The Perfect Wedding. Arlene James

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СКАЧАТЬ and restaurateurs. It was an impressive list, and she found herself murmuring, “Do you actually know all these people?”

      “They’re my friends,” he said blankly, “and business associates. Mostly business associates.”

      She looked up and smiled, an oblique apology for an insensitive question. “Well, you’ll likely add to it as time goes by,” she said, then dropped her attention to a second list done in an entirely different hand, Dedrah’s no doubt. Less than twenty names comprised Dedrah’s list, and nearly all of them ended with March. There was something pathetic about that, and it just pointed out once more how very implausible this match was. It was on the tip of Layne’s tongue to say so, and she realized with some panic that she must not. She pushed the book away from her, as if pushing away the words she wanted to say, and sent up a frantic prayer. Dear God in heaven, what’s wrong with me? Help me do and say the right things. Her smile was strained when next she lifted her gaze to Rod Corley’s, but it was absolutely the best she could do, and she almost hoped it was not good enough. In that case, he would surely get up and walk out, and she wouldn’t have to help him marry a woman he shouldn’t be marrying. But she was forgetting the child, his child, his and Dedrah’s. She took a deep breath and reminded herself to remain professional.

      “Now I have an idea where we’re going,” she said briskly. “The next step is to narrow in on a date. Let’s see what’s going on six to eight months from now.” Leaning forward, she began to flip through her personal calendar, speaking to herself. “Let’s see, the Canons are set for April, the Porters are the eighth, the Cliff/Bicknell nuptials on the fourteenth. The Harpstones have the first weekend in May…Oh, dear.” She looked up at Dedrah and smiled. “How would you like to be a June bride?” The girl turned white beneath that cap of dark hair. Suddenly alarmed, Layne leaned forward. “Dedrah, are you all right?”

      “June?” Rod Corley’s voice claimed Layne’s attention. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

      “We can’t wait till June!” Dedrah gasped.

      “Absolutely not,” Rod agreed implacably. “Eight months is too long. Six months is too long!”

      Layne’s mouth fell open. Didn’t they understand how much time went into producing the kind of wedding they seemed to want? She slumped, feeling inexplicably weary, then took a deep breath and began carefully choosing her words. “I’m afraid six months is the minimum for the type of ceremony you’ve indicated here,” she said gently. “You can’t begin to imagine how much there is to do, how many choices there are to be made. Even the people who come in here confident that they know what they want begin to waffle when they-see the available options. It just takes time to work through them all. Weddings are supposed to be perfect, you see, and…” The words died away as Rod Corley passed a hand over his eyes. It was the gesture of a desperate man, and the sight of it did strange things to her patient resolve. She bit her lip. “It takes six months to produce a perfect wedding,” she finished lamely.

      Rod Corley sighed. “Then we’ll have an imperfect wedding,” he said quietly, and when he lifted his gaze to her face, his smoky eyes were imploring. “Six months is too long.”

      Layne found herself saying, “W-we might be able to work something out.”

      It was then that Dedrah grasped a small part of Rod’s sleeve and tugged it, saying, “You’d better get Sammy.”

      Rod sent her an irritated look and turned back to Layne. “Does it have anything to do with money?” he asked bluntly.

      Layne lifted both brows. “Not really. Cash as an incentive never hurts where suppliers are concerned, but the real problem is simply time. It takes time to decide specifics, to make arrangements, to order materials, to create designs…” She shook her head. How could she make him understand the myriads of details to be addressed? “I’ve been doing this a long time now,” she said. “Trust me.”

      “I do,” he told her flatly. “That’s why I’m asking you to help me make it happen sooner.”

      It was not an appeal she could ignore. The tone, the look, the posture, everything about it was totally sincere. He needed her help. It was as simple as that. She swallowed. “I hope you’re prepared to spend a lot of time on this,” she said.

      He reached out and laid his hand over her wrist, squeezing gently. “Thank you,” he said, relief softening his voice to a near whisper.

      It was almost her undoing. She fought the impulse to cover his hand with her own, to answer his soft look with her own. She edged away from him, breathing deeply and forcing her focus back to business. She made a decision. “Four months,” she said, “and that’s really pushing it.”

      “That’s the best you can do?”

      “The very best, and you’re going to have to put yourself completely in my hands at that. We won’t have time for second choices.”

      He nodded. “All right.”

      To Layne’s surprise, Dedrah leaped to her feet. “I’m going after Sammy!” she announced. “You promised him!”

      Sammy? Layne looked to Rod for an answer, but he turned his gaze to Dedrah. “I said it’d be done as quickly as possible,” he told her patiently, “and that’s what I’m doing.”

      “But four months!” the girl cried.

      Rod jerked a thumb in Layne’s direction. “You heard what she said,” he argued reasonably. “Four months is the best she can do, and I think we ought to be grateful that she’s willing to do it for us.”

      Dedrah glared down at him with very large, very liquid eyes. “You promised Sammy,” she whispered.

      “So I did,” Rod admitted.

      “Who—” Layne began, but Rod suddenly stood up and strode away. Impulsively, she went after him. “—is Sammy?”

      “My nephew,” he snapped without slowing a bit.

      Layne threw a smile at the Stapletons as she passed. This was impossible. This whole thing with Rod Corley was just impossible, and she made up her mind to tell him so. They hadn’t the foggiest idea really what they were doing, and she certainly didn’t need this kind of aggravation. Four months was in all likelihood not enough time, and probably after she’d knocked herself out for them, they’d decide they were making a mistake and cancel! Suddenly she didn’t know which would be worse, if they canceled or if they didn’t. All she really knew was that she didn’t feel up to the task of seeing Rod Corley and Dedrah March “properly” married. Surely God intended her to say no to this. As soon as they emerged into the front showroom, she lifted a hand to halt his progress, only to watch him stride out of reach and through the door.

      “Oh, Lord,” she muttered frantically, “what’s going on here? What do you expect of me?” She’d just have to tell Dedrah that she didn’t want to handle this affair after all. She nodded in satisfaction, then walked to the window and boldly spied on Rod Corley as he stood at the passenger window of the pickup truck, obviously arguing with someone. After a moment, he backed up, and a tall, lean, young man got out and gestured toward the shop. Both turned in that direction, sending Layne scurrying back into the showroom. Angie, she noticed, sent her a curious glance, which she ignored.

      Momentarily, the door opened amidst chimes, and Rod Corley stepped inside, the young man at his elbow. “Miss Harington,” СКАЧАТЬ