Sweet on You (The Bridesmaids Club Book 4) (31 page)

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t think we’ll ever see the costumes again. One of the other teacher’s must have put them in a box somewhere. This is more exciting than lost costumes.” She waved Bella’s envelope in the air. “Do you remember this?”

Annie looked closely at the brightly colored envelope. “Is that Bella’s card?”

Rachel nodded. “And guess what?”

“You’ve found her?” Annie’s mouth dropped open. “How did you do that? We spent weeks searching for her.”

“Bozeman. The reason you couldn’t find her is because she’s homeschooled. Her dad travels around a lot with his job. She has a tutor who goes with them when they need to leave Montana.”

“Does her dad really need a bride?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him.”

Annie grinned. “I’d like to hear how that conversation goes.”

“You can if you want to?”

“Let me guess…Molly, Tess, and Sally didn’t want to go with you to meet Bella’s dad?”

Molly, Tess, and Sally, were all part of the original group of friends who’d started The Bridesmaids Club. “Molly’s getting ready for another exhibition, Tess is baking like crazy for a Halloween party, and Sally is busy teaching.”

“Sounds like it’s you and me, then?”

“Only if you can spare the time,” Rachel said quickly. “I don’t know where Bella lives or what her father’s name is. If it takes more than a few days to find him, you’ll be well and truly on your honeymoon.”

Annie walked across to the kitchen. “How about you let me know when you’ve found him? Now that you know who Bella is, it must be a lot easier to find her dad.”

“I hope so,” Rachel said. She pulled the pretty card out of the envelope and re-read the message.
Dear Bridesmaids Club. Can you please help my daddy find a bride?

Bella’s message had brought back so many unhappy memories for Rachel, that she knew she had to find her. After searching through every public record she could get her hands on, Bella had simply walked through Rachel’s classroom door.

She knew Bella’s last name, but she didn’t know where she lived. Once she had an address, she had an even bigger problem to solve.

How did you tell a father that his daughter was looking for a mom?

***

John Fletcher stared at the release form in front of him. He’d been working with the Department of Defense for the last year, creating a prototype drone that would change the way surveillance operations were carried out around the world.

They’d passed the field tests and provided all of the information the Special Ops Unit wanted. Now all he had to do was sign on the dotted line and his bank account would be millions of dollars better off.

“You gonna sit there and stare at that paper, or sign the damn thing?” Tank, one of the ex-Navy SEALs that worked with him, wasn’t known for his patience off the battlefield. But put him in the middle of an alligator-infested swamp, and he could stay still for hours.

John glanced up. “Did Connor encrypt the schematics?”

“All done.”

“And Sam has sent all of the files through to Tanner?”

Tank focused his flat stare on John. “What’s wrong?”

John wasn’t about to admit that he’d had misgivings about this project long before they’d started the design phase. Tank didn’t need to know about the conversations he’d had with top-ranked officials in the Department of Defense, or the issues that had kept him awake for the last few weeks.

He picked up a pen and signed on the dotted line. “Make sure this leaves here today. I don’t want it getting into the wrong hands.”

Tank picked up the paper and slid it into a brown envelope. “It’s safe with me.”

John didn’t believe anything was safe. He’d learned a long time ago to listen to his instincts, and his instincts were screaming at him to be careful. “Take Connor with you. He knows his way around the Pentagon.”

Tank didn’t bother saying anything as he started to leave John’s office. The look he sent him said it all.

“And don’t spend too much time in Virginia. I’ve got another job for you.”

Tank grunted. “Middle East or Europe?”

“Neither. Texas. A Senator needs an escort to New York in three days’ time.”

“I’ll call you when I get back. Try and get some sleep tonight.”

Tank left and John sat back in his chair. He turned toward his first-floor window and looked across the garden.

Fletcher Security was based in a historic building on the outskirts of town. It had been built in the 1860s as Montana’s first flour mill. When he’d bought the property, it had been derelict and in serious need of repair. Over the following two years, he’d rebuilt most of the interior, keeping as much of the character as he could, and recreating the rest.

No one seeing the red-brick building would know what went on inside the property. He provided high-risk security services for clients around the world. He’d gathered together an elite group of men and women, mostly ex-military, all dedicated to their roles in his company. Their list of clients, past and present, was impressive.

John didn’t advertise - he didn’t need to. Word of mouth traveled faster than an ad in the New York Times. The uber-rich of the world knew how to find him. What most people didn’t know was the other side of his business. The side that had been giving him sleepless nights for the last few weeks.

Developing state-of-the-art surveillance software had been a side product of what they did. Out of necessity, they’d had to look at other ways of keeping track of their clients and their property. When Samantha Jones joined his company, she’d quickly slipped into the role of Technical Development Manager. She had a PhD in electrical engineering from one of the most prestigious university’s in the world and a mind that was never content with the word ‘no’.

Sam pushed the limits of whatever project she was working on, and the drone was no exception.

The phone on his desk rang and John reluctantly answered it. He’d told his secretary not to put any calls through unless they were urgent. Apart from World War III breaking out or anything to do with his daughter, he was hoping to have a few hours to work on another project.

“What is it, Gloria?”

“Sorry to bother you, but a Rachel McReedy is here to see you. It’s about Bella.”

The hair on the back of John’s neck stood on end. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know.”

He ran through Bella’s schedule for the day. She’d still be at home. Her ballet class didn’t start for another hour and the people looking after her would have contacted him if something was wrong. He’d made sure that nothing concerning Bella turned into a life and death situation. Ever.

He glanced at the folders on his desk. “Send her through, but warn her that I don’t have a lot of time.”

He walked toward his office door. Whatever his visitor had to say would have to be quick. He had a project plan to work through and clients he needed to contact.

If he finished early, he’d meet Bella at her ballet class. Tutus and pink tights had to be better than worrying about surveillance drones. And a lot less dangerous, too.

***

Rachel jumped as the big wooden door opened. The man in front of her looked nothing like Bella. The little girl they’d found had big, brown eyes and mahogany curls.

She’d expected Bella’s father to at least have dark hair. But he was blond, blue-eyed, and glaring at her as if she’d interrupted something important.

For a minute, she wondered if she’d found the right person. But the form she’d seen had definitely been signed by a John Fletcher. There was only one John Fletcher living in Bozeman, and he was standing in front of her.

She stuck her hand out, then caught the straps of her bag as they slipped off her shoulder.

He raised his eyebrows.

Rachel adjusted the straps. She might not have had any older brothers to teach her how not to be intimidated, but she did teach a class of eight and nine-year-olds. A man wearing an expensive gray suit wouldn’t make her uncomfortable.

She stuck her hand out again. “Hello, Mr. Fletcher. My name is Rachel McReedy. I have something I need to talk to you about.”

He shook her hand. His cool blue eyes held her gaze. “I’ve got a conference call in five minutes.”

Rachel nodded. Five minutes was better than nothing. For the last four days she’d been trying to make an appointment to see him. The staff at his home had told her he wasn’t available and she hadn’t been able to contact his secretary. Out of desperation, she’d driven to Fletcher Security’s head office, hoping he’d be there to see her. With only four days left before Annie’s wedding, she was on her own.

John Fletcher held his door open. “Come in.”

She tightened her hold on her bag and moved into his office. “Thank you for seeing me.”

He closed the door and pointed at a chair in front of his desk. “You’re welcome. What exactly did you want to discuss with me, Ms. McReedy?”

“Rachel…you can call me Rachel.”

He sat down and looked closely at her. She wished she’d worn something a little more business-like. Her ‘Welcome to Hawaii’ t-shirt didn’t exactly make her feel confident. She’d pulled it on after she’d been splattered with paint by an over-excited student. But she wasn’t here to make a good impression. She was here to help Bella’s dad understand his daughter a little better.

She cleared her throat and unzipped her bag. “I’m a teacher at Bozeman Elementary School. Your daughter, Bella, spent time with my class last week.”

“Was there a problem?”

Rachel shook her head. “Bella is a wonderful little girl. I enjoyed working with her.”

“Why are you here, then?”

Rachel wondered if the frown plastered across his face was permanent. He didn’t seem like the type of person who smiled a lot. He was so different to the bubbly, happy, little girl that had visited her school.

“Ms. McReedy?”

She blinked and yanked her mind back to the man sitting in front of her. “Sorry.” She took Bella’s envelope out of her bag. “As well as teaching at Bozeman Elementary School, I help a group of friends who’ve started The Bridesmaids Club. Have you heard of us?”

John Fletcher was beginning to look irritated. “No. I can’t say that I have.”

“We’re sent pre-loved bridesmaids’ dresses from all over the country. Women who need dresses contact us and take them for their own weddings. Everything is free. It’s really rewarding making people’s dreams come true.”

Rachel smiled and John’s frown deepened. She wouldn’t let his grumpiness distract her from what she had to tell him. “About a year ago, The Bridesmaids Club received a letter from a little girl. My friends tried to find her, but they didn’t have much luck.”

“And you think this letter was written by my daughter?”

“It was signed by someone called Bella.”

John thought about what she’d said. “You’ve got the wrong person. I can assure you that Bella doesn’t need a bridesmaid’s dress.”

“It wasn’t a dress that she wanted.”

John’s gaze sharpened. “What did she want?”

Rachel had thought long and hard about how she’d break the news to Bella’s dad. She could be incredibly diplomatic when she needed to be, but she had a feeling that John Fletcher didn’t have a lot of time for diplomacy. So instead of repeating the words she’d decided to use, she passed him Bella’s envelope.

“It might be better if you read the card yourself.”

John took the envelope out of her hand. He stared at the picture on the outside, then glanced back at her.

She didn’t look down.

He pulled the card out and read the message. “My daughter wants me to get married?”

Rachel had a feeling that the chance of that happening was practically zilch. He might be handsome in a rugged, outdoorsy sort of way, but his personality needed work.

She glanced at the card. It was a whole lot easier than looking into his surprised eyes. “Or she could want a mom. She might be lonely.”

John’s face hardened. “I can assure you, Ms. McReedy, that my daughter isn’t lonely.”

Rachel hoped he was right. She zipped her bag closed, then stood up. “In that case, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Although you might want to talk to Bella about finding a wife. We deal with dresses, Mr. Fletcher, not hearts. Thank you for seeing me. You can keep the card.”

She left John Fletcher’s office, took her coat off a hanger, and walked past his secretary. She’d done what she’d set out to do, but it hadn’t ended well. At least she could report back to her friends that Bella Fletcher was no longer their mystery girl.

It was just a pity that John Fletcher didn’t share his daughter’s personality. If Bella was unhappy, there was nothing she could do about it.

Not today, anyway.