Summer Wedding Bells: Marriage Wanted / Lone Star Lovin'

“Thank you for everything,” Susan said as she left the store.

“You’re welcome.” It was helping young women like Susan that Savannah enjoyed the most. The eager, happy ones who were so much in love they were willing to listen to their hearts no matter what the cost. Over the years, Savannah had worked with every kind of bride and she knew the signs. The Susans of this world were invariably a delight.

It was highly unlikely that Savannah would ever be married herself. Men were an enigma to her. Try as she might, she’d never been able to understand them. They invariably treated her differently than they did other women. Savannah assumed their attitude had to do with her damaged leg. Men either saw her as fragile, untouchable, because of it, or they viewed her as a buddy, a confidante. She supposed she should be flattered by the easy camaraderie they shared with her. They sought her advice, listened politely when she spoke, then did as they pleased.

Only a few men had seen her as a woman, a woman with dreams and desires of her own. But when it came to love, each of them had grown hesitant and afraid. Each relationship had ended awkwardly long before it had gotten close to serious.

Maybe that wasn’t a fair assessment, Savannah mused sadly. Maybe it was her own attitude. She’d been terrified of ever falling in love. No matter how deeply she felt about a man, she was positive that her imperfection would come between them. It was safer to hold back, to cling to her pride than risk rejection and pain later on.

A week later, Susan came breezing through the door to Savannah’s shop.

“Hello,” she said, smiling broadly. “I talked to Kurt and he’s as excited as I am.” She withdrew a debit card from her purse. “I’d like to give you the down payment now. And I have the signed contract for you.”

Savannah brought out her paperwork and Susan paid her. “My brother doesn’t believe we’ll be able to do it without his help, but he’s wrong. We’re going to have a beautiful wedding, with or without Nash, thanks to you.”

This was what made Savannah’s job so fulfilling. “I’ll order what we need right away,” she told Susan. Savannah only wished there was some way she could influence the young woman’s unreasonable older brother. She knew his type—cynical, distrusting, pessimistic. A man who scoffed at love, who had no respect for marriage. How very sad. Despite her irritation with the faceless Nash, Savannah couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Whether or not he realized it, he was going to lose his sister.

There were just the two of them, so she didn’t understand why Nash wouldn’t support his sister in her decision. Luckily Susan had Kurt’s parents. Undoubtedly this was something her brother hadn’t counted on, either.

Susan left soon afterward. What remained of Savannah’s day was busy. The summer months used to be her overburdened time, but that hadn’t held true of late. Her services were booked equally throughout the year.

Around five-thirty, when Savannah was getting ready to close for the day, the bell chimed over her door, indicating someone had entered the shop. She looked up from her computer and found a tall, well-dressed man standing by the doorway. It had started to rain lightly; he shook off the raindrops in his hair before he stepped farther inside. She saw him glance around and scowl, as if being in such a place was repugnant to him. Even before he spoke she knew he was Susan’s brother. The family resemblance was striking.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello.” He slid his hands in his pockets with a contemptuous frown. Apparently he feared that even being in this place where love and romance were honored would infect him with some dread disease. It must take a good deal of energy to maintain his cynicism, Savannah thought.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“No, thanks. I was just looking.” He walked slowly through the shop. His expensive leather shoes made a tapping sound against the polished hardwood floor. She noticed that he took pains not to touch anything.

Savannah nearly laughed out loud when he passed a display of satin pillows, edged in French lace, that were meant to be carried by the ring bearer. He stepped around it, giving it a wide berth, then picked up one of her business cards from a brass holder on a small antique table.

“Are you Savannah Charles?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied evenly. “I am.”

“Interesting shop you have here,” he said dryly. Savannah had to admit she found him handsome in a rugged sort of way. His facial features were strong and well-defined. His mouth firm, his jaw square and stubbornly set. He walked in short, clipped steps, his impatience nearly palpable. Naturally, she might be altogether wrong and this could be someone other than Susan’s brother. Savannah decided it was time to find out.

“Are you about to be married?”

“No,” he said disgustedly.

“This seems like an unusual shop for you to browse through, then.”

He smiled in her direction, acknowledging her shrewdness. “I believe you’ve been talking to my sister, Susan Davenport.”

So Savannah had been right. This was Susan’s hard-nosed older brother. His attitude had been a dead giveaway. “Yes, Susan’s been in.”

“I take it she’s decided to go through with this wedding nonsense, then?” He eyed her suspiciously as if to suggest his sister might have changed her mind except for Savannah’s encouragement and support.

“It would be best if you discussed Susan’s plans with her.”

Nash clasped his hands behind his back. “I would if we were on speaking terms.”

How he knew his sister was working with her, Savannah hadn’t a clue. She didn’t even want to know.

“So,” he said conversationally, “exactly what do you do here?”

“I’m a wedding coordinator.”

“Wedding coordinator,” he repeated, sounding genuinely curious. He nodded for her to continue.

“Basically I organize the wedding for the bride and her family so they’re free to enjoy this all-important day.”

“I see,” he said. “You’re the one who makes sure the flowers arrive at the church on time?”

“Something like that.” His version oversimplified her role, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate a detailed job description. After all, he wasn’t interested in her, but in what he could learn about his sister and Kurt’s plans.

He wandered about the shop some more, careful not to come into contact with any of the displays she’d so carefully arranged. He strolled past a lace-covered table with an elegant heart-shaped guest book and plumed pen as if he were walking past a nest of vipers. Savannah couldn’t help being amused.

“Susan hasn’t got the money for a wedding,” he announced. “At least, not one fancy enough to hire a coordinator.”

“Again, this is something you need to discuss with your sister.”

He didn’t like her answer; that much was obvious from the way his mouth thinned and the irritation she saw in his eyes. They were the same intense blue as his sister’s, but that was where the resemblance ended. Susan’s eyes revealed her love and enthusiasm for life. Nash’s revealed his disenchantment and skepticism. She finished up the last of her paperwork, ignoring him as much as she could.

“You’re a babe in the woods, aren’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Savannah said, looking up.

“You actually believe all this…absurdity?”

“I certainly don’t think of love and commitment as absurd, if that’s what you mean, Mr. Davenport.”

“Call me Nash.”

“All right,” she agreed reluctantly. In a few minutes she was going to show him the door. He hadn’t bothered to disguise the purpose of his visit. He was trying to pump her for information and hadn’t figured out yet that she refused to be placed in the middle between him and his sister.

“Did you ever stop to realize that over fifty percent of the couples who marry in this day and age end up divorcing?”

“I know the statistics.”

He walked purposely toward her as if approaching a judge’s bench, intent on proving his point. “Love is a lame excuse for marriage.”

Since he was going to make it impossible for her to concentrate, she sat back on her stool and folded her arms. “What do you suggest couples do then, Mr. Davenport? Just live together?”

“Nash,” he reminded her irritably. “And, yes, living together makes a lot more sense. If a man and woman are so hot for each other, I don’t see any reason to muddy the relationship with legalities when a weekend in bed would simplify everything.”