A Misty Harbor Wedding (14 page)

“I would like that.”
Especially the whale-watching tour.
“It's a deal.” She glanced around the shop. “So what do you want me to do first?” She had spent countless hours volunteering at the local library back home, and more time than she cared to think about wandering, browsing, and getting lost in bookstores. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that she would be able to handle whatever Gordon threw her way.

Gordon shrugged. “Wait for a customer.”

“What do you usually do?” She couldn't sit on her backside and wait.

“Read a good book, drink coffee, or smoke my pipe.” Gordon's smile was contagious. “Being a shop owner is hard work. You can do whatever you like.”

She couldn't very well tell him the shop needed a good cleaning. “Well, since I want to browse your shelves, I think I'll dust them as I go.”

“I gave up dusting them years ago. It's a thankless job that never seems to end.”

“Since I'm going through the books anyway, I might as well dust them.” She glanced under the cash register where there seemed to be a collection of junk. “Where do you keep the cleaning supplies?”

“Back room.” Gordon seemed uncertain. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Go through your stock? Darn straight I do. I noticed yesterday that you have some great books hidden away.” She headed for the stock room in search of a rag before Gordon came up with another excuse.

 

 

Matt sat in his pickup truck in front of Sierra's place and wondered if he was making a colossal mistake. Sierra was all wrong for him. She had a child and they would be leaving in a couple weeks. Although those things were important, they weren't his real worries. Sierra never came out and said it, and there wasn't anything to give it overtly away, but his gut was telling him that Sierra came from money. Big money. Her style and sophistication wasn't married into or learned; it was inherited.

It was six o'clock at night and big, bad Matt Porter was scared of a beautiful woman and a little money. That wasn't quite true. He wasn't scared of money, he was intimidated by it. Money was power. Money bought dreams. Half the time he disliked the rich on the size of their wallet alone.

His dream since he had been eight years old was to buy and live in the Misty Harbor lighthouse. The abandoned lighthouse was run-down and was in dire need of repairs. Now that he was an adult, he knew he couldn't live in the actual lighthouse, but he could rebuild the lighthouse keeper's house, which at one time had been connected to the lighthouse. Over the years he had collected three old black and white photos of the house, and for his twenty-fifth birthday his family had given him what had passed for blueprints of the original house. All he needed to do was to convince Millicent Wyndham to sell him the property for a reasonable amount, an amount he could afford.

His dream was about to crumple. The Randall Corporation, a major U.S. hotel chain, had made Millicent a substantial offer for the lighthouse and the coastal acreage it sat upon. He would need two lifetimes and a winning lottery ticket to match the financial offer.

He considered himself a practical man, one who didn't mind working hard for a living and saving for what he wanted. One who didn't believe in rich, unknown relatives passing away and leaving their stock portfolio to him or relying on a fairy godmother to appear in a pumpkin patch. He had been saving for his dream since he was eight. With the current price of coastal property, he could now afford a couple dump trucks worth of rocks, a swimming pool of seawater, and enough grass to hold a Wiffle ball game on. The lighthouse wasn't the expensive part of the deal, it was the land.

He snorted as he got out of the truck. What did he have to complain about? Millicent, knowing how much he wanted that piece of property, had given him the heads-up two weeks ago, before the town had found out. His savings account looked impressive. There was more than enough to buy a nice-size piece of property outside the town's limits and to start building a home.

Besides, he had more important things to think about tonight—mainly a beautiful woman who might or might not be rich but who sizzled when she kissed. He had returned to his small apartment last night achy, hard, and lonely. The window air conditioner had been cranked on high all night, but he had gotten no relief.

He had kissed his fair share of women in his life. None had the effect Sierra had had on him last night. By three o'clock in the morning he had convinced himself he had imagined the whole thing. Not the kiss—that had been real enough—just his reaction to it. No kiss could have been that wondrous, that perfect, that hot.

He walked up onto the porch, rang the doorbell, and grinned. Just to prove his memories wrong, he would have to kiss her again.

Austin threw open the door. It banged against the closet door behind it. “Matt!”

He could see Sierra hurrying out of the kitchen. “Austin, I told you to wait for me.” She came to a halt next to her son and scolded him. “How many times must I tell you, you cannot open a door unless I'm with you.”

Austin looked at the tip of his sneakers, “Sorry.”

Sierra looked up at him standing there. “Hi. Sorry about that. Austin loves to answer doors and phones.”

“Hey, Austin, listen to your mom on that one.” He knelt down so he was on a more even level with the small boy and ruffled the top of his hair. “Your mom is right. You shouldn't be opening doors on your own.” He wasn't worried that something would happen to the boy in Misty Harbor. Austin didn't live here, but the world out there wasn't as safe and friendly as the small coastal town.

“Mom said it was you.” Austin pouted.

“I said, ‘That should be Matt.'” Sierra swept her son up into her arms. “ ‘Should be' and ‘is' are two different matters. I was in the kitchen, so I couldn't see who was ringing the doorbell. I was guessing.”

“Can I answer the door when I get bigger?”

“Yes.” She gave him a hug. “Now go get your car so you can show Matt that trick you've been doing all day.” Sierra put her son back down and he sprinted into the back part of the house.

“Trick?” He tried to think of a trick a four-year-old could do with a remote-control car. He drew a blank.

“He thinks it is.” Sierra closed the door. “He makes it go in circles, and circles, and circles.” Her eyes and finger were doing circles in the air.

He chuckled at the thought of how many times Sierra had been privy to that trick today. “Can't wait to see it.”

“You'll regret those words.” Sierra headed for the kitchen. “Come on back. There's been a change of plans.”

“Oh?”

“Don't worry, I'm still feeding you, but you'll be doing some of the cooking.”

He wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. He didn't mind cooking, he just wasn't very good at it. “What happened to omelets?”

“I witnessed the amount of food the Porter men put away last night and at the spaghetti dinner. An omelet would never do for dinner, unless I threw a pig on a spit to go along with it.”

Sierra reached the kitchen counter and handed him two sealed packages. One contained an average-size steak, the other a huge piece of meat that made him question the size of the cow it had come from. “Are you planning on feeding my entire family?” He chuckled at the size.

“Not for dinner.” She pointed to the smaller steak. “That's mine. I like it medium.” Her fingertip tapped the side of beef. “That's yours. Your job is to start the grill out back and cook them.”

“What's Austin eating?” He loved a good steak, but he didn't think he could finish this one on his own.

“Chicken nuggets. He doesn't like steak.” Sierra went back to chopping a tomato for their salad. “I have potatoes already baking in the oven.”

He saw that the table on the patio had been set for three. A vase filled with flowers was in the center of the table, surrounded by three burning mosquito-repellent candles. There was also a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen table, and another had been on the coffee table in the living room. Either Sierra loved flowers, or the eligible bachelors of Misty Harbor were at it again. He swore he wasn't jealous. “What's with all the flowers?”

“Austin and I went nursery hopping this morning. I felt that I should at least purchase something at each stop.”

He glanced at the tower of bakery boxes sitting on the counter. “Are you planning a party?” Everyone knew that the pink and white striped boxes came from Jolene's out on Route 1 in East Sullivan. Jolene's had been voted the best bakery in Maine three years running.

“No, that's for our guests.”

“What guests?” As far as he knew it was going to be only Sierra, Austin, and him this evening.

“Your family.”

“My family?” There went his fantasy about kissing Sierra, just to make sure she was as delicious as he remembered. Why couldn't his family leave Sierra and him alone?

“Only the female members. We needed to hold another planning session for the wedding. The guys are all heading over to your parents' house to start on the arbor.” Sierra started to slice a cucumber.

“So I'm supposed to head over there?” Some date this was turning out to be. They weren't even going to be in the same house.

“Well . . . no. Your mother kind of volunteered you.” Sierra stopped slicing and gave him a sympathetic look. “Since you were going to be here anyway, your mother said to leave you in charge of the kids while we work on the wedding details. With five kids running around she was afraid we would be distracted.”

“Four.”

“Four what?”

“It's four kids running around. Amanda doesn't even crawl yet.” He'd rather go cut wood and nail something, but he'd be a good sport about it. For tonight. Next planning session, Paul or John could watch their own kids.

“Do you mind?”

“Not really, as long as you're okay with this. You're the one who is supposed to be on vacation.”

“I am on vacation.” Sierra grinned. “I had fun today haggling and exchanging ideas with the nursery owners.”

“Is that what all this stuff is?” He motioned toward the kitchen table, which had paperwork, pictures, and magazines spread out all over it. He could barely see an inch of wood beneath all the paper.

“Norah's mom, Joanna, dropped some stuff off to me on her way to work this morning.”

A length of pink silk was tossed over one of the chairs, and some see-through netting in a rainbow of colors was strangling another. The bouquet of flowers on the table matched the material, and he wondered if that meant anything. He stepped closer and spotted a couple pictures of towering wedding cakes, some complete with bridges, pillars, and stairways climbing from layer to layer. Icing flowers in every color imaginable tumbled down the sides and across the white layers. Plastic brides and grooms, bells, or birds were perched on the top layer. One creative cake had two feathered swans, a waterfall, trails of ivy, and what appeared to be a pond of whiskey sours set up next to the cake.

Ned was going to think the whole thing was ridiculous. Norah was going to go along with it only because of her mother. He now understood why his own mother had been absolutely no help when it came to planning her sons' weddings. Peggy Porter would rather wrestle an octopus than decorate a wedding cake with a fake swan.

“Are you sure this isn't too much for you?” He was getting a headache just thinking about it. Last night he had overheard Ned whispering in Norah's ear something about eloping. He personally agreed with his brother.

“Oh, please,” gushed Sierra, “this is a walk in the park for me.”

“If you say so.”

Austin ran into the kitchen, carrying his car and the remote. “Want to see, Matt? Want to see?”

He chuckled at the excitement in Austin's voice. Ah, to be four again and express yourself so everyone knew what you were feeling. “Of course.” He held up the steaks. “Let's go put these on the grill first, and then you can show me out on the back patio. We'll leave your mother to the fixing of the vegetables”—he lowered his voice and growled—“while we men handle the meat.”

He headed out back to the propane grill.

Austin looked at his mother and in a low voice said, “We're handling the meat.” He followed Matt out back.

Sierra knew she should be concentrating more on what was being said around her than on the enticing view on her back patio. Matt Porter had a very dangerous way of distracting her. Austin was having a ball playing with the Porter kids, and Matt seemed to be holding up rather well under the circumstances. Four to one were lousy odds, even for a six-foot-three-inch hunk.

“Are you sure that's going to look okay?” asked Paul's wife, Jill. “I mean, mixing silk roses and leaves in with the real ones? Won't you be able to tell?”

Sierra pulled her mind back into the discussion but was saved from answering by Joanna.

Norah's mom looked intrigued by the possibility. “I think we can pull it off, providing we get good-quality artificial rose vines in the right colors.”

“That's not a problem. I talked to Lianna last night and she has an excellent supplier. You can get anything your heart desires.” Sierra's old college roommate had been more than willing to help in any way she could. They had spent two hours on the phone catching up on each other's lives and discussing the wedding. After they had hung up, Lianna had been a busy girl out on the West Coast. When Sierra had turned on her laptop this morning, there were pages of attachments and e-mails and a promise of an overnight package that would arrive the next morning.

“Can we get them in time?” Norah, who had put in a full day at work, looked a little tired and frazzled. She obviously wasn't getting enough sleep, either due to the chaos of the upcoming wedding or Ned.

Sierra's money was on Ned. She had never seen two people more in love. “We need to place the order by Friday morning, and there should be no problem.”

Joanna glanced through a stack of photos Sierra had printed from her digital camera this afternoon. “All three nurseries are willing to sell us the mature climbing rose bushes?” Joanna seemed surprised that nurseries would indeed sell the plants and bushes they were using in their own displays.

“There's a couple of conditions. There won't be a guarantee on them, and there is no way to get all ten climbing rose bushes in the same color. Plus they are going to cost more than regular potted bushes with only a couple blooms on them. All the nursery managers were in agreement, though: we'll need at least ten mature climbers and six regular bushes to fill in both sides of the arbor nicely. After the rose vines are wrapped and in place, we go through and add the artificial ones to fill in the bare areas.”

“Can we still do the lights?” asked Joanna.

“As long as the guys get us an electric line out there, I don't see a problem with that. We'll wrap the lights when we weave in the fake roses.” The reception part of the wedding would be going into the evening hours. They were going to need lights everywhere.

Joanna seemed pleased. “I contacted the wedding supplier out in Bangor. We can rent white or brass candelabras, but not the black or the ironwork ones. They were already taken.” Joanna handed Norah three sheets of paper. “They faxed the pictures of them to Ethan's gallery for me, and I have to call them first thing in the morning to let them know how many and which ones.”

“What about the candles for them?” asked Peggy.

“Candles are easy, we just need the size and color.” Lianna had sent her lists from three suppliers that could do a rush order. “Norah, you have to decide on colors tonight.”

“Where do I begin?” Norah looked at her mother for some help.

“Chelsea is wearing pink, right?” Joanna started gathering up all the digital photos of the roses.

“Right, the maid of honor will be in pink.” Norah reached for the pink silk draped across the back of her chair. “This is the color: light pearly pink.”

“The only thing we are really limited in, colorwise, is the roses. You need to make your choices from them.” Joanna started to spread out the photos and everyone got out of their seats to get a better look. The mother of the bride had taken control.

Everyone started talking and offering advice at once.

Sierra got up and walked over to the counter. As far as she could tell, they were on the right track and really didn't need her help making this decision. It was time to get out the goodies. She busied herself putting on a pot of coffee and keeping an eye on the kids in the backyard. Matt had them all on their hands and knees, trying to teach them how to play leapfrog.

It wasn't working. She chuckled as Morgan threw herself on her cousin's back. Hunter collapsed under the weight. Tyler was trying to do a somersault, and Austin was following wherever his new best friend led. Matt was shaking his head while hauling Morgan off Hunter.

Jill, who had picked a fussing Amanda up out of the stroller, walked over to her and looked out the window. “He's quite good with children.”

“Yes, he is.” She could have played stupid and pretended not to know whom Jill was talking about, but she didn't like games.

“Austin seems to like him.” Jill snatched a cookie from one of the bakery boxes Sierra had just opened.

“That he does. Matt and Tyler are all he's been talking about since the Blueberry Festival.” She picked up the pink glass platter that had been sitting next to the boxes, and started to place the fancy cookies onto it. The Alberts had two sets of dishes: one was everyday white with pink flowers. The set in the china cabinet was vintage pink Depression glass. Kurt Albert was either very tolerant of the color pink, or he was color-blind.

“You're not going to serve the kids on Kathy's good dishes, are you?” Jill bounced Amanda in her arms. The little girl gave a big drooly smile.

“Nope.” She reached behind Jill and picked up a stack of paper plates. “I even have juice boxes in the refrigerator.”

“Spoken like a true mother.” Jill cuddled her daughter and glanced back outside. “So you and Matt are getting along?”

“Subtle, Jill, real subtle,” Kay said as she joined them. “What she wants to know, Sierra, is do you have the hots for our brother-in-law?”

She tried not to choke or blush as Matt's mother hooted with laughter. “That's Kay, speaking her mind once again.” Peggy Porter gave Sierra a wink. “So what do you think of my last unattached son? Matthew's a good boy, knows how to pick up after himself, and is a hard worker.”

Sierra wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. “He's very nice.” What was she supposed to say? That Matt's kisses made her forget she had a child in the other room?

Peggy snorted. “Well, if that ain't the kiss of death, I don't know what is.” Peggy snatched a cookie right out of Kay's hand. “Here I had high hopes of getting my last little chick settled down. Oh, my dainty heart can't stand the strain of seeing Matthew without a family of his own.”

For the first time in her life, Sierra snorted. “I didn't picture you as a drama queen, Peg.” There was nothing dainty on Peggy Porter. Her heart was probably as big as a Volkswagen.

Peggy stood six feet one inch tall and had broader shoulders than most NFL players. Her brown hair was cut ruthlessly short and was sprinkled with gray. Windburned cheeks and chapped lips gave evidence that if a jar of moisturizer was sitting on her bureau back at home, it wasn't being used. Tonight, for the occasion of hammering out some finer points for her son's wedding, she wore a faded Grateful Dead T-shirt, a pair of jeans cut off at the knees, and what appeared to be size twelve construction boots. Peggy could wrestle a grizzly and win.

Jill and Kay both sputtered, “A drama queen? Peggy?”

“She started it.” She sounded childish, but by the gleam of mischief in Peggy's eyes, the older woman was having fun teasing her. Sierra noticed for the first time that Matt and Peggy had the same color eyes, light sky blue.

“You're the one who called my son nice.”

“What did you want me to call him?”

Peggy crossed her arms over her massive chest, tapped her steel-toed boot, and stared her down. “Since he's the spitting image of his father, I think you should call him handsome, hot, and sexy.” A small smile was tugging at the corner of the older woman's mouth. “Stud-muffin, even.”

Every woman in the room burst out laughing. “Stud-muffin” was a word no one would ever have expected to come out of Peggy's mouth. If Peggy had started sprouting the names of top Paris designers, they wouldn't have been more surprised.

“I don't see what's so funny,” huffed Peggy. It was easy to see she was faking her disapproval. “I call his father that all the time.”

The room went nuts with laughter. Baby Amanda started to fuss. When she got herself back under control, Jill cuddled the baby as the noise quickly died down.

“Well, how do you think I got those four strapping boys? I didn't pick them in a cabbage patch, that's for sure.”

Matt and all four kids were standing at the patio screen door staring in. They had probably heard all the laughter and had come to investigate.

Matt stared at his mother. “I really don't want to know what's going on, do I?”

Sierra wasn't sure, but Matt might have been blushing. She busied herself with placing some cookies on a paper plate and tried not to laugh.

“Just giving Norah some tips for the honeymoon, son.” Peggy swiped another cookie and popped it into her mouth.

“Matt, why don't you take the kids to the picnic table and get them situated? I'll bring out some juice and snacks in a moment.” Sierra felt sorry for Matt. The poor man had no idea what he had stepped into. His own mother was trying to pawn him off as a stud-muffin to a tourist.

Matt hesitated for a moment before saying, “Okay.” All the kids ran to the picnic table shouting for cookies. Matt slowly followed.

Sierra looked at Peggy. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Why? For trying to fix my son up with you?”

“No, for teasing him like that.” Sierra grinned. Her father never teased her, and from the few memories she had of her mother, neither had she. Rosemary had on the rare occasion, and it had usually involved boyfriends. She liked how the Porters, and their extended family, teased one another. It was their way of showing how much they did care, how much they loved one another.

“Wait till I tell Pop Pop John that's he's a stud-muffin.” Jill couldn't resist teasing her mother-in-law.

“Peggy, in case you didn't notice, Matt and Sierra were already together before we showed up,” Norah added, but her gaze never left the pictures in front of her.

“Besides, Sierra's a tourist, she's heading back for . . .” Jill frowned. “Where are you from, anyway?”

“Austin and I flew in from San Diego.” It was the truth. They had been out in California for the past four months. Two months before that it had been Seattle. Before that had been Dallas, Miami, and Boston.

When Jake and she first got married, they had bought a house in Seattle. They had barely used it. By the time Austin made his appearance, she realized that what she and Jake had wasn't really a marriage. What they had, and still have, was a deep, loving friendship.

“See, Peggy, she'll be going back soon enough.”

“That's why it's so important that we highlight all of Matt's good points. She doesn't have the time to find them out for herself.”

Norah gave a very unladylike snort. “Trust us, Peggy, Sierra's seeing Matt's good qualities.” Norah gave Sierra a wink. “Leave her alone, and come here and give me your opinion on this color combination.”

Everyone gathered around the table as Sierra went back to fixing the snacks for the kids.

She gathered a bunch of juice boxes from the refrigerator and watched as the women in her kitchen jokingly teased each other. They were what a family should be: loving and tolerant of each other's differences.

Peggy Porter and her two daughters-in-law looked like they could handle any problem or situation that came their way. Jill and Kay, while not as imposing as Peggy, were formidable females in their own right. Norah, with her red spiky hair and bright clothes, and wearing more jewelry than most department stores carried, looked like a tiny gypsy moth. Joanna, Norah's mother, was dressed almost identically to Sierra. Both she and Joanna had chosen linen slacks and a silk sleeveless top for this last-minute get-together.

She frowned as she loaded up the tray with plates full of goodies and drinks for the kids. What did that say about her sense of style if the one she most resembled was the mother of the bride?

“What's wrong, Sierra?” Jill was standing by the table watching her frown down at the tray. “Something wrong with the cookies?”

“No, just mind wandering.” She picked up the tray and smiled. “As soon as I deliver this to Matt, I'll finish getting the rest ready. Jolene's Bakery is hoping to get the cake order for the wedding, and hopefully a few other orders to go along with it.”

She nodded toward the remaining pink and white striped boxes. “I was talking to Jolene about how we were meeting tonight to work out some finer points on the wedding, so most of what's in there are free samples to entice us.”

“You got free samples out of Jolene?”

She gave a small secretive smile. Jolene was not only a world-class baker, she was also a businesswoman who recognized a good thing when it landed in her lap. “She heard just about the entire town was invited to the wedding. Not only does that mean a big order, but think of the advertising opportunity this presents for her business.”

“I'm sure everyone in town has been in Jolene's at least once,” Kay said.

“I'm sure they have.” Considering what Jolene's cookies tasted like, she couldn't imagine that they hadn't been in there a lot more times than that. “It never hurts to remind your customer base of what they are missing.”