Always the Baker, Finally the Bride (38 page)

Read Always the Baker, Finally the Bride Online

Authors: Sandra D. Bricker

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary

Jackson didn’t have a lot of fears or phobias in life, and he normally enjoyed the occasional dog or cat. But at that moment, he felt certain of two things: Pigs should not be walked on leashes; and if The Tanglewood hadn’t already established a pig-free rule, one needed to be implemented as soon as possible.

“Go ahead,” he said with a nod toward the pink pig. “We’ll catch the next one.”

Andy cackled at him as he stepped aboard. “He’s kidding,” he told the old man. “Come on, Jackson. It’s go time.”

Jackson puffed out a sigh and followed Andy. He tapped the button for the lobby several times before he turned and peered through the glass as the vibrant courtyard moved slowly closer. Guests had already begun gathering beneath the twinkling white lights, and candlelit chandeliers dotted the flowering tree branches above their heads. Rows of clear Lucite chairs shimmered with rhinestone-embellished ribbons and tufts of beautiful flowers.

Suddenly, the pig screeched as the elevator car thumped to a stop, and the force of it propelled Jackson backward into Andy.

“What was that?” Andy asked him.

“Looks like this old elevator has seen better days,” the pig’s owner offered. “Kinda like me.” He clucked with laughter that
sounded more like a free-range chicken than a man with a leashed pig.

The pig pulled on the leash and circled Jackson’s legs before retreating behind his owner’s. He attempted to step over the noose to no avail, and Andy finally helped free him.

“Excuse me,” Jackson said, more to the pig than the old man, and he reached over and pressed the call button on the panel. Opening his cell phone, he quickly pushed #7 on his speed dial.

“Thank you for calling The Tanglewood Inn. This is Mason. How may I help you this evening?”

“Mason, it’s Jackson Drake.”

“Yes, Mr. Drake. Shouldn’t you be getting married right about now?”

“Yes, Mason, that’s the plan. However, I’m trapped in the elevator with my best man. Can you call for some help, please?”

“Oh, my. Yes. Yes, sir, I’ll do that.”

“And will you page Sherilyn Drummond and let her know immediately, please?”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

Jackson looked down at the pig staring up at him with one eye, the other eye hidden behind its owner’s leg. The thing’s glare was black and distrustful, and Jackson tried not to imagine the aggression level of a pig that didn’t trust him.

“Morton Kuntz,” the old man said, extending his hand with the leash still wrapped around it.

“Jackson Drake,” he replied as he shook the proferred hand. “This is Andy Drummond.”

“And you’ve met Justin.”

“I have indeed,” he said, glancing back at the one-eyed pig with the short, screwy tail.

“Is there a pet policy here at the hotel?” Andy asked softly, leaning toward Jackson.

Before he could answer, however, Morton Kuntz piped up. “They allow dogs,” he said, pausing to suck something out of his yellowish teeth. “Don’t know why Justin would be a problem.”

Jackson shrugged at Andy. “There you have it.”

“One of you fellas gettin’ hitched?”

Jackson raised his hand slightly. “That would be me.”

Morton sized up Andy for a moment before asking, “Best man?”

“Yep.”

“My grandboy’s followin’ suit here in this hotel tomorrow night.”

Andy and Jackson exchanged glances before they both nodded politely.

“Congrats,” Andy added.

After a couple of silent moments—aside from the snorting, of course—Morton gazed at Jackson and said, “Hopin’ the bride won’t mind waiting around.”

“Yeah,” Jackson concurred. “I’m hoping that myself.”

“I knew better than to say everything was perfect! I did. I knew better. Why did I say that out loud?” Emma ranted as Audrey and Kat looked on in silence. “I just had to go and tempt fate that way, didn’t I?”

“Sherilyn and Fee will know what to do,” Audrey reassured her. “Don’t worry about anything. Ten minutes from now, you’ll be looking into Jackson’s eyes as he slips a ring on your finger, and this will all be forgotten.”

Emma hiked up the skirt of her gown and tossed herself back on the bed with a groan. “Everyone’s already down there
waiting,” she exclaimed. “They’re going to think we eloped! Or worse, that we’re having second thoughts.”

“Emma,” Kat said. “Anyone who has met you will know neither of you has had second thoughts.”

“You think?”

“We know,” Audrey stated, and Emma decided to cling to her friend’s confidence.

“You know what, I think I’m just going to take a stroll down the hall, see if I can find out what’s going on with the ele—”

“No,” Audrey sliced into her words. “You’re going to stay right here so that no one sees the bride before she walks down the aisle.”

“And . . . when will that be, again?”

“Like ten minutes,” Audrey promised with a wave of her hand. “Fifteen, on the outside. Be patient.”

Emma eyed the living room through the doorway. The sliding etched-glass door sat partially open on its track. For a moment, the thing appeared to shift, and she examined it more closely.

“You know, I think I need to take my glucose reading.” Kat and Audrey exchanged panicky glances, and Emma raised her hand. “No, no, don’t worry. Stress kind of makes things fluctuate a little, so I may need to nibble on some more cheese or something. It’s fine. I’ll be fine . . . Does anyone have any aspirin?”

The elevator groaned, and the pig jerked toward the sound, its snout gyrating as it sniffed the air. The screech of metal on metal inspired a painful grimace, and Jackson watched as the car doors slowly opened a few inches.

One turquoise eye peered at them from the very top of the opening.

“Sherilyn?” Andy exclaimed.

“Hi, baby,” she replied, blinking. “You okay?”

“I’m trapped in the elevator with a nervous groom and a pig,” Andy answered. With a quick glance downward, he told the pig, “No offense.”

“Andy, be nice!”

“No, honey, there’s really a pig in here.”

“A . . . pig? Really?”

“Yeah, he’s on a leash. His owner is here for—”

“Sherilyn!” Jackson interrupted, gripping the partially open doors and staring up into her bright turquoise eye. “Is there any word on how long it’s going to take to get us out of here?”

“Well, it could be an hour or two before they can get here,” she told him, and Jackson felt his heart drop past his stomach.

“That’s not—”

“Hang on, hang on,” she cut him off. “We have a hotel guest in town from Kansas to attend another wedding this weekend, and he builds combines . . . those things they use to harvest wheat . . .”

“Clayton?” Morton called out, and he and the pig moved closer to the door as he attempted to peer through the small opening.

“Morton, that you?” someone returned.

“You gonna help get us outta here, or what?”

Jackson’s sentiments as well, but he didn’t say so.

“Clayton suggested we might be able to pry open the doors and see if you were stuck close to the floor,” Sherilyn told them. “He thinks you’re close enough that, if we can get the doors open a little more, you might be able to climb up.”

“Let’s do it!” Jackson exclaimed.

“Let’s do it, Clayton!” Sherilyn concurred.

Just ten more minutes with what looked to be a crowbar inching in from the other side, and some real progress had been made. Andy and Jackson helped it along as each of them grabbed hold of one of the doors and pulled back. Just when it looked as if the opening they’d created might allow them to pass through it, Sherilyn stuck her head through and grinned at them.

“Oh!” she blurted suddenly. “You really do have a pig in here.”

“Sherilyn,” Jackson said with a clenched jaw. “How’s Emma?”

“She’s fine. She’s with the girls, and all ready to join you once we get you out of there.”

“Justin goes first,” the old man piped up. When he picked up the pig and thrust him toward the open doors, Sherilyn shrieked and the pig oinked.

Once Justin disappeared through the opening, Jackson turned to Morton Kuntz. “You’re next, sir. Let’s go.”

“Nah,” he said with a yellowish grin. “Animals first, then wedding parties. You g’on and get hitched.”

“You don’t need to ask me twice,” Jackson replied. “Thank you.”

“No, wait!” Sherilyn cried. “Wait, wait. Take off your jackets first and hand them up here to me.” Jackson shook his head as he slipped out of the tuxedo jacket, folded it neatly and raised it toward the top of the opening, where Sherilyn’s manicured hands awaited. “I want yours too, baby.”

Andy complied, and Jackson clasped his hands together and nodded to Andy. “Let’s go.”

“Okay. Be careful,” Sherilyn cooed as Andy stepped into the leg-up Jackson offered and thrust himself over the edge of the second floor.

Once Andy’s feet disappeared through the opening, Jackson looked back at Morton. “Are you going to be able to get yourself up there without a boost?”

Disappointment dawned in the old man’s eyes. “Not sure, to tell you the truth.”

“There’s no shame in that,” he reassured him. “Let me help you so I can go get married, okay?”

Morton fumbled a bit, and they made three tries before Andy could grab him from above. It took the efforts of the both of them, but he disappeared through the opening at last.

“Okay, Jackson. Your turn,” Sherilyn called.

Jackson made one jump, grabbed the edge of the floor and pulled himself upward. He tried not to let on how difficult it really was, but with a picture of Emma in his mind’s eye to spur him upward, he got a foothold against the side of the elevator door and shoved himself through the opening.

He lay there on his stomach just long enough to catch his breath as Sherilyn stood over him, cell phone in hand. “Fee, the groom is on the move,” she said as she tugged at Jackson’s arm. “Wait five minutes, and bring Em down.” Helping Jackson into his jacket, she added, “Oh! And make sure you take the stairs.”