Save The Date

by K. S. Thomas

  Save The Date

  By

  K.S. Thomas

  Copyright © 2014 - by Karina Gioertz.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the consent of the author, except where permitted by law.

  Save The Date is a work of fiction. All characters and subject matter are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, alive of dead, is entirely coincidental.

  COVER BY SOLOUD!MEDIA www.soloudmedia.de

  EDITING BY WENDY SMITH

  Acknowledgements

  It’s pretty safe to say that I have been seeking out grand stories of love since before I was old enough to know what I was really looking for. A hopeless romantic to the very core with an overactive imagination, I can usually spot them where they don’t even exist. As was the case with this one.

  So…I would like to start by thanking the little girl with the big brown eyes and the kindhearted boy with his fishing pole. You both set my imagination abuzz and I’ve had a blast on this journey of what perhaps could have been in another world, another time, another dimension…

  On a more practical note, I would like to thank my wonderful Beta Readers. Stephanie and Simone – Thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to help me with yet another project. Your feedback has been invaluable to me.

  Same can be said for my editor, Wendy. Thank you!

  I would also like to thank David Wuerdemann at SoLoud!Media for creating such a gorgeous cover on a moment’s notice! You came through for me in such a huge way and I am beyond grateful. Thank you.

  As always, I owe an ocean of gratitude to those I love and am lucky to be loved by :-)

  Your support means more to me than you will ever know.

  Last, but certainly no least, I would like to thank YOU! Thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoy Calista and Emerson’s journey as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

  Table Of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Until I was six, I was fairly certain I would grow up to marry Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. Then came the summer we spent at the family lake house and Emerson Barrett. Prince Eric was history.

  Before that vacation we spent on Kentucky Lake, I had never met my mother’s side of the family. I had heard a great deal of talk though, regarding her childhood growing up on a farm in Lexington. Not that I really knew where that was, but I definitely knew what a farm was, or at least, I thought I knew, even if I hadn’t ever seen one, and I was enthralled with the romantic notion of it all. While I never quite understood it, my mother never seemed to share those feelings.

  She was the youngest of eight and the only one to spread her wings and fly off to the big city. That’s where my childhood was taking place, in Manhattan. There weren’t exactly a whole lot of farms to view around my neighborhood. Suffice it to say, I was eager to get my own slice of the Ashcraft Family way of living and I was happy to pick up whatever scraps my mother had thrown by the wayside.

  The lake house in and it of itself had seemed majestic to me. Where I was from people didn’t live in houses, they lived in buildings. And even though I was accustomed to a rather luxurious standard of living, thanks to both of my extremely successful parents, there simply was no comparing our loft to the eight-thousand square foot log cabin and its wrap-around decks overlooking the lake and the seventy-five acres of lush green that surrounded it.

  I was in city kid heaven. Then, once I actually stepped inside, things only got better. An only child, my most constant companions were adults, but here, those were the minority. While I still wound up being the youngest in the bunch, at least I was getting closer to bridging the gap in age between myself and my play mates. I had cousins. Fifteen of them to be exact. All ranging in ages from eight to twenty-three. It was amazing.

  Then, there was Emerson. He had tagged along with my cousin Spencer and somehow I had latched onto him two seconds later. Everywhere Spence and Emerson went, there I was, completely oblivious to the fact that two sixteen year old boys probably had better things to do than babysit a grade-schooler. Neither of them ever complained, however. I guess they found me pretty entertaining for the most part, not that I was trying to be.

  Most of our days were filled by sitting on the docks with our fishing rods, or hiking through the surrounding woods in search of the local wildlife. At night I would insist on staying up as long as possible, hanging out in the big kids’ room drawing pictures while the teenagers told jokes I didn’t understand, and played video games.

  The summer was nearly over when my mother found me sitting alone in the kitchen one afternoon, busy coloring away in the scrapbook she had given me to fill for the summer. She was always big on things like that. I think it came with her job. She was an upscale wedding planner and was constantly putting together these amazing presentations that looked more like extravagant 3D wedding collages. I wouldn’t be surprised one bit, if that was what made brides choose her over all the others. My mother had a way of bringing fairy tales to life. And according to her, every bride was really just another princess looking for her happily ever after.

  “What are you doing in here all by yourself, Lissy?” She gently stroked my long brown hair as she walked by.

  “Just coloring,” I mumbled. I was concentrating heavily on the project at hand. It was serious business and I had no intention of getting distracted.

  My mother smiled and went to pour me a glass of milk. “Where are all the other kids?”

  “Down by the water watching Geoffrey do tricks on his skis.” My cousin Geoff was nineteen and fearless. In the last two months I’d seen him jump off of the roof and into the pool, climb a tree so high I could no longer see him, and do flips and all sorts of frightening tricks on his water skis and wakeboard. Truth was, he was stressing me out, and I wasn’t in the mood for another anxiety induced stomach ache.

  I finally set down my crayon and sat back to examine the end results.

  “And?” My mother studied my expression as she came to sit beside me with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

  I took a cookie and dipped it. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “What aren’t you sure about?” She waited for me to remove my cookie before she went to dip hers as well. This was standard cookie ritual for us. No need to waste an extra glass of milk that no one was ever going to drink. It was strictly there for dipping purposes.

  “If the dress is long enough.”

  She leaned over to get a better angle of my art work. “Is this a wedding dress?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh.” I reached for my purple crayon and started on the bouquet.

  “Who’s getting married?” My mother smiled as if she already knew.

  “Me and Emerson.” I didn’t even look up.

  “You and Emerson? Don’t you think he’s just a little bit too old for you?”

  The thought had occurred to me. Especially ever since Spence and him had started hanging out with some girls they met who were staying in a house just up along the water. Emerson hadn’t ignored me exactly, but I’d definitely noticed his heightened interest in the other girls. Even at six, jealousy was a very real thing.

  Mostly, I just did
n’t think those older girls really appreciated all of the wonderful things about him. Sure, I’d heard them giggling about how cute he was, but what did that matter?

  At my age, you didn’t fall for a boy because of how he looked, although he was certainly dreamy by my standards. Or, at least, that’s what I liked to tell myself. In all reality, I wasn’t entirely sure what it was that made him so dreamy or why that was important in the first place. I did know that Emerson would spend hours sitting beside me on the docks, waiting for me to catch a fish, even when everyone else had already had their fill of fishing. I knew that he held my hand when I got scared on our outdoor expeditions and that he never complained when I insisted on squeezing in between him and whoever was sitting beside him at the dinner table. As far as I was concerned, Emerson was the coolest and funniest person I’d ever met. And it just made sense to me that someday, he and I would wind up on one of my mother’s presentation boards, because as far as I knew, every boy and girl did at one point or another.

  “I’m not getting married now.” I may have been young, but even I knew that was ridiculous.

  “Oh, okay. Just checking.” She leaned into her seat, taking another bite of her cookie. I got the distinct feeling she was laughing at me, although I couldn’t see it.

  “Mommy?” I reached for my green crayon in order to add stems to my purple flowers.

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “When do you think I would be old enough to get married?” I purposely kept my eyes down on my paper, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

  “Well, technically, you can get married when you turn eighteen, but take it from me, that doesn’t always work out as well as you think it ought to. So, how about twenty-five?”

  That sounded like a million years from now.

  “But what if he marries someone else before I’m old enough?” I lifted my head to face her. This was a serious concern.

  My mother nodded a few times, as she thought it over. “You know, I think I have a solution.” She stood from the table and left the room. A few moments later, she walked back in, holding several cards in her hand. “Do you remember what these are, Lissy?”

  I did. “They’re save the date cards, so people don’t forget their wedding.”

  She chuckled. “Close. They’re so other people know that they’re going to be invited to a wedding. This way they don’t forget and make other plans. But I think today, we could use them your way. You could make two. One for you and one for Emerson. We can pick a date nineteen years from now and write it on the cards. That way, you’ll both remember to wait and not marry anyone else.”

  And so that’s exactly what I did. By hand and with my mother’s help, I filled in both cards very carefully. She even let me use her fancy gold marker to do it. When I was done, I stuck mine into my scrapbook right beside the picture I’d drawn.

  “Are you going to give the other one to Emerson?” my mother inquired curiously.

  “Not yet.” I pressed the card to my chest, slid out of my chair and strolled out of the room.

  I waited until the very last day of our vacation. Then, when it came time to say goodbye, I went to find him.

  “Staring contest. Go!” I peered up at him, trying my hardest not to giggle as he stared straight back, never even flinching. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, I succumbed to the laughter bubbling up from inside.

  “I win,” he called out triumphantly.

  “Fine.” I gave my best impression of an angry face. “Then I guess you get a prize.” I reached under my t-shirt and pulled the card from where I had wedged it between my stomach and the waistline of my pants. It had been too big to fit into any of my pockets.

  “What’s this?” He took the unexpected card and flipped it over several times. It was sealed in a lavender envelope which I had aptly bedazzled in every shade of glitter my mother had given me access to.

  “It’s just so you don’t forget.” Then I wrapped my arms around his waist, said goodbye and went to find my parents outside in the driveway waiting for me.

  Seems that knowing the Ashcraft family has been shaping my life in different ways for as long as I can remember. Growing up had meant living in and out of my mother’s car for the most part. Shelters when it was too cold to sleep in the old Chevy. After leaving my father for actions that should make any woman walk out, her options had been limited and for reasons I was too young to understand, she was unable to seek out traditional employment. And so, it wasn’t until I was eight that she was able to find a job as a live-in nanny, as well as a more suitable home for us with Ross and Lindy Ashcraft and their three children, Simon, Spencer and Savannah.

  From then on, life was a new kind of a wonderful. Our state of poverty and the Ashcraft life of luxury had been opposite ends of the spectrum and for some inexplicable reason, they had seen it fit to extend their good fortune to us from the moment we set foot in their front door.

  Things had only gotten better when I discovered their son, Spencer, was the same age as I was. And, in the years that followed, we had grown up to be best friends. Brothers even. So, it was no surprise to anyone when I was invited to come along on family vacations, including the ones at the family lake house on Lake Kentucky.

  Later on in my twenties, when I had managed to mangle my life all on my own after my mother’s passing and was in desperate need of a job, it had been the Ashcrafts who came through for me yet again. Even more so than just a way to make some money, they led me to my passion. The thing I would do for the rest of my life, and I knew nothing else could ever trump this gift that they had given me. Until I was thirty-three and I realized that something else already had, years ago, at the lake house.

  Chapter 1

  “Are you done yet?!” A wave of steam hit me as I threw open the bathroom door.

  “Does it look like I’m done?” It did not.

  “Hurry up! I need to be at work in less than thirty minutes and it’s going to take me fifteen just to get there!” I wiped the mirror with my sleeve to assess my hair. Nope. Skipping the wash would not be an option.

  Suddenly the shower curtain flew back.

  “You could always join me.” Any other day the sight of Tyler standing there with water droplets pearling on his perfectly smooth skin, light dancing in the dew as he flexed his muscles, would have been a welcome image. Today, I just found it annoying.

  “That is it! From now on, you can’t sleep over anymore,” I yelled as I stormed from the bathroom.

  I was barely two feet back into my bedroom when I nearly tripped over Tyler’s shoes. I picked them up and hurled them into the nearest corner. “And pick up you stuff! A girl could get killed in here!”

  Tyler and I had been dating for nearly a year now, and up until recently, things had been amazing. Then, out of the blue, he had decided it was time to take our relationship to the next level. So, before I knew it, he had brought over a box of his things and I had been forced to vacate a drawer for them.

  If you knew me, and I mean, knew me at all, you would know that there are two things I cannot stand. One, being late and two, someone messing with my stuff.

  Blame it on the fact that I’m an only child. Blame it on me being a total control freak. I don’t care. Either way, I was not fond of the idea of having to move all of my belongings over, which now suddenly had nowhere to go, just so he could have a place to keep his underwear and spare phone charger. To make matters worse, one drawer never seemed quite enough.

  All of a sudden, he was adding shoes to my closet. Hanging extra towels on my towel rack. It was like he was freaking moving in.

  “It’s all you.” He stood there, dripping water on my hardwood floors. It was all I could do not to choke the living daylights out of him. Instead, I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten.

  “Listen. This isn’t working. I realize this is a total cliché, but - It’s me. Not you. I can’t take it. I’m just not cut out for a real relationship. It’s making me crazy. And what’s worse, it’s m
aking me hate you.”

  I handed him a towel while he stood there completely dumbstruck. “Do me a favor and wipe up the floor. I really need to get in the shower.”

  By the time I got back out, Tyler was gone. So was all of his crap.

  I got to work twenty minutes late. I barely had enough time to stop in my office to grab the sketches I needed and then run all the way to the presentation room in the back where the meeting had already started without me.

  I was about to knock and let myself in, when my assistant Stephanie came at me, outstretched hand yielding a hot and delicious coffee.

  “Oh my God, Steph. I love you,” I whispered. Now her I would let move in, in a heartbeat.

  I took one quick sip and then braced myself for what was waiting on the other side of the door.

  “Good morning, Calista Joy. So nice of you to join us.” Even at my age, you knew you were in trouble when your mother used your middle name.

  “So sorry I’m late. I had an unforeseen circumstance. Either way, I apologize for keeping you all waiting.”

  This was our fourth meeting this week with the bride-to-be and today she had brought along a whole new slew of people. The wedding itself was only three months away and nothing had been finalized as of yet. Not even the dress. I’d provided her with seven sketches in the last six months and she had found a problem with all of them. I had two more for her today. After this, I was making an appointment for her at Kleinfeld’s.

  These issues weren’t uncommon for brides with limitless funds. I think it’s the feeling of knowing the sky’s the limit and worrying they’ll miss out on something even better than what they’ve already seen that overwhelms them. Regardless, it was annoying, not to mention stressful. But I kept my mouth shut.

  At twenty-three I was the youngest dress designer in the city. I’m sure most people assumed that my extensive client list stemmed solely from working in the confines of my mother’s shadow, but the truth was, I had talent.