Not Another Wedding

by Jennifer Mckenzie

  “I don’t want to change my mind,” he said. “I’m fine with how things are.”

  “Beck.”

  “You can’t come here and dump this on me and expect everything to be okay.” His breathing grew raspy and he clutched his coffee cup hard enough to break the handle. He exhaled, loosening his grip. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Do you think we—”

  But whatever she’d been about to say was abruptly cut off by the sound of someone or something crashing through the woods. Though the area was well developed, they were still in bear territory. The beasts had been known to lumber into vineyards and eat up all the grapes or stumble into a backyard, prowling for food. They both rose immediately. Beck pushed her behind him. He might be angry, but she was still his mother.

  “Beck, what is—”

  “Get in the house.”

  And he’d be right behind her. He was strong and not afraid of much, but he wasn’t about to go toe-to-toe with a bear. Even if it was only a cub, because cubs had mamas, and they didn’t trust anyone around their babies.

  His mother didn’t question him. They both turned, leaving the coffee and laptop on the porch.

  He could afford to buy new ones. He couldn’t replace his life. Or his mother’s.

  But it was Jamie who came tearing up the path instead of the growling animal Beck expected. He paused and put his hand out to stop his mother.

  She spun to see what the problem was. “Jamie?” Her face changed from pinched to smooth in an instant.

  His cousin’s usually tidy hair stood on end and his eyes were still bloodshot from his overindulgence last night. He looked like hell. Beck grinned. The bachelor party had been a hit.

  “Need a little hair of the dog?” He had tomato juice in his fridge and vodka.

  “What?” Jamie turned a wild-eyed gaze on him. “No, no. Thank God, you’re here.”

  But he wasn’t looking at Beck anymore, he was looking at Victoria. Beck tried not to take it as an insult.

  Victoria stepped out from behind Beck. “Jamie. What’s the matter? What happened?”

  “Help, I need help.”

  Beck swallowed and clasped his hands behind his back. Of course, Jamie wouldn’t ask him. Hadn’t that been his goal the last ten years? To make sure the family didn’t turn to him with their needs? But still. He ran a multimillion-dollar company. He had skills. He could help.

  “It’s Emmy,” Jamie said. “Something about her dress. I’m not sure. She was crying.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. “I think she said she wants to postpone the wedding.” His face crumpled at that.

  “Oh, Jamie.” Victoria had moved down the steps before Beck managed a blink. With a soothing murmur she gathered Jamie into her arms, already in full romantic-crisis mode. She was, after all, an expert. “What’s wrong with the dress?”

  Jamie hugged her back while Beck stood awkwardly on the porch. He didn’t want to be in the hug, but an offer of inclusion would have been nice.

  Finally, Jamie pulled himself together and explained. “I think it’s too short. It was hard to understand her through the crying.” His eyes got a dangerously wet sheen to them. “What if she calls the wedding off?”

  “She won’t call it off,” Victoria assured him, giving Jamie another supportive hug. “Will she, Beck?”

  “No.” Beck had no idea, but it seemed the right thing to say because when Jamie turned to him the awful wetness was gone, which made Beck feel a little better. Maybe he wasn’t giving hugs, but he still had support to lend.

  “We’ll figure this out, Jamie. Don’t worry.” Victoria gave her nephew a brisk rub. “I think I should talk to her.” She held out her hand for Jamie’s phone.

  Beck was surprised when his cousin handed it over without an argument. Beck would have told his mother he was fully capable of handling his own problems and this was none of her concern. Of course, Beck wouldn’t have come running up the path and shared the problem with his mother in the first place. He moved down the steps so he could listen in on the phone conversation.

  “Emmy? Hello, dear. It’s Victoria.” Beck heard Emmy’s wails through the receiver while Victoria clucked sympathetically. “I understand. I don’t blame you for being upset. But we’ll fix everything. I don’t want you to worry.” She listened some more. “I want you to rest up. You’ve got a big weekend, so you leave this to me. I’ll make sure you have a beautiful dress.” She smiled. “Of course, I will. We’re family now, Emmy, and that’s what family does for each other.”

  After another minute of soothing and comforting, Victoria hung up and handed the phone back to Jamie.

  “Well?” Jamie watched her with a hopeful expression. Beck shook his head. Had Jamie not heard the wailing?

  “The dress is four inches too short.” She looked back and forth between the two of them. “It can’t be salvaged. We’ll need to find a new one.”

  “But what—”

  “Jamie, you come with me. You’re a fright. You’ll have some coffee and a shower and you’ll feel better.”

  Beck thought Jamie required more than some coffee and a quick dunk under the water. The tequila fumes were obvious from where he stood. But Jamie looked so relieved to have someone taking over, Beck couldn’t bring himself to make the cheap joke.

  “Beck?” his mother called. He snapped to attention. He wasn’t used to his mother like this. “I’d like you to speak with Poppy. I’m sure she’s got some contacts. Maybe she can help with the dresses.”

  “Good idea.” Actually, he thought it was an excellent idea. He was rewarded with a smile from his mother.

  “You’ll call to update us?”

  “Yes.” He smiled back. He would have done it for Jamie anyway, even if it meant spending the rest of his morning with an old lady who smelled like peppermints, but the fact it was Poppy he’d be hanging out with sent a roll of pleasure through him. Now he didn’t have to wait until tonight to see her. Getting him out of the line of fire of his mother’s wedding conversation was pretty great, too.

  “Thank you.” Jamie shook his hand. Hard. “Thank you.” He blinked rapidly and Beck pretended to find the treetops particularly interesting while Jamie got his emotions under control. “I’ll see you later?”

  Beck nodded. “I’ll call you when everything is sorted.” He started back toward the guesthouse and assumed they were heading to the main house, when he heard his mother call his name.

  “Yes?” He turned. Jamie had disappeared through the trees and it was just the two of them again.

  “I’m proud of you,” she said. He shrugged, but that didn’t slow her. “I know you’re upset with me, but you put that aside for Jamie.”

  “It’s not Jamie’s fault I’m upset,” Beck pointed out.

  “I’m proud of you,” she repeated and gave him a quick hug.

  He let her. It felt good.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  POPPY PULLED HER eight iron out of her golf bag on the back of the cart and eyed her lie. It was about ninety yards to the pin, and straight. No sand traps or water hazards in the way.

  The course was quiet today, unusual for a sunny June morning, but Poppy was grateful. Often, they’d be paired up with another twosome to play, and she didn’t relish making small talk with strangers. She preferred the comfortable silence of being with her dad, bonding over putts and drives, and letting her mind flicker—as it did frequently—to Beck.

  She lined up over her shot, loosening her grip on the club slightly, and swung. The ball made a sweet thunking sound when she connected and flew straight down the fairway, landing on the edge of the green.

  “Nice shot,” her father praised as she slid the club back into her bag and climbed onto the golf cart. In the city, she often walked the course, but it
was too hot today. She was already tired and she didn’t need to add sunstroke to the mix.

  When Beck had dropped her off, she’d been certain her mother was tucked behind a curtain, watching as she made her way up the front walk and onto the porch. She’d braced herself for the pointed comment when she opened the front door, but she’d been met with silence. And not the kind of silence indicating people lurked in hiding, waiting for the opportunity to jump out and ambush her, but the kind of peaceful silence that told her no one was stirring.

  She’d actually made it all the way upstairs without alerting anyone. She’d taken a shower and changed into a plaid skirt and collared golf top in pale blue, tying her hair into a low ponytail. By the time she headed back downstairs, ready for her golf date, she’d had the audacity to think she might have gotten away with it.

  Until her mother turned from the coffeepot, and after asking if she’d like a cup, said, “Did you have a good time last night?”

  From another mother, the question would just be a curiosity, a polite inquiry into her daughter’s life. Rose Sullivan was not that mother. And Wynn, sitting at the table, his hands wrapped around his mug while he snickered, hadn’t helped.

  Poppy had been nothing short of exulted when her father had wandered down a minute later and said they needed to go if they wanted to make their tee time. Her father didn’t ask about the intimate details of her life. He probably didn’t even listen when her mother tried to share them. She appreciated his stoicism.

  She wasn’t sure what was going on with Beck, what her suddenly changed feelings meant, but she knew she didn’t want to talk about things. Not yet.

  Though her family didn’t usually keep their privacies—they unloaded even the most banal minutiae onto each other and liked it—Poppy sensed this was different.

  Her father parked the cart to the side of the fairway and they both climbed out. Her father’s shot had landed only a few feet short of the pin, so he held back while she lined up. She’d never be able to get her ball into the hole in one shot, so she simply aimed to get closer.

  There was nothing worse than trying for the glory putt, overshooting and ending up with an even worse shot on the other side. And this green sloped down, so she had to be careful. She gripped her putter over top of the ball and swung, an easy pendulum motion her dad had taught her when she first learned the game.

  The ball rolled toward the hole, past her father’s and stopped on target, about six inches from the lip of the cup.

  She smiled, pleased with her shot and herself as she walked over and tapped her ball in. Her father made par on his shot. “Show-off,” she said, which earned a smile.

  Poppy closed her eyes and lifted her face to the warmth as her father navigated them to the next tee box. Since her work schedule was fairly busy over the next couple months—it was something of a miracle she and Wynn had both been able to get away this week—there was a good chance this would be her only chance to make hay while the sun shone. Or in her case, make tan.

  A little color would be welcome. She couldn’t manage much more than a light beige with her fair skin that had a tendency to freckle and burn, but it took the edge off her glow-in-the-dark paleness.

  They finished the round in companionable silence. Her father parked the golf cart outside the pro shop and went inside to return the keys while she stayed with the bags. Even the shade was hot, but it might be the only sun she got this summer, so she tried to appreciate it even though her shirt was stuck to her back.

  She should go for a dip in her parents’ pool when she got back to the house, float around, cool off and figure out what seeing Beck tonight meant.

  She almost thought she’d conjured up his voice when she heard her name.

  “Poppy.”

  Her eyes sprang open. That wasn’t her imagination. She turned toward the source and saw Beck coming over the rise from the parking lot.

  A long, excited tickle rose up her chest. She didn’t know why he was here or who he was with, but she was glad. “Hello.” She tried to play it cool. He reached her side and pulled her into a hug followed by a kiss. It was an exceptionally nice greeting.

  “You’re distracting me again.”

  “How am I distracting you?” He still had his arms wrapped around her waist, which were awfully distracting indeed. “I’m not wearing the pink jeans.”

  “You don’t need the jeans to distract me.” He pressed another kiss on her. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

  “I figured that.” She tried not to let her disappointment show. It was silly, but she liked the idea that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her this morning and had been sidetracked so completely he’d had no choice but to hunt her down immediately. “So why are you here? Golfing?”

  She didn’t glimpse anyone with him or a set of clubs, but he might have left them in the parking lot, which wasn’t visible from the pro shop. She liked thinking even if he’d had another reason for showing up at the course, he’d made a point to come and find her.

  “I need your help. Actually, Jamie and Emmy need your help. Something happened to her dress and she’s in a panic.”

  “What happened?” The dress was an integral part of any bride’s dream wedding and the crises that surrounded them were legendary. She could only imagine how Emmy was doing.

  The last wedding Poppy had ever organized had involved a dress dilemma. After being delayed and delayed, the owner of the bridal shop had finally admitted she was bankrupt and had never ordered the dress. Poppy had managed to pull off finding another gown—luckily the bride had been sample size—but it had been the final straw in her decision to stop planning weddings. The money wasn’t worth the headache or the worry of being responsible for the big day someone had been dreaming of since they were seven.

  “It’s too short.”

  Poppy frowned. Not ideal. Better if the gown were too long, but length could be added by letting down the hem. Most dressmakers left some wiggle room for last-minute alterations. “Did you talk to Jamie’s mom?” Georgia Cartwright was an excellent quilter and could be counted on to fix any small tailoring issue.

  “She looked and said she can’t fix it. According to my mother, it’s about four inches too short.”

  Poppy stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. And now Emmy wants to postpone the wedding until she can get a dress that fits, and Jamie is in an uproar. Can you help?”

  Poppy paused. She still had plenty of wedding contacts in Vancouver, including Missy, who owned a bridal shop. Although they didn’t do regular business together anymore, they still got together every couple months.

  She briefly considered saying no. Postponing the wedding would give Jamie the chance to think about whether or not this was something he was ready for. But Poppy knew there was no point. Everything Jamie had said and done not only indicated he was ready, but also that he was willing and eager.

  How could she say no? Besides, this life was Jamie’s and as a friend, she needed to support him. Maybe Jamie and Emmy were meant to be together and would have a long and happy life full of laughter and babies.

  “Of course, I can help.” She pulled her cell out of her golf bag. She’d turned it off during their game and it buzzed to life when she powered it on. She ignored the emails and texts that had come in and scrolled through her phone book until she found Missy’s name.

  * * *

  BECK CALLED HIS mother to tell her Poppy had sorted everything out and would be in touch. She told him she was proud of him again. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

  His mother had never been shy with her praise, but he didn’t usually give her a chance to shower it upon him. But he kind of liked it, which was unexpected. He’d spent so long focusing on keeping himself a separate entity, he’d forgotten how good it was to be p
art of a group.

  After updating his mother, he’d happily accepted the lunch invitation to join Poppy and her father. Clearly, her entire family was close. Poppy and her dad had a comfortable teasing relationship Beck envied. Although he’d seen his father every workday over the past few years until he’d recently stepped back from the company, they’d never had this casual closeness. He wasn’t sure whose fault that was, or if it was no one’s. The Lefebvres might not be built for that.

  “You okay?” Poppy leaned over to whisper in his ear.

  They were on their way back to the car without her dad. A group of Bob’s friends had shown up as they were settling the bill and he’d decided to stay and have a beer with them. Beck was in charge of taking Poppy back, which was a task he was up to. He’d been trying to think of a way to make it happen naturally the entire lunch.

  “I’m fine.”

  She slipped a hand into his, but didn’t say anything.

  “My parents are getting remarried.”

  “Ah.” The sun beat down on them, causing drops of sweat to bead around his hairline. Poppy looked cool and fresh. He wanted to sink into her and bury his head in the curve of her neck until he felt better. He settled for squeezing her hand.

  “I’m not thrilled.”

  She squeezed back. “I got that.”

  “They’re just...” He trailed off. He’d been trying not to think about it. “They’re making a mistake.”

  “Maybe they’re not.” Her voice was soft but sure. He looked at her. “It’s been a long time, Beck. They might love each other.”

  “They’ve done this before.” Twice, in fact.

  “And maybe this time is different.” They stopped at his car. Beck hit the button to unlock the doors, but neither of them moved. “Give them a chance.”