Saved by the Bride (22 page)

His shot of laughter echoed around the park and then stopped
abruptly. The lines on his face deepened to serious and he slowly put down her
paint box. “That’s what you believe?”

Memories pummeled her. The nightmare of her art being
slaughtered by the very critic Ryan had most wanted to impress, and then
immediately followed by Ryan’s utter betrayal of her. “It’s not a case of
believing, Finn. I know. My exhibition was an unmitigated disaster and it
brought the gallery to its knees.”

She hated how the past she’d fought so hard to get over still
had the ability to swoop back in like it was yesterday. She’d gotten over Ryan,
but she hadn’t managed to purge the vitriol of the reviews. Every part of her
screamed for her to start moving before she fell down. Blinking furiously, she
walked toward the truck on rubbery legs. She would not cry. She’d cried enough
two years ago and she was done with all that now. She sucked in a breath to
steady herself and one minute she was upright and the next her feet were
stumbling and she was pitching forward.

Finn’s arms shot around her waist, steadying her. “Annika,
stop.” His mouth caressed her ear. “Breathe.”

She didn’t want to be so needy but she was. She let him hold
her and she leaned in against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against
her chest. She breathed in his strength and calm.

His hand stroked her hair and then he pulled back slightly, and
tilted her chin with his finger. “Did the Raybould Gallery blame you for the
demise of the business?”

She swallowed. “That and a few other things.”

Flint flared briefly in his eyes and she felt him suck in a
deep breath. “Kathleen knows a lot about the Chicago art world, Annika, although
her involvement is on the financial and administration side. I know that isn’t
anything like the world of the artist, but from her I do know that Ryan Raybould
ran through his family’s trust money like water and he took a Chicago art
institution down with him. I’d bet my last dollar your exhibition coincided with
the creditors catching up with him, and he used you as handy scapegoat.”

She wanted to believe him but she knew better. “If that were
true, I’d have known.”

“Believe me, struggling businesses don’t declare their hand
unless they’re forced.”

She made herself say the words that would declare her a fool in
his eyes. “I was living with him.”

Surprise crossed his face. “The internet didn’t tell me
that.”

“So I can be thankful for small mercies, then.” She tried to
lighten the mood. “I, on the other hand, know you dated one of the Hilton
sisters.”

“If sitting next to her at a charity function is dating, then
yes.” He gave her a wry smile. “Ryan Raybould hid his financial woes from
everyone until the mess he was in brought everything down on him like a house of
cards. I vaguely remember Mom telling me he’d applied for an arts grant and even
then there were rumors things weren’t good.”

She struggled to take in Finn’s words but they slowly sank in.
That bastard. Ryan had let her take the blame for his mess. “I think I feel even
more foolish than I did two years ago.”

He shook his head. “Don’t. Promise me you’ll talk to Kathleen.
She knows all about it.”

She wondered at his insistence but agreed. “Okay.”

He stroked her cheek. “Good. Now tell me one thing?”

“Maybe.” She braced herself for the question about how she
could have possibly had a relationship with a man like Ryan but when he spoke it
was nothing to do with that.

“Did you enjoy painting the door today even though it wasn’t
what you wanted to be doing?”

She had to admit that she’d got a tiny buzz from it. “Little
bit.”

“Then create time to paint again.”

Finish
the
Dawn, Day and Dusk
triplet
.

The idea scared her rigid. Ryan’s betrayal of her work and
herself in an attempt to hide his own situation was one thing. The critics’
damning reviews were another beast entirely.

“Annika, paint for yourself.”

It was as if he could read her mind but if that was possible
he’d know that art wasn’t private—it was excruciatingly public and no matter how
much her fingers tingled to pick up a brush, she wasn’t putting herself out
there to be humiliated ever again. “I don’t have time.”

His free hand curled around the back of her neck. “You might
find yourself with a bit of spare time over the next couple of days.”

She ran through her to-do list and couldn’t think how that
would be possible even if she’d been able to block out the critical voices in
her head. “Why?”

He sighed as his fingers stroked her skin. “I’m leaving for
Chicago in the morning with Hank. Production for one of our biggest clients goes
online first thing Monday and I have to be there.”

She hated the sink of disappointment that weighed her down but
she wasn’t going to show him that. “Good. That means I get the bed to myself and
can spread out diagonally.”

He laughed. “You do that anyway.”

She leaned in. “And you hog the top sheet.”

“We obviously need more practice in sharing a bed.”

His eyes darkened to a delicious cocoa and she let the past and
the future slide away. Nothing existed except the fact she was in his arms and
she lost herself in the warmth of his eyes and the seductive tone of his
voices.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Lots and lots of practice.”

* * *

“Thanks so much, Officer Gunderson.” Bridey opened the
door of the squad car and stepped out onto Kylemore’s circular driveway, giving
the policeman a wave as he headed back toward the gate. It had been a crazy
couple of hours. After buying some pastries for her mother, she’d arrived at the
dock to find no Annika and no motorboat, just Finn’s rowboat. She’d called
everyone but none of her family was answering their phones and she’d been
wondering what to do when the Whitetail police officer had offered her a ride
home.

In the squad car she’d received the message,
So
sorry
!
Finn
commandeered
boat
.
On
my
way
now
.
Anni
.

Bridey, knowing exactly how Finn could be sometimes, had
silently forgiven Annika. She’d texted back,
Am
almost
home
now
.
No
hard
feelings
.
Tell
big
bro
he’s
bad
.
B
.

And
tell
Hank
too
. It was well into the afternoon and she hadn’t
heard from him despite sending two texts and leaving three messages. Their
weekend was flying past fast and she’d hardly seen him. Added to that they were
no closer to deciding on a wedding venue and that decision was the keystone to
the entire wedding. They had to get it right—their future depended on it.

She walked into the kitchen hoping that Esther was there just
as she’d always been when Bridey was growing up and had a case of “the sads.”
Esther would always set aside what she was doing, give her a hug and then sit
her down. She’d pour freshly squeezed lemonade, serve up some cool and juicy
watermelon, chocolate chip cookies and sage advice. The world had always seemed
a better place after that and the problem diminished. But today the kitchen was
clean and tidy and—apart from the quiet buzz of the refrigerator—silently
empty.

Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. She poured herself a
glass of water, sat down and gave herself a good shake. She was being
ridiculous. Hank was probably upstairs taking a nap after his campout. She’d go
up and snuggle in next to him and when he woke up they could decide on the
wedding venue.

“Baby-girl. There you are.” Sean strode across the kitchen,
kissed Bridey on the cheek and grabbed two beers from the fridge. “Hank and I
have been in the library drawing the plans for the zip line.”

“Hank’s in the library?” Happiness rushed through her and she
started walking.

Her father caught up with her. “No, we’ve finished and Hank
just left. I’m not sure where he was headed.” He opened the library door for
her. “Come and look at the plans and if it’s what you want we might just get the
order into the hardware store before it closes.”

Bridey headed straight to the table and she ran her fingers
over the plan—the closest she’d been to Hank all day. This wasn’t just a “back
of a coaster” sketch. Hank had drawn up the path of the zip line over the deep
finger of lake that formed a cove on the west side of the property near the tree
house. He’d worked out the stress and weight loads for the wire and the support
posts, and his neat script crawled down the side listing everything that was
required for the build.

A warm feeling washed through her. One day their children would
ride on this zip line. “It looks great, Daddy. Logan will love it.”

Sean brought up a browser on the computer and typed in
yellow
pages
. “He’s pretty excited about the idea that’s
for sure. He talked nonstop about it as we packed up this morning.”

“So how was the great campout?”

Sean’s head didn’t rise from the screen and two beats of
silence passed. When he finally looked up he said, “Logan caught a huge
musky.”

Bridey understood the significance of the first big catch.
“Fantastic. Do you have photo?”

“Finn took one.”

Being very familiar with the contents of her phone’s inbox
today due to constant checking, she said, “He hasn’t sent it, or at least not to
me.”

Sean’s mouth formed a wry and weary smile. “He knows the
importance of the first big fish. I’m sure he’ll get around to it and if not,
Logan will remind him.”

He reached for the phone and started dialing and Bridey was
about to text Hank again when she noticed a black cell phone on the desk. Hank’s
phone. She sighed. He was forever getting distracted with projects and leaving
his phone behind. Scooping it up, she put it in her pocket, wondering how much
of the Callahan estate she was going to have to traverse before she found
him.

It only took as far as the cottage.

“Bridey. Darling, over here.”

She turned to see her mother waving at her. She lay on an
Adirondack lounge chair stacked with cushions and it was positioned under the
shade of one of the huge maple trees. With a sunhat on her head, Jackie
Onassis-style sunglasses on her face, linen pants and a pastel cotton blouse,
she looked the picture of 1960s refined elegance—right down to the Collins
glass. Next to her was a table which held a glass pitcher and next to that sat
Hank, holding a glass and looking slightly stunned. He rose to his feet and then
sat down again.

With a sinking feeling, she crossed the grass. “Hi, Mom. It’s
great to see you out of the cottage.”

“Mint julep, darling?” Her mother wafted her hand toward the
pitcher. “Pour yourself one.”

Her mother was famous for her mint juleps which invariably
packed a punch and left people feeling smashed. “Are you sure you should be
drinking when you’re taking pain medication?”

“Bridey, I’m not a fool. This
is
today’s pain medication.” Kathleen patted Hank on the arm. “Are you sure about
marrying her, Hank? She can be very contrary.”

Hank smiled at Kathleen. “She does like things to be a
particular way.”

His unexpected words barreled into her, socking her hard. Hank
always supported her. The fact he was agreeing with her mother added to her
general unease which had been growing from the moment she’d proposed to him. Did
he really want to marry her?

You’re
being
ridiculous
.
He’s
teasing
you
with
mint
julep
talk
.
Of
course
he
wants
to
marry
you
.
This
is
the
twenty
-
first
century
.
There’s
absolutely
nothing
wrong
with
a
woman
proposing
to
the
man
she
loves
. But the reassurance sounded faint and wobbly
and did nothing to relieve her anxiety. She looped her hands around Hank’s neck
and pressed a kiss into his hair. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

He tilted his head back and his honey-brown eyes struggled to
focus. “You found me.”

Hank had the occasional beer at social gatherings but he didn’t
drink much. Even so, his height and breadth meant he could usually handle more
than one drink but this cocktail was Kathleen’s specialty and she was always
liberal with the bourbon. “Did you have lunch?”

He grinned up at her. “No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

“For heaven’s sake, Bridey, you’re not his mother.” Kathleen
patted the end of the lounge. “You need to relax. All this wedding planning is
making you cross. Sit down, have a julep and start enjoying your vacation.”

Hank patted her hand as if she was six and poured her a drink.
“They’re surprisingly good, Brides.”

She stared at her mother and fiancé who were both buzzed and
she felt as out of place as the only sober person at a party can. She knew right
then she wasn’t going to get any sense out of either of them. With a rising
sense of panic she realized that the decision on the wedding venue was going to
be put off yet again.