Page 1 of Wedding Season
CHAPTER ONE
Runaway bride alert. Spotted at Sunnyside. R u downtown?
MARIELLAJACOBMUTTEREDa single swear word then thumbed in a response to the 911 text she’d just received from her business partner, Emma Cantrell.
On it.
She gripped her phone and moved toward the front door of A Second Chance, the retail boutique she owned in Magnolia, North Carolina, population just enough to make things interesting.
“I’ve got to do a quick errand,” she called to Jasmin Augustine, the young woman who worked for her.
“Everything okay?” the petite brunette asked.
“Right as rain,” Mariella confirmed. At least she was going to do her best to make sure today’s scheduled wedding stayed that way.
Luckily, she’d worn espadrilles instead of her usual heels to work, so she practically jogged down Main Street toward the town’s popular Sunnyside Bakery.
If someone had told Mariella when she’d moved to Magnolia three years earlier that she’d end up back in the wedding business, she would have laughed in that person’s face. Then punched them in the throat.
At one time, weddings had been her life. She’d built a career as a dress designer, creating gowns for everyone from uptown socialites to Hollywood A-listers to various daughters of royal families throughout both Europe and Asia. At the height of her popularity, a custom Belle Vie gown could go for upwards of six figures. Brides—and their wealthy parents—lined up to pay that kind of money for the privilege of wearing one of Mariella’s creations.
One monumentally bad decision made after half a bottle of top-shelf vodka plus a few glasses of red wine thrown in for good measure had wrecked Mariella’s world, not to mention her heart.
She preferred not to think about her heart.
The irony that she was the last person who had any business counseling a bride with cold feet wasn’t lost on her, but she didn’t break stride.
Her life was different than it used to be, and most of the changes suited Mariella just fine. The biggest difference was that in Magnolia she had real friends, her two partners at the Wildflower Inn, Emma Cantrell and Angi Guilardi, being the best of them.
Emma hadn’t necessarily set out to make the inn one of the premier wedding destination spots in North Carolina, but thanks to a high-profile event the three of them had planned last year, the Wildflower Inn was quickly gaining that reputation. Mariella understood better than most the importance of the right image, and word getting out that one of their brides had jumped ship on the way to the altar wasn’t the vision any of them wanted to project.
She took several deep inhales to control her breathing as she approached the bakery and then walked into the cheery shop with a serene smile plastered across her face.
Mary Ellen, the bakery’s longtime owner, made eye contact from behind the counter and inclined her head toward one of the café tables.
As if Mariella could have missed the woman chowing down on what looked to be a baker’s dozen donuts while wearing an elaborate wedding gown, complete with a bejeweled bodice and a ridiculously long train.
She approached the table slowly, trying not to cringe as a dollop of strawberry jelly dribbled off the woman’s chin to land smack dab in the middle of her lap. A white wedding dress and jelly did not mix well.
“Hi,” Mariella said as she slid into the chair across from the woman. “Suzette, right?”
The bride’s green eyes narrowed. “You’re from the inn.”
“I’m Mariella. We met when we were planning the decorations. The tree branch centerpieces were my idea.”
“The centerpieces are beautiful.” The bride, who’d remain dry-eyed up until this point based on her impeccably done makeup, sniffed. “I love the little fairy lights wrapped around them. When James proposed, it was on the balcony of one of our favorite restaurants in Raleigh. They had the same sort of twinkle lights. It was supposed to remind us of how far we’d come. And now...”
“You’ve made it as far as the bakery.” Mariella reached across the table and plucked the half-eaten donut from the woman’s manicured fingers. “There’s still time for you to enjoy those fairy lights.”
The bride, Suzette, shook her head. “I can’t go back.” She looked miserable and heartbroken, which Mariella figured was better than angry and bitter. When she’d hurled the three-carat engagement ring at her fiancé’s cheating head, she’d been all fiery temper. The heartbreak had truly set in later, along with a healthy dose of humiliation.
“Tell me why. I remember you and your fiancé. Emma has been on a wedding roll, but the two of you stood out. Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of brides. I have a good sense for who’s going to go the distance. I’d bet on the two of you.”
The woman gave a watery smile. “Me, too,” she agreed. “James is a great guy. I’m lucky. That’s why I can’t go through with it.”
“Maybe all the carbs are messing with your brain cells.” Mariella picked up a napkin from the table and dabbed at the corner of Suzette’s mouth, which was caked with powdered sugar. “I understand a bride who hits the dusty trail before the wedding because their husband-to-be is a jerk, not someone who’s snagged a great guy.”
“I’m the jerk, and I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve to be this happy.”
