Going to the Chapel: A Novella (5 page)

“Are you sure it’s not a harebrained scheme by your nieces?” Cora Lynn Waters blotted her red lipstick with a paper napkin. “You know they haven’t always been responsible.”

“Responsible?” Uner Pinkerton harrumphed. “Those girls are train wrecks.”

“Wait a minute,” Aunt Dottie said, her voice stern. “They might be train wrecks, but they’re my train wrecks. Besides, they’re all grown up now. And I think this is a good idea. The good Lord knows this town is about half-dead now and needs reviving.”

“We had a revival last summer,” Myrtle Mosely said.

Ruby patted Myrtle’s hand. Everyone knew the woman was half-blind and deaf in one ear. “She meant revive the town, not
the
revival.”

Faye, the head of the quilting bee, waved a delicate hankie. “Myrtle, she wants to give your bed-and-breakfast a facelift.”

“I don’t need a facelift,” Myrtle said haughtily. “I need a good damn hearing aid.”

Chuckles rumbled through the room, and Ruby leaned over to whisper something to soothe Myrtle.

“We’re talking about fixing up the inn so couples and tourists can stay there,” Ruby said.

Myrtle beamed. “Yes, then I could have enough money for a hearing aid and bunion surgery. I want to be able to wear my sexy sandals again.”

Izzy giggled into her hand, and listened as the others chimed in.

“I’m head of the local garden club,” Edith Burns said. “We can work on landscaping.”

Another lady piped up. “The sewing circle can make new curtains and recover the old chairs and sofas.”

“My Larry at the hardware store can donate supplies for painting and repairs,” Aretha Coleman offered.

Ruby sipped her mint julep. “I’ll personally donate one of my quilts for a bedroom. And I’m sure some of the other ladies from the quilting bee will do the same.”

Aunt Dottie clapped her hands, her hat tilting askew. “You all are so wonderful. Maybe the men from the breakfast club at church can paint and fix up the little chapel on the hill.”

The kitty suddenly ran past Izzy into the room, drawing her aunt’s eyes toward the door.

Izzy darted into the kitchen to escape being caught and hurried to One Stop Weddings. Her heart squeezed as she remembered the way her aunt had stood up for her and her sisters.

She would not let Aunt Dottie down or disappoint her this time.

Daisy was already at the shop, setting out teacakes, muffins, and assorted pastries when Izzy arrived.

Anxious to prove Uner Pinkerton wrong about her, Izzy spent the morning putting together themed wedding packages with Pinterest boards to showcase a broad spectrum of ideas.

She also sketched out plans to organize the shop into sections to designate the services they offered, labeling each section with a catchy name: the Floral Nook, Catering Corner (with fresh baked goodies to sample, thanks to Daisy’s desserts), the Bridal Boutique, Groom’s Den and Entertainment Center, and photography services called Memory Book.

Of course, Daisy and Caroline still hadn’t unpacked and constantly dropped reminders that they were leaving town.

“Check this out,” Daisy said as she waved Izzy over to the computer. “You could call the website Destination: Matrimony.”

“That’s brilliant,” Izzy said, grateful that Daisy had agreed to stay a few more days to help.

Daisy shrugged off the compliment. “I also added some testimonials to the site.”

Izzy leaned over Daisy’s shoulders, impressed. Daisy had cut and pasted pictures of their aunt and Uncle Harry, and two other local couples who’d married in the little chapel—couples whose marriages had weathered stormy years and survived. Each couple had given a testimonial on how to make a marriage last.

“What about those?” Izzy asked when she noticed photographs of several young women and their grooms that she didn’t recognize.

Daisy gave her a sheepish look. “I made those up just to get us started. But once we actually host a few weddings—I mean, once Aunt Dottie does—she can replace them with real couples and their stories.”

Izzy laughed. “You’re devious, Daisy.”

“How do you think I survived marriage?”

Izzy studied Daisy, surprised by her comment. So far neither of her sisters had indicated their marriages were anything but perfect.

Could there be trouble in paradise for Daisy?

Levi grimaced as he parked in front of One Stop Weddings.

He’d been biding his time the last few days hoping Elsa would get something concrete on LaPone and Izzy. But she’d come down with the flu and had been home sick. Just what he got for lying and saying she was ill.

But LaPone had called him a dozen times, and he couldn’t keep making excuses. He had to get this case over with.

According to the ad for the wedding shop, Izzy was using her maiden name. Had she filed for a divorce already?

At Lulabelle’s Diner, half the town had been gossiping about the sisters and their shenanigans years ago. Now they were taking bets on whether or not this little enterprise would make it.

The supporters had chipped in to help refurbish the bed-and-breakfast and the chapel the website claimed was magical.

Marry in the little chapel on the hill and your marriage will last forever.

Bullshit.

He adjusted his cowboy hat, pasted on a smile, and opened the door, causing the jingle bells to ring. A sweet floral odor hit him as he entered, then an aromatic hickory coffee smell that made his mouth water.

But the sight of lace and satin, wedding dresses, veils, and glittery shoes made him twitch with discomfort. He’d worn monkey suits to his brothers’ weddings, and he’d felt as if he was choking.

Christmas decorations were interspersed among the feminine wedding paraphernalia, a reminder of holidays and family, something he’d had and lost when his parents died.

Something he’d never have again.

Not that he missed it. Hell, he had brothers, but they had their own lives.

Besides, he liked being alone. Liked bachelorhood.

Which made the farce he was about to embark on even more ridiculous.

Could he really do this? Pretend he was getting married?

The very thought of a wedding band around his finger made his hand throb and sweat break out on his neck.

Voices echoed from the far corner, and he strode that way. A glass case had been installed to hold desserts, and he’d heard Izzy planning to add a coffee bar. For now, they had simply brought in a coffee pot.

He paused by the dessert tray on the counter to study the sisters. Daisy and Caroline were both beauties, but it was easy to pick Izzy out—that honey-blonde hair looked like cornsilk.

Caroline clenched her cell phone, a no-nonsense look on her face. “Izzy, Aunt Dottie called and said Harry’s buddy Woody, who owns those cabins up on Shoutout Creek, agreed to offer discounts to honeymooners.”

“Are the cabins in decent shape?” Izzy asked. “Because honeymooners want romance, not to stay in a run-down fishing lodge.”

Caroline pocketed her phone. “Aunt Dottie’s going to try to convince him to fix them up.”

Levi chuckled to himself. The cabins
were
run down and definitely designed for fishermen.

Izzy ran her finger around the rim of her coffee mug, then looked up and spotted him. For a moment, her big blue eyes widened, a spark of something that looked like attraction flickering in her gaze.

His gut tightened, heat spiraling through him.

Dammit. He could not be attracted to Izzy Sassafras. She was trouble all the way around.

“Hi,” she said in a honey-sweet voice. “Um, can I help you?”

Devils wear disguises,
he reminded himself.

“Howdy, ma’am. I saw your ad online and need help planning a wedding.”

Her blonde eyebrow slid upward, then she looked around the room as if searching for someone else. “Whose wedding is it?”

He forced a smile, although he felt like his lips might crack. “Mine.”

Izzy stared at the sexy cowboy, her nerves fluttering.

One: he was the best-looking man she’d seen in ages.

Two: his gruff voice made her head dizzy.

And three: he was the miracle they’d been praying for. He wanted to plan a wedding!

But drat—he wanted to plan a wedding. Meaning he was taken with a capital T.

Not that she was looking. Or interested.

No, never again.

She had to focus on the business.

One Stop Weddings had its first client! She almost squealed with excitement.

A second later, worries ran roughshod over her joy.

The shop wasn’t nearly ready for customers. They’d barely begun to build the different areas inside the store. And Daisy and Caroline were leaving any day.

Nerves gathered in Izzy’s stomach. This man had greeted her with
howdy
, which was a Texas term, and she’d just left Texas and was on the run.

What if . . . ?

No. Ray had no idea where she was. For all she knew, he was glad to get rid of her. He was probably too busy boinking the country-club ladies to want her back.

“Have I come at a bad time?” the man asked.

Izzy jerked herself back to the present and the tall cowboy who conjured up images of slow dancing in the moonlight and making love until dawn.

“No, no, that’s fine. It’s just that brides usually oversee the wedding plans.” Of course, she was new in the business. Maybe grooms did want to do more these days. Ray hadn’t, but then he was Ray. All pretty boy, all lies.

“So you’re engaged?” she asked, forcing herself not to gawk at his brawny shoulders. It was barely afternoon, too, and the man sported a five o’clock shadow. Thick dark brows framed the deepest pair of brown eyes she’d ever seen, eyes that gave him a mysterious look.

A small scar that made him look dangerous, like a bad boy walking the line, grazed his temple, disappearing beneath that Stetson.

“Yes, I saw your website and liked it.”

Izzy jerked herself from her sexually induced mental stupor—her biggest flaw was getting distracted by good-looking men. Well, that and taking in strays.

Which sometimes happened to be the good-looking men, especially ones with bedroom eyes.

Determined not to fall into that trap again, she extended her hand, planning to give him a firm professional handshake. “Great. My name is Izzy Sassafras.” His big, wide hand swallowed hers. A tingle rippled up her spine. She quickly pulled her hand away. “And you are . . . ?”

“Levi Fox,” he said in a deep southern drawl, as if he’d just come off the range from a hard day’s work and needed to rest his body in a good woman’s arms.

She fanned her face. She had a good set of arms. “And the bride?” There had to be a bride. Unless he was gay.

No. No way he was gay.

“Actually I’m planning to surprise Elsa,” he said. “She’s been under the weather, and having me take charge of the wedding will alleviate her stress.”

Izzy gaped at him. He either was a total romantic or an idiot. “So you’re going to make all the decisions yourself?”

“Yes.”

Izzy swallowed back a retort. Pity that a man with such good looks didn’t have more common sense between those gorgeous eyes.

“Elsa is . . . a little frail right now,” he said. “But she has her heart set on a Christmas wedding, and I want to give it to her.”

“That’s really sweet.” A seed of envy struck Izzy. The man sounded totally smitten with his fiancée. “But doesn’t she want to pick out her flowers and see the venue? And what about her dress?”

“She already has her wedding gown. It belonged to her mother, who passed away last year.” He gestured toward the crystal cake stand showcasing a ceramic three-tiered white cake decorated with red roses and a string of pearls made from frosting. “I told her I’d coordinate with the wedding planner and send her photos of plans as we go. Then she can weigh in.”

Just how sick was Elsa?

Poor thing. Maybe she had a terminal disease or something incapacitating. Or some injury or a hideous scar that she wanted to heal before venturing out in public.

“How about other family? Does she have a mother or sister who might want to be involved?”

“No, no family, I’m afraid.” He tilted his head to the side with a sheepish grin. “Just me.”