Picture Perfect (Weddings by Design Book #1): A Novel (22 page)

May your troubles be less

And your blessings be more

And nothing but happiness

Come through your door.

Irish blessing

W
hen the parade ended, I could hardly wait to spend a few hours with Drew. I clutched his hand in mine, photographer no more. For the first hour we walked the Strand, the place where I’d done business for over a year. Seeing our little island all done up in its finest, offering pomp and circumstance worthy of the British Empire, made me proud to be a Galvestonian.

I had always enjoyed the Strand, but never so much as during the Dickens event. Costumed vendors peddled their
wares—many of them tantalizing my taste buds with their delicious scents. From rolling carts and street stalls they called out to us, begging us to have a sample of this or that. I had a little of this and a lot of that. Talk about a feast for the eyes and the stomach! Sweets in abundance. Candy-covered apples. Caramel pecan apples on a stick. Yum.

We stopped in the children’s area to watch as the little ones frolicked and played. To our right, D.J. helped Tres climb aboard an elephant for a ride. The youngster squealed with pure delight. Or was that terror? Hard to tell with so much going on around me. Several of the Rossis’ older children played in the fabricated snow yard, joining an overly made-up Scrooge for a wacky Dickens-themed scavenger hunt. Pure joy radiated from each face. Well, joy mixed with red cheeks from the heat. Who could’ve predicted temps in the upper seventies this close to Christmas?

At two o’clock we paused to enjoy the Victorian Bed Races down Mechanic Street, cheering on the participants and laughing when the team dressed in the Ghost of Christmas Past attire took the prize. When that ended, we headed to the main stage near the middle of the Strand, where I heard angelic voices ringing out in perfect three-part harmony.

Drew gave my hand a squeeze and smiled. “We’re right on time.”

He waved at Brock and Erin, who stood near the stage, surrounded by paparazzi, of course. As we approached, Brock managed to convince the reporters to hightail it. He then gestured to the Splendora sisters and smiled.

“This is going to be the highlight of my day,” he said. “Three of my favorite ladies, dressed to the nines and singing their hearts out. The last time I saw them, they were doing the same thing, only at a Renaissance-themed wedding.”

“No way.”

“Yep. My best friend’s wedding, to be precise. At Club Wed. They brought the house down then, and it looks like nothing’s changed.”

Sure enough, the crowd clapped and cheered as the ladies sang. Still, I couldn’t get over the fact that Brock knew the three Splendora sisters. And boy howdy, did they ever look fine in their Victorian costumes. Twila in deep-green brocade, Bonnie Sue in vibrant red, and Jolene in the prettiest shade of eggplant I’d ever seen. I caught shot after shot, knowing there would be plenty of good ones for their website. My favorite was the close-up of Twila’s feathered hat.

When the show ended, we took to the street again. I kept a watchful eye on the time, knowing we had to be back at Club Wed at six for the rehearsal. Oh, but I didn’t want this to end. We now tagged along behind the Rossis and Brock and Erin as they browsed the shops. The paparazzi trailed us all the way.

Bella sidled next to me. “I know everyone dreams of being a superstar, but I couldn’t live like this.” She shuddered. “Surrounded on every side? I don’t know how they do it.”

“Me either.”
Give me my privacy any day.

“Hey, speaking of superstars, I wanted you to know that I got a text from Sierra. She and David are here.”

“At Dickens?” I glanced around, wondering if I would recognize her.

“Yeah. They’re incognito. I think she’s wearing sunglasses and a hat and scarf. Over gray sweats and tennis shoes, I mean. She said no one would recognize her. But she’s having the time of her life. Said to tell you thanks for the suggestion about the funnel cake, but now she wonders if she’ll still fit into her wedding dress.”

I laughed. “Cool.”

As I thought about the fact that Sierra cared enough about me to share something like that, a wave of contentment rippled over me. Well, that and a hankerin’ for a funnel cake, which I purchased at the next booth.

I nibbled on the tasty delight as Her Majesty Queen Victoria paraded by, surrounded by her guard of Beefeaters. Okay, so it wasn’t the real Queen Victoria, just someone dressed up to look like her. Still, as she made her way by in a fabulous horse-drawn carriage and greeted us, her royal subjects, I almost felt I was in the presence of royalty. Then again, I pretty much was. Brock and Erin garnered even more attention from the people surrounding us than the queen herself.

We passed the street musicians and paused—well, my father paused, anyway—when we reached the bagpipers. This, of course, led him to a rollicking good story, complete with thick brogue, about Grandpa Aengus. Mama and Corinne were too busy looking at the Victoria-themed crafts and jewelry to pay him much mind, though. I did my best to smile and encourage him as the story poured out. If I wanted to pass on these tall tales to my children, I needed to pay attention.

Children? Hmm.
Where that came from, I had no idea.

Ahead of us, Brock and Erin walked hand in hand, pausing at the various shops to take a peek in the window. I couldn’t help but notice when they stopped in front of my studio.

Erin turned my way with a smile. “This is it, Hannah? Your place?”

“Yep.”

“Very cool. Can we go inside?”

“Of course.”

I hadn’t planned to show off the place just yet, though. With so many recent shoots, the studio wasn’t at its finest.
Complicating the situation further, a crowd of people thronged around us as we made our way inside. Drew managed to stop them before they entered the place by handing out a bevy of Scarlet’s cake samples and putting up the C
LOSED
sign. Before long I was safely inside with Drew, Brock, and Erin, talking about the various photographs on the walls.

“I just love this one.” Erin stood in front of a photo of a newborn baby boy. I’d posed him in the sweetest position, curled up and wearing feathery angel wings. Her eyes misted over. “Brock, what do you think?”

“I think . . .” He stared at the photo, then back at her, his eyes now twinkling with mischief. “We’ll have to come back in about seven months and let her do the same for us.”

“W-what?” I stared at Erin, who broke into a broad smile.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you? We’ve been trying to keep it a secret.” She giggled. “Our producer doesn’t even know.”

“And if the powers that be at
Dancing with the Stars
find out, everyone on the planet will know. You know it will hit the news in a hurry.” Brock shrugged. “Still, it’s going to come out sooner or later.” He quirked a brow. “Literally.”

This got a laugh out of all of us. With dreamy eyes, Erin began to share her excitement about the baby. It was all so sweet, so girl-next-door, so non-Hollywood, so . . .

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Oh no. There it went again.

A quick glance at my watch startled me to attention. Four o’clock. I still had a lot to do before tonight’s rehearsal. I should probably head home and get showered and changed.

We moved to the front of the studio, and I reached for the door. At that very moment someone opened it from the outside and an unfamiliar woman stepped inside. For a second I
thought she might be a potential client or something. Then, in an instant, I realized who it was.

Jacquie Goldfarb.

I did my best not to gasp aloud as she took several steps toward me. I recognized her face, of course. Same dark eyes and high cheekbones. Same gorgeous dark hair. But something else had changed, and it stunned me. Clearly the girl’s profile picture on Facebook needed updating. She was easily fifty pounds heavier in real life than in her photograph.

“Hannah.” She opened her arms for a hug, which I gave. “Hope you don’t mind that I came inside. I saw the sign but could see you through the glass.” She gave me an admiring look, then shook her head, her eyes misty. “You haven’t changed a bit. You look just like the girl who tried out for the drill team.”

Tried out but didn’t make it, you mean.

“Jacquie. You look . . .”

“No, don’t.” She put her hands up and smiled. “No point in acting like I’m the same girl. I’ve changed in a thousand ways, not the least of which is this body of mine.” She sighed. “It turns out I’m an emotional eater. Marrying Matt put me on a roller-coaster ride—one filled with cream pies, Ding Dongs, and Twinkies. Every time he would break my heart, I’d turn to food.” Jacquie chuckled. “But never fear. Now that he’s gone for good, I’ve been dieting. What you’re seeing here is the leaner, trimmer version of my former self. I’ve dropped twenty-three pounds since the fall.”

“Congratulations.”

She glanced at Drew and smiled, then turned toward Brock. For a moment she didn’t say anything. Then her eyes widened, and she finally managed, “Oh! Oh, oh, oh!”

Brock grinned and turned my way. “Hannah? Friend of yours?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I should’ve made introductions. Everyone, this is my friend from high school, Jacquie Goldfarb.” Somehow I didn’t even flinch as I uttered the word “friend.” I really meant it.

To my left, I noticed the look on Drew’s face as he took in Jacquie’s appearance—compassion laced with intrigue. No doubt this wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Y-y-you’re B-B-Brock Benson!” Jacquie now stood in front of Brock, babbling.

“I am.” He extended his hand, and she reached for it.

“Hannah?” Jacquie turned my way. “You know Brock Benson?”

I fought the temptation to brag on myself or my business, opting instead to simply nod. The old, insecure me would have given her an earful, perhaps, but not the new, improved me. Or should I say the Drew-improved me.

Brock, it appeared, was happy to take care of bragging for me. “Oh, sure,” he said. “Hannah’s business is really taking off, so she’s got a lot of well-known clients. You know she’s shooting Sierra Caswell’s wedding, right?”

“What?” Jacquie looked at me again. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It never came up.” I shrugged, hoping no one would make a big deal out of it.

“You’re . . . you’re doing really well for yourself, Hannah.” She gestured to my studio. “I’m so . . . proud of you.”

“Nah. Don’t be. Just doing what I love. God is blessing me, for sure.”

“Still . . .” She paused, her eyes filling with tears.

I slipped my arm through Jacquie’s, determined to turn
this conversation around. No longer needing to prove myself, I simply wanted to be her friend. It certainly looked like she needed one.

We spent the next several minutes laughing and swapping stories about the good old days. Strangely, they suddenly felt good. In fact, I could barely remember the pain of the past. Spending time with Jacquie Goldfarb in person put a lot of things in perspective for me. In only a few minutes I realized that all of my former jealousies and insecurities were pointless. Why had I ever compared myself to her in the first place?

I thought about that Scripture, the one about putting away childish things. Maybe that’s all God required of me here—to put away my childish, petty feelings and live in the moment. Yes, that’s exactly what I would do, for in this moment Jacquie Goldfarb looked and sounded very much like someone I would enjoy getting to know.

But I didn’t have a lot of time with her at the studio. By 4:30 I had no choice but to return home to prep for the wedding rehearsal. I changed into something presentable.

Drew picked me up at 5:00. By 5:45 I’d met Sierra in person and found her to be as delightful as she’d been during our latest phone call. And even prettier in person than I’d imagined, in spite of the crooked nose. She gave me a hug that left no doubt in my mind about where she stood regarding our relationship. Then she greeted Drew with a handshake, gave me a wink, and mouthed, “He’s a hottie!” when he turned around.

I had to agree. More than that, he was a great guy, and the perfect one for me. Still, this hardly seemed like the time or the place to share all of that information. Instead, I tucked it away in my heart and thanked God for it.

The evening passed from one snapshot to the next. I managed to catch several great shots of Sierra and David during the run-through, and even more at the rehearsal dinner afterward. By the time Drew dropped me off at my house that night, I was so exhausted I barely had the strength to download the photos onto my computer so that I could start up again the next day.

I’d just settled into bed when I realized I’d forgotten to set my alarm. I reached for my cell and had just set it when the phone rang. I almost dropped the crazy thing as it went off in my hand. When I finally stopped shaking, I answered it, tickled to hear Drew’s voice.

“Hey, you.”

The lilt in his voice made me smile.

“Hey, you too.”

“Long day, huh?”

“Yeah, but a great one.” I sighed and leaned back against the pillows.

“Still going to church in the morning?”

“Mm-hmm.” I stretched. “Early service instead of our usual eleven o’clock one. Pick me up?”

“Sure.” He paused. “Hey, I just wanted to tell you something, Hannah. For the record.”

“What’s that?” I yawned.

Another pause followed on his end. “We joke around a lot about Jacquie Goldfarb, but I wanted to tell you that I’m really proud of the way you acted when she showed up at the studio today.”

“Oh?” This certainly got my attention.

“Yeah. After all she put you through, you didn’t have to be so nice to her. It tells me a lot about your character that you were. And it’s obvious you weren’t just putting on a show or anything like that. You really care about her.”

“I always did. Maybe too much. It’s a flaw I have.” I gave a nervous chuckle.

“No. Caring about people, especially people who’ve hurt you, isn’t a flaw. It’s a sign that you understand God’s grace.”