Best Laid Wedding Plans (8 page)

If things went well, Jenni Beth might even have time to stop by the bakery, check off another item on her to-do list. Kitty was barely out of high school when she'd baked Jenni Beth's parents' wedding cake. Still in business, she continued feeding the sweet tooth of Misty Bottom's population. How much longer would she want to do that? Be able to do it?

Fingers crossed, Jenni Beth hoped it would be long enough. A bride absolutely could not have a wedding without that special cake. And God knew neither she nor her mother had inherited any baking genes. She could plan one heck of a menu and even design the cake, but she couldn't make them happen. Nor could Charlotte, though there'd been a time when her cakes were some of the finest in the county.

There'd been a time when Magnolia House was the finest in the county, too. There'd been a time when her brother had been here with her, had shared the responsibilities, the fun, the laughter.

That time was no more.

And wasn't she turning maudlin?

Enough.

Taking the stairs at a fast clip, she headed to the shower. Running grimy fingers through her hair, she cringed. Cobwebs. Yeech.

She hit the last step and stopped. Cole. She could smell him here in her room. He might be gone, but the essence of him remained.

It had been a huge mistake to let that man into her bedroom.

Convertible top down, dust flying behind her, and a swingy little sundress boosting her confidence, Jenni Beth shot into the lumberyard's dirt parking lot. She refused to ruin the beautiful spring day by dwelling on the negatives. Instead, now that she'd set the plans in motion to turn her dream into reality, impatience ate at her.

She parked and flipped up the car's top. No sense coming out to find her leather seats dirty. Slinging her purse over a shoulder, she headed into Elliot's Lumber and Hardware, Misty Bottoms' small-town hybrid of Lowe's and Home Depot. Better than both because it was a mom-and-pop enterprise. If a person had any kind of construction project in the works, he could find what he needed here.

Beck's grandpa had established the family business, then handed the reins to his son. Now the day-to-day rested as much on Beck's shoulders as on his dad's. Beck also ran Elliot's Construction Company from here. Not a slacker's bone in that well-muscled body.

He was doing well, but it had cost him. Big time. Jenni Beth's thoughts turned to her best friend, Tansy Calhoun. She and Beck had been so in love all through high school. But when Tansy went off to college, Beck stayed behind to help his family with the business. Still single, he seemed determined to stay that way.

Tansy, on the other hand, was a married woman with the sweetest little girl ever to inhabit this Earth. Jenni Beth smiled every time she thought about little Gracie. She hoped Tansy would visit soon, but the chances of that happening were pretty slim. Since her marriage, Tansy had pulled away from everything Misty Bottoms. Her hoity-toity husband didn't encourage ties with the past.

Halfway across the lot, she spotted Beck by his truck. He and another guy were unloading tools from the back.

“Hey, Beck.”

“Hey yourself, beautiful,” he drawled. “How the heck are you?”

She moved in to give him a hug, but he held his arms in the air. “Don't get too close, sweetheart. That's one cute little dress you're wearin', and I'm dirty as all get out. Been puttin' up a new shed for Teddy Higgins out on Old Coffee Road.”

“I don't care.” She went in for the hug, heedless of a little sweat and dirt. The cotton dress could be tossed in the washer.

The man felt good. Solid. A little leaner than Cole, maybe an inch taller. While Cole's hair was a dark, sun-streaked brown, Beck's was a golden blond and tended to curl. Cole's? His swept back in mouthwatering waves.

And why was she thinking about Cole again? Face hidden against Beck's chest, certain he couldn't see her, she rolled her eyes.

“You know, Beck, you look more like Dierks Bentley than Dierks Bentley.”

“That's what all the girls tell me.”

“Then what's wrong with you? Go get one.”

“I've been waitin' for you, darlin'.”

“Yeah, right.”

He bussed her on the cheek. “Hear you've got a project goin' on out at the homestead.”

“I sure do, and I'm up to my neck in it. I went to see Richard at the bank this morning.” She crossed her fingers. “I'm hoping he'll bankroll the renovation and start-up. Cole says I'm crazy, but I can do this.”

“If anybody can, it's you. So what brings you to my place? How can I help?”

“I came to drop off an order for some lumber. It's either fix that porch floor or tear the whole darn thing off.”

“Yeah, I noticed last time I visited your folks it looked kind of rough. I meant to get back, but…” He spread his hands. “I got busy. Just not enough hours in the day.”

“Don't I know it. But that's okay. I'm taking care of it.”

“You need some help?”

She shook her head. “I can manage.”

“Yourself?” He held her at arm's distance and studied her.

“Hey.” She made a muscle. “I can swing a hammer. Nothing wrong with my arm.”

He wrapped a hand around her upper arm, pretended to be impressed. “You're right. My mistake.”

“Your guys will cut the lumber to length before they deliver it, right? That's the tricky part.”

“Yep, they'll do that. You get into trouble, though, despite all that muscle”—he gave her upper arm another squeeze—“you give me a call.”

When she opened her mouth, he said, “No need to get your back up. Just makin' a friendly offer of help.”

She took a deep breath. “Then thank you. Cole actually offered to help, too.” Going for nonchalance, she said, “He's in town.”

“Yeah, we're gonna hit Duffy's Pub a little later for dinner and a couple beers.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Want to join us?”

She laughed, knowing full well why he'd been reluctant to invite her. This was guys' night out. Still, he'd been willing to sacrifice, and that meant a lot. “No, that's okay. I've got more than enough to keep me busy.”

“Why'd you come home, Jenni Beth?”

“Ah, and there's the million-dollar question, isn't it?”

“Let's go on back to my office. Sit down for a few minutes. Think I've got a couple cold sodas in my fridge.”

She followed him through the store, waited while he answered a couple questions tossed at him by an employee, then dropped onto the sagging sofa in his cluttered office.

“Here, let me get some of that.” He scooped up a book of wallpaper samples and piled it on the floor by the carpet swatches. Some paperwork ended up in the same heap.

“You need a bookkeeper…and a cleaning lady.”

“Got both. But I rarely let them in here.” He grinned. “They'd screw up my organizational system.”

“Right. I can see that. A place for everything and everything in its place.”

“Something like that.” He grabbed a Coke from the mini-fridge and handed it to her, then retrieved a second for himself. Settling onto his office chair, he kicked back, booted feet on his desktop.

“So, what are you really doing back in Misty Bottoms?”

She took a long cold drink of her soda, then filled him in on her plan.

“What do you think?” she finally asked.

“Honestly? I believe you've got your work cut out for you. If you can pull it off? Huge win. For you, your parents, and the town.”

She nodded slowly. “I thought long and hard before I turned in my resignation at the Chateau Rouge Resort. I loved that job, but my folks need me here.”

Beck nodded vaguely. “I see them around town once in a while. Mostly your dad. Your mother—well, they've both aged, haven't they?”

She raised her gaze to the ceiling. Fought back another round of unwanted tears. “Oh, Beck, I should have come back sooner. I figured they had each other. That they were okay. They're not. My mom's barely holding on.”

She met his worried gaze and fought for a smile. “So, here I am. And as soon as Richard gives me the go-ahead, I'll tear into the old place. Until then, I'll start on the porch. That's something I can tackle myself, physically and financially.”

“My offer of help stands.”

“I know.” She tossed her empty soda can into his recycling container and dug the itemized list out of her purse.

Beck plucked the notepaper from her and scanned it. “Looks pretty thorough. You're sure of the measurements?”

The arched-brow look she sent him said it all.

“Okay then. Let's get this order placed.”

As they stepped from his office, he glanced again at her notes. “Everything's in stock. It'll take my guys some time to get your lumber cut and the rest of the things pulled together. We should be able to deliver it sometime tomorrow. Will that work?”

“It sure will.”

“Don't suppose you have a nail gun?”

“Nope. I plan to use a hammer and do it the old-fashioned way.”

Walking over to a bin, he scooped up a handful of nails. “You'll want to use this kind, this size.” He held one up. “It'll sink deeper and hold better. I'll send some out with your lumber.”

“Thanks.”

“You gonna paint or stain the wood?”

“The porch has always been white. Think I'll stay with that.”

“Let me show you the best.”

When she grimaced, he said, “Jenni Beth, you know I'm gonna give you the family discount on everything, don't you?”

“I can't ask you to do that, Beck.”

“You don't need to ask. I offered.”

“Then again, I'll say thank you.” Because quick tears heated her eyes and threatened to embarrass them both, she said, “Lead the way.”

She followed him to the paint department.

“When we deliver the lumber tomorrow, I'll match up the color, figure out how much the job will take, and order it for you,” he said.

Beck pointed out a couple other things she'd need. She dutifully made note of them, then made her escape, stopping a few times to speak to a former teacher, the pastor at her parents' church, a neighbor. Everyone wanted to know how she was doing—that veiled reference to her brother.

Once in her car, she blew out a huge breath.

She felt shaky. Memories assaulted her.

Being home should be easier. It wasn't. In Savannah she could pretend her brother hadn't been killed. That he was still alive and well and doing his own thing while she did hers.

But here in Misty Bottoms? Wes, his friends, and his memory surrounded her.

She could hide in a dark hole, but that wouldn't solve anything. And Wes would expect more from her. Nevertheless, Jenni Beth took a moment, settled herself before starting the car. She adjusted the vents so cool air blew across her, hit the power button on the stereo, and laid her head back against the seat. Chris Young, in all his sexiness, serenaded her.

A little steadier after a few minutes, she checked the dashboard clock. What was Cole doing? She laughed. Not sitting around wondering what
she
was doing, that's for sure.

Time to get back to business. Everything would still be open for another couple hours. Kitty would be her next stop. The familiar versus the unknown. While she was there, and since she'd skipped lunch, Jenni Beth decided she'd treat herself.

Like a carrot dangling on a string, the idea of a sweet treat provided the motivation needed to get her butt in gear. Once in town, the 'Vette bumped along Anderson's Alley, one of only three cobblestone streets left in town.

Kitty's Kakes and Bakery hadn't changed one iota over the years. The pink and green awning shaded the street and front window. Inside that window, behind the shop's stenciled name, trays of goodies lined the shelves and tempted even a saint to stop and indulge.

Jenni Beth definitely wasn't a saint.

She'd barely made it through the door when Kitty let out a squeal. Wiping her hands on the stained white apron tied around her thick waist, she stepped out from behind the counter to wrap Jenni Beth in a warm hug.

“I heard you were home.”

“I am. And I'm staying.”

“Your dad told me that. He and your mom stopped in for coffee and a donut.” Kitty backed up and held Jenni Beth away from her. Studied her. “How are you, honey? You look a little tired.”

“I'm good, and I have some rather ambitious plans. Plans I'm hoping you'll want to be a part of.”

Curiosity burned in the baker's eyes. “Oh yeah? Nobody's here. Sit. We'll talk.” She waved at a small table jammed into the corner. “It's time for my break, anyway. Want coffee?”

“I'd love a cup—and a chocolate éclair. It's been way too long since I've had one—and nobody makes them better than you!”

“You've got it.” Over her shoulder, she said, “Cole Bryson stopped by for a couple of these earlier today. He's in town, too.”

Jenni Beth's heart raced. She couldn't seem to get away from the man. “Yes, I talked to him.”

“He's sure a good-lookin' devil, isn't he?” Kitty moved behind the counter, efficiently plated Jenni Beth's treat and poured two coffees.

Jenni Beth said nothing, assuming Kitty didn't really need or expect an answer.

Carrying the coffees and pastry to the table, Kitty asked, “So, what's up?”

Jenni Beth took one bite of the éclair and closed her eyes. “Oh boy. A moment of silence, please.” She chewed and smiled. “I've missed these.”

Reluctantly, she returned the pastry to her plate and shared her plan.

The shopkeeper listened quietly, then softly whistled. “You're takin' on an awful lot, sweetie.”

“Yes, I am, but I know I can do this. My brides, Magnolia Brides, will need cakes and pastries, and they'll want the best. Yours. Will you help?”

The woman met her eyes. “I planned to retire, you know.” Nervous fingers shredded a paper napkin. “When Harvey got sick, we decided I'd better hang on a little bit longer. Insurance and doctor bills can run you into the ground, eat up everything you've worked for.”

“I'm sorry.” Jenni Beth laid her hand over the older woman's. “How's Harvey doing?”

“Better. Much better.” She smiled. “A few more treatments and we're out of the woods.”

“I'm so glad.”

“I hope you can make this wedding venue work. As for me?” She breathed deeply, then her face split in a grin. “Oh hell. I've always been a sucker for fairy tales and crazy-assed dreams. Count me in. Besides, weddings are such joy-filled events, aren't they?”

“They are! Thank you, Kitty!”

She patted her hand. “Just tell me what you need and when, and I'll have it ready for you. Keep in mind I'm not one of those fancy Atlanta or New York City pastry chefs, though.”

“You don't need to be. I've seen—and tasted—enough of your cakes to know you're exactly what Magnolia Brides will want.”

Jenni Beth couldn't stop smiling as she finished off her éclair and coffee. “I have one more stop to make. The new florist.”

Kitty made a face. “She's not one of us, you know. She's a Yankee.”