The Accidental Bride

All bad things.

Jilly’s mind stuttered and then shut down, paralyzed by the weight of her fear. Only once had she felt this overwhelmed and vulnerable. That had been years ago, on the day she found out her mother had left her in a cardboard box on the steps outside the local fire station at the grand, strapping age of two months.

But she had survived the news. After the crushing pain had passed, Jilly had wiped away her tears and boxed up her mother along with the rest of her sad childhood memories. With fierce determination she had dug a dark hole and shoved them deep inside, where she would never have to think about them.

Because Jilly O’Hara had no time for tears or weakness or what might have been. She was too busy racing forward, creating her dreams.

“Ms. O’Hara, can you hear me? We’ll need your consent to proceed with the catheterization and other tests. I have the paperwork here.”

Jilly blinked and struggled to focus. “I—I’m tired. Maybe we can talk later. Sorry.” Her fingers clenched, and she thought of Caro and Grace and Olivia. Growing up together in the small coastal town of Summer Island off the Oregon coast, the four girls had been inseparable. For years her best friends had shared her dreams and she had shared theirs.

They had argued and nudged and supported.

Their circle of strength had kept Jilly going during the worst of times.

She desperately needed them now.

Summer Island

The Oregon Coast

“SHE STILL ISN’T ANSWERING her phone. Something’s wrong.”

Caro McNeal frowned at her silver watch. Her husband, a marine currently deployed in Afghanistan, had given her the slim silver design for her last birthday. Caro wondered where Gage was and what he was doing at that moment.

Was he in danger?

She tried to push her usual worries aside and focus on Jilly. “I’ve tried calling her half a dozen times, Grace. Why doesn’t she answer?”

Grace Lindstrom put down the sweater sleeve she had been knitting. “Jilly gets distracted. Produce. Ovens. Spatulas. Anything can take her into that alternate chef universe.”

“Not for this long.” Caro frowned at the phone. The women had been closest friends since they had met as girls. When one of them faced problems, all the others seemed to feel it. First Caro had come home to heal from an accident. Then Grace, a respected food writer, had returned to Summer Island after her grandfather had been hurt. “This is different.”

“Did you try texting Jilly?”

“Four times.” Caro looked out at the ocean. Seagulls cried as they circled a trawler anchored in Summer Island’s small cove. “Something’s wrong, Grace. I’ve been sending Jilly daily updates on the repairs here at Harbor House. Jilly was excited about coming back next week to work on a design for the new front porch. She sent me a gorgeous picture using local fieldstone and a rustic brushed grout. It was gorgeous, but …”

“But what?”

Caro blew out a breath. “I told her to send me more examples so I could work on pricing. Then I didn’t hear a thing. That was two days ago.” Caro shook her head. “Jilly wouldn’t drop out of sight like this. She wants to finish the work here just as much as we do.”

In a moment of insanity the women had decided to buy Summer Island’s oldest landmark and renovate it to its former glory. They had been nearly finished when an earthquake had damaged the roof, half the rooms and part of the foundation. After serious soul-searching, they had decided to start all over, crazy or not.

Grace rolled her knitting up slowly. “Where was she when you two last spoke?”

“Working at her restaurant. Where else?”

“Silly question. Okay, I’ll book a flight. I can be in Arizona before bedtime.” Grace stood up and stretched. “The idiot is probably off in a peach orchard taking soil samples, completely oblivious to the time. You’ll see.”

“But I thought you and Noah were going to spend this weekend together in San Francisco.” Caro studied her friend’s face. “You’ve been planning the trip for ages. Is something wrong?”

Caro watched her friend turn, looking south past the old dock, past the restless sea wall. Grace rolled her shoulders but didn’t answer.

“Grace? Tell me what happened.”

“He was called in to work,” Grace said slowly. “Another day, another emergency.”

“Can’t he get time off?”

“Apparently not. When you’re good, everyone wants a piece of you,” Grace said flatly. Then she forced a smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll go on our trip. But it won’t be this week.”

Something was very wrong here, Caro thought. Grace was acting too cool and trying too hard to be convincing. This was more than a simple trip cancellation. “Are you okay about this, Grace? You were so excited when you told me you and Noah were going on this trip.”

Grace shrugged and then slid her knitting bag over her shoulder. “I’m almost used to the last-minute cancellations,” she muttered. “But I’d better go. I’ll call you when I get to Arizona.”

Clearly, she didn’t want to discuss her problems with Noah.

“You have the address for Jilly’s new restaurant, right? She just moved into that new building.”

“Got it.”

Neither woman questioned that Grace would go to Jilly’s restaurant and not her apartment. Chances were slim to nil that their driven friend would be anywhere but working. They would have to do something to correct that, Caro decided. “As soon as you hear something, let me know. I’m just sorry I can’t help more.”

“Let me handle the Barefoot Contessa.” Grace cleared her throat. “You’ve got plenty to do with this renovation. Not to mention the baby to care for.”

Caro was certain she heard a wistful note in her friend’s voice.

So Grace was thinking about a family. That was interesting, since she and Noah had only recently confided that they were engaged. No wedding date was set as far as Caro knew.

Caro hadn’t seen Noah since the spring and he’d only been in town for two days. He was supposed to be moving to a less demanding job, Grace had explained then. Something without constant emergency calls.

Given the cancelled weekend, that didn’t seem to be happening.

Caro still had no idea what Noah did, beyond it being difficult and very secret. But she knew that Grace worried terribly about him.

More problems to sort out.

Caro gave her friend a hug. “Say hello to Noah. Tell him I’m still waiting for the Ukrainian Welcome Bread recipe from his mother.”

“I’ll get it for you.” Grace slid her yarn and her knitting needles into her bag and forced a smile. “And stop worrying. I’ll call you as soon as I have any news.”

CHAPTER THREE

Scottsdale, Arizona

JILLY WATCHED THE PARKING LOT fill with silver Hummers and black Range Rovers. Only sports figures, celebrities and the very rich came to this private clinic in the high desert above the sprawl of Phoenix. Jilly had only gotten in thanks to one of her restaurant regulars. When Jilly hadn’t been at her usual spot, buzzing between the tables and the kitchen, he had learned about her collapse and arranged to have her transported. But she had received the same cold diagnosis here that she had received in the small emergency room near her restaurant.

Jilly closed her eyes.