The Perfect Wedding

Sammy struck a cryptic pose, jerking a thumb at his uncle. “He says it can’t be done in less than four months.”

He had to be talking about the wedding, of course, but she still didn’t understand what he had to do with it. She wondered if she ever would, but nodded and gave him his answer. “Yes. Four months.”

“We don’t want to wait that long!” he said urgently.

We? Her jaw descended slowly. He couldn’t mean him and Dedrah! Could he?

“It’s just the best that can be done,” Rod was saying. “You understand why, don’t you?”

“I understand,” Sammy replied, “and we appreciate what you’re trying to do, but we don’t want to wait.”

“I thought you said you wanted it done properly,” Rod countered.

“We do!” Sammy said. “We just don’t want to wait.”

“Well, four months is the best that can be done,” Rod said impatiently. “She wanted eight!” He pointed at Layne, who was listening with her mouth hanging open.

“Eight!” Sammy erupted. “No way!”

“Then be grateful she’s agreed to do it in four!”

Sammy opened his mouth to make a retort to that, but Layne had had enough. She forestalled him by stepping quickly forward and raising a hand. “Wait a minute!” she commanded, employing a tone usually reserved for the hired help, and Sammy snapped his mouth shut. In the ensuing silence, she tried to decide how to proceed, but there was only one question that really needed answering. She pinned Sammy with a stern look and addressed him. “Who are you?” she said, enunciating clearly.

Sammy passed a look to his uncle, who was clearly as befuddled as his nephew. The young man shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I’m—”

“In regard to this wedding,” she clarified. “I mean, who are you in regard to this wedding?”

Again, uncle and nephew traded looks, then it was Rod who answered. “Why, he’s the groom,” he said. “Who’d you think?”

The groom? The groom! Layne stepped back and lifted a hand to her mouth. The wave of relief that hit her nearly buckled her knees. “Oh, my,” she said, looking at Rod Corley with fresh eyes. A generous uncle. He was nothing more than a generous uncle. This boy was going to marry that girl in there. He had fathered her child. Whose sweet girl are you? Are you Mommy’s girl? Areyou Daddy’s girl? Or are you Uncle’s girl? Layne laughed aloud. If that child had any sense at all, she was her uncle’s girl and blessed at that. Layne composed herself and offered her hand to Sammy Corley, ignoring the tremor in her voice. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, thinking, Thank you, Lord. “Miss March is waiting in the next room.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, then with a speculative look that he shared between them, he slowly turned and started into the consultation room. Layne stood as if rooted to the spot, wondering what to say to the man at her side.

“You didn’t really think…”

The sound of his voice prompted her to turn to face him. “What?”

Those smoky blue eyes literally plumbed hers, then he shook his head, a lopsided smile quirking one corner of his lips. “You thought Dedrah…and I…?”

It did seem absurd, always had, and the smile wiggling on her mouth said so, but it was understandable. She dropped her gaze. “What else could I think?”

He chuckled softly, bringing her gaze right back up. Those smoky eyes were as warm as summer skies. “And here I am trying to impress you,” he said, his voice low and silky.

She caught her breath. It was for her, the new jeans, the blue shirt, the desperately straight part in his sand-and-platinum hair. Oh, Lord, could it be that he! was for her? She was trembling suddenly, aware that something momentous had just occurred, something incredible. And hadn’t it? No, not yet, but unless she missed her guess it was about to. She was intensely attracted to this man, and he was apparently attracted to her, enough to want to impress her. Wasn’t she right to think that something might begin between them if she let him know the attraction was mutual? She hoped so. She surprised herself with how fervently she hoped. She was thinking like a schoolgirl, but she wasn’t about to act like one. God had given her this opportunity, and she wasn’t about to blow it.

She straightened her spine and lifted her chin, adopting her best business tone. “Try no more,” she said. “I was impressed to begin with.” She strode forward, reveling in the rich laughter that followed her.

It was that laughter, augmented with smiles, that bolstered her during what was to be a difficult consultation, for if Dedrah was uncertain, her intended was not. He didn’t want this wedding. He didn’t say so in words, but he didn’t have to; Layne had become adept over the years at reading the silent body language of her clients. A stony face, and she had seldom seen one stonier, was a sure sign of dislike. When she added a fist that reflexively clenched, then deliberately relaxed, a leg that jiggled uncontrollably and a frown that turned too quickly to a iusteriess smile, she came up with a fellow trying to appear accepting of something he did not truly want.

The question was why he was playing the game—for Dedrah’s sake or for Rod’s? The latter seemed unlikely. Sam could save his uncle a bundle by expressing a preference for a simple service, so he had to be keeping quiet for Dedrah’s sake. He wouldn’t be the first groom to indulge his bride, and yet something about this whole arrangement didn’t quite add up. Rod had said he wanted Dedrah to have the best, and apparently Sammy did, too, so why wasn’t Dedrah enthusiastically embracing everything Layne had to offer? Maybe the girl didn’t know what she wanted. Maybe she didn’t know what a “proper” wedding actually entailed, and maybe she felt guilty about the amount of money Rod would have to spend in order to provide her with one. Whatever the problem, Layne concentrated on making Dedrah feel relaxed and included, while actually leaving her very few decisions. Time dictated the leeway Layne could allow in this case, and everyone seemed to accept her “suggestions” until they came to the matter of guest lists again.

“I think we should plan for no fewer than three hundred guests,” Layne contended. “Dedrah, you’re bound to think of a few names you’ll want to add to your list before the invitations go out, and both sets of parents will likely want their friends included.”

“I don’t think so,” Dedrah replied in a small voice.

At the same moment Sammy shook his head. “Me, neither. Till we’re married, Rod’s all I’ve got in the way of family.”

Layne could not prevent her gaze going up to Rod’s face. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded, the toe of one boot hooked around the heel of the other. Those smoky eyes were trained on Layne’s face, and she had the distinct impression that they had been there all along. Despite the little thrill that swept through her, she forced herself back to business.

“I know you think that now,” she told the pair confidently, “but experience tells me that you will add to the list. Don’t worry, we’ll eventually cut back, but the time for that is after the RSVPs come in. I’m guessing we’ll wind up around two hundred and fifty, but in the meantime we plan for three hundred. That leaves us a comfortable cushion. It also means that any surprises at the end will be pleasant ones in terms of expense. Now, are we agreed here?”

“We’re agreed,” Rod said flatly. After a hesitation, during which he reached over and clasped Dedrah’s hand, Sammy nodded his acquiescence. Only then did Dedrah give hers. Layne breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The matter was settled, and Sammy did seem to be holding back for Dedrah’s sake. However, if Rod Corley had his way, no one would be holding back for very long. He was an amazingly generous man, and family seemed to mean a great deal to him. She smiled to herself, remembering the way he’d cooed to Sam and Dedrah’s baby. Are you Uncle’s girl? A man like that should have had babies of his own. She wondered why he hadn’t, then wondered if maybe he had. But no, a family of Rod’s would have been family of Sammy’s, and Sammy had made it plain that he had only Rod—for now. When Sammy married, both he and Rod would expand their family. Maybe that explained Rod’s generosity. “I want her to have the best,” he had said of Dedrah. Yes, family meant a lot to Rod Corley. Layne was impressed, but again she made herself turn her thoughts to business. Producing a wedding of this magnitude in only four months time left no room for dillydallying.

“Location,” she said. “I’ll call around to the local churches that can accommodate a wedding of this size and find out which ones have open dates about four months from now. Let’s schedule another meeting. Oh…” She flipped through her calendar again. “How’s Friday?”

“Fine,” Rod said, and nobody else bothered to argue.

“About four-thirty?”

“We’ll be here.”

Not they but we. Because of her? Layne wondered. Did he want to see her again, or was he just that rare man who actually enjoyed planning weddings? She could easily believe that God would chose such a man for her. She smiled to herself as Dedrah and Sammy got to their feet, then quickly composed herself and rose also.

“We’ll see you, Miss Harington,” Sammy said, his hand resting in the small of Dedrah’s back.

“You’re kind to do this for us in so short a time,” Dedrah added, but Sammy snorted.

“Four months looks like four years just now, if you ask me.”

“Well, nobody did,” Rod said, a hand falling on Sammy’s shoulder. “Now scoot. I need a word with Miss Harington.”

Layne took pains to smile at Dedrah. “I look forward to seeing you again. Good day.”

“So long, ma’am.” Dedrah and Sam turned and left them, their arms linked about each other’s waists.

Layne stood beside Rod and looked up at him. Was he really for her? Somehow she believed that he was and she couldn’t help thinking that God was being very generous. “Walk me out?”

“My pleasure,” she said, and he gave her a smile that warmed her from the inside out.

“I, um, just wanted to thank you again,” he said, “and, ah, explain about Sam.”

She cocked her head to one side. “What about him?”

He reached out a hand and cupped her elbow, turning her smoothly, and they began to stroll after Sam and Dedrah. “Actually, it’s about Heather,” he said haltingly. “Sammy didn’t know Dedrah was pregnant when he went to Saudi Arabia.”

“He’s military, then?” That explained the haircut.

“Was. He just got out. If I’d had my way, he’d never have enlisted, but it was done by the time I found out about it. Anyway, apparently they had some kind of fight—and that’s another thing. I didn’t even know they were seeing each other. I mean, I knew he was going out when he was home on leave, but I didn’t know who with. I figured he was seeing lots of girls, but instead he was seeing just one, and obviously things got pretty serious. But then they had this fight, and they broke up. I don’t think he was very happy about it, because he did write her from Saudi Arabia. I guess she had her reasons for not telling him about the baby.”