by Amanda Cabot
“I didn’t expect to see you before the wedding,” Blake said, his lips curving into a smile as he gave his friend a bear hug. “I suspect you have a few other things on your mind.”
“One or two. I still can’t believe this is happening.” Greg glanced at his watch, as if calculating the minutes until he would be wed. “Wait until you meet Kate. She’s one of a kind.”
“As are you.” Blake paused, wondering whether to continue. Curiosity trumped discretion. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but you look different. It’s not that I wouldn’t recognize you, but something has changed, and it looks like it’s important.”
Greg nodded. “You’re not mistaken. I feel different in many ways. Two years ago if anyone had told me I’d sell Sys=Simpl and buy a resort, I’d have laughed them out of the room. Now I know this is where I’m meant to be.”
“Getting married.” Blake was still reeling over that particular piece of news. The Greg he’d known had been the quintessential geek: a brilliant software designer but awkward around women. This Greg appeared both happy and self-assured.
Greg nodded again. “Kate’s made a big difference in my life. And believe it or not, my dad’s going to be my best man.”
The news that Greg had moved to the Hill Country and was getting married had surprised Blake; this announcement shocked him. Though Greg had never shared details, Blake knew that his relationship with his father had been rocky. “You are different,” he said softly.
“Thanks to God and a good woman, I am. It’s an unbeatable combination. You ought to try it.”
Blake was still thinking about Greg’s words five minutes later when his friend left the cabin, saying he’d see him at the church. God and a good woman. No doubt about it, it was an unbeatable combination, at least for Greg. God was already a vital part of Blake’s life. As for the second part of that equation, he was still waiting for the perfect woman to appear. When his father had had the father/son birds and bees discussion with him, he’d cautioned Blake not to be in a hurry to choose a wife. “Wait until you’re sure she’s the right one,” Dad had advised. More than twenty years later, Blake was still waiting.
He walked to the picture window in the living area and stared into the distance, admiring the small lake that he’d seen from the hilltop before he’d descended into Firefly Valley. Although fully half of the cabins at Rainbow’s End were nestled among the trees, the one that would be Blake’s temporary home was lakefront property. When Marisa had shown it to him, he’d felt a surge of adrenaline. For reasons he could not explain, water had always fueled his creativity. That was one of the reasons he’d chosen an office with a view of the bay.
Bluebonnet Lake was different. Not only was it smaller, but unlike the ocean or even San Francisco Bay, the lake was calm, its smooth surface barely disturbed by ripples. Perhaps, like Greg, he would find that this was where he was meant to be, at least for a few weeks. The change of scenery and the tranquil setting might be just what he needed.
Blake closed his eyes for a second, and as he did, he pictured Marisa St. George and the smile that had sent his heartbeat into overdrive. Could she be the woman God had destined for him? He wouldn’t deny the attraction he’d felt, but the timing was wrong. Totally wrong. All he needed right now was an idea for a new book, not a potential wife.
Marisa slid into the last pew next to her mother. She hadn’t planned to attend the ceremony, which was limited to immediate family, a few very close friends, and Rainbow’s End employees, but once she’d met Kate and Greg, Marisa had realized that she wanted to witness their vows.
She looked at the people gathered to celebrate with them. The four young women with the same shade of hair as Greg must be his sisters. Directly behind them were two men. The first was Blake Kendall, the second . . . Marisa’s heart thudded with dread. Surely that wasn’t Hal Lundquist. The man was as blond as Hal, with shoulders as broad as the former football star’s. His head was held at the same almost arrogant angle. It could be Hal, her teenage nemesis, the man who’d made her into the laughingstock of Dupree High School, and yet that made no sense. Hal was in the army, or so she’d heard. It was unlikely he’d met either Kate or Greg and even less likely that he would have been invited to their wedding.
The man shifted slightly, revealing his profile. Not Hal. Definitely not Hal. Marisa let out a sigh of relief. The blond-haired man must be one of Greg’s friends.
She closed her eyes briefly, hoping that he wouldn’t be another unplanned guest. She and Mom had enough on their plates without adding another guest into the mix. Mom was already committed to serving the workers both breakfast and a noon meal. While that involved no more cooking than if the resort were open, the timing made it more stressful for Marisa’s mother. Now, with Blake in residence, she had to worry about his evening meal too.
As the music changed, Marisa joined others in watching a man whose resemblance to Greg left no doubt that this was his father escort his wife to her seat then walk closer to the altar to take his place next to Greg. It was the first time Marisa had heard of a father serving as his son’s best man, but as Mom had told her, this was not a typical wedding party.
Next in the procession came Kate’s grandmother, escorted down the aisle by her new husband. Marisa couldn’t help smiling at the sight of Roy Gordon. Growing up, she hadn’t known him well, because his children were considerably older than she, but he had a reputation as a good guy, and from all accounts, he’d been devastated when his wife had died. Marisa was thankful he was getting a second chance at love. If only Mom would, but she . . . Marisa bit the inside of her cheek and forced her thoughts back to Kate and Greg’s wedding.
Though normally Roy would have taken a seat next to his wife, he returned to the back of the church. As soon as he reached it, a pretty woman with auburn hair began to walk slowly down the aisle. This must be Kate’s childhood friend Gillian. Mom had said that she was going to be Kate’s maid of honor.
And then came the moment everyone had been waiting for. As the familiar strains of “Here Comes the Bride” filled the church, everyone rose and watched as Roy escorted Kate to the man who would soon be her husband.
The ceremony was beautiful, so filled with loving promises that Marisa found herself dashing a tear from her eye as she said a silent prayer that Kate and Greg’s marriage would be long and happy.
Once the final vows were made, Marisa and her mother slipped out. It was time to get to work. Though the ceremony had been small, there were six hundred people to feed, for the whole town of Dupree had been invited to the reception.
Half an hour later, the food Marisa, her mother, and the high school food science students had spent most of the week preparing was set out on long tables under a tent that provided respite from the sun as well as protection if it should rain. While Mom flitted from platter to platter, adjusting the position of the hot and cold hors d’oeuvres, Marisa watched with amusement. She doubted anyone would care that her mother’s tamales were arranged just so. What mattered was that they were the best in the state, and that the fruit punch and sweet tea were cold.
“That’s the most unusual cake I’ve ever seen.”
Marisa turned, surprised to see Blake standing next to her. She had thought he might remain with the bridal couple while the photographs were being taken. Unlike Marisa, he was a guest and not part of the help. But instead he was pointing at the wedding cake.
“Kate saw a picture of one in an old magazine she found in the storeroom,” Marisa explained. “According to my mother, once she saw it, Kate insisted that was what she wanted. It was a bit of a challenge, but Mom had fun creating it.”
What made the cake unusual was that it was shaped like a church, complete with a bride and groom at the front door and stained glass windows on the sides. Those stained glass windows, made from special fondant so that everything on the cake itself was edible, had proven to be the most difficult part of the project.
“It sends a message, doesn’t it?
”
Marisa nodded. No one would doubt that God was an integral part of this marriage. “That’s the cake they’ll cut,” she told Blake. “It’s white cake with buttercream frosting, but if you prefer chocolate, we have dozens—literally—of chocolate pound cakes.”
“With chocolate frosting?”
Cakes, no matter how creative the design, were hardly an earthshaking subject, and yet Marisa could not deny that her pulse had accelerated the moment she’d heard Blake’s voice.
“A glaze,” she replied in a surprisingly normal voice. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you had what appeared to be chocolate frosting on your face when I met you this morning.”
“Oh!” How embarrassing. “I guess you can tell that I’m not a chef.”
As guests began to arrive to congratulate the bride and groom, who’d emerged from the church and were now greeting the townspeople, Marisa moved to the side. At this point, her only responsibility was replacing platters as they were emptied and hoping that not too many people would ask why she’d come back to Dupree and whether this was a permanent move. Perhaps if she were obviously engaged in a conversation with Blake, others would hesitate to interrupt.
There were dangers, though. Marisa had already spotted Amelia, Debra, and Edie, the women Lauren had nicknamed the Matchers, and had tried to deflect their questions about when she would be walking down the aisle. It didn’t take a genius to imagine what they’d say if they saw her with Blake. But maybe seeing her with Blake wasn’t all bad. He’d only be here for a week or so, and if they were speculating about her, perhaps Lauren would be off the hook for a while.
“So what do you do if you’re not a chef?” he asked.
“I’m a CPA. I used to work for a firm in Atlanta, but now I’m the business manager for Rainbow’s End. That’s actually a fancy term for bookkeeper and gofer,” Marisa said with a self-deprecating chuckle. Though she had no intention of mentioning that she’d been downsized and hadn’t been able to find a similar position in Georgia, she saw no need to glorify her job. “How about you?”
As Blake looked into the distance for a moment, something about his expression made her think he was choosing his words. That was silly, of course. He had no reason to dissemble about something as straightforward as a career.
“I have a small financial planning firm in San Francisco.” His matter-of-fact tone told Marisa she’d imagined his hesitation. “Although ‘firm’ is a bit of an overstatement. I’m the one and only employee.”
Before Marisa could respond, one of her high school teachers spotted her and welcomed her back to town. “I always hoped you’d come back,” Ms. Shackelford said. “You belong in Dupree.”
Forcing her lips into a polite smile, Marisa gave the woman a noncommittal nod. When she’d left, Marisa turned back to Blake and sighed. “Is San Francisco as beautiful as everyone says?”
As Blake shrugged, the action highlighted his well-formed shoulders and sent a whiff of his aftershave toward Marisa. She wasn’t sure which entranced her more; all she knew was that the attraction she’d tried so hard to deny was real. Something about this man appealed to her in ways no other man had. Mom was wrong, though. This wasn’t love at first sight. It couldn’t be, because Marisa and Blake weren’t like her mother and father. Not at all.
“The whole Bay Area is definitely beautiful,” Blake agreed, his words reminding Marisa that they were discussing California. Good. That subject was far less troublesome than the thought of love at first sight and the way it could turn into a living nightmare.
“But so is the Hill Country. I’m glad I have a chance to see it.” Blake looked around, as if he were viewing Dupree’s sole park for the first time. Though no more than a city block in size, it was large enough for a town with a population of just under six hundred. Trees lined the perimeter, but the center had been cleared to accommodate Dupree’s holiday celebrations, when parades culminated in patriotic speeches and songs. At other times of the year, the park was the site of parties like this one.
“You’ve never been here before?” The sense of instant recognition had lingered, niggling at the back of Marisa’s mind all the time she’d been glazing the cakes and stashing platters of food into Greg’s SUV.
“No.” Blake appeared surprised by the question. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you look familiar. I can’t explain it, but when I first walked into the office, I thought I’d seen you before.”
Though he’d met her gaze a second before, Blake looked away as he shook his head. “That’s unlikely. You haven’t been to San Francisco, I’ve never been to Atlanta, and this is my first day in Texas. I’m sure we haven’t met.” He raised his eyes and grinned. “Trust me. I’d remember if I’d met you.”
The warm smile sent a flush to Marisa’s cheeks, almost distracting her from her continuing sense of déjà vu. Everything Blake said made sense, and yet . . . Marisa brushed her doubts aside. There was only one logical explanation. “It must have been my imagination.”
It was definitely her imagination that Blake seemed relieved.
4
At least she hadn’t been invited to the wedding. Though she wished Kate and Greg every happiness, Lauren knew she wasn’t ready to watch another couple exchange vows. “In sickness and in health.” Simple but powerful words. Just the thought of them made her cry. Oh, Patrick, I miss you so much. He’d been her first love, her only love, and though she would not have wanted his suffering to continue, not a day went by that she didn’t wish he were still with her. Lauren squeezed her eyes closed, trying to keep tears at bay.
“C’mon, Fiona. It’s time to go,” she called to her daughter as soon as she’d recovered her composure.
“It’s going to be boring.” Fiona stomped one foot, which for some reason was clad in a sock that matched the other. That was the first time matching socks had happened since Lauren and Fiona had made their agreement last spring. As for the foot stomping, Lauren knew better than to ask, but she couldn’t help wondering whether Fiona had sensed her mood and was reacting.
“Alice will be there, and Aunt Carmen did all the cooking.” Marisa’s mother had been a godsend during Patrick’s illness and the first month after his death when Lauren had felt as if she were walking through a fog. Without being asked, Carmen had provided her version of Meals on Wheels so that Lauren didn’t have to worry whether her daughter was well fed.
The second announcement put a smile on Fiona’s face. “Tamales?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. The only way to know is to go.”
Locking the door behind her, Lauren turned to the right. With less than two blocks separating her house from the park, there was no point in driving. She extended her hand, planning to clasp Fiona’s, but her daughter refused to walk next to her, seeming to prefer to remain two steps behind. It appeared that Fiona’s normally sunny disposition had taken a leave of absence.
As they approached Pecan Street, the sound of hundreds of voices and a few barking dogs told Lauren she and Fiona would be among the last to arrive. It was no surprise that everyone in Dupree wanted to join in the celebration of Kate and Greg’s wedding. After what they’d done for the town, and considering what the renovated Rainbow’s End would mean to Dupree, Greg and Kate could win the Citizens of the Year award, if the town had one.
“Where’s the food?” Fiona demanded as they entered the park.
“I imagine it’s in the big tent.” One of the large white tents that seemed to be a staple of outdoor celebrations filled the center of the park, while dozens of bistro-style tables and chairs were arranged around its perimeter to supplement the family-sized picnic tables clustered in the far corner. “We’ll go there as soon as we talk to the bride and groom.”
Fiona nodded as Lauren led them to the tail of the receiving line. “I like Mr. Greg. I wanted him to be my daddy.”
“I know you did, but he loves Miss Kate.” Perhaps the fact that Greg had married someone else was t
he reason for Fiona’s disgruntled mood.
Tugging on Lauren’s hand, Fiona waited until Lauren looked at her before she spoke. When she did, her voice was filled with urgency. “When are you going to find me another daddy?”
“I don’t know, honey. We have to wait for God to send us one.” She wouldn’t tell Fiona that, though the Matchers claimed otherwise, she wasn’t convinced that God intended her to marry again.
“I’m tired of waiting. Do you think you’ll find one by Christmas?”
Though it was still a few weeks before the first anniversary of Patrick’s death, Lauren knew that a year was a very long time for a child of seven, and the hole that Patrick had left in her life was huge. Lauren wished there were something she could say to comfort her daughter, but the only words Fiona wanted to hear would have been a lie. Lauren could not promise that a second daddy would share Christmas with them.
To Lauren’s relief, Alice Kozinski spotted Fiona and pushed her way through the crowd toward her. “My mom saved space for you and Fiona,” the blonde-haired girl who was an inch shorter and three inches wider than Fiona told Lauren, pointing to the picnic tables at the north end of the park. “She said receiving lines weren’t for kids.”
“Can I go?” Fiona’s question came out as a plea, and Lauren found herself nodding. Susan Kozinski had a point.
“I’ll join you as soon as I can,” she told her daughter. “You know the rules.”
“Yes, Mom. Don’t leave without telling you where we’re going. Don’t talk to strangers. And never, never cross the street without looking.”
Lauren was smiling when she reached the end of the receiving line. Only a curmudgeon wouldn’t smile at the sight of the new Mr. and Mrs. Vange, whose happiness was readily apparent to everyone. After she’d congratulated the bride and groom, she made her way to the food tent, not surprised when Carmen told her that Fiona had had no interest in anything other than tamales. According to Carmen, Alice and Fiona had been talking nonstop all the while Fiona loaded her plate with her favorite food. Lauren could feel herself relaxing at the realization that whatever had been bothering her daughter was forgotten.