toll on everyone in town. He’d do well to keep that in mind. “The rain was coming down pretty hard about then, and she said she’d rather not venture out. We ordered in from Bow Tie Pasta.” Known for its fine Italian cuisine, the restaurant had delivered enough lasagna, penne, and salad for an army. “Evelyn set everything up buffet-style in the dining room. We looked over the agenda while we ate and made a few adjustments.” Tara’s early arrival meant shifting the schedule forward a day. Afterward, she hadn’t lingered, but had retreated to the library. She was still reading when he’d gone upstairs.