Best Laid Wedding Plans (3 page)

None of his business, he told himself firmly. Despite that, he sank onto one of the chairs. Hadn't he promised Wes he'd take care of his baby sister?

“She left not more than five minutes ago. Came in looking for a loan,” Richard said into the phone. “I played it cagey. Left things up in the air.”

Cole saw red, tipped his head to hear better.

“But,” Richard continued, “I think that piece of land we need to close the deal is finally ours. Jenni Beth offered it up as collateral on a scheme that doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell. And, believe me, I intend to give that snowball a little downhill nudge—just in case. A bit of added insurance.”

What, exactly, constituted a little nudge? Cole's chest constricted. If Richard harmed so much as a hair on Jenni Beth's head, gave her one second of grief…

Looked like his stay in Misty Bottoms had just been extended.

Jenni Beth decided to take the stilettos Cole had mentioned for another walk down Main Street, give herself some much needed cooling-down time. No way could she go home in this temper.

She wasn't sure who she was angrier with: Richard, Cole, or herself.

Could she have done more to prepare for her meeting? Probably not. Should she have downplayed the financial situation at home? No. That would have been stupid. Richard had all that information at his fingertips. He was simply being a jerk. Pulling her chain because he could. She hoped.

And Cole. The nerve of him, asking if she understood the gravity of the town's situation. She'd come back here to live, hadn't she? Not him. The obnoxious oaf.

Yet it appeared he'd spent more time here lately than she had. Maybe he knew something she didn't. Whatever. Too late for second thoughts. She'd left her job, and this was where she needed to be right now.

Realizing she'd actually walked past her target, she slowed and took a deep, calming breath. She couldn't let him get to her like this.

The truth was, Cole Bryson raised her hackles on a good day. Today, when she was stressed to the max and pumped to talk to Richard about her future, running into Cole had been the proverbial last straw. His timing couldn't have been worse. He needed to head back to Savannah.

She'd do fine without him. Better, in fact.

Someone else in town could help her with Magnolia House.

Well, she refused to give him another minute's thought. Time to pull a Scarlett O'Hara. She'd think about all this tomorrow…or later today anyway. Now that the adrenaline rush of the meeting was wearing off, exhaustion hit. She wanted to go home. But first, she needed to check on Darlene.

Retracing her steps to Quilty Pleasures, she studied the buildings that lined Main Street. A couple of the brick ones dated back to the late 1700s. A long time to stand in the hot Georgia sun, but they remained proud, with their bright flower boxes and handblown glass windows.

Misty Bottoms. A micro-Savannah, albeit a little more tired, a little less trendy. But all that quaint charm was here. Grass peeked up between the bricks in the sidewalk, and mature trees shaded both people and buildings.

The town's strongest selling point, though? Its people. Misty Bottomers. Most had been born here, attended school here. Would live their entire lives here. And they cared about each other. When someone passed you on the street and asked, “How are you?” it was more than a mumbled nicety. The person actually wanted to know how you were doing.

She sailed through the shop door. The space smelled of citrus and sunshine.

“Darlene? I read the article about your store in today's paper.”

“Oh, Jenni Beth. Isn't it awful? I'm so ashamed.” Darlene, a reed-thin woman in her sixties, her hair perfectly coiffed, her makeup divine, dropped a quilt square onto the battered counter.

“Ashamed? Whatever for?”

“I'm losin' my business. It's been in the family for just shy of seventy years. Tilly Sorenson, my grandma on my mother's side, opened this shop with her dowry money. My mama worked here as a little girl, then took over for Grandma.” She picked up a framed black-and-white photo of the women from the counter. “I've let them down.”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears behind bright purple reading glasses that perched on her nose. Her ankle-length caftan matched the glasses perfectly.

Jenni Beth's heart went out to the shopkeeper. Regret and worry sat heavy on her. Could Cole be right? Was this what she was setting herself up for? No. She'd never failed to meet a goal she'd set, and she wasn't about to start now.

Magnolia Brides would be a success.

“There's no way to save the shop?”

“None that I can think of.”

Yapping sounded from the back room, and Darlene opened the door to it. Moonshine and Mint Julep, Darlene's rambunctious Cairn Terriers, peeked around the edge. Seeing Jenni Beth, they skittered out to greet her.

Moonshine sported a purple and green knitted cap, while Mint Julep wore a jaunty bow of the same colors.

“We match,” Darlene said as Jenni Beth knelt to scratch the dogs' ears.

“I noticed.” She smiled. Everybody in town knew these dogs had more clothes and accessories than any other dogs in the state of Georgia. And regardless of Darlene's outfit, the dogs would be dressed in coordinating colors.

One more thing to love about the South. Crazy aunts—and storekeepers—weren't hidden away but, rather, flaunted proudly.

While Darlene broke a cookie into tiny bites for her fur-babies, Jenni Beth hiked herself onto the edge of the high window ledge. Behind her, sampler quilts in all colors of the rainbow vied with the pink and purple silk azaleas on display.

When Darlene waved to someone outside, Jenni Beth turned her head.

Cole, the weasel, waved back.

Oh, jeez. Her chin dropped to her chest. She couldn't catch a break.

Brazen as a boardinghouse cat, he stuck his head in the door. “Hey, Ms. Darlene. Moonshine, Mint Julep.” He knelt to pat the dogs. “I'm doin' a little window-shoppin'. How much for the new mannequin?”

Darlene frowned, and then chuckled.

Jenni Beth stepped down onto the floor. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Not today, Cole.” She couldn't. She was too vulnerable for another sparring match. “I have things to do.”

He didn't back down. “Nothin' as important as this.”

Why wouldn't he go away? “Sure I do. I have to paint my nails, wash my hair—”

“Look, I'm sorry for that comment this mornin'. We both know you work like a dog when you have to. No offense,” he said to the terriers.

Jenni Beth turned her head one way, then the other, and put a hand up to her ear. “Is someone else besides the three of us in the store, Darlene?”

“Nope. Except for my babies.” She fed the dogs another piece of cookie.

“Did I really just hear an
I'm sorry
from Cole Bryson?”

His jaw set stubbornly. “Fine. I thought maybe I could save you from makin' a fool of yourself. Guess I was wrong. Excuse me, ladies.”

With a tip of his ball cap, he slammed out the door and stormed off down the street.

Darlene gave a soft little whistle. “What on earth has gotten into him? I don't think I've ever seen Cole in a temper like that.”

Wide-eyed, Jenni Beth stared at his disappearing backside. Neither had she. Out of sorts? Sarcastic? Goading? Yes. But this went beyond a simple sulk. Did he really have something important to talk to her about—other than convincing her to pressure her parents into selling him their family home?

She seriously doubted it. Maybe Cole had struck out at the bank, too.

And hadn't she promised herself not to think about him anymore? If he'd stay away, it would sure be a heck of a lot easier. The man was exactly what she most didn't want in her life right now. He was like a big dark cloud, and who needed that? Her life already resembled the perfect storm, swirling out of control.

Darlene picked up a feather duster and chased nonexistent particles around the counter. “To answer your earlier question, yes, I'm sure. I dreaded makin' the decision, stalled till it simply couldn't be put off anymore. The business is flat broke.”

“Do you have enough to stay open another couple months?”

“What good would that do, honey? Circumstances won't be any different sixty days from now. I can't compete with the chain stores and big malls.”

Jenni Beth wandered over to the large rack of pattern books. She should be quiet. Anything and everything she told Darlene would be all over town in under an hour.

But, oh, she hated to see another business go down for the count.

“I don't know for certain that anything will change,” she said cautiously. “But there might be something coming down the pike that could make a difference.”

“You're speaking in riddles.”

She sighed. “I know. I really can't tell you anything specific. Not yet. But I'm hoping that, given a little time, things will turn around for Misty Bottoms.”

Picking up three skeins of yarn she had no idea what she'd do with, she placed them on the counter.

“You want these?”

Jenni Beth nodded.

“You don't knit.”

“No, but…maybe I'll take it up.”

Darlene's brow creased, but she rang them up.

Jenni Beth paid, said her good-byes to Moonshine and Mint Julep, and left with the ugliest yarn she'd ever seen tucked under one arm. Maybe her mother could do something with it. Her mood had turned even darker, and there was no bounce in her step as she passed once-thriving businesses. More than a couple had closed up tight, out-of-business signs taped in their windows, for-lease notices posted.

Mixed in with them were a handful of trendy little shops—a deli, a candy store, another selling high-priced art. Good luck with that here.

And yet the town itself? Irresistible. The quilt shop faced a little park, green with trees and bursting with flowers, that ran down the center of Main Street, a little like Savannah's city squares. Alice's gift shop boasted a white picket fence and colorful wooden rockers on its porch. And even though the pharmacy's soda counter had disappeared, Henderson's still sold ice cream and sodas and provided a couple small tables to sit at, relax, and chat.

What wasn't to like about this small town—other than the fact that these wonderful shops and their owners had almost no customers?

The sun scuttled behind a cloud, and a shadow fell over her. Negative Nancy crawled out from some dark recess of her mind and nagged at Jenni Beth. Richard hadn't jumped at her business plan, and she had to return home without an answer. Darlene thought her a total whack-job, although that was a little like the pot calling the kettle black, and Cole Bryson was still in town. The day couldn't possibly get any worse.

Maybe she'd go home, kick off her shoes, toss her suit jacket over the hall banister, and while away the rest of the day on the front porch with a few mint juleps and a good book.

That is, if the porch hadn't collapsed while she was gone. And that wasn't rhetorically speaking. That porch had to be her first priority. She really did need to get some new planking laid and the columns shored up.

She reached the bank parking lot where she'd left her car earlier. Her one true love. Just looking at it made her smile. Unlike a certain somebody who'd been plaguing her the last two days, her '65 'Vette never let her down, never caused her sleepless nights. The car was a thing of beauty. Black with a white ragtop and red leather interior, stick shift on the floor, and a small block with 365 horsepower under the hood.

She should probably sell it. God knew she needed the money. But the car meant so much to her. Her brother had helped her find it, had checked it out for her. She'd taken her first ride in it with Wes beside her.

It was the one thing she'd bought for herself that had sentimental value. And in the grand scheme of things, the money she'd get for it would only be a drop in the bucket compared to what she needed. Still, if things got desperate… Hah, what a joke. Things couldn't get much worse.

So okay. That meant they could only get better, right?

That in mind, she slipped behind the wheel and simply sat for a moment. With this heat, she'd definitely begun to glisten. She dropped the top, but the day was still. Not a leaf stirred. No breeze. It was as if the world held its breath.

She tossed her purse, her suit jacket, and the mustard-yellow yarn on the seat beside her, started the car, and looked both ways. Not another car in sight. What a shame.

Next stop? Tommy's Texaco. Tommy still pumped his customers' gas for them. And her car, while fabulous, guzzled fuel faster than Hollywood celebrities changed spouses.

She pulled under the station's awning and up to the first gas pump.

“Hey, Jenni Beth. What can I do for ya?” Tommy wiped his hands on a grease rag, then tucked it into the hip pocket of his coveralls. He swiped at his forehead with one hand and turned his ball cap backward over a mass of wiry, copper-colored hair.

“Fill it up, Tommy.”

“You got it.” He unscrewed her gas cap. “You know, y'all ever decide you don't want this car no more, I'll be more than happy to take it off your hands. Give you a fair price for it, too.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” She slid out and headed inside the Texaco station. Boy, her lucky day. She'd had an offer on both her house and her car, neither of which she had any intention of selling.

But what if she had to? A sick knot settled in the pit of her stomach, and she chewed her bottom lip. Maybe she'd been too hasty in quitting her job. A leave of absence might have made more sense.

She looked over her shoulder, out the window. Tommy ran a hand over her car's fender the way another man, a man like Cole, might caress a woman's leg or shoulder or… Whew! Enough.

With or without Richard's help, she'd find a way to keep her car, her house, and start her business. She could and would have it all.

Failure? Not an option. Darlene might give in and give up, but she couldn't. If she failed, her parents would have nothing. Worry nagged at her.

She opened the cooler door. Water. If the weatherman was right, today's temperature would reach sizzle by noon. She needed to stay hydrated.

Tommy walked in, mopping at his forehead again. “Dang, it's hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk.”

“Yes, it is. I can't wait to get out of these clothes and into something cooler.”

“You look real nice in them, Jenni Beth. That red's a good color on ya.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Tommy. I'll take these, too.” She set the water bottle and a Three Musketeers candy bar on the counter, then swiped her credit card.

Back in the car, she uncapped the water and took a long, cool drink before nibbling at her creamy chocolate treat.
Mmmm
. Heaven.