Best Laid Wedding Plans (30 page)

But she'd bide her time. Cole was right. She needed a shower and food. Between last night and this morning, they'd worked off a week's supply of calories.

And right now they should be making lazy love in that wonderful bed of his. Instead she was angry and hurt. She wanted to cry. But tears were weak and useless. She'd shed so many this past year and a half, and they'd done no good.

A quick call to Charlotte affirmed all was well at home. She kept it casual, didn't mention Stella's call.

Hanging up, she grabbed the clothes scattered over the floor and headed into the bath.

The shower, with its multiple heads, almost melted her bones. She stood under the spray and let it loosen her tense muscles. Talk about a morning imploding in the blink of an eye.

When she opened the shower door, she smiled like an idiot. Cole stood there, a towel in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other.

“Which would you like first?”

She opted for the coffee.

“Oh, I'm not sure anything has ever tasted this good.”

“I can think of something.” He dropped the towel to the floor, reached behind her and turned the shower back on. Hand on her hip, he followed her beneath the spray.

When they finally made it to Clary's, the morning rush was over. Seated at a small table, she exhaled deeply. She'd missed this place with its worn brick and dark green walls, its large counter, its down-home feel and friendly people.

Cole had nearly finished his first cup of coffee when he asked, “So what happened, sweetheart?”

She blinked, muscling aside the tears that even now threatened, and told him about Stella's call.

“Pia D'Amato,” he said when she mentioned the Jersey accent.

“How did you know?”

“I ordered flowers for Mom, to thank her for the lasagna. Pia doesn't fit in Misty Bottoms. You have to ask yourself what she's doing there.”

Jenni Beth toyed with her food, apologized to the waitress, and gladly accepted a to-go box. Later, she might be able to eat. Right now, she needed to be home.

After a quick stop at Molly's for her overnighter, she headed north to Misty Bottoms, straight into the eye of the hurricane.

* * *

“Mickey? Can you handle things at the shop for a couple hours?”

“Yeah, sure. It's a slow morning.”

Cole hung up. Slow? Not from where he stood. Things were heating up and quickly.

Clary's would have been the time to come clean with Jenni Beth. To tell her about Richard and his suspicions. But all he had were suspicions. He needed more.

Determined to find it, he sat down at his computer. Come hell or high water, he'd get to the bottom of this. Whoever was behind these shenanigans had definitely taken off the gloves.

Well, so had he.

Jenni Beth scrolled through her contact list, found Pia's number, and called her. She had absolutely no idea how to handle this mess and could come up with no good reason for Pia to have made a move like that.

Still second-guessing herself, she heard Pia answer.

“Bella Fiore.”

“Hey, Pia, Jenni Beth here. Um, have you talked to Stella recently?”

“Next week's bride?”

“Yes.”

“No, I sure haven't. Has she changed her mind about the flowers?”

“No, she hasn't. You didn't call her yesterday or last night?”

“No, I've never spoken with her. You've been the middleman.”

If Pia was lying, she was darned good at it.

“Is there a problem?”

“This is awkward. Somebody called to tell her the rose garden had been destroyed. That we couldn't host her wedding at Magnolia House.”

“Oh no, Jenni Beth, I'm so sorry. When did that happen?”

“It didn't.”

“But—” Pia hesitated. “I'm confused.”

“That makes two of us.”

“So, nothing's wrong?”

Jenni Beth wasn't so sure of that, but she said, “No, I guess not. I reassured Stella, and we're good. Everything okay on your end?”

“Absolutely. Her flowers are ordered and my supplier promised them on Thursday, which gives me plenty of time to finish the arrangements.”

When she hung up, Jenni Beth was as confused as before. Had Pia made the call to Stella? If so, why? If not, could the accent simply be a coincidence?

She had a hard time swallowing that.

Jenni Beth had enjoyed Savannah, had more than enjoyed her time with Cole. Just thinking about him sent her body into spasms of ecstasy. So easy in his own body, the man had no problem navigating a woman's, either.

And now? Time to see what was going on at home.

The minute she stopped her car in the drive, she hopped out and raced to the rose garden. The scent hit her as she rounded the corner. And there it was in all its glory.

A huge sigh of relief escaped.

A small piece of her had been so afraid the phone call hadn't been a hoax.

But everything was okay.

Hurrying inside, Jenni Beth hugged her mom, dad, and Charlotte before giving them an abridged and carefully edited version of her trip. She left out her sleepover with Cole as well as the phone call that had brought her running home early.

Thanking Charlotte, she accepted a glass of sweet tea and carried it with her to the attic, her mind swirling with everything that had happened and with all the things she still needed to do for Magnolia House's first wedding.

If she'd learned anything from this whole experience, it was that she couldn't do it on her own. She'd gone into this with no partners and no backup. Had risked everything and felt all alone.

Somewhere along the line that had changed. Oh, the ultimate responsibility for the success or failure of Magnolia Brides rested on her shoulders. The decisions were still ultimately hers. But Cole and Beck had stepped up to the plate and helped her make her dream a reality.

Could she have done it by herself? She'd like to think so. Liked to think she could have hired and supervised a crew. Could have made the correct decisions on replacing all or part of the siding, on the best way to sand and stain the hardwood floors.

Truth, though? She didn't know. And because they were such great friends, she hadn't had to find out.

Wandering over to the board for next weekend's wedding, she studied the printout of the photos Stella'd emailed her. Front, back, and side views of her dress. Ideas for flowers, for the cake. Jenni Beth had taped up color chips and fabric swatches to use in the decorations. Pia had sent mock-ups of the flower arrangements.

Lists covered every surface. In longhand, on the computer, and scrawled on Post-its. They were her life and always had been. Carefully she went through them again, making sure nothing had been neglected or forgotten.

By the time she finished, she'd come to the realization she'd need help on the actual day of the wedding. Charlotte had offered, as had her mom, but even with what they could do, she'd need someone else because, although they wouldn't actually be eating here, there would be the cake, champagne, taped music to cue, and on and on. The list boggled her mind.

At Chateau Rouge, she'd had staff already in place. Not so at Chateau Magnolia.

She called Luanna and explained her situation. “I know it's short notice, but do you think Dee-Ann would give you the day off to work the wedding? I'll pay you two times what you make at the diner.”

“Two times?”

“Yes.” She winced, but it was the price of doing business. “Absolutely. I need you.”

“I'm already off Saturday, and the answer is yes. I'm your girl.”

“Bless you. I could really use another one or maybe even two more assistants, so if you know anyone—”

“I do.”

“Okay, great. Call them, see if they can work, and get back to me. But be sure they understand that if they agree to come in for this, they can't back out. No excuses. No sick babies or cranky husbands. I need to be able to count on them. There're going to be a lot more weddings here at Magnolia House, and I'll need help at every one of them.”

With a mouthed “yes” and a fist pump, she checked that item off her to-do list. The cake and flowers were ordered and a couple of Beck's men were constructing a temporary outside dance floor. Even though the reception itself would be held at Duffy's Pub, the couple wanted their first dance as husband and wife to be here.

Jenni Beth wanted that, too.

Sooner or later, they'd need a moveable dance floor anyway. The guys had decided to make it in sections so that after the wedding it could be torn down and stored till the next time it was needed. Charlie had come up with the design, and it was a humdinger. The man was incredibly talented, and she wondered vaguely if Beck paid him enough. Or if
she
paid him enough.

Her mind switched back to the big picture. Once things got rolling on Saturday, there was one person she'd want beside her, one person she'd want to share the day with—other than Cole.

Tansy Calhoun. A slight problem with that, though. Now Tansy Forbes, she lived a three hours' drive from here.

Bigger problem?
Mr.
Forbes. The biggest jerk Jenni Beth had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

At first, she'd tried to convince herself she disliked him out of loyalty to Beck, but it was more than that. It was the man himself.

Without giving herself any more time to think about it, Jenni Beth called her. “Tanz? Do you think you might be able to come home for a few days? I haven't seen you in forever, and, well, I could really use some help.”

“On the house?”

“No, with my first wedding!” Excitedly, she filled Tansy in. “I'd love to have you here to share it.”

In the background, Jenni Beth heard the jerk hollering at his wife to get off the phone. He needed a fresh cup of coffee. His had grown cold.

“Jenni Beth, I'd love to help, but things are…unsettled here. I can't make any promises.”

“Why do you put up with that?”

“He's my husband.”

And she hung up.

Jenni Beth clicked off and wondered what had happened to the Tansy Calhoun she'd grown up with. Like a beaten dog, she cowered at her husband's commands.

The last time she'd seen Tansy, her friend had been stick-thin and grim-faced. None of the spark that used to shine from her golden eyes had survived.

She'd pleaded with her to leave Emerson, to come home. But Tansy was nothing if not loyal. How good could it be, though, to raise a young girl in a home so completely dominated by that man? What kind of warped view of the male/female relationship would it foster in Gracie?

Well, she guessed she could add that to the list of things to keep her awake at night.

But it sure wouldn't tonight. While she'd worried about Tansy, the sky outside had gone completely dark.

Too tired to even go downstairs to raid the refrigerator, she pulled off her clothes and fell into bed. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she remembered exactly why she hadn't gotten much sleep last night.

Too bad she'd woken up to such a mess. Tomorrow had to be better.

It had been six days since she'd seen Cole, six days since they'd kissed, touched, made love, and she craved him. Still, with the wedding coming up, the time had passed quickly. Even though he hadn't been able to make it home, he'd called every single day and again right at bedtime. A smile spread over her face remembering last night's conversation. The man should be locked up.

The sun barely peeked through her window, and she brushed a strand of hair back from her face. Wanting to catch another hour of sleep, she pulled the covers over her head and added a couple more things to her mental to-do list.

She yawned. They'd wait, though—till the rest of the civilized world woke.

When she finally crawled out of bed nearly two hours later, she wandered into the bath for a quick wake-me-up shower. Tossing on a pair of shorts and an old T-shirt, she slipped her feet into neon pink rubber flip-flops and raced down the stairs and back to the kitchen for the first cup of life-giving coffee.

“You sure look chipper this mornin',” Charlotte said.

“I feel chipper.” She slid into a chair at the kitchen table. “I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. Right here at Magnolia House. The trip last week to Savannah did me a lot of good and lunch with my friends was nice, but I'm glad to be home.”

She looked up as Charlotte spread peanut butter on toast for her. “You don't need to do that. I'm a big girl. I can make my own toast.”

“I know. But I missed you while you were gone. Oh, not last week,” she said, those big brown eyes looking sad. “The years you lived in Savannah. The house was empty without you.”

“Oh, Charlotte, I love you.” She threw her arms around the woman who had always been there to listen to her, to make her feel better no matter how lousy the day had been.

Chewing a bite of her toast, she said, “You and I need to take a trip to Cole's place one of these days. We'll talk Mama into going along and make it a girls' day. You wouldn't believe his shop. It's like wandering into Aladdin's Castle.”

“You found some real treasure, huh?”

Whew. Hadn't she just. The best of it hadn't been inside Traditions, though. She blushed and Charlotte laughed.

“You don't need to say any more, little girl.”

She cleared her throat. “I'll finish the garden area today. It'll need one final go-through before Saturday, but I can roust most of the weeds and get the bushes trimmed up. If anybody calls or if Mama or Daddy needs me, that's where I'll be.”

“Take a bottle of water along. It's gonna be hot, and you need to stay hydrated.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She finished her breakfast, then headed out to the shed for her tools. What a fantastic morning. After all the hours she and the guys had put in, she felt more than confident. And with Luanna and a friend or two coming to help?

No worries.

First on her list? Deadheading the roses. Gardening shears in hand, Jenni Beth smiled up at the beautiful blue sky. Wispy white clouds floated across it.

She hugged herself. Although she'd put on a good front, inside she'd been a nervous wreck.

And Cole. She—

“No! No! No!”

The clippers fell to the grass. She closed her eyes, opened them again, her stomach rebelling. Then she simply dropped to her knees.

Every single rosebush had been destroyed, either ripped from the ground and tossed helter-skelter or hacked to pieces. She put a hand to her forehead, the other to her mouth. It couldn't be!

“Why would anyone do this?” Hot tears scalded her cheeks. Message received. The call had been a warning, one she'd ignored. Stella's wedding hadn't been cancelled. The ploy hadn't worked, so someone had taken the next step.

Gasping sobs ripped from her. Slowly, anger seeped in around the edges of pain. Somebody didn't know her very well if they thought she'd simply give in. But damn, damn, and double damn, this hurt. This was personal. Very personal.

This couldn't be fixed with a Band-Aid or a pat on the head.

This was real. Devastating.

She stood and stumbled closer, swiping at the fast-falling tears, her brain rebelling at what she saw. Wanton destruction.

She couldn't let her mother and father see this. Couldn't let them know someone had come onto their land, their property, and done this while they slept.

Her trembling hand reached into her shorts pocket and, without thought, without debating the wisdom of it, she hit Cole's number.

When he answered, she said, “Where are you? Are you in Savannah?”

“Jenni Beth?”

“I need you.”

* * *

Fear reached right inside Cole's chest cavity and tightened its fist around his heart. “Are you okay?”

“No.” She sobbed. “I mean yes, physically, but… Oh, Cole.”

“I'm halfway there already, honey. I drove up after work last night. Give me five minutes.”

“Okay. I'm in the garden.”

The line went dead.

He tossed his phone on the seat beside him and hit the gas, his heart racing faster than his big black truck as it lapped up the miles.

What had happened to have Jenni Beth calling him in tears? Visions of the worst kind flew in and out of his head. He should have asked about her mom, her dad, Charlotte. If one of them—No, he refused to go there.

He pulled into her drive on a wing and a prayer, his truck sending up a spray of gravel as he stopped. Throwing open the door, he jumped out and raced around the house.

She sat in the grass, her head buried in her arms, fragile looking. He saw why she'd called and cursed ripely, crossing to her at a fast lope.

“Jenni Beth, I'm here. I'm so sorry. I thought—The phone call. You said—”

Her head lifted and he swore. Stricken. Shattered. “Somebody did this last night.” She sniffled, wiped a hand at her tears.

“Any idea who?” He had his own suspicions.

“I don't know. Cole, I can't even think.” Her lip quivered, and, blindly, she reached for his hand.

He dropped to the grass beside her and pulled her into his lap. He cradled her as he would a new baby, whispering soothing words and rocking her.

“Grandma Elizabeth planted a lot of these, starting quite a few from her grandmother's clippings. Some were already here when she came as a bride. And now they're gone. All of them. I failed.”

“Shhh, it's not your fault.”

Cole kissed the top of her head, thumbed away her tears. He hated this, hated not knowing what to say. To do. So he simply drew her closer and held tight.

Five, ten minutes passed before Jenni Beth sighed deeply. “The garden is ruined. Stella's wedding is ruined. Richard wins.”

“No.” He shook her gently. “Don't say that. Don't even think it.”

“We can't host a wedding here. Look at it.”

“It'll be fine. Come on.” He pulled her to her feet. “We've got work to do.”

“What?”

“Do you have any buckets?”

“Buckets?”

“Yes, buckets. Of any kind.”

“There're some empty five-gallon paint buckets. Charlie stacked them behind the house.”

“Good. I'll get them. You hook up the hose.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We'll get as many of these bushes as we can soaking. Keep the roots wet. It's too late for some, but quite a few are salvageable.”

She clamped on her wide-brimmed hat and pulled on her leather gloves. Working together, within the hour, they had twenty bushes soaking and, after clipping branches to put in root starter, had hauled the unsalvageable remains to the construction dump area.

“You know who this belongs to?” He whipped a hat out of his back pocket. The well-worn, frayed-edge, olive-green ball cap had “Maudie's Roadkill Restaurant” embroidered on the front.

“I've never seen it before. Why? Where'd you get it?”

“On the ground over there. Figure whoever came to visit last night dropped it.” He gripped her arms lightly. “Do you have anything else to do for the wedding?”

“A ton of details to see to, but what difference does any of that make?” Another tear spilled over and trickled down her cheek. “Without a rose garden, there's no wedding, Cole. The best-laid wedding plans. Gone.”

“There will be a wedding right here in two days,” he said gruffly. “Guests have been invited, flowers and food ordered. Go take a shower and get cleaned up. Do whatever else it is you need to do.”

He ran a finger down the side of her face, smudging the dirt that clung there.

“Where are you going?”

“Think I'll take a trip into town. When I come back, we need to talk. Somebody's been trampin' around your bottomland, too.”

“What?”

“That's where I was this morning. After that call last week, I thought I'd check it out. Gotta figure it's your new business partner.”

“My partner?” Confusion marred her face.

“Richard Thorndike.”

If he needed proof she still wasn't firing on all cylinders, he had it when she meekly nodded, and without asking any more questions, headed inside.

Cole rinsed off as best he could with the hose, then walked to the front of the house where he'd left his Ford parked drunkenly at an angle, the driver's door hanging open. He wondered what she'd tell her folks. Thankfully, neither of them was up yet.

Before he drove into town, though, he needed to unload the things he'd brought back from Savannah for Jenni Beth, including the trunk. He laid a hand on top of it. He didn't know what she had stored in it. Maybe bricks.

A truck turned into the lane, and Cole raised a hand to shade his eyes. Beck. Hallelujah. The cavalry had arrived. Crossing his work-booted feet, he leaned against his truck.

“Hey.” Beck raised a hand in greeting. “When did you get back into town?”

“Last night. Good thing I did, too. We've got trouble.”

“What's goin' on?”

“Did Jenni Beth tell you about the call she got from Stella while she was in Savannah?”

“Yeah.” Concern filled Beck's eyes. “But everything was okay.”

“Till this mornin',” Cole bit out, his fists bunching. “Somebody destroyed the entire rose garden. We're talkin' vandalism on steroids.”

Cole walked back with Beck while he checked out the damage for himself.

Beck gave a low whistle. “You think Richard's behind it?”

“I know he is. But he's got help. No way would he dirty his own hands, and this scheme is too big for that numbskull to handle alone.”

“Did you call the cops?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. Ever see this?” Pulling the hat from his pocket, he handed it to Beck.

“Yeah. The Stuckey boy wears it. Why?”

“I found it out in the garden.”

“Shoot.” Beck kicked at a dirt clod. “Jeremy's dad left town about six months ago, and the kid's gotten into one scrape after another since then. His mom's fit to be tied. Can't seem to do anything with him.”

“Ralph Stuckey left?”

“Yep. Moved in with some twenty-three-year-old over in Rincon.”

“So now his mama's gonna have new grief to deal with. Damn fool kid. I swear if Richard's behind this, I'm gonna pummel him to dust.”

“Really? Want me to visit your mama while she copes with the grief that'll cause
her
? You won't be able to help her or Jenni Beth because you'll be behind bars.”

Cole glared at his friend.

Beck shrugged. “Just sayin'. Where's Jenni Beth now?”

“Inside cleanin' up. I'm gonna head into town, see if I can find some new roses or somethin'.” He pounded the tailgate. “This pisses me off.”

Eyes narrowed, he nodded at the trunk. “Want to help me move this inside? It's Jenni Beth's grandma's, and I don't want to take a chance on scratchin' it up.”

“Sure.”

Cole's conscience groused at him. His friend had agreed too readily. Wait till he lifted this sucker. He'd be crying uncle in the first five feet.

Sure enough, Cole dropped the tailgate, hopped up in the back, and, grunting, slid the trunk toward the edge. Jumping back to the ground, he said, “I think if we each get a grip on the side—”

Both groaned as they took the full weight.

“What the hell's in here?” Beck spread his feet a bit wider as he settled into the weight.

“Don't have a clue, but it damn well better be worth it.”

Jenni Beth came to the screen door, hair wet, and dressed in clean clothes. She held the door open. “You brought my trunk. Can you take it up to my room?”

“To the attic?” Cole blinked.

“Yes.”

The two men exchanged horrified glances and moved into the front hall.

“I think,” Beck said, “it would look great in the parlor. On the first floor.”

Cole studied the room off to their right. “Yep, it would be perfect there.”

“Not on your life. Upstairs.”

“Might be our lives,” Cole mumbled as he took the first stair.

Trunk delivered, Cole climbed into his truck and sat behind the wheel for a minute, rolling his shoulders. That thing weighed a ton. But it had brought a smile to Jenni Beth's face.

The look in her eyes, on her face out in the garden haunted him, and the anger built again. One person in Misty Bottoms wanted her to fail badly enough to stoop to something this low, this underhanded.

Too damn bad he couldn't walk into Coastal Plains Savings and Trust and handle this, once and for all, with Richard Thorndike. Beck was right, though. That would get him nothing but a cell in the local jail.

A night spent there would be worth every second if it weren't for the fact he couldn't help Jenni Beth from there. He'd only add more self-reproach to her pile. And, yes, his mama would be awfully upset.

He slid the truck into gear and headed instead to the only florist in town. Pia D'Amato. The new florist with the Jersey accent. Was she in cahoots with Richard? Misty Bottoms was a small, sleepy town. What the heck was going on?