The views along the road that led from the inn to the town center were so distractingly beautiful that, after the first few minutes, she hardly noticed the discomfort of her ride.
The ocean stretched out on the left side of the road, rolling meadows on the right. A few large old houses built in the late 1800s could be seen nearby. Some were in better condition than the inn and some in worse. Every time Liza took this ride, she tried to judge how the inn compared to its neighbors, now that the renovations were coming along. The inn had definitely improved, moving up a few notches, but it wasn’t quite in the top tier yet.
But you have to have goals, Liza reminded herself with a grin.
A farm stood on the property that bordered her own. Liza pedaled past the familiar sign “Gilroy Goat Farm—Organic Herbs, Goat Cheese, Fudge, Soaps & Lavender.” She gazed out at the large meadow, trying to catch a glimpse of her friend Audrey Gilroy, who owned the farm with her husband.
Liza checked the barn area and the area around the large white building where the cheese was made. No sign of Audrey working outside. Liza thought she might give her friend a call later, when she got home.
She pedaled farther, passing a few cottages and lots of open land, then finally came to the small commercial center of the island, the place where the two main roads met. There was a small square with benches and a fountain, shaded by tall trees.
The fountain was running today, Liza noticed, and the stone urns were filled with colorful flowers and trailing vines. She hopped off the bike, parked it by a bench, and headed for the General Store.
The store was one of the few commercial buildings on the island. A walk-in medical clinic stood right beside it. A large, first-aid cross, red on a white background, decorated the storefront window.
Daniel and her friend Audrey both volunteered at the clinic. Wondering if either of them was working now, Liza peered in through the window. She saw two people sitting on the hard plastic chairs, waiting for medical attention. A volunteer sat at the reception desk, taking information from another patient. Liza looked around the small room again but didn’t see Audrey.
Then she felt a tap on her shoulder and nearly jumped two feet in the air.
“Need some first aid, miss? I’m fully certified.”
Liza instantly recognized the voice. She turned and faced Audrey Gilroy, who, before moving to Angel Island, had, in fact, been a registered nurse.
“Glad you asked. I need my head examined,” Liza moaned. “Think you can help me?”
Audrey stared at her, trying not to laugh. “What’s up, Liza? Anything wrong?”
“Do you have a minute? This could take a while.”
“I’m not in a rush. I’m on front desk duty today but I’m early. Let’s go over here and talk.” Audrey led Liza back to the benches and they sat down. “So . . . does this have anything to do with Daniel?”
Liza gave her a look. “No. What made you think that?”
Audrey shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just taking a wild guess. Too bad,” she added under her breath.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just wondering what’s going on with you guys. Don’t keep telling me you’re just friends,” Audrey warned. “I’m not buying.”
“We are just friends . . . more or less. Well, more than friends, I guess. But I don’t really know what you’d call it, exactly.” The question had her stumped. “I wish I knew myself. But I can’t even think about that right now. I have a real problem.”
“Okay, go ahead. Sorry I distracted you.” Audrey sounded contrite, but the twinkle in her eye told Liza she was really not sorry at all and wanted to talk more about Liza’s love life—or lack of one. “How can I help?”
“Just listen to what I did and tell me how stupid I am.”
“No problem,” Audrey promised with a smile.
Liza sighed and quickly told her the whole story—how Jennifer had arrived at the inn out of the blue yesterday, insisting that she had to have her wedding there, telling her romantic story, including the touching memories of Aunt Elizabeth.
And how Liza had first said absolutely no way, but by the evening, had called and told Jennifer she would put together a few ideas for her.
“Wow, a wedding. That’s great! I’d love to see a wedding at the inn. Do you need any goat cheese? I’d be happy to contribute to the cause,” Audrey offered.
“That’s just the problem,” Liza admitted. “I don’t know the first thing about planning or putting on a wedding. Do I even need goat cheese? I haven’t got a clue. I’ve been researching that very question and many others online all night and this morning and I’m totally in over my head. This girl and her mother are coming on Thursday morning to hear my ideas. Jennifer has her heart set. She won’t take no for an answer. I don’t know how to get out of it gracefully.”
Audrey’s big brown eyes lit up and she smiled. “I know the perfect person to help you. Molly Willoughby. She runs this fabulous gourmet food shop and catering business in Cape Light, Willoughby Fine Foods.”
“I’ve gone in there a few times. The food is amazing.”
“So is Molly. She’s a sweetheart, too. She buys all her goat cheese from us and a lot of other products. Her firm caters weddings and huge parties every weekend. Let me get you guys together. I’m sure she’ll give you some good advice.”
Before Liza could reply, Audrey whipped out her cell phone and called Molly. Audrey quickly explained the situation, listened a moment, then turned to Liza.
“She’s coming to the island this afternoon. She can stop by the inn and talk to you.”
“She will? That’s great. Tell her to come anytime.”
Audrey relayed the message and hung up, then sat back with a satisfied smile. “Any other problems I can solve? Ready to talk more about Daniel now?”
Liza laughed. “I’ll let you know when.”
Liza had a feeling she would talk to her friend about Daniel sooner or later. Audrey and her husband had been friends with Daniel for a few years, ever since they had settled on the island. But this was not the time for that conversation, Liza knew.
“Thanks for connecting me with Molly. She sounds like she knows her stuff,” Liza told her friend.
“Oh, she knows her stuff and she’s very plainspoken. If Molly thinks you’re crazy, she’ll let you know,” Audrey promised.
“That’s what I need, an honest, straightforward, expert opinion.”
Secretly, Liza wondered if Molly would say she was crazy to try it and that the inn was in no shape for a wedding. That would get her off the hook; she could tell Jennifer that she had consulted with a well-known expert.
“Thanks, Audrey, you’re a pal. I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry about it. Next time my goats wander over and start munching on your flower beds, I’ll remind you.”
“I might ask to borrow a few of them next week so I don’t have to mow the lawns.”
“Deal.”
Liza just smiled. Sometimes it was hard to remember that their friendship only went back a few months, not a few years. She was very lucky to have found such a warm, funny friend on the island. She knew Audrey was a special blessing in her new life.
Audrey got up to report to the clinic for her volunteer shift, and Liza headed into the General Store. The store was wide and low, and the very distinct smell of the place immediately transported her to the long-ago days when she spent summers on the island as a little girl. It was a unique mixture of fresh-brewed coffee, soap powders, fresh donuts, produce, and the wooden floorboards.
Marion Doyle, who ran the store with her husband, Walter, stood behind the counter, wearing a white apron over a short-sleeved red-and-white-checked blouse and baggy khaki pants.
Liza didn’t see Walter around. Marion was helping a customer send a package by parcel post, since she also doubled as the island’s postmistress. Liza could overhear their long discussion about the rates and the various dates the package could be delivered. By the time the transaction was complete, Marion had learned a lot about the sender, the receiver, the contents of the box, and various other facts about the customer’s life.
There was little that happened on the island that Marion did not know. She could have written a newspaper gossip column, she was so well informed. But there was no paper on the island, so most residents relied on chatting with Marion for their local news.
Liza browsed the two short grocery aisles and the small but well-stocked section of fresh vegetables. Claire had given her a list, and Liza found everything except for the turnip. She was wondering if she could bring back a big yam instead when Marion approached.
“Finding what you need, Liza?” she asked cheerfully.
“Just about. You don’t have any turnips today, do you?”
Marion shook her head, her lips pursed. “No, ma’am. We have been out of turnips for a few days. I expect to get more vegetables in tomorrow. There should be some artichokes. It’s the season.”
“I’ll tell Claire. I’m sure she can do wonders with an artichoke.”
“She can do wonders in the kitchen with anything cookable,” Marion agreed.
Knowing that was true, Liza decided to take the yam. She brought her items up to the register in a little wire basket, and Marion rang them up. “So, I hear there’s going to be a wedding soon at the inn,” she said cheerfully.
“Who told you that?” Liza asked, though she could already guess.
“The Bennet girl, Jennifer.” Marion’s tone was innocent. “She told me herself. Just yesterday. Stopped by for a cold drink and we got to talking.”
That goes without saying, Liza thought.
“I was admiring her ring. I hadn’t seen it yet, though I’d heard in church that she was engaged. I asked her if she had set the date and she told me not exactly, but they really wanted to get married this summer at the inn and she’d just come from talking with you.”
Liza nodded. She could see now how Marion had misinterpreted Jennifer’s vague but hopeful reply.
Marion just assumed Liza wouldn’t turn down the request—or the business. Liza wasn’t sure if she should bother clarifying the situation. It wasn’t any of Marion’s business. Yet, if she didn’t put her straight, the story would soon be all over the island and the town of Cape Light. Marion’s news had a way of going viral very quickly.
“Kyle is a nice boy,” the storekeeper went on. “I know they seem young, but those two have been going together since high school. They should know their minds by now.”
“They probably do. Jennifer seems very levelheaded,” Liza replied. “And she’s a lovely young woman. But nothing is definite about the wedding yet, Marion. The Bennets will probably look at a lot of places.”
“Oh, really?” Marion looked disappointed as Liza handed some bills across the counter. “That’s too bad. The inn is a beautiful spot. Walter and I have gone to a few weddings there over the years. Your aunt did a lovely job of it.”
“Yes, I’m sure she did.” Liza wasn’t sure why but the conversation was suddenly getting under her skin. She wished everyone would stop reminding her that her aunt had pulled off these events with such ease.
Things were different back then. People didn’t have such high expectations. They didn’t expect showers of rose petals, elaborate table settings, and PowerPoint presentations set to the couple’s favorite songs.
“Here’s your change,” Marion said mildly, handing Liza back some coins.
“Thanks. I have to run. Nice to see you.” Liza grabbed the change and her bag of vegetables, then practically ran to the door. The little bell over the threshold jangled wildly as she yanked it open.
“Don’t sweat the small stuff, Liza . . . ” Marion called out in her usual way. “And it’s all small stuff, you know.”
“Right,” Liza called back. Marion always said that to her.
Did she look like she was sweating the small stuff? Well, maybe sometimes, she had to admit.
Liza stuck the bag in the basket of her bike and set off for the inn, pedaling at double speed. It was amazing. She hadn’t even figured out
if
she could do the wedding, and the news that she would was already all over the island. Now if she didn’t do the wedding, it might reflect badly on the inn, as if she’d cancelled or something.
She just hoped that if this didn’t work out, Marion Doyle wouldn’t put a bad spin on the situation. Oh, she couldn’t worry about that now, Liza decided, pedaling even faster. She had to get back to the inn and get ready for her meeting with Molly Willoughby.
“THIS is a great old place,” Molly said as she stepped through the inn’s front door. “You’ve really come a long way with it,” she added, glancing around the foyer and into the sitting room.
“My brother Sam is really into old houses,” Molly went on. “He must have worked on every old house in the village by now. I know these old places are beautiful, but they’re also a pain in the neck, like big old divas,” she joked. “Maybe that’s why I live in a new one. But you miss out on the history and the charm.”
Liza led her into the sitting room, and Molly looked around again with an admiring expression. Molly was a very pretty woman, Liza thought, probably in her early forties, with dark curly hair, sparkling eyes, and a very expressive manner. She wasn’t model thin but had curves in all the right places. Liza sensed she was a good saleswoman and probably a strict boss.
“Oh, this room is very nice. You could maybe do a cocktail thing in here if you take out some of the furniture. You’d leave the piano, of course. You can hire some college kid to play standards. Everybody loves that. You might bring in a few pieces, a trio maybe. Or you could put the music outside. You definitely have the room . . . not necessary, of course, if cost is a big issue.”
“I’m not sure. The bride didn’t really say. She did say she was going to keep it small and simple, a very limited guest list.”
Is that really me talking?
Liza could hardly believe her own ears. She was suddenly in full wedding-planner mode, even speaking the lingo.