Kaye Dacus - Stand-In Groom

What had she said about honesty? If she wanted him to be honest with her, she needed to grant him the same courtesy. He needed to know she was over Cliff, that she’d forgiven him and could move on with a new relationship without the specter of being hurt in the past coming between them in the future.

“What’s wrong?” She stood and crossed to stand in front of him, resting her hand on his crossed arms. “I do declaiyah, you look jus’ like an ol’ thundahcloud.”

He loved it when she put on that thick Southern accent. His tension started to melt, and he smiled at her. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just been a busy day already.”

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, then went around her desk to retrieve her handbag and keys. “You ready to go to the rental lot and choose decor for the engagement party?”

Cliff’s engagement party. The event where Anne would learn the true identity of her client. The thundercloud returned to his heart, but he schooled his expression to mask it. “Certainly. Lead on.”

He let her make the decisions on what columns, greenery, linens, tables, and chairs to rent. The only thing he ordered was the gold flatware and table service, per Courtney’s request. Anne laughed and chatted with the proprietor, a friend of hers from childhood, as she completed the paperwork and George paid with the expense-account credit card.

Headed back toward her car, Anne’s stomach growled. “Where do you want to go for lunch?”

“I…” He had to get away. Distance. He needed distance to guard his heart. In one week, she might decide she never wanted to see him again. “I can’t. I’m interviewing for several house staff positions this afternoon and need to get back.” The interviews didn’t start for another three hours but made a convenient excuse.

“Oh. How about brunch on Friday? It’s the Fourth of July, and I’m officially taking the day as a holiday…except for the wedding I have to set up at noon.” She unlocked the car doors with the remote on her key chain. “Then later you can join us for our family Fourth of July celebration.”

He slipped into the passenger seat. How could he say no to her when she caressed his face with her azure gaze? “I’ll check my schedule and get back with you.”

For the next three days, George vacillated between his desire to spend time with Anne and his fear of ending up with a broken heart. The only person he could talk to about it was Henry, and his brother had been no help whatsoever.

“Just tell her the whole tale and have done with it,” he’d said. “Honor be hanged.”

George couldn’t let go that easily. He’d given his word and signed a contract. He couldn’t go back on that. But he agonized over the thought of spending time with Anne, because he wanted to lay before her the whole of his situation, especially the part about Cliff, so he could learn her true feelings.

The days dragged. Thursday, as he had every day that week, he went into the study on the main floor to work on the travel arrangements for Cliff and Courtney’s party guests. Most had their own personal assistants, but he had a lot of information to convey to get the two hundred guests from all over the world into Bonneterre, Louisiana. He’d started a spreadsheet to track the RSVPs and now used it to enter travel itineraries.

The data swam on the computer screen, and after mangling three entries, he gave up and turned the leather executive chair around to stare out the picture window. The gray clouds and pelting rain matched his mood.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t face her. He picked up the phone and dialed Forbes’s private number. The line didn’t ring but went straight to voice mail, thank heavens. Forbes would ask too many questions.

“Forbes, George Laurence here. I’m calling to let you know I won’t be attending dinner tonight. Something has arisen that I must handle. Please make my apologies to…everyone.” He ended the call and let the cordless receiver drop into his lap.

The rhythm of the rain lulled him into a semiconscious state. He imagined every possible scenario of how Anne would react. She might be absolutely nonplussed at the revelation. She could be angry enough to break the contract.

“Baby, are you all right?”

George started when he realized Mama Ketty stood over him.

“I’m sorry, but you didn’t answer when I knocked on the door.” She clucked her tongue. “You’re too young to be bearing such a heavy weight. Tell Mama Ketty all about it.” She settled into one of the chairs across the desk.

He blinked. She didn’t budge. Words tumbled out of his mouth—he couldn’t stop them. He told her everything, including his fear that Anne might never want to see him again.

She sat very still when his verbal torrent ceased, her dark face not revealing any hint of her thoughts. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, warmth flooded him. Her soft voice drowned out the storm outside. “ ‘For thus the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, has said, “In repentance and rest you will be saved, in quietness and trust is your strength.” ’ I’m thinking Isaiah knew what he was talking about when he wrote that. Until you find peace with God, you ain’t gonna have happiness with yourself nor no one else around you.” She stood and smoothed her floral dress over her ample figure. “Now come into the kitchen and have some of my snickerdoodles.”

Who did she think she was coming in here and telling him—exactly what he needed to hear? The words had been given to her by God, and they convicted him to the core of his soul. He had to heal his own scars before he could give his heart to someone else. He picked up the phone and dialed Anne’s cell number. Until he figured his life out, he needed to keep her at arm’s length. She didn’t answer. He left a message canceling their brunch date tomorrow. He would go to her family’s Independence Day celebration in the park. She wouldn’t be there until late, and they’d be buffered by the number of people surrounding them.

The aroma of cinnamon and baked goods rolled over him. He inhaled deeply. How had he not noticed before? He rose and followed the amazing smells downstairs.

Mama Ketty bustled about the kitchen. “You just set down at that bar and don’t move a twitch. Mama Ketty’s gonna put some meat on them bones if it’s the last thing I do.” She placed a plate of cookies and an enormous glass of milk in front of him. “I know you haven’t been eating any of my cooking. How long’s it been since you ate proper?”

When was the last time he’d had a decent meal? Sunday afternoon at Anne’s aunt and uncle’s home. “Awhile.”

She clucked at him again. “Uh-huh. I suspected as much. Sit tight, and you’ll have a meal that’ll stick to your ribs.”

Contentment settled into him along with the milk and cinnamon-dusted cookies while he watched her work. “Mama Ketty, do you believe that everything happens for a reason?”

“Baby, I believe that nothing happens without God knowing about it. And when things do happen, if we turn toward Him, He’ll make the best of the situation, be it good or bad.” She set a plate in front of him. “This here’s a good Louisiana-raised, sugar-cured ham steak, fresh corn on the cob, purple-hulled peas from my son’s garden, tomatoes from there, too.” She turned back to the stove and lifted a small pan. She glopped something akin to porridge onto the plate. “Those are the finest grits in all of Louisiana. They’ll stick with you, too. No one leaves Mama Ketty’s table hungering after they’ve had some of my grits.”

George had heard of the Southern delicacy but hadn’t really thought he’d ever have to eat them. With Mama Ketty’s hawklike gaze on him, though, he didn’t dare leave a morsel of food on the white ceramic plate.

Seasoned with butter, salt, and pepper, the grits melted in his mouth. She’d salted the tomatoes to bring out their full flavor, and butter dripped down his fingers as he bit into the crisp, sweet corn. The ham steak was among the best meat he’d ever put in his mouth.

She took the plate as soon as he laid down his fork. “Now you get on out of here and let me get back to work.” She shoved a small plate of cookies into his hands when he stood. “And take these with you. You children these days, wanting to be skin and bones.” She shook her head and mumbled to herself.

He carried the cookies back up to the office to start over on the spreadsheet. His position as head of the household staff had just become an empty title.

Instead of getting straight to work, he opened the Bible program on the computer and searched for the verse Ketty had quoted. Isaiah 30:15. “In repentance and rest you will be saved, in quietness and trust is your strength.” He printed the verse, cut it out, and taped it to the bottom of the monitor.

“In quietness and trust is your strength.”

“Father, help me to be quiet and trust You for strength. You know I’m going to need it.”

“George is acting weird.” Anne tipped her wide-brimmed hat forward to better shield her face from the midmorning sun. She couldn’t show up at the church with a sunburned nose.

“Hmm?” Meredith’s distracted voice came from behind a biography of Claude Monet.

“I said George is acting weird.”

Meredith slipped a bookmark in to keep her place and scooped her strawberry blond hair over her shoulder. “Define weird.”

“Ever since he came to lunch last Sunday, he’s been…acting funny—not like himself, like I’ve said or done something that offended him and he doesn’t know how to tell me.” Once again, she went over everything that had been said and done at Maggie and Errol’s Sunday afternoon, trying to figure out what might have upset him.