Kaye Dacus - Stand-In Groom

“I guess the question then becomes, whose wishes are more important to us at this point in time? Cliff is footing the bill for this shindig but has taken no interest in the proceedings.”

“I’m all in favor of giving Courtney whatever she wants.”

She squeezed his arm. “I know you are. And she deserves to have someone in her life who feels that way about her.”

“And she does—two of us.” He sighed. “Mrs. Landry returned from France a few hours ago. Courtney’s afraid she’ll make a scene tonight.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to rein that woman in. I managed to keep her down to a dull roar at Courtney’s sisters’ weddings. I’ll try to find some trivial—but time-consuming—task for her so she feels like she’s being helpful but is out of the way. She’s really not going to like the idea of you giving her daughter away. She didn’t even like it when one of Courtney’s sisters asked their brother to be her escort.”

“Courtney has a brother?”

“He hasn’t had any contact with the family since that fiasco, about three years ago. Courtney was fifteen, so she should remember it pretty clearly.”

“I’ll talk to her again and make sure it’s what she really wants to do.”

“I’ve always thought that if anyone in that family were ever going to stand up to that woman, it would be Courtney. She has an inner strength that most of her sisters could never hope to possess. They all let Mrs. Landry run roughshod over them. I tried to manage her, but they gave in to her demands so easily, I ended up planning the weddings to her liking rather than the brides’.”

They ascended the steps to the porch behind the service entrance. Above, Anne’s staff hung pink floral swags from the upper balconies that wrapped around the house. They’d be doing it all again on Saturday with fresh garlands of white flowers. Nothing but the best for their girl. Maybe in another twenty or so years, she and George would get to do this for their own child.

He stopped and pulled Anne into his arms and kissed the side of her neck.

Her hands rested on his shoulders, one hand toying with the hair at the back of his neck, a bemused expression in her eyes. “What was that for?”

He winked and took her by the hand to lead her into the house. “Just because.”

At six, Cliff’s limousine arrived from the airport. George instructed the butler’s assistant to meet the car at the service entrance and carry the luggage up back stairs. He’d had difficulty training the Americans on the staff the proprieties that the British butler he’d hired took as a matter of course, but his efforts were proving rewarding. In the last few days with the full staff on the job every morning by seven o’clock, the house ran with English precision. Even Mama Ketty had been impressed.

Electronic planner in hand, George met Cliff in the front foyer. “Good evening, sir. Welcome home. How was your trip?”

“Long and tiresome.” Cliff started up the stairs. “Have someone bring me a Mountain Dew and a fried bologna sandwich.”

George nodded at the butler, who left his post at the door to relay the message to Mama Ketty. “Would you like to go over your schedule?”

His employer stopped in the middle of the wide staircase. “Yeah. I guess we have to. Come on up.”

At George’s request, the valet he’d hired for Cliff for the weekend had laid out several outfits across the bed. The young man followed the assistant butler into the bedroom-sized dressing closet and proceeded to unpack for their employer. George nodded his dismissal at the assistant butler and took out his stylus.

The schedule Anne had e-mailed him for the evening made up the majority of today’s agenda. George read through the line items as Cliff went about the suite from bathroom to closet.

“What am I wearing tonight?” Cliff interrupted.

“Your valet has laid out some clothing here on the bed, sir.” George returned to reading the agenda.

Cliff exited the closet and examined the outfits. He pointed at one and motioned for the valet to assist him in changing.

“If that’s all, sir, I would like to check on Miss Courtney.”

Cliff dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Yeah. Go. Hey, boy—what’s your name?”

George left him to get acquainted with his valet and went down the long hall to the bedroom suite on the opposite end. The door stood open. Courtney sat on the window seat reading, Anne in a cushioned armchair with her back to the door.

Courtney looked up and held one finger to her lips, then pointed at Anne. He walked around until he faced the chair, and smiled.

“She came in to go over the schedule with me,” Courtney whispered, “and the next thing I know, she’s asleep. I don’t think she’s been sleeping well at night, worrying about my wedding. It was too much for her to take on by herself. She really needs an assistant.”

“Yes, she does.” George sank onto the window seat.

“Did I hear Cliff come in?” Courtney tried to sound disinterested, but the hurt still came through her small voice.

“He’s changing.” After four weeks apart, the least he could have done was greet his fiancée upon arrival. “I’m certain he’ll be along directly.”

“Then you probably ought to wake up Anne so he doesn’t see her right off. I know he’s not happy I hired her.” She reached over and patted his arm. “Don’t look so uncomfortable, George. Anne told me everything after the engagement party. She even offered to resign and help me find another planner. But I wouldn’t let her.”

He crossed to Anne and gently shook her shoulder.

Her eyes popped open. “George?”

“You have a wedding rehearsal to oversee, madam. I suggest you quit dillydallying and get to it.” He kissed the tip of her nose and offered his hand.

“How long…?” She looked at Courtney, her cheeks bright red.

“Just a few minutes. I didn’t wake you because I knew you needed the rest.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so unprofessional.” She gathered up her planner and paperwork from the small coffee table.

“No, just overworked.” Courtney came over and hugged Anne. “Just in case I don’t get a chance to say it again this weekend, thank you for everything. You’ve made every dream come true.”

He heard a door down the hall and held his hand out toward Anne. “We should go.”

She nodded, kissed Courtney’s forehead, and followed him out of the room. Cliff’s new valet caught up with them at the door to the service stairs.

“He sent me away when his food arrived. Should I just wait outside the door? He’s not changed clothes yet.”

“Yes. Wait outside the door. Did you finish unpacking the suitcases?”

The young man nodded. “Most of it needed to go to the laundry, he said. So I put it in the orange bags like you showed me. In England, are there really people who do this for a living? Like, all the time for one person?”

“Yes. That was one of my first positions as an adult.” He squeezed the college student’s shoulder. “But not a career path I’d recommend for most.”

“Thanks.”

George followed Anne down the two flights of dark, narrow stairs to the kitchen. The serenity above the stairs belied the pandemonium below. He and Anne had to give way on the landing between the main floor and the lower level to several young women running up with table linens and silverware. In the kitchen, Major O’Hara commanded his staff like a general while Mama Ketty directed the young men loading the china into the dumbwaiter.

They got separated by different people needing their help. He winked at Anne as she went outside to approve the setup at the gazebo.

After a few minutes, he disengaged himself from Mama Ketty’s string of complaints about the hired-on linens and went to see if he could help Anne with anything in the last few moments before the bridal party started to arrive.

At the gazebo, her young cousins Jonathan and Bryan checked the sound system. George stood at the rear of the area staked off for guest seating and gave them a thumbs-up on the volume before approaching.

“Where’s Anne?”

Her cousins exchanged a look. “He came and got her. Mr. Ballantine, I mean,” Jonathan said. “Said he needed to talk to her.”

George’s heart jumped into his throat. Lord, let her say what needs to be said. Let her forgive him, but don’t let him hurt her.

When Cliff’s hand closed around her elbow, Anne’s skin burned as surely as it had from the debris from the plane crash. He led her back into the house and to the office on the main floor where she and George had spent many happy hours working side by side on the wedding. She stopped behind a tall wing chair; Cliff crossed to look out one of the two tall windows.

“Do you remember the time I invited you to go on that weekend ski trip with a bunch of my friends from the fraternity?” Cliff asked, his back to her.

She smiled in spite of her anxiety over this tête-à-tête. “I said I couldn’t go because it involved flying.”

“I thought it was just an excuse to get out of spending time with my frat brothers. I knew you didn’t like them much. I knew you didn’t like the person I became when I was around them.” He turned to face her, arms crossed. “Did I ever tell you how horrible that weekend was?”

She shook her head. “Aside from breaking your arm? I had a feeling other stuff happened from the fact that you didn’t really talk about it after you got back.”

“All they did was drink and try to get the girls who did go into bed with them. And a lot of the girls gave in. I was so glad you weren’t there to witness it all. I knew you’d be disappointed.”