Page 2 of Kiss the Bride

“Everything under control?” She knew it would be. Jenny’s stint as the personal assistant to one of Hollywood’s top actresses had taught her how to get things done. Already, staff bustled about setting up tables and chairs beneath a white tent on the back lawn. Sarah Allgood and Sam Johnson would exchange their vows on the veranda at noon tomorrow, then head for a scenic spot high over the Atlantic Ocean for their garden-themed reception.

“We’re all set. And you? How’d things go with Devon and Sherry? Did they have any special requests?” Throughout Heart’s Landing, people went out of their way to fulfill the wishes of every bride. Jenny hadn’t been at the Cottage long, but she knew what was expected.

“Not them, but the Martin bride wants Aunt Clara to sit at her parents’ table.” Evelyn relayed the change to the seating arrangements, then frowned. “Sherry and Devon put down a deposit, but I don’t know … Something seemed a little off. Like they weren’t sure.” She stirred her coffee. “I don’t get it. That’s the second time I’ve gotten an odd vibe from a couple since I started filling in for Jason. It makes me think I’m doing something wrong.”

“Maybe they couldn’t make up their minds. The occasional bride has that problem, you know.” Jenny gave an innocent shrug.

“You have some experience along those lines, do you?” She grinned. As far as wishy-washy brides went, Jenny had taken the cake and the icing. Her wedding to Nick Bell had been far different from the one she’d come to Heart’s Landing to plan.

“I might.” Admiring the diamond-and-gold bands on the third finger of her left hand, Jenny giggled. “Hey, Sherry and Dev signed on the bottom line. That’s what counts. When she walks down the aisle in the Green Room in front of all their family and friends, they’ll know they made the right choice.”

“Maybe.” She shook her head. “But I had the feeling they were checking out other venues. That can’t be right, though. Not if they want to get married in Heart’s Landing, and Sherry insisted on it. Rustic Weddings off Boston Neck Road is big enough, but I can’t imagine holding such a posh reception in a barn. They don’t seem like the type to risk an outdoor wedding in the winter, either. Where else is there?”

“Well …” Jenny hesitated.

She stared into the other woman’s wide brown eyes. Jenny knew more than she was saying. “What?”

“It’s Ryan Court,” she said softly. “You know him, don’t you?”

“Jason’s friend?” Evelyn stirred her spoon with a little more force than necessary. Coffee sloshed over the side of the cup. “Oh, shoot!” She grabbed napkins and mopped.

Growing up, she’d spent countless hours with Jason and Ryan—sliding down the sturdy banisters of the Captain’s Cottage, skating on the pond out back in the winter, collecting shells along the beach on hot summer days. They’d been best buds all through grade school, but when the boys had moved on to middle school and had left her behind, her friendship with Ryan had dissolved. Two years younger, she hadn’t moved in his social circles once they’d hit high school.

She still didn’t. She’d seen him around, of course. In a town the size of Heart’s Landing, it’d be hard not to run into each other. The last time had been at her cousin’s wedding.

“He bought the Boat Works,” Jenny said. “He, um, plans to open it as a wedding venue.”

“You’re joking, right?” Once home to a thriving business, the building had sat vacant for more than three decades, ever since Mr. Farley, God rest his soul, had retired and padlocked the doors. She’d been inside on a dare about fifteen years ago. Once had been enough. The place had been full of rotted floorboards and mildew. She shivered. “I’d never want to get married there.”

When Jenny nodded agreeably, she stopped to reconsider. Even if Ryan had bought the property, it’d take years to repair the damage done by the wind and weather. Unless … Her stomach sank a notch as she recalled the Court family business. She closed her eyes, imagining crews of construction workers demolishing the old timbers, hammering new drywall in place, painting and spackling. With all that help, Ryan could probably turn the project around in no time. “Huh. I wonder why Jason didn’t mention it.”

“Maybe he didn’t know. He was a little distracted by Tara.”

Despite her concerns, Evelyn smiled. Tara was the best thing that had ever happened to her cousin. The woman had come to Heart’s Landing on a secret assignment to expose the supposed lies surrounding Captain Thaddeus Heart. But the journalist’s insistence on finding the truth had forever dispelled any doubts about the legendary seafarer.

“Oh, before I forget, Alicia asked if you could stop by her office around one-thirty.” Jenny poured hot water into a cup and added a tea bag.

Evelyn glanced at her watch, then gazed wistfully at the couple who still lingered at the sandwich trays.

Lunch would definitely have to wait.

As for Ryan Court, he wasn’t going to be a problem. No matter what he’d done to the dilapidated building at the marina, it would never rival her family home. The Cottage’s reputation as the best wedding venue in Heart’s Landing was secure.

“It’s a beautiful location. I love the water, the view. I can practically see the lights from the marina twinkling in the background when I walk down the aisle.” Catherine straightened the engagement ring on the third finger of her left hand. “But …”

Ryan Court winced. But. There was that word again. So far, it had tumbled from the lips of every bride-to-be who’d toured the restored Boat Works. Whenever it did, his hopes of landing his first booking for the newest wedding venue in Heart’s Landing had dimmed a bit more.

“But … I’m not sure you’ll finish construction in time for my wedding.”

Ryan had grown up with a hammer in one hand, a sheet of sandpaper in the other. Like any good carpenter, he knew the importance of meeting a deadline, and he’d meet this one. Of that, there was no question. He hadn’t sunk every dime he owned into the waterfront property or spent more than a year restoring the once-dilapidated building only to fall short this close to the finish line. He hadn’t hammered blood, sweat, and—yeah, he’d admit it—a tear or two into new shingles, siding, or drywall to give up now. By week’s end, he’d tick off every item on a very short punch list. The Boat Works would be in tiptop shape long before this bride’s big day.

“But … I can’t imagine what it’ll look like. I need pictures!”

He stroked the neatly trimmed scruff along his jaw. Maybe he should scatter linen-draped tables and chairs throughout the reception area. Bring in floral arrangements and floor runners. Hire a photographer.

He gave his head a barely perceptible shake. All of that took money. Too much money for a guy whose savings account stood as empty as a midwinter swimming pool. No. Staging the Boat Works would have to wait until he landed a booking or two. Trouble was, it sounded more and more like he’d need those photographs to attract clients. He resisted an urge to rub his aching temples.

“But … I had my heart set on getting married in the Captain’s Cottage.”

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