A-Simple-Wedding_ebook_12-17-19v1 Read online

  Jenny nodded. Kay lived a luxurious life, but she worked hard. By the time her current film appeared in theaters, her next one would be in post-production, and she’d be shooting a third.

  “The only time we both have off is right after this movie wraps up. But…” When her cousin’s voice trailed off, Jenny felt her stomach tighten. “I need your help. You’re the only one I can trust to get everything right. Can I count on you?”

  The pleading look in Karolyn’s gaze melted Jenny’s resistance. “Of course you can,” she answered. After all her aunt and cousin had done for her, how could she say anything else?

  “Oh, that’s such a relief,” Kay gushed.

  Glad to see her cousin’s posture soften, Jenny nodded. Maybe planning a simple wedding wouldn’t be as difficult as she’d thought. After all, she’d put together larger parties with even less notice. Plus, living in the same house, she’d be able to run any decisions past Kay each morning on their way to the set. “I suppose the first step is to pick a venue,” she said, getting down to business. With only six weeks to pull this off, they’d have to take advantage of every second. “Did you have a special place in mind?” Jenny turned one of the pages over, prepared to take notes.

  “I know just the place!” Kay’s mouth twisted into a sly smile. “Actually, it was your idea.”

  “Oh?” Confused, Jenny pursed her lips. She and Kay hadn’t discussed weddings in years, probably not since they’d played dress-up in grade school. Back then, her cousin had insisted she’d only get married on the white sandy beach of some faraway tropical isle. Jenny, though, had dreamed of walking down the aisle in the one town that consistently received a five-star ranking from Weddings Today. She glanced at Karolyn. Surely, her cousin hadn’t chosen that spot for her own wedding.

  Apparently, she had.

  “We’ve decided on a Heart’s Landing wedding. It’s the perfect place because everyone will expect us to choose an exotic destination. Even better, I called this morning and spoke with the event coordinator. She’s had a cancellation. A bride and groom who’d rented out the entire Captain’s Cottage for their wedding had a change of plans. I was able to snag the reservation for the last week in June. Isn’t that fabulous?”

  The tiniest spark of frustration burned in Jenny’s stomach. She quickly squelched it. What did it matter if Karolyn had stolen her choice of wedding venues? It wasn’t like she planned to get married next week, or next year. She didn’t have anyone special in her life, a situation she didn’t see changing anytime in the foreseeable future.

  Not that she minded. Even though her hours were long and her schedule as capricious and hectic as a hummingbird in flight, she enjoyed her job as an assistant to one of Hollywood’s leading ladies. But it was definitely not the kind of job that allowed for much of a personal life. She could hardly remember when she’d last been out on a date, much less had gotten involved in something serious. So no, she refused to be mad at her cousin for jumping at the chance to get married at one of the top ten wedding destinations in America.

  Besides, she knew just about everything there was to know about Heart’s Landing. Thumbing through the latest issue of Weddings Today would fill in any gaps. Given that Karolyn and Chad had decided to keep things small and intimate, she really didn’t know what she was worried about. Why, she’d probably have this wedding wrapped up within a week, two at the outside. She rubbed her fingers together. “When do we get started?”

  “Well, that’s the thing.” Karolyn heaved a sigh worthy of the stage. “We don’t. Between my shooting schedule and the rest of my commitments”—maintaining her position in the top echelon of Hollywood’s leading actress required daily workouts and weekly pampering at an exclusive spa, not to mention the nights Karolyn spent hobnobbing among the industry’s movers and shakers—“I won’t have time to even think about it. I need you to handle everything. But not here. You know how good the paparazzi are at sniffing out details. To throw them off track, you’ll need to go there and pretend you’re arranging your own wedding.”

  “But…” Jenny sputtered. Fly to Rhode Island and plan a wedding that wasn’t hers? She could think of a million ways that could go wrong in a wedding that was growing more complicated by the minute.

  Karolyn’s warm hands wrapped around her cold ones. Leaning forward, her cousin pinned her with a laser-eyed stare. “Can you do that, Jenny? Can you help Chad and me start our lives together with the wedding of our dreams?”

  Nodding, she took a deep breath and reminded herself that Karolyn wanted a minimum of pomp and fuss. Just her and the groom and fifty or so of their closest friends and family. An event that size shouldn’t be difficult to pull off without anyone finding out the real identity of the bride, should it?

  There wasn’t even that much left for her to do. The venue had already been nailed down. According to her notes, Karolyn had chosen the flavor of the cake, the flowers for her bouquet, and her wedding colors. Jenny only had to get everything to the church—or, in this case, onto the veranda of the Captain’s Cottage—in time for a simple wedding.

  Chapter Three

  After six hours crammed into an economy seat on the flight from LAX to Providence, followed by the time it had taken to wrestle her luggage from the baggage carousel and into the trunk of a very sensible rental car, Jenny breathed a happy sigh of relief. Her hands maintaining a light grip on the steering wheel, she darted a quick glance at a pair of adorable lambs frolicking in a hillside’s emerald-green grass. The sheep and cows in their pastures reminded her of her aunt’s Pennsylvania farm and filled her with the oddest sense of coming home. Especially when traffic turned out to be lighter than she’d expected on the scenic back road that hugged Rhode Island’s coastline.

  She’d grown so used to L.A.’s clogged highways and surface streets that she’d imagined there’d be more of the same on the East Coast. Once she left Providence, though, the oncoming cars had slowed to a trickle. She trailed the truck ahead by at least a half-mile and, unlike on the West Coast, no one here rode her bumper. She surfed one hand through the open window. A cool breeze filled the car with moist air. The humidity would probably make her hair curl, but after spending much of the past two years in Southern California’s arid climate, a little dampness felt good on her skin. She eased her foot off the accelerator as she took in the view.

  The stacked stone fences that lined the roadway were unlike any she’d ever seen. Who had built them, and how long had they been here? Had early settlers constructed the knee-high barriers using the rocks they’d unearthed as they’d sawed down trees and pulled up stumps? Like a calming blanket, a rich sense of the area’s history settled over her shoulders. She pictured herself, clad in Colonial garb, digging each stone from the ground and piling them along the edges of the land where she and her husband planned to raise crops and a family. At a spot where several of the fences came together, she rubbed her eyes. She could practically see militiamen taking cover among the rocks, their rifles aimed at approaching redcoats. That silly tune about feathers and macaroni whispered through her head. Driving past another set of low fences, she hummed the melody.

  When the road climbed again, the ground dropped precipitously on the other side of a metal guardrail. Below it, the ocean pounded against jagged gray rocks. A shiver passed over her when she imagined how many ships had been lost on the unforgiving, rocky coast. She was glad when the land angled down toward a postcard-perfect inlet, where white sailboats bobbed at anchor. Here, flocks of sea gulls soared on air currents above the dark green ocean. Occasionally one spied a fish and dove, straight as an arrow, into the water. Seconds later, it emerged, dripping and carrying dinner.

  Trees crowded the highway up ahead. Her lips parted when the land on the other side of a sharp curve opened up just like someone had unrolled the red carpet at a Hollywood awards ceremony. But instead of ending at a stage, the road headed through the center of a quaint New En
gland village. She spotted a sign welcoming visitors to Heart’s Landing and smiled. Her heart happily skipped a beat as if it, too, knew she’d arrived at the place she’d dreamed of visiting ever since she’d leafed through her first bridal magazine.

  Just beyond the city limits sign, she giggled when the name of the road changed from Boston Neck to Bridal Carriage Way. The speed limit dropped to a sedate twenty-five, which was fine with her. She slowed, enjoying her first long look at the town thousands of brides had chosen for their destination weddings. She sensed a theme in the cross-streets that bore names like Boutonniere Drive and Procession Avenue. As she approached the center of town, she half expected the gingerbread trim that dripped from Cape Cod-style houses to disappear. But if anything, it increased until the shops and stores practically bowed beneath layers of gilt and heart-shaped frills. Romance hung so heavy in the air, it might as well be fog. She placed a hand over her chest.

  Her pulse fluttered as she passed shops she recognized from bridal magazines and websites. An array of bouquets, each more luscious than the next, filled the windows of Forget Me Knot Flowers. At Bow Tie Pasta, a dark green awning stretched from the main entrance to the street, offering its guests protection from nasty weather.

  A surprising number of couples walked hand-in-hand beneath the shade trees that lined the village streets. Seeing them stirred an empty feeling in her chest, but she did her best to squelch it. She was still young. She had plenty of time to find her own someone special. Once she wrapped up every detail for Kay’s wedding and returned home to California, she might put more effort into finding Mr. Right. As long as she was in Heart’s Landing, though, she needed to focus on the job at hand and nothing else.

  With time to kill before she could check in at the bed and breakfast, she turned onto Honeymoon Avenue. She rolled past buildings with intriguing names like Step In Style Shoes, Ice, and a dance studio aptly named The Right Moves. Another turn took her to Officiate Circle and more restaurants, a large fitness center and a line of storefronts offering wedding services. The street ended in a cul-de-sac. There, a statue of a seafarer stood in the center of a small park. The rakish tilt to his hat piqued her interest. She sensed there were stories in the deep lines carved into his weathered face.

  Outside her two-story bed and breakfast on Union Street a few minutes later, she sighed contentedly as she studied cedar siding that had aged to a burnished silver. She hadn’t known quite what to expect when she’d made her reservations. Of course, with Kay picking up the tab, she could have stayed at a luxury hotel, but she knew herself well enough to know she’d feel guilty about spending so much money on a place to sleep at night. The inn had a nice website, and a healthy discount had practically made the decision of where to stay for her. Still, she’d fretted just a little. In the past, lower prices had sometimes meant compromises in quality. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case this time. From the white picket fence surrounding the house to the red and white blossoms that spilled from boxes under each window, the bed and breakfast looked every bit as inviting as it had on the internet. If it was even half as pretty inside, she’d have no problem making it her home-away-from-home for the next two weeks while she tackled the details of Karolyn’s wedding.

  Suddenly as nervous as a hummingbird, she pressed a hand over her fluttering stomach. Everything she’d seen since she’d driven past the welcome sign should have assured her she’d have no problem pulling off the wedding of the decade, even on such short notice. The town boasted a wealth of shops and services, each practically guaranteed to give the bride and groom their special day.

  But that was the problem, wasn’t it? The shopkeepers in Heart’s Landing worked with brides day in and day out. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment they met her, they’d know she was hiding something. She wasn’t an actress. She’d never even tried out for a role in her high school plays. Instead, she’d concentrated on her studies and had left the artistic endeavors to the one who’d been blessed with the beauty and talent in the family, her cousin. But now, Kay’s happiness depended on her ability to act the part of a blushing bride well enough to convince everyone in one of America’s top wedding destinations that she was getting married.

  She groaned. How would she ever face her cousin or her aunt if she failed? Or if some eager reporter caught wind of what she was up to and spread the word? She couldn’t stand the thought of having the paparazzi descend on Kay’s wedding. Which was exactly what would happen if anyone saw through her ruse. After all Aunt Maggie had done for her, she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—let the press ruin her cousin’s special day.

  Willing her rebellious stomach to settle down, she reached into her bag for the thin notebook containing the biographical sketch Karolyn had created for her. On the long plane ride here, she’d committed every detail to memory, but sitting in her car, she whispered her fake fiancé’s name, occupation, and age until they rolled off her tongue like butter. When she was as ready as she felt she’d ever be, she tucked the notebook out of sight.

  She crossed her fingers. Everything hinged on the next few minutes and, with a steadying breath, she stepped from her car and mounted the three wooden steps to the entrance to the bed and breakfast.

  The front door opened onto a sitting area that was far more spacious than she’d expected from the photographs online. Gleaming hardwood floors and white wainscoting gave the entry a welcome feel. Several overstuffed chairs and ottomans dotted the room, making it a great spot to linger at the beginning or the end of the day. A guest book lay atop the antique secretary nestled into a space under the stairs, but no one sat at the desk or in the formal living room beyond where couches offered ample seating for a dozen or so.

  “Hello?” she called softly. A nervous rush shimmied through her, and she gave the fake engagement ring on her finger a twist while she squared her shoulders.

  “I’ll be right there.” Distant footsteps grew louder until at last, wiping her hands on a dish towel, a plump woman with tight curls emerged from the bowels of the house. “Welcome to Union Street Bed and Breakfast. I’m Marybeth Williams,” she announced, a cheery welcome shining in her dark eyes. “You must be Jenny. We’ve been expecting you. Did you have any trouble finding us?”

  “None at all. I hope I’m not too early.” The check-in time posted on the website had said four pm. It was nearly that now.

  “Actually, you couldn’t have planned it better. Sarah just finished getting your suite ready.” Marybeth tapped the old-fashioned guest register. “If you’ll sign in, I’ll have my husband Matt bring up your bags.” The hostess waited a beat before asking, “Will anyone be joining you while you’re here?”

  “No.” Jenny gave her head a firm shake. “My fiancé…” Oh, phooey. Her voice trailed off as she blanked on the name of a man who didn’t exist. She struggled to hold her smile in place despite the bitter taste that filled her mouth every time she thought of the secrets she’d have to protect for the next two weeks. But she didn’t have any choice, did she? Helping to plan Karolyn’s wedding seemed like the least she could do to repay her cousin’s family. If that meant going incognito as a bride-to-be, so be it.

  Besides, she reminded herself, she wasn’t going to cheat or steal from anyone. She really was planning a wedding—it just wasn’t her own.

  “Tom,” she said at last, hoping Marybeth hadn’t noticed her hesitation. “He, um, he can’t get away right now. He’s an investment broker on the West Coast, and he’s putting in a lot of extra hours so he can take time off for our honeymoon.” Though she wanted to add more, she stopped herself.

  The more straightforward the story, the easier it’ll be to remember, her cousin had advised.

  “Someplace wonderfully romantic, I trust.” Marybeth’s head canted to one side.

  Jenny bit her lower lip. “I’m sure it will be,” she said with far more assurance than she felt. Kay had left those plans up to Chad. Ta
king a page out of their book, she blurted, “My fiancé is, um, handling that end of things.”

  “Oh, isn’t that nice.” An odd expression passed over Marybeth’s face but, like a fleeting shadow, it quickly disappeared. “Are you parked out front, dear?” When Jenny nodded, the hostess motioned toward the rear of the building. “You’re welcome to leave your vehicle on the street, but there’s also a private lot around back, on the other side of the garden.”

  “Sounds good,” Jenny agreed, relieved now that the conversation had moved away from her fake fiancé. “I’ll park there when I get back from dinner.” She’d narrowed the choices for the rehearsal dinner down to three restaurants and had reservations at the first of them this evening.

  Together, the two women made quick work of the business end of things before Marybeth led the way up a flight of stairs to a two-room suite at the back of the house. “It’ll be quiet here. The rooms facing the street tend to get a little more noise,” she explained, opening the door on a generously-appointed bedroom. “Will this do while you’re staying with us?”

  A warm feeling started in the pit of her stomach and spread upward as Jenny took her first peek at the place she’d call home for the next two weeks. “It’s lovely,” she said, trailing her fingers over the footboard of a canopy bed covered in plush linens. From eyelet curtains at the windows to a thick Oriental carpet at her feet, the room gave off a cheery, peaceful air. She crossed to the connecting room. Here, the windows overlooked a garden where flowers bloomed in riotous colors. A conveniently placed desk and chair made the perfect spot for organizing her notes each day. A small sofa and footstool made an inviting spot to curl up with a good book whenever she had a free moment. There was even a fireplace, though she doubted she’d use it, considering the spring-like temperatures.

  “So, when’s the wedding?” Marybeth asked from her spot near the doorway.