Kaye Dacus - Stand-In Groom

“Very good, as usual,” Anne told her cousin, but Jenn wasn’t looking at her.

“The fish and chips reminded me of a pub in London we frequented when I was a boy.” George smiled politely.

Even though she hadn’t known him long, just from watching him carefully today and in their past few meetings, Anne was starting to be able to read his facial expressions. He was better at controlling his reactions and schooling his features than she, but his eyes gave him away. His beautiful eyes that were the color of sun-brewed iced tea… the very same eyes that were now looking at her askance.

“Anne?” Jenn nudged her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I just zoned out there for a second.” Heat crawled up her cheeks.

Jenn removed the cap of her pen with her teeth to write something on her order pad. Speaking around the cap, she said, “I asked what site y’all are going to visit next.”

“Oh. Comeaux Town Center. Then Benoit Hall.”

“Lafitte’s Landing has those two beaten, hands down.” Jenn tore off the sheet she’d written on and put it facedown on the table in front of Anne. “George, great to meet you. Hopefully I’ll see you around again soon.”

He nodded noncommittally.

Jenn leaned over and kissed Anne’s cheek. “Annie, I’ll see you back here for dinner Thursday night.”

“I should be here, but don’t be surprised if I’m late.” Anne picked up the ticket and slid out of the booth.

“I’ll save you a seat.”

“Thanks.” She gave her cousin a quick hug. As soon as Jenn walked away, Anne reached into her small purse and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, which she left on the table.

George reached for his wallet, but Anne stopped him. “I never make a client pay for a meal. Company policy.”

He looked uncomfortable but didn’t argue with her.

Anne looked down at the check. Rather than a receipt for their lunch, it was a note in her cousin’s chunky, loopy script. She read it as she walked toward the door.

He’s hot. Find out if he has a brother and let me know.

—J

Anne smiled and shook her head. When would her cousin figure out that she was a wedding planner, not a matchmaker?

At eight o’clock Tuesday evening, fourteen hours since the beginning of her workday, Anne locked the front door of her office and turned off all the lights. But after two hours of draining mediation, Amanda and David’s wedding was a go for Saturday.

Her back ached between her shoulders, and she rolled her neck to try to work out the stiffness. Next stop: home, where she would fill the spa tub with hot water and her favorite tea-therapy essential oils and try to release some of this stress. Her stomach rumbled, and she adjusted her plans to include running by Rotier’s on the way to get her favorite grilled chicken club sandwich.

The sandwich never made it out of the car. In the ten minutes from the restaurant to the converted Victorian triplex, she’d wolfed down the club and most of the large order of french fries. Her eyelids drooped as she parked between Jennifer’s red classic Mustang and Meredith’s white, late-model Volvo SUV.

She’d rather hoped the girls would have gone out tonight so she could be sure of some private time to unwind. Even though each had her own apartment—Meredith on the ground floor, Jennifer on the third, and Anne in the middle—they rarely, if ever, hesitated to drop in on each other if the mood struck. Especially Jenn, who couldn’t seem to comprehend why anyone would ever want to be alone.

Anne waved bugs out of her face as she fumbled to find the key to the back door. Maybe they should replace the incandescent porch light with a bug zapper.

She smiled and crossed the threshold. With the deposit for the Landry-Laurence wedding safely tucked away in the bank, she could get an architect out to start redesigning this place back into a grand single-family home. She hadn’t told the girls yet, just in case something fell through. But it was time for all of them to move on, live by themselves.

Thursday night at the family singles’ dinner would be the perfect time. That way she wouldn’t get fussed at for leaving someone out of the telling.

The wooden stairs creaked, and she winced, hoping neither of the girls would notice. The rear entrance opened into her kitchen. She snapped on the lights…and groaned. A couple of cabinet doors stood ajar, and half of her mixing and serving bowls sat on the previously empty countertop.

“Hey, Anne—” Meredith stopped in the doorway.

Anne dropped her bags on the kitchen table, shrugged out of her suit jacket, and waved toward the mess. “Jenn?”

Meredith nodded, stepped back out into the hall, and bellowed her sister’s name. “She came down a couple of hours ago to ‘borrow’ some flour—and sugar and eggs and baking soda. I didn’t realize she needed something to mix it all up in, too.”

Anne leaned over to replace the stack of bowls in the cabinet under the sink. “Looks like she needed the mixer, too. How a woman who has her own business—”

“You rang?” Jennifer bounced into the room. “Oh, sorry. I was about to come down and put all that away, Anne.”

Meredith sat at the table, and Jennifer hopped up to sit on the counter beside the refrigerator. So much for a quiet evening and a long, hot bath.

“So—are you going out with him?”

“Going out with—no, he’s engaged!” Why in the world would Jenn ask that when she knew George Laurence was a client?

Jenn’s pixie-esque face crumpled into a frown. “Danny Mendoza’s engaged? Then what’s he doing sending you flowers?”

“What are you—?” Anne turned and for the first time noticed an enormous floral arrangement in the middle of the table. She must be more tired than she thought to have missed it. Meredith plucked the card off its stick and handed it to her. The flap on the tiny envelope hadn’t been sealed, thus explaining how Jenn already knew who’d sent them. Anne opened it and read the note:

Anne—

Sorry I’ve missed you the last few times I’ve called. I hope to talk to you soon and look forward to getting to know you better.

Danny Mendoza

What was wrong with him? He’d stood her up a week and a half ago, and she’d been avoiding his calls since then. Why wasn’t he getting the hint?

“Obviously he cares enough to drop a wad of money on flowers.” Jenn cupped a stargazer lily and inhaled its spicy fragrance. “Are you going out with him again?”

“What again? I haven’t been out with him yet.” Anne concentrated on putting the card back into its sleeve. She worked with April’s Flowers enough to know Danny had indeed “dropped a wad of money,” as Jenn so eloquently put it. Over two feet tall and about as wide, the bouquet featured not only the dark pink and white lilies, but also deep red roses, purple delphiniums, pink gerbera daisies, blue phlox, violet veronicas, lilac blossoms, and white hydrangeas.

“How could you not see them when you came in?” Meredith fingered a velvety rose.

“Have you seen the two arrangements in my living room? I have two others at my office, in addition to the purple tulips I get from April’s Flowers every time they get some in stock. The florist shops around here like me to keep them in mind when making recommendations to clients, so I get at least two or three deliveries every couple of weeks.” She turned the vase so the large purple bow faced forward. “I don’t think that going out with someone whose schedule is as hectic as mine is a good idea. When I meet the right man, I’ll know it.”

The image of George Laurence flooded her mind’s eye. Why did he have to be engaged? She tried to stop the flutter in her heart, but the memory of their conversation over lunch yesterday—his gentle humor, his deep faith, his expressive brown eyes, his to-die-for accent—wouldn’t go away.

“Oh, really, Anne!” Jenn slid down from her perch, arms crossed. “When are you going to give up on the idea of love at first si—” She jerked and grabbed for the cell phone hanging from her tiny waistband. “Sorry, gals, it’s the restaurant.” She whizzed out the door, phone to ear.

“Don’t mind her.” Meredith stood and stretched. “She and Clay Huntoon broke up.”

Anne frowned. “Clay Huntoon? The sports reporter for Channel Six who sings at church occasionally? Did I know she was seeing him?”

Meredith smiled and shook her head. “That’s how she met Danny Mendoza—Danny and Clay work together.”

“I swear she changes boyfriends like socks.” Anne fingered the waxy petal of one of the stargazer lilies. “Do you think maybe that’s why she’s so keen to find out if I plan to see Danny again? Do you think she might be interested in him?”

“Dunno. Maybe.” With a shrug, Meredith crossed to the door. “Hey, have you heard from Major O’Hara the last couple of weeks?”

Anne shook her head. “No, why?”

“He asked about you this afternoon—mentioned we haven’t worked any events with you recently, was wondering how you are, and said he’d probably give you a call to see if you have any small events he might pick up freelance.”

“Really? Are things so slow there that he has time to cater non-B-G events? I mean, it must really eat into the time he gets to spend with Debbonnaire.”

“You really are behind the times, Anne. Major and Deb broke up before Christmas. She wanted him to propose—after dating only two months, if you can believe that.” Meredith pressed her lips together. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ll tell Major tomorrow you’ll be calling.” Meredith pulled the door closed behind her. “Good night, Annie.”