Picture Perfect (Weddings by Design Book #1): A Novel (24 page)

No matter what else happened around me, I could always count on a wedding to calm me down. Strange, I know. Most folks in the wedding biz came unnerved during the actual event, working at a frenzied pace to make sure every detail was in place. Not me. I actually came into my own on the wedding day. There, behind the eye of the camera, I was truly at peace. Nothing could touch me. I saw it all—the smiles, the tears, the wrinkles around the bride’s eyes.

Mental note: don’t forget to iron those out with Photoshop.
Not because I had to, of course, but because it was the right thing to do.

Once I wrapped up in the dressing room, I went in search of Drew to make sure he’d caught some shots of the groom and groomsmen. He gave me a thumbs-up and then headed off to take a picture of the ring bearer.

I found the flower girl—Sierra’s littlest cousin—in the kitchen, sneaking a chocolate-covered strawberry out of the fridge. Perfect photo op. Minutes later, I saw the bride’s
grandmother receiving her wrist corsage from the florist. Shortly thereafter, back in the dressing room, I watched as the father of the bride brushed away tears when he saw his daughter—beautiful, serene Sierra—in her wedding dress for the first time. I also happened to notice the rolled eyes from the maid of honor when one of the bridesmaids grumbled about the color of the dresses. I saw the little smudge on Sierra’s white cowgirl boots and even took in the uneven hem on the mother of the bride’s expensive dress.

There, through the one-eyed lens, I caught a glimpse of an alternate reality, one the bride never saw unless I captured it for her. And just as I’d told Dani, the reporter from
Texas Bride
, I chose my shots very carefully, only snagging the ones that would leave blissful memories for the bride and groom. One misstep and the happy day could be ruined for all.

With that in mind, I looked beyond the maid of honor’s eye rolling and straight to the bride, who gazed in wonder at her reflection in the mirror. I saw the joy in her father’s eyes and could almost read his thoughts:
Is this my little girl all grown up?

The photos that I snagged told the whole story. With uncanny precision, I captured the shots that mattered. And I caught them all with the confidence and speed of an expert.

Expert . . .

For whatever reason, the word made me think of Drew. I found him just outside the chapel, a smile on his face as he caught a random shot of the flower girl sticking her tongue out at the ring bearer. I felt sure he’d managed to snag a shot of the groom’s mother arguing with the caterer too. Just for fun, of course.

“You’re going to love this one wacky shot I got of David
and his groomsmen.” Drew chuckled. “And you’re never going to believe what they’ve got planned for the kiss.”

“Oh?”

“Can’t tell. Promised I wouldn’t. Just be ready, okay? You get the shot of the bride and groom kissing. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Okay.”

Minutes later, the country-western-themed wedding got under way, familiar twangy tunes ringing out as the various members of the wedding party were ushered to the front of the chapel. I slipped into the perfect spot to capture the moment when Sierra’s father lifted her veil, and even got a couple of perfectly lit shots of the unity candle. By the time the vows were shared, I had tears in my eyes. Brushing them aside, I focused on the bride and groom. I didn’t want to miss the pivotal moment—the kiss.

Thank goodness Drew had warned me. When the “I do’s” were spoken, when it came time for that once-in-a-lifetime shot of the bride and groom sealing the deal with a lengthy smooch, the groomsmen all lifted scorecards rating the kiss. Everything from a 9.5 to a 10.0. I didn’t have time to focus on the guys, though. My shots were of the bride and groom lip-locked. Drew caught the rest. I heard the clicking of his camera through the laughter and cheers of the crowd. I’d never been happier to have someone working alongside me.

At some point during the wedding reception, my aching feet forced me to sit down. I found a spot at a table near the back of the room. Drew joined me, a smile on his face. He handed me a plate with a large piece of cake on it, and I took a bite, my eyes rolling back in contentment.

“I like a girl who likes her cake.”

“Then you’ve got the right girl, trust me.”

“Oh, I’ve got the right girl, all right.” He leaned over and gave me a little kiss on the cheek.

I heard someone nearby clear his throat. Looking up, I noticed Bella’s brother Armando standing nearby with a video camera in hand.

“I, um, I’m supposed to be getting marriage advice for the bride and groom. Thought maybe you two might have something to share.”

I paused, deep in thought. After a moment I snapped my fingers. “I know.” Turning to the camera, I said, “The Bible says you shouldn’t go to bed angry.” I chuckled. “So, stay up all night and fight it out. That’s my advice.”

This got a laugh out of Armando, who eventually got control of himself and turned the camera to Drew. I could hardly wait to hear what juicy tidbit he might come up with.

After a moment, he finally spoke. “I guess I would say, don’t get distracted by what’s in your peripheral vision.”

“Peripheral vision?” Armando shifted his position. “What do you mean?”

“As a photographer, when you’re focused, you’ll occasionally catch those once-in-a-lifetime shots, the ones that take your breath away. The same is true with a good marriage. The two of you as a couple have to stay focused on God. You can’t let the stuff on the fringes throw you off course or you’ll miss great
kairos
moments. You know, those ‘wow, God brought me to this time and this place so that I could learn this lesson’ moments.”

Armando nodded as he pulled the camera down, then muttered, “Thanks, guys,” as he moved on.

I turned to face Drew, suddenly having my own special
kairos
moment. As he swept me into his arms for a kiss sweeter
than Rosa’s Italian cream cake, I realized the truth. Everything I’d learned over the past few months, everything I’d been given—from my business to this man in my arms—was a gift from God.

Now I simply had to keep my focus on the One who’d given them to me in the first place.

Health and long life to you,

Land without rent to you,

The partner of your heart to you.

And when you die, may your bones rest in Ireland!

Irish blessing

O
n the Tuesday morning after Sierra’s wedding, I received a phone call from Bella, who bubbled over with excitement. “Hannah, that was the best wedding ever. How can I thank you?”

“Me?” I laughed. “Girl, I should be thanking you. I had the time of my life.”

“Same here. It was so sad to see Brock and Erin go. Did
you know that they used our reception hall to practice his dance routines for last night’s show?”

“No way.”

“Yeah. Late Saturday night after the rehearsal dinner. He didn’t want anyone to know, but they flew his dance partner down to practice with him.”

“You’re serious? Cheryl was here?”

“Yep. She stayed at the Tremont. In fact, they all flew together back out to L.A. late Sunday night.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it. But Brock was plenty nervous about his dances for last night’s show, trust me. They haven’t had as much time as usual to prepare.”

“We watched it. I thought he did a great job.”

“Me too. Man, there’s something about watching people dance that just lights a fire under me.” Bella paused, and I could hear the baby crying in the background. “Hey, speaking of which, that’s the real reason for my call. We’re planning a feast tonight to celebrate the finale of
Dancing with the Stars
. Rosa and Mama wanted me to call and invite your family. And Drew and his mother too. Oh, and Scarlet. Rosa likes her a lot.”

“Really? All of us for dinner?” I could hardly imagine the chaos that might ensue, but it certainly held some appeal.

“Yes.” Bella murmured to the baby, who continued to fuss. “And just so you know . . .” She now spoke over the baby’s whimpers. “It’s going to be a real party. D.J.’s parents are coming. So are the Splendora sisters and their husbands.”

“Sounds like a blast.” A loud, crazy, chaotic blast.

“I know, right? We’ll record the show and watch it after we eat. That way we can take our time. What do you think?”

“I think it sounds like the best idea in the world. Hope my dad will play along.”

“Me too. Six o’clock okay?”

The baby’s whimpers now turned to full-fledged screams. This seemed to upset Guido. I could hear him in the background, making his machine-gun noise. Bella offered up a rushed goodbye, and the call ended.

Now, to talk my parents into this.

Convincing my mother to go to the Rossis’ house for the finale of
Dancing with the Stars
was a piece of cake. My dad, however, put up a real fuss.

“Now look, Hannah,” he grumbled. “I’ve gone along with these crazy new ideas of your mother’s. I’ve eaten strange foods, watched strange television shows, and met some strange—er, interesting—folks. But Tuesday nights I always watch the Biography Channel. You know that.”

“Come with us, Dad,” I said with a wink. “You’ll get to know some characters worthy of their own show on the Biography Channel.”

He sighed, but when the time came, he trudged out to the car and joined us for the ride to the Rossi home. As we drove, my mother shared her ideas on an upcoming vacation spot. I thought my father would croak when she mentioned Grand Cayman. The man never left Galveston Island.

At ten minutes till six we arrived at Bella’s parents’ home. Most of the others were already there. The delicious aroma of lasagna greeted us, along with the yummy scent of Rosa’s garlic twists. By 6:40, we’d gathered around the table—actually, tables, since it took three large tables to accommodate everyone—where we enjoyed the meal of a lifetime. To my right, Drew dove into his lasagna. His mama chatted with the other ladies, especially Bella’s mother. Turned out the two were friends from the Grand Opera Society. Go figure.

As I enjoyed my meal, I thought about that day when I’d
eaten at Bella’s house the first time. My, what a difference a few months could make. That day, Drew Kincaid had been my archnemesis, my Jacquie Goldfarb. Today—I smiled as I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye—he was the man who made me happier than the tiramisu Rosa now served.

We enjoyed fun conversation over dessert, but I was itching to get to the television. After Brock’s stellar performance last night, I hoped—dreamed, even—that he would win. Watching him take that mirror ball trophy in hand would be the icing on the cake.

Speaking of cake, I had a second piece just for luck.

No, not luck. I’d already established that luck had nothing to do with it. I ate the cake simply because it was amazing.

By ten minutes after eight, the youngest children were sleeping in a bedroom upstairs and the rest of us had gathered, coffee in hand, in the living room around a huge plasma TV. Rosa stood in front of the television and offered up a prayer for Brock’s feet. None of us bothered to tell her that the show was recorded. Her prayers lagged behind the real-time event by over an hour, but she didn’t need to know that.

Drew and I squeezed into a chair really meant for one. He didn’t seem to mind being so close. I cuddled up against him, happy to have his arm around me for this special night.

Watching my favorite show at Bella’s parents’ house was a little different from watching it at our home. For one thing, they commented on absolutely everything from the costumes to the guest stars, who provided music and entertainment. As the judges gave their comments, Rosa, Laz, and the others chimed in with their thoughts, often speaking so loudly that I couldn’t hear the judges. Still, I had a blast, watching it all take place and listening to the various opinions from those in the room.

Bella and D.J. laughed like hyenas during the funny bits before the dances, which were mostly a repeat of routines we’d already seen this season.

Twila wrung her hands. “I’m just so nervous for Brock.”

“Why is that?” Bella’s mother asked.

“He told me on Saturday that he was worried about having to repeat this dance because he stumbled the first time they did it. I think we should stop right here and pray for him.” Twila hit the Pause button on the remote and dove in, praying the house down in her Southern voice. Once again I bit back the temptation to explain that the show was recorded.

As the emotional “Amen!” sounded from Twila, Rosa hit Play. Seconds later, Brock took the floor, dancing a near-perfect jive.

“Now you see?” Twila clasped her hands together and let out a squeal. “That, my friends, is the power of prayer!”

Bonnie Sue and Jolene chimed in with a rousing “Amen, sister!” and we were back to the show once again.

The evening flew by at warp speed. When the moment finally arrived for the winner to be announced, you could’ve heard a pin drop in the room. I held my breath, feeling a little woozy. Only when a shout went up from all in attendance did I realize they’d actually called Brock’s name.

I looked on, heart in my throat, as the camera zoomed in on his face. In that moment I thought about my once-upon-a-time infatuation with the handsome superstar, the picture-perfect Brock Benson. How goofy it all seemed now. Not that any other woman in the country would blame me. Didn’t every girl dream of living her happily ever after with the perfect fella?

Cuddling up against Drew, I felt contentment settle over me. I’d found mine, no doubt about it.

When the roar of the crowd—both the one on television and the one in the Rossis’ living room—settled down, my father rose and stretched. “Well, that was great fun,” he said with a half smile. “But now I have a little announcement to make. Hope it gets you just as excited as the show did.”

My mother’s eyes widened. I’m sure this impromptu move of his had her nervous. I certainly wondered what he had in mind.

“It’s almost Christmas,” my father said, reaching into his back pocket. “And I have a little gift I’d like to present. Early, I know. But appropriate under the circumstances.” He took my mother by the hand and asked her to join him.

She rose, looking plenty nervous. “Michael, what are you up to?” she whispered.

“Watch and see.” He handed Mama an envelope.

She opened it, and her eyes widened as she pulled out a notecard inside and read it. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Michael, am I reading this right?”

“You are.” He bowed and grinned. “I’ve signed us up for ballroom dancing lessons. A twelve-week course, lasting through much of the spring.”

“W-what?” I stared at him, blown away by this news. “Are you serious?”

“Sure am.” He turned to face Mama, who brushed away tears. “I planned to wait until Christmas to tell you, but I figured this would be the perfect night, since everyone is in a dancing mood. And who knows . . . maybe next year we’ll be so good at the tango that we’ll get invited to be on that crazy show.” He did a funny little jig across the room, and everyone erupted in laughter.

I didn’t bother to tell him that one needed to be a celebrity to be considered for
Dancing with the Stars
. Let the man
reach for the stars. He might very well find himself dancing on one. After all, he did have connections now.

My parents took to kissing, which got a couple of whoops and hollers out of the men in the room—as well as Bonnie Sue, who seemed to get a kick out of it. Mama blushed in my father’s arms, which got me tickled. And a little embarrassed.

Bella rose and faced the group. “Well, while we’re on the subject of good news, I have something to share. I got a call from Brock this morning. He wanted to let me know that he snagged twenty tickets for next season’s
Dancing with the Stars
premiere show. He’s sending them to me and told me to give them to whoever I wanted.”

We began to talk on top of one another, voices overlapping as everyone vied for a chance to land the tickets. This, of course, led to a debate about who loved dancing more. I listened in as the ladies in the room took their turns, sharing their love of the show and of dance in general.

At one point, Bella looked my way. “What about you, Hannah? You want to go to Hollywood to watch the show?”

“I’m a dance fan, no doubt about it.” A little sigh escaped as I thought about that. I gave her a smile. “Do you remember that day at Parma John’s when I told you that I wanted my lilt back?”

“Sure do, honey,” Twila chimed in. “I’ve been praying about that very thing, but I daresay you’ve found it.” Her brows elevated as she looked back and forth between Drew and me.

“Thank you.” I couldn’t help the grin that followed. “That’s why I like dancing so much. When you’re dancing, you don’t have time to fret over anything.” I looked at Bella and Scarlet. “It’s like when we were little girls. Remember dressing up in anything that even remotely looked like a ballet
costume and dancing around the living room? I’m sure you two know what I’m talking about.”

“I used to love that.” Scarlet sighed.

“Little girls just love to dance, that’s for sure,” Bella added. “At least, I always did. And I’m sure Rosie will too, when she’s old enough.”

“Bella would entertain us for hours,” her mother said. “I still remember when she danced to
La Traviata
.”

“I guess that’s my point,” I said. “Dance comes naturally to us when we’re little but fades when we get older. Too many people let the stresses of life get them wound up. I think there’s something to be said for cutting loose and having a good time. And hey, people even danced in Bible days.”

“Amen, sister.” Twila rose and did a funny little two-step. “The Bible says that King David danced before the Lord.”

Before long all of the ladies were up on the floor, showing off their dance moves. We laughed until tears ran down our faces.

At some point, I looked at Drew, who rose and stood off to the side of the room. Not dancing. Looking nervous, in fact. A little nauseous, even.

“You okay?” I whispered.

“Yeah.”

But he didn’t look okay. He looked . . . ill.

When the ladies calmed down, Drew clapped his hands and got our attention. “I . . . could I ask everyone to take a seat, please? I have a little presentation I’d like to make.”

We all settled back into our chairs, and I looked on, wondering what the boy was up to. He went into the front hall and returned with a strange scroll-like paper in his hand. Opening it, he uttered a few words in Gaelic.

The boy knows Gaelic?
Sounded like a prayer.

I glanced at his mom, who gave him a nod. Very strange.

Opening the scroll, he switched to English, but his words ushered forth with a thick brogue, one that made him even more appealing. “Let it be known this day amongst all who will hear that the feudin’ betwixt Clan McDermott and Clan Kincaid shall cease, both now and forevermore.”

“I thought you told him that whole feuding thing wasn’t true,” Scarlet whispered in my ear.

I giggled. “Don’t think he cares. He’s trying to make a point, I guess.”

As he continued to read the proclamation, I started wondering just what sort of point the guy was trying to make. When he got to the “till death do us part” line, I realized this was more than a simple proclamation written in fun.

The room now came alive as the folks around me began to speculate.

Drew took several steps in my direction and reached for my hand. I gave it to him, feeling shaky and flushed, then rose to join him. He went to the front hallway and returned with a sword, which he placed on the floor between us.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“It’s the age-old tradition of the merging of the clans.”

“Merging of the clans?”

His eyes sparkled with merriment. “Go with me here, Hannah. I saw this once in a movie.”

“O-okay.”

He knelt down in front of the sword, reached into his back pocket, and came out with a tiny box. My heart sailed to my throat. All around me, folks began to cheer—some in Tex-Italian, others in Gaelic. I couldn’t make out any of it. My eyes were firmly planted on the handsome clansman in front of me.

Drew’s eyes twinkled as he opened the box, revealing a beautiful princess-cut marquise. Wowza!