A November Bride (13 page)

“Stop.”

“Is everything okay?” The heavy black curtain muffled Ashley’s voice.

“Just . . . wait.”

Sadie reenacted the moment, holding her breath and positioning herself in front of the full-length mirror. Would she catch a glimpse of what she’d seen that morning?

Beautiful.

Warmth flowed through her veins, suffusing her body. How had this happened? Was she beautiful because Erik chose her? Because Erik loved her?

Yes . . . and no.
There was more to it than that.

She was being true to herself. She’d chosen her life. Chosen the man she’d love forever and happily ever after.

Footsteps thudded up the wooden stairs and a moment later, Erik’s head and shoulders appeared above the railing—
a clean-shaven
Erik.

“Are you ready?”

“Absolutely! Did my parents see you come up here?”

“I don’t think so. I told them I was checking on things in the kitchen.” His embrace was a sweet moment of sanctuary. “You look gorgeous.”

She ran her hand across the soft skin of his jaw. “I still can’t believe you shaved off your beard for me.”

“You did say you preferred me without it.”

“But that didn’t mean you had to shave it off.”

“I intend to keep my wife happy.”

Sadie adjusted his tie, the blue a perfect match to his eyes. “You know we’re breaking a major tradition, letting you see me before the ceremony.”

“We’re breaking so many traditions, what does one more matter? I planned the wedding, not you. We’ve known each other seventeen years, had three official dates, and are getting married seventeen days after I proposed.” Erik paused, cupping his chin in his hand. “Huh. Seventeen years. Seventeen days. Hadn’t realized that before.”

“It’s a numerical coincidence. A good sign.”

“I agree. We’re also throwing ourselves a surprise wedding on Sadie Hawkins Day, no less.” He reached out his hand and tugged her to him. “And if you recall, I saw you earlier when we did the ‘reveal’ photo. You were gorgeous then too.”

“Thank you. For . . . all of this.”

“You know, you never told me your full name. I guess I’m going to finally find out, huh?”

She matched his whisper. “It’s Sadie J. Just ‘J.’ My parents couldn’t agree on my middle name, so they let the initial stand.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. Disappointed?”

He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her lips. “How could I be disappointed? I’m marrying my best friend.”

Ashley interrupted their romantic moment. “Phillip sent me after the missing groom. He’s about to make the announcement and then marry you two, which means he needs Erik in the living room and you in the kitchen. Come on! It’s time to surprise everyone.”

A few minutes later, her father entered the kitchen. “Your friend Ashley told me that you . . .” His voice trailed off.

Sadie touched the creamy ivory material surrounding the flowers in her bouquet. “Would you mind giving me away?”

“Here?” Her father’s eyebrows rose over his tortoiseshell glasses. “Now?”

“Well, not here, in the kitchen. I’d like you to walk me out to the living room—” Sadie paused. Yes, Phillip was informing the guests that the informal party to announce their engagement was actually their wedding too. Gasps echoed all the way through the living room, dining room, and into the kitchen. “—now.”

Her father bent and kissed her cheek. “You’re putting a little twist on tradition, you know. My grandmother was married in her parents’ living room—only they didn’t have a single photo of the event.”

“I’d forgotten about that.” Sadie squeezed her father’s arm.

“You’ll certainly have some stories to tell your children.”

“And probably some explaining to do to our guests.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that—I think everyone is enjoying being part of the surprise.”

Mel switched on Colbie Caillat’s “Realize,” the song Erik had selected for the processional, and then stepped back.

“I’ll slip into the living room after you.” She handed Sadie her phone. “But you have a message.”

“I’m not answering my phone now.”

“Um, I think you’re going to want to read this text message.”

Who on earth was texting her now?

S
ADIE
J, I
LOVE YOU
. W
ILL YOU
MARRY
ME
?

“One second, Dad.” She handed Mel her bouquet and half-turned as her fingers tapped the keyboard.

I
ALREADY SAID YES
. . .
AND
IN
JUST A MINUTE
I’
LL SAY
I
DO
.

H
URRY UP
,
WILL YOU
?

S
TOP TEXTING ME AND
I
WILL
.

She tossed the phone to Mel. “Mute this thing, please. I won’t be needing it for a while.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thanks for such a lovely ‘engagement party.’ ” She winked as she retrieved her bouquet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a man in my living room who wants to marry me—and I don’t want to keep him waiting. After all, it’s been seventeen years. I think we’ve both waited quite long enough.”

1. Sadie and Erik became friends in middle school and remained best friends for years before falling in love. What’s your experience with a friendship turning into a romance?

2. Erik planned three fun dates to woo Sadie: a trip to the Denver Aquarium, a night out learning to swing dance at the Mercury Café, and breakfast cooked at his apartment (with online chaperones). What other fun dates would you have planned for Sadie and Erik?

3. Sadie’s self-image was affected by a childhood experience: being diagnosed with a lazy eye and having to wear an eye patch and glasses for a number of years during elementary school. She was also teased (bullied) by other classmates. Have you or someone you know ever been bullied by other kids? How did this affect you (or them)?

4. Have you ever gone to a Sadie Hawkins Dance? What was your experience like?

5. Before Erik could move ahead and love Sadie, he had to forgive his father for abandoning the family. Phillip
introduced him to a different perspective of forgiveness: horizontal and vertical forgiveness. What did you think of this view of forgiveness to help Erik let go of his hurt? Do you have a favorite scripture passage about forgiveness?

6. Sadie experienced a horrible bout of stage fright during the morning cooking show. If you’d been there with her, how would you have helped her relax?

7. Sadie and Erik surprised their friends and family with an engagement party that was actually their wedding ceremony. What’s the most fun thing that’s ever happened to you at a wedding?

An Excerpt from
Love at Mistletoe Inn

A
lthough spending an entire Saturday manning a booth at the Boise Bridal Extravaganza might not be most women’s idea of fun, Hope Prentiss was enjoying herself. It helped that Amity Carter had the next booth.

While Hope was at the October event promoting Harmony Creek, a popular Idaho venue for weddings and receptions, Amity specialized in helping brides plan nontraditional weddings.

Although both women were in their late twenties and were the best of friends, they couldn’t have been more different. How her friend had chosen to dress for today’s business event was a perfect example of her unorthodox approach. While Hope had picked black pants, a simple white shirt, and pulled her auburn hair back from her face with two silver clips, Amity breezed in looking like a windblown gypsy.

She had disheveled dark curls tumbling down her back, a boho-chic dress of purple gauzy cotton and gladiator sandals. Amity’s eyes were the color of exotic spices and her
effective use of make-up made her eyes the focal point of a striking face. Though Hope usually received compliments on her sea green eyes, next to Amity she felt like a brow wren beside a bright peacock.

Hope sighed when Amity handed her a cup of cappuccino “borrowed” from one of the vendors touting their mobile coffee bar.

“I can’t believe we’re friends,” Hope murmured, bringing the cup to her lips.

A sardonic smile lifted Amity’s lips. “Love ya,’ too, Chickadee.”

Dragging her chair over to Hope’s booth, Amity settled in with her cup of gourmet hot cocoa. The fashion show was underway in another part of the Boise Centre, which gave the vendors a chance to relax.

Hope took a long drink and let the caffeine jolt her mind. “I meant you’re adorable and so much fun.”

“All true.” Amity flashed a grin, then blew on the steaming cocoa. “Though I prefer mysterious to adorable.”

“You’re beautiful and mysterious while I’m average and forgettable.” Hope’s lips lifted in a self-deprecating smile.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Amity drawled. “You have a few redeeming qualities. You’re a nice person. And a most excellent friend.”

“I’m not exactly spontaneous.”

“Are you referring to the incident last week when you refused to go to a concert with me so you could stay home and watch your pears grow?”

“I needed to
pick
pears,” Hope clarified. “Anyway, the cost of the ticket for that show was out of my price range.”

Amity’s eyes twinkled. “What range is that?”

“You know. Under twenty.”

Amity’s laugh sounded like the tinkling of a hundred mini wedding bells. “Darlin,’ those prices went out in the last century.”

“I believe in being careful with my money.”

“A word from the unwise to the wise.” Amity took another sip of cocoa. “Can’t take it with you.”

Hope lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. Even after all these years, the memories of her parents arguing over money, the worry over almost losing the only home she’d known, remained with her. So she was conservative—being fiscally responsible wasn’t a crime. But she wouldn’t win this argument. Not with spendthrift Amity.

“I brought you something.” Hope rummaged around and found the box she’d stashed under the table. “Asian pears from my aunt’s orchard.”

“These look fabulous. They almost make me forgive you for the concert thing.” Her friend snatched the box, mouthed a quick ‘thank you,’ then abruptly narrowed her gaze. “Are you still hanging with Chester the molester?”

“He’s not a molester and his name is Chet,” Hope reminded her friend for the zillionth time.

Gold nails glimmered as Amity waved a dismissive hand. “Some names just seem to conjure up certain words. Hannah . . . banana. Fatty . . . Patty. Dirty . . . Debbie.”

“Hey, my mother’s name was Debbie.”

Amity only smirked. “Last, but certainly not least, Chester the molester.”

“Chester, er, Chet Tuttle, is from one of the most
prominent families in Harmony,” Hope said, alluding to the small town just outside Boise where they resided. “He’d never molest anybody. He’s as upright as they come. The guy has never even had a parking ticket.”

“Am I supposed to applaud?”

Hope had to chuckle at her friend’s dry tone before her smile faded. “Chet would like for us to be exclusive. But I’m not ready to make that commitment to him.”

“Smart girl.” Amity nodded. “Why tie yourself to Mr. Super Boring?”

“Chet isn’t boring.” Hope rushed to defend the conservative banker. “He’s sensible.”

“Aka bo-ring.” The response came in a sing-song tone.

Hope lifted her chin. “If he is, then I like boring.”

“Face it, Chickadee, you wouldn’t know how to handle a red-blooded male. Wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a real man.” Before Hope could protest, Amity jumped up as if the seat of her metal chair had suddenly turned red hot. “Yikes! I just remembered I promised Sylvie in the Mad Batter booth I’d drop off a few of my business cards. Since she does nontrad stuff like me, she said she’d hand them out. Back in five.”

Hope had seen Sylvie’s cakes. They were definitely “nontrad.” The wedding cake displayed in the Mad Batter booth today was a perfect example. The multilayer concoction designed for a Christmas wedding sported red-and-white vertical stripes, black flowers, pearls, and . . . two prettily decorated fondant skulls. The words “’Til death us do part” flowed in elegant script across the front.