Picture Perfect (Weddings by Design Book #1): A Novel (23 page)

“That’s me. Hannah Grace. Full of grace and truth.” I stifled another yawn. “I guess I’ll never outgrow that phrase.”

“Hope not. It’s perfect for you.”

“Aw, thanks.” My eyes grew heavy, and within seconds I started to drift off.

“Hannah? You still with me?”

“Hmm?” I yawned. “Yeah . . . I’m here.”

“Okay, sleepyhead. You go on to bed. But dream about me, okay? Not Brock Benson.”

“Brock Benson?” I stifled another yawn. “Who’s that?”

“Perfect answer. Now get some sleep. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Sleep tugged at me like waves calling me out to sea. “Yes . . . we . . . do.”

“And just for the record,” he said, his voice now softening, “I’m completely and totally twitterpated.”

“Twitter? Hmm?” I mumbled, now half asleep. “Oh, me too. But I’m more of a Facebook girl myself.” The phone slipped out of my hand, and I drifted off, all of the events of the day rolling together in a delicious, hazy dream.

Two shorten the road.

Irish saying

O
n Sunday morning I woke up shivering. At some point overnight a cold front had settled in over Galveston Island, bringing with it a dense fog and a bit of drizzly rain. Thank goodness Sierra’s wedding would be held indoors. And since it didn’t start until two o’clock, I had time to pray the fog would lift.

My morning ritual moved along at double the usual speed. I showered and then dressed in my favorite skirt and blouse, then plugged in my curling iron and got to work on my hair, alternating the curling process with the task of putting on my makeup. Everything had to be perfect today. Well, the Hannah McDermott version of perfect, anyway.

Still buzzing with anticipation, I headed downstairs for a bite to eat before Drew arrived to pick me up for church. I found Mama in the kitchen cooking scrambled eggs and bacon. On second glance, she appeared to be adding garlic to the eggs. Oy. What would my father say?

As I opened the refrigerator, she looked my way, worry lines appearing on her forehead. “Um, Hannah?”

“Yes, Mama?” I grabbed an orange from the bowl in the fridge, then reached for a container of yogurt, my thoughts tumbling. Should I eat heavy or light? Load up for the big day ahead, or avoid the calories and carbs so as not to feel overloaded? Decisions, decisions.

“You going to church this morning before the wedding?” Mama wiped her hands on her apron and turned toward me.

“Yep. Early service. Drew’s picking me up in ten minutes. I think he’s really enjoying our church.” I opted for the yogurt, setting the orange back inside the fridge and closing the door. “Why?”

“Honey, have you looked in the mirror?” Mama pursed her lips and leaned against the counter.

“Well, of course. I just finished putting on my makeup.” Goofy question to ask a girl who’d spent the morning prepping for the day of her life.

“Ah.” The little crinkles around Mama’s eyes deepened. “Well, I guess it’s a new trend or something. Guess I’m just getting old. Don’t know fashion when I see it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your hairdo.” Mama turned back to the stove to tend to the eggs now sizzling in the pan. “Never seen anything quite like it.”

“My hairdo?” I made a quick dash to the hallway to have a look in the mirror. A gasp escaped as I saw my hair—
completely curled and styled on one side but straight and long on the other. “What in the world?”

Mama, you just saved my life. And my reputation.

My mind shot back to that awful day at the Starbucks on Harborside when I’d shown up in two different shoes. Nothing like a little public humiliation to get a girl’s day started.

But not today. Oh no.

I raced back to the bathroom, reached for my curling iron—still turned on, of course, since I hadn’t finished using it—and whipped the left side of my head into shape. By the time I arrived back in the kitchen, my parents were seated at the dining room table eating their breakfast, and Drew had arrived. Mama gestured for him to join them, and he took a large helping of bacon and eggs.

Drew greeted me with a whistle and wide eyes. Guess I passed his test. Thank goodness he hadn’t shown up any earlier.

“You guys coming to church?” he asked my father.

“Of course. We go to church every Sunday. Never miss.” My father took a bite of his eggs, then pulled the fork out and examined it. He looked my mother’s way. “Did you do something different with the eggs today?”

“Yes.” Mama nodded. “That’s for me to know and you to find out. But speaking of doing things differently, I want to talk to you about church.”

“Talk to me . . . about church?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s almost the new year.”

“Right.” He scratched his head, then sniffed the plate of eggs, his nose wrinkling.

“Things are going to be different around here this coming year,” Mama said. “I’m a new woman, transformed. And this new year is going to reflect that.”

My father’s face paled a bit. “O-oh? In what way?”

“For one thing, I want to go to the eleven o’clock service at church, starting this morning.” She took a large bite of the eggs and leaned back in her chair, a satisfied look on her face.

“The contemporary service? The one Hannah usually goes to?” My father dropped his fork and gripped the table. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” My mother dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, then looked him in the eye as if giving him an ultimatum. “I love contemporary worship music and would like to give it a try. I know it’s not your cup of tea, but you don’t seem terribly fond of the traditional service either, so what’s the difference?”

“Who says I don’t like the traditional service?”

“You leave every Sunday with a scowl on your face. Maybe this new music will liven you up.”

“Give me an ulcer, more likely. Just like these eggs.” He folded his newspaper and stared at Mama. “What in the world has gotten into you, Marie? You’ve . . . changed.”

“Thank you for noticing. I’m long overdue.”

“Humph.”

“I’m a new woman, Michael. Tired of doing the same old, same old. Just because our parents and grandparents looked a certain way or spoke a certain way or ate certain foods doesn’t mean I have to. I’m me. Myself. An individual.”

He rose and tossed his napkin on the table. “But you’re a McDermott, and we McDermotts—”

“That’s another thing,” she interrupted. “I married into the McDermott clan. If you recall, I was born a Lockhart. We Lockharts are amiable. Fun. Unpredictable. You’ve shaped me
into a McDermott—and I haven’t objected—but the Lockharts have always been more free-spirited. Unique.”

“You’re unique, all right.” He waggled his finger. “It’s those Rossis. They’ve gotten their hooks into you. I hardly recognize you anymore.”

“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

My father dropped back into his seat, completely silent.

Drew looked back and forth between my parents and then glanced at me, worry lines creasing his forehead. I shrugged, unsure of what to do or say.

Mama grinned, then rose and gave my dad a peck on the top of his head. I looked on, wondering if my father would blow his top. Instead, he jabbed his fork into the garlic-infused eggs and swallowed a huge bite.

Mama moved back to her chair and took a seat. “We’re going out to lunch with our Sunday school class today, by the way. They’re eating at a Chinese restaurant.”

“Chinese?”

“Yes. And just for the record, I’m ordering chicken chow mein,” Mama announced. “You can get whatever you like. Or not. It’s up to you, of course.”

My father began to mumble something about how a man should be able to eat what he likes.

“I heard that, Michael,” Mama countered. “And just so you know, we’ve got leftover stew in the fridge, so you can help yourself to it when we get home if you decide not to join the rest of us. The microwave is that funny little rectangular box in the kitchen, on the shelf to the right. Push the button on the bottom to warm the stew.”

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Drew snorting. He coughed, likely in an attempt to cover it up. Still, he looked like he might burst out laughing at any point.

To his credit, my father said nothing, but his mouth, hanging wide open in surprise, left nothing to the imagination.

“One more thing,” Mama said. “As you know, I’m on a quest to diversify our foods.”

“Well, I’m willing to go along with that.” He glanced down at his plate and sighed. “To a point.”

“I might ask you to watch Rosa and Laz’s show with me sometimes,” she said. “I record it and watch when you’re at work, but I’d rather watch it together. And you might as well know . . .” She squared her shoulders. “They’ve asked me to be on their show this spring.” Mama took another nibble of her eggs.

“W-what?” My father’s eyes widened. “You’re going to be on television?”

“Yes. And I would be thrilled if you would be happy about that fact. In fact, I’m hoping you’ll come along and support me when I’m on the air.”

“I—I—” He couldn’t seem to finish his sentence. Still, I could see the admiration in his eyes and could almost hear “just wait till I tell my lodge buddies” clicking through his brain.

Mama began to hum “Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral” as she breezed from the dining room into the kitchen. I could hear pots and pans clanging and banging, not in an angry way but in a happy “let’s get this show on the road” sort of way.

“She’s very happy.” I gave my dad a pat on the shoulder.

“Glad someone is.” He groaned and took another bite of his eggs.

“Isn’t that the idea, though?” I asked. “You want her to be happy. Seems like she’s been pretty quiet about her feelings for years now.”

A pensive look came over my dad. “I always thought she enjoyed our quiet, simple life. Maybe I was wrong.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she’s just at a new stage. She is an empty nester, you know.” I paused. “Well, almost. If I ever move out.”

My father’s brow furrowed, and his eyes filled with tears. “Tell me you won’t do that anytime soon, Shutter Speed. Don’t think my heart could take that, not with all of the other changes happening so quickly. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it or not, but I don’t handle change very well.”

I gave him a kiss on the forehead, but I couldn’t promise that things wouldn’t change in my situation, especially with Drew and me getting sweeter on each other by the minute.

My father took another bite of his eggs, a satisfied look on his face. A little too satisfied, actually. I daresay his expression now spoke of mischief.

“What is it, Dad? You’re up to something.”

He glanced toward the kitchen, then back at me. “Just pretending to be upset with your mother. That whole eleven o’clock service thing did throw me a little, but I’ve been working on a top-secret project. You two might as well know because I’ll probably need some help from both of you when the time comes.”

“Top secret?” Drew asked.

“Yep. Stick around for the big reveal at Christmastime.” Dad rubbed his extended belly. “Hey, and by the way, I love chicken chow mein. I’ve been eating Chinese food for years, just never told your mama because I thought she didn’t like it.”

“No way.”

“Yep. At the lodge. We order takeout every month. And that whole spiel about not liking change was just a bunch
of blarney. Truth be told, I’m giving thought to getting hair plugs. What do you think?”

“Th-that’s your surprise?” I managed.

“Nah. The surprise is for your mother. The hair plugs are for me. Vanity is setting in, I guess.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d be very surprised if you turned up with hair plugs, Dad. And just for the record, I like your current look.”

“Now who’s opposed to change?” He narrowed his gaze and then laughed.

A quick glance at my watch clued me in to the fact that we were going to be late to church if we didn’t hit the road. Drew and I said our goodbyes to my parents and made the trip, laughing and talking about my parents and trying to guess my dad’s big secret.

After attending the early service, we drove back to Club Wed for the wedding of a lifetime. Several times along the way, I ushered up a prayer of thanks for the opportunity to shoot this wedding. Strange how my life had changed over the past few months. I’d been given every opportunity a girl could ask for . . . and hadn’t spent much time botching them. Grandpa Aengus would’ve been proud. Suddenly I got a little misty thinking of him.

“Do you think the media has caught on to the fact that the wedding is today?” Drew asked, drawing me back around to the task at hand.

“I didn’t have a chance to look at the paper this morning, so I don’t know. I think Sierra was pretty smart scheduling it on a Sunday afternoon. Not many people would expect that.”

“True. But I did see on the morning news that she was spotted at Dickens yesterday.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah. So don’t be surprised if reporters figure it out.”

Arriving at Club Wed well ahead of schedule, I sent Drew to check the lighting in the chapel while I headed to the reception hall to see the layout. Bella had given me a sketch of what the room would look like, but seeing it in person was critical.

“Wow.” I stared at the gorgeous room, amazed at the transformation.

The tables—dozens of them—were fully decked out in a great Texas-meets-Nashville theme. Very country. Perfect for Sierra, and great for me too. The vivid colors were a photographer’s dream. I caught several photos of the room in its current state, then went in search of Bella. I found her on the far end of the reception hall, helping Rosa set up the cake. I also found my best friend.

Scarlet turned to me with a smile. “Hey, Hannah.”

“Hey, yourself.”
What are you doing here?

“I asked Scarlet to help me.” Rosa pointed to the cake, a fabulous multitiered number with yellow roses. “Her decorations are primo, no?” She indicated the amazing hand-designed music notes that covered the various tiers.

“Primo, yes.” I stared at the cake and gasped. “You . . . you did that?”

“Well, just the piping and music stuff. Rosa didn’t have time, what with Dickens and all. But she made the yellow roses. Aren’t they gorgeous?”

“They’re the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

Rosa blushed. Then she and Scarlet went back to work centering the cake on the table and chattering like best friends.

Bella pulled me aside. “It’s such a blessing to have Scarlet
here. We haven’t told anyone, but Rosa’s hand isn’t as steady as it once was. She’s great at baking, but the decorating and construction have been a problem for a while now. So I’m happy to see she’s got someone to call on.”

“Me too.” In fact, I felt like throwing a little party to celebrate. Only, we were already having a party, weren’t we?

“Have you seen Sierra yet?” Bella’s eyes sparkled.

“No.”

“She’s gorgeous. Go and see for yourself.”

I located her in the dressing room with her bridesmaids fussing over her hair and makeup. Perfect opportunity to snag some close-ups. When the time came for Sierra to put on her exquisitely beaded gown, I slipped into my comfort zone.