A Christmas Bride (6 page)

“But that's not what she wants, is it?”

“She's the one who suggested it. So, while I thank you for trying to help us solve this problem, the bottom line is that it's cheaper and easier for us to elope than for me to buy an inn just to have a wedding reception. I'm sorry, Willow.” He handed the plan back to her.

“No, keep the plan. Read it. You might change your mind.”

She turned away, certain that Jefferson Talbert would never read her plan. She'd have to come up with some other idea for her future.

Since Shelly's death, David negotiated his life by routine. Routine kept him from thinking too much and feeling too much. And not feeling was the best way to keep him away from that bottle of bourbon that lived in his bottom desk drawer at home. That bottle had taken a hit on Wednesday night, after Uncle Jamie's party.

But it was Friday now, and David was back in control of himself. And when noon arrived, he left his desk and took the five-block walk to Gracie's Diner. Lunch was the anchor of his day.

He was such a regular at the diner that Gracie unofficially reserved his favorite booth—the third from the door—and she always had his tuna sandwich on whole wheat toast with lettuce and tomato ready for him the moment he sat down.

But today the routine changed. Instead of putting his sandwich in front of him with her usual bright smile, Gracie Teague hovered. And when Gracie hovered, it usually meant she had information to share. Gracie was the chair of the Liberty Avenue Chamber of Commerce and had her finger on the pulse of the community. She was like a living and breathing focus group, which made her enormously useful to anyone in local politics.

“What's up?” he asked.

He expected Gracie to lean over and impart some important news, but instead she continued to hover with an uncertain look in her eye.

“What's the matter?” A heavy sense of dread settled into his gut.

Gracie slipped into the booth's facing bench and leaned in before she spoke. “Mr. Lyndon, you have no reason to do me any kind of favor. But here's the thing. Melissa is like my own baby girl. Her momma was my best friend, and, well, I would go to the ends of the earth to make her happy.”

Gracie paused while David waited for the punch line that was surely coming. When her silence became more than he could bear, he said, “Gracie, just spit it out. I don't have all day. I have a brief to write this afternoon, and I just want to eat my lunch.”

“Oh, well, I don't want to keep you from your lunch.” She got up.

“Gracie, wait. What the hell is it you want to say?”

She folded her arms across her blue waitress uniform. “Melissa told me this morning that even though the Presbyterian church is available on the date they want, she and Jeff are still planning to run off to Vegas to get married because they can't find an acceptable place for their reception. And I gather you're the one who told them it would be best if they eloped.” Gracie's voice turned watery, and unshed tears filled her eyes.

“I didn't put the idea in their heads, Gracie. They're the ones who didn't like the wedding Mother was planning for them in New York. Don't make this out to be more than it is or blame me for what they decide is right for them.”

Gracie's spine snapped. “Really? Is that what you think? You could have helped them. You could have let them have their wedding party at the inn. And now, instead, they're going to elope, and I won't get to see my girl in a wedding dress. And it's your fault, Mr. Lyndon.”

“Now, Gracie, that's not—”

“It is your fault. You showed that you're not a kind or caring man. And make no mistake, if Jeff and Melissa elope, I will have no compunction about telling folks exactly how that came to happen.” Gracie turned her back on him for the first time ever.

Damn.

This was a big problem. He didn't want Gracie Teague supporting Bill Cummins in the primary election. But even more than that, he liked and admired Gracie. She was a decent person, and he hated the idea of disappointing her.

Sort of like he hated the idea of disappointing Natalie.

And Shelly.

But what else was new? For days now, Willow's angry words had been worming their way through him.

But he couldn't please everyone. If he helped Melissa and Jeff, his mother wouldn't be happy. Mother was already annoyed at him for telling Jeff to elope.

And Heather and Dad wanted that big wedding in New York because dozens of rich donors would be there.

How on earth had a wedding gotten so tangled up in politics?

He was screwed no matter what he did.

Willow picked up a copy of the
Winchester Daily
at the drugstore and headed down to Gracie's Diner. So much for her plan to work for herself. Maybe she needed to lower her sights and check the want ads after all. Because if Jeff Talbert wasn't going to invest in her plan, it was unlikely anyone else would.

She needed some real food to bolster her flagging confidence. Two days of eating lentils and oatmeal had left her ravenous. The appetite-enhancing aroma of fried bacon and coffee made her stomach growl as she came through the diner's front door.

And saw David Lyndon at one of the window booths.

Crap.
He was the last person on the face of the planet that she wanted to see today. Especially after Jeff's rejection.

But Shenandoah Falls was a small town, so avoiding David would be impossible if she ended up staying here. Still, the sight of him froze her to the gray linoleum and made her heart turn in her chest. She owed him an apology for what she'd said on Wednesday. She ought to suck it up and go say something nice right now, something that would smooth over the controversy.

He looked up from his lunch out of dark, brooding eyes, haunted by Shelly's ghost. His gaze caught and paralyzed her as he got up from his spot and approached.

He grabbed her by the upper arm before she could think about running. On Wednesday his touch had frightened her. Today it sparked a current of something surprising, and maybe even forbidden, that flowed up her arm and into her core.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

“And I need to—”

Just then Gracie popped up and said, “Let her go, Mr. Lyndon. I don't want any trouble in my diner. And besides, she hasn't done anything to you except tell the truth. And if you can't handle the truth, well, that's your problem, not hers.”

“Um, Gracie, it's all right.”

David dropped Willow's arm, but the buzz he'd ignited remained. “Can we talk?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Gracie followed them back to David's booth. “It's nice to see you back in town again, Willow. What will you be having today, hon?”

Willow ordered a tuna sandwich on whole wheat toast with lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise and a diet Coke. Gracie bustled off, but not before glaring at David.

“David, I'm so sorry for the way I mouthed off the other day. Really. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was angry, and I regret it. Deeply.”

“Apology accepted,” he said, his gaze warming, “but I think maybe Gracie is right. You spoke the truth, and I didn't want to hear it.”

She nodded and the conversation stalled for a moment, until David spoke again. “Look, I want to talk to you about Jeff and Melissa. Did you know that Gracie has blamed me for their decision to elope?”

“Well, that's ridiculous. Melissa was ready to elope on Tuesday when her friends took her to the Jaybird to try to talk her out of it. And I understand why you don't want to host their wedding. That would put you between Melissa and Jeff and your mom. I told Melissa you would never go for the idea. I thought maybe I could find a way to make it all work out, but Jeff has put the nail in that coffin.” She shrugged and looked away, out the windows at the traffic on Liberty Avenue.

“What did he do?”

She returned her gaze to David. “Oh, well, I got this harebrained idea that I could buy the inn, renovate it the way Shelly wanted to, and turn it into a wedding destination. I wrote a business plan and asked Jeff to invest in it. I figured if he invested in my plan, we could buy the inn, do a quick fix-up, and have the wedding there without putting you in the middle of it.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “But he refused. He's already made up his mind about eloping and doesn't really want to invest in an inn. Or me, probably.”

“Do you really want to buy the inn, or were you just suggesting this to help Melissa?”

“Helping Melissa was part of it. But bottom line, I think I really do want to buy the inn.”

“Why?”

“I need a job, David. No, scratch that. Mom would say I need an income, and the inn is as good a business opportunity as any in town. Plus I'd like to fix the place up the way Shelly wanted it.”

His lips thinned, and Willow understood how he might not want to be reminded of Shelly's plans. But she was being honest with him. And honesty was often painful.

Gracie interrupted their conversation with Willow's sandwich and diet Coke. “Here you go, hon.” She nodded in David's direction. “Is he bothering you?”

Willow shook her head. “No. We're okay. And you shouldn't blame him for Jeff and Melissa wanting to elope. It's not his fault, Gracie. It's his mother's fault.”

“You think it's not? He could host their wedding at the inn if he wanted to.” Gracie turned her back and bustled away.

“See? She's furious with me. Can I see your business plan?”

Their gazes locked again. “Why? You want to sell the inn, not invest in it. And I have the feeling that you blame the inn for Shelly's death.”

It was his turn to study the traffic on the other side of the window. “Yeah. I do. And I even know that blaming the inn is stupid,” he said in a low voice. “But when you lose someone in such a senseless, random way, you just need to blame someone or something. Otherwise it doesn't make any sense. There was only one fatality in that derailment. Why did it have to be her?”

He turned back toward Willow, his face haggard. Her heart lurched. David was struggling, and she hadn't helped him much the other day by getting all up in his face and making him feel guilty.

“I can't answer your question, David,” she said. “Bad stuff happens to good people all the time.” She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a manila folder containing a second printout of her business plan. “Here's my plan if you want to look at it. It's still kind of rough. I rushed it because I know Melissa wants to get married on December nineteenth. That doesn't leave much time, you know?”

She laid the printout on the table and pushed it in his direction.

He didn't pick it up. “You're probably right about that. Even if you bought the inn today, it might take weeks before we could go to closing. So buying the inn wouldn't really solve Melissa's problem, would it? Not without my help, anyway.”

“David, do you want to help Melissa?”

Did he want to help?

David looked away from Willow to the busy street as he toted up the pros and cons of his situation. He couldn't make everyone happy, that was for damn sure. But maybe he could negotiate a compromise. Isn't that what good politicians did?

And maybe hosting the wedding at Eagle Hill Manor was a better solution than allowing Jeff and Melissa to elope. Not only would he win Jeff's goodwill, which might come in handy since Jeff knew a lot of wealthy potential donors, but it would solve his Gracie Teague problem. And, who knew, maybe Heather could sneak a few politicos onto the much-reduced guest list.

He touched his wedding band, feeling that tug of emotion that never left him.

He turned back toward Willow, sitting there with her backbone perpetually straight and all that blond hair tucked up tight. She was wearing her power suit today, but even in jeans and a T-shirt, Willow wasn't any kind of pushover. He'd known that from the moment he'd first met her when they were both sixteen. She could outfish him, outthink him, and outargue him.

And she'd never lied to him. Ever. If she said Shelly cried the night before their wedding, then it was the truth. And what she'd said on Wednesday was true too. Shelly would have wanted him to host this wedding.

“Okay,” he said, his voice steady, as he worried his wedding band with his thumb. “Here's what we're going to do. First, I'm going to hire you to manage Jeff and Melissa's wedding. We're going to hold the wedding reception at Eagle Hill Manor on December nineteenth. I'll give you a reasonable budget to spruce up the inn—just enough to make the reception possible, as well as for anything that Walter Braden says is required before I list the place. You can talk with him and Poppy about what's needed and give me an estimate that includes your time to manage the renovations and staging of the inn and to deal with whatever Melissa wants and needs. I want to make this clear—Melissa gets anything she wants. Your job is to make her wedding day everything she has ever dreamed about. If any crying happens the night before her big day, I want those tears to be tears of joy.”

He paused, catching his breath. “I want to make it clear, right up front, that I'm not changing my mind about selling the inn. Walter will continue to show it to prospective buyers, but I promise you it will not be sold until after December nineteenth, so if you want to raise the money to buy it, then go for it. I won't stand in your way.”

Once he finished laying out his plan, he halfway expected Willow to jump up and down and squeal and throw her arms around his neck. That would have been nice. And also inappropriate.

Thank God Willow wasn't that kind of woman. She didn't squeal or hug him, but she did give him a killer smile that drew his attention to her mouth. And her lips. Which were…kind of kissable. He'd never noticed that before.