Best Laid Wedding Plans (7 page)

“Fine.” He set his jaw. “I'm helpin'.”

Before she could even think about arguing, he silenced her with a finger to those pouty lips. “Don't say anything you'll regret later.”

* * *

He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head, practically saw the smoke they generated.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” His forehead creased.

“You heard me. What do you want? There has to be something in this for you.”

“Oh for…” He stood and walked to the window, steadied himself. When he turned back, she stood quietly beside the bed. “You're enough to try the patience of a saint.”

“Which we both know you most certainly aren't.”

He splayed his hands on his hips. “Why can't I simply do it because I want to? Because I want to help your family?”

“Uh-uh. I've known you too long, Cole.”

“Again, I wonder,” he said. “Maybe you've never really known me.”

Confusion flickered in her eyes.

“Okay. Here's the deal, sugar. I'm not puttin' any money on the table. Not a single cent. That you're gonna have to work out.”

She nodded.

“I will, however, offer gallons of sweat equity and toss my vast knowledge at your feet.”

Her eyes rolled, and he laughed.

“Seriously, I'm willin' to work like a dog when I can. I do have a business to run, though, so…”

“Yes, you do.”

“And I do know a lot about old houses.”

“No argument there. No doubt as you're ripping them apart, plank by plank, you get to know them on a very intimate basis.”

He decided to ignore that.

“The only thing I'll ask of you in return is that if”—he held up a finger—“
if
your plan fails, I have first option to buy Magnolia House to do with as I choose. No questions, no whinin'.”

“Even if my plan fails, I might not want to sell the house.”

He shook his head. “You're not being realistic—or your heart is denying what your brain already understands. You and I both know this is a do-or-die situation, sweetheart. If you jump off this cliff, if you sign those papers at Coastal Plains Savings and Trust, there's no goin' back. If your plan fails, you won't be able to afford to keep this place.”

She paled and dropped back down onto the bed.

He took a step toward her, but she held up her hand, palm out. “Don't. I'm fine.”

That sweet little tongue flicked out, traveled over her lips, and he nearly groaned. He fought to keep his head out of that bed and on business.

“Jenni Beth, have you honestly not considered this aspect of the deal? Not thought about the consequences if it doesn't go your way?”

She met his eyes, and he imagined he could see worlds in them. “You're right. Of course you are, and of course I've thought about it.”

Still, she hesitated.

“Jenni Beth?”

“My parents—”

She looked so fragile. So ethereal. Sunlight danced through a window and turned all that golden hair into a halo. He fisted his hands at his side to keep from touching her.

“You have to promise not to tear the house down. No matter what happens.”

Since he'd never intended to do that, he agreed. “You've got my word.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“If you do—”

“I won't.”

Long minutes passed. She didn't move, didn't speak.

He waited. Watched as the second hand on her bedside clock swept over the twelve, once, twice.

Finally, she stood again and thrust a hand toward him. “Deal.”

He wrapped her hand in his. It felt so small, way too small to handle such a big undertaking. But she'd agreed to let him help. It didn't mean they wouldn't fight every step of the way, but it was a beginning.

Had his offer set wheels in motion that would help…or hurt her? He didn't know. He did know, though, that he needed to leave. The house, the memories. He felt the walls closing in.

The atmosphere inside Magnolia House reminded him of a funereal drape, one that threatened to suffocate everyone inside it. He didn't know how Jenni Beth could stand this day after day after day.

Her parents? Shells of themselves. Living dead. Neither seemed to care about the house, their finances, or the child they still had.

The house, the finances? Whatever. Their loss.

Jenni Beth? She ripped at his heart. She'd not only lost her brother, but, in a very real sense, had been abandoned by her parents. She'd quit her job in Savannah—her extremely lucrative job—to return home. Why? To save her parents. Her heritage. Hell, her town.

Pretty damn big responsibility to dump on such frail shoulders.

And Richard Thorndike stood in the wings, rubbing his hands in gleeful anticipation of her failure.

He tamped down the growl that rumbled in his throat and held out a hand. “Should be a real pleasure workin' with you, sugar. I'll be in touch.”

The misery on her face nearly undid him. Without another word, he loped down the stairs and tossed a good-bye to Charlotte over his shoulder. The screen door slapped shut behind him.

A few miles from the house, Cole still struggled with his temper, but he knew he had to set it aside. His strategy? Stay low key and on the sidelines for now.

It would be best for all concerned if Thorndike didn't know she had help. The bastard intended to take advantage of her. Well, Cole would let him continue on with that illusion, at least until the ink was dry on the loan papers.

Then all bets were off. Cole was prepared to do whatever necessary to see Jenni Beth's project to the finish line.

And he refused to think too hard on why that was.

Magnolia House as a wedding venue might or might not be a losing proposition. That outcome was still up in the air. His feelings for Jenni Beth? Nothing would come from them.

Odds were stacked against him on that one.

Had she made a deal with the devil?

Jenni Beth leaned forward in the porch swing, elbows propped on her knees, and massaged her temples, hoping to ward off the brewing headache.

So much depended on this project. She'd come back to Misty Bottoms brimming with confidence. Now she felt like a week-old helium balloon. The
oomph
had leaked out of her, her enthusiasm drained.

This place was a mess! When she saw it through an outsider's eyes, the enormity of what she planned to undertake hit her hard.

Except Cole Bryson wasn't really an outsider, was he? He'd been part of their family since he and Wes met the first day of kindergarten. Yet she sure as heck didn't feel brotherly toward him. The man did things to her insides. Things she couldn't control. When those brown eyes of his stared into her own, she couldn't quite catch her breath.

Now she was being fanciful. Stress took her breath away, not Cole.

And why, oh why, had she taken him up to her nest, her only sanctuary? She slapped her forehead. The man was too male, too powerful. He had no place in her private spot. He'd practically sucked all the air out of her pretty little warren. Worse, he'd made her feel…vulnerable, and she didn't like that. Not at all.

More disturbing, though? Until Cole had actually put into words the downside of her entire plan, she'd refused to truly consider the possibility of it. To seriously contemplate failure and what would happen if she couldn't make her dreams come alive. Queasiness rolled through her.

He'd been wrong, though. Of course, she'd thought about it. After all, she wasn't Wonder Woman. But still, she'd brushed aside the doubts, the what-ifs, and concentrated on what needed to be done. Kept moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other. Walked into Richard Thorndike's office and proposed her plan. Asked for that loan.

What if she couldn't pull it off?

The threatened headache exploded, and she grimaced.

Did those high-flying poker players experience this heart-pounding, dry-mouthed sensation when they pushed their entire pile into the pot?

Because if this didn't work, everything would be gone. Home, job, dreams.

She laid her head back, and with one foot set the old swing moving slowly. Her family couldn't continue as they were, though. Something had to change.

But was her plan the best one? Were there any alternatives? Her chest grew tight as stress plowed through her.

Unable to sit, she jumped up and moved to the planter. Ruthlessly, she ripped out weeds.

Cole wanted the house. But he'd promised not to tear it down. Would he keep that promise?

Richard wanted her bottomland. Maybe. And maybe Cole was making a mountain out of a molehill there. Richard said he needed collateral. Nothing unusual about that. So why did Cole read something sinister into the request?

Did he know something she didn't? Or was he simply trying to cloud her brain, what little she had left? He had the power to do that.

So tired, and she hadn't even started the hard part yet. A big sigh escaped.
Okay. Think. What are your options?

Her mind whirred, slipped out of gear, and she jerked it back. Try as she might, though, she came up with exactly zero alternatives.

Zip.
Nada
. She lifted her eyes to the heavens, balled her hands into fists. “I will not fail! Whatever it takes.”

Time to pull on those big girl panties and make this happen.

Magnolia House. Her family's biggest asset. Her family's biggest liability.

Well, no ifs, ands, or buts. Time to turn this grand old house and its grounds into the best damn wedding venue folks had ever seen. No slipshod job. No lick and a promise. Nope. She'd roll up her sleeves and make this a place her people, her ancestors would be proud to claim.

She dusted her hands and grabbed another sheet of paper. Sitting on the steps, she made two columns. Pros and cons.

Magnolia House had the deepest well with the sweetest water imaginable. Wes had worried about his parents and, at his insistence, the roof, fascia, and gutters had been replaced a couple years ago. As far as furniture went, she'd haul some things from the second floor, some out of storage. She'd be okay in that department. And room? She had plenty.

On the con side? The columns needed to be replaced, and after they repaired some of the siding, soffits, and plaster, everything, inside and out, had to have fresh paint. They'd need to update the kitchen and downstairs bath, plus add the half-bath in the bride's suite.

Another pro? The original oak floors could be sanded and refinished. Huge savings there.

She continued, switching between the columns. The air-conditioning had been retrofitted but would need some work. Porch repair—which she'd started. She'd keep the original glass in the windows but caulk them all. Some of the banister rungs would have to be replaced, which might mean hiring a specialist to re-create copies of the originals. Same with the plaster. Unless she was mistaken, all this was probably only the tip of the iceberg.

Most businesses failed because they were undercapitalized. Because money hadn't been set aside for contingencies. Her contingency fund? Her charge cards.

If only she didn't feel so alone. Cole had offered support, said he'd be there to give her a leg up. He'd promised to help her make it work. But his staying power was questionable, wasn't it?

He'd bailed on her before. Twice. Would he do it again?

Probably.

She sat up a little straighter. Well, then, she'd best not count on him. If he showed, if he helped, wonderful. If he didn't? Her jaw tightened. She'd do it alone. Prove to him exactly what she was made of.

After all, this was her dream. Her family's salvation. It would take a Beaumont to make it happen.

* * *

Cole had to dislodge Jenni Beth from his mind. She'd taken up permanent residence. This crazy plan of hers was all he could think about. Well, it would
not
be his fault if she failed. The house was a freakin' disaster. Wallpaper and paint, along with some cockamamie wish on the first star of the night, wasn't going to fix Magnolia House.

Despite that, though, he would help. Any way he could. Because he'd promised Wes. No, Wes wasn't the reason. At least, not the whole reason.

It was Jenni Beth herself.

God, he'd missed her. Had actually wrangled invites to events at Chateau Rouge just to catch a glimpse of her.

One of the sexiest little things he'd ever run across, she called to him. There. He'd admitted it—finally. To himself. He couldn't pursue his feelings. Lust, pure and simple, had to be set aside. And wasn't that a kick in the gut?

He'd acted on those feelings once. The biggest mistake of his life. Right now, he was happy with things as they were, content with the status quo. He'd built up a darned good business and had a successful, full life in the city.

When he wanted a woman to share dinner, he had plenty of takers. Sunday afternoons spent with a six-pack in front of the TV with a ball game and his guy pals? The perfect life. He wasn't looking for anything more and didn't want anything more.

Jenni Beth deserved the white picket fence, the two-point-five kids, the happily-forever-after. She wouldn't find it with him—and he sure as heck didn't plan on a quick roll in the hay with her.

Mr. Beaumont, no matter how dispirited he seemed, would have his hide. And rightly so.

Apparently, it had been too long since he'd hooked up with one of his on-again, off-again ladies. In the city, he trod on firm ground. His dates understood there'd be no promises. Savannah wasn't in the cards tonight, though.

He punched in a number on his phone.

“Elliot Construction.”

“Hey, Beck.”

“Cole? Where the heck are you, buddy?”

“Right here in Misty Bottoms. You busy?”

“For the next couple hours, then I'm free as a bird. I'm finishin' up a job this afternoon. Want to grab some dinner?”

“Sure do,” Cole answered. “And drinks. Lots of drinks.”

“Duffy's Pub?”

“You got it. Seven work for you?”

“Yep,” Beck said. “That'll give me time to wash off the top layer of grime. See you there.”

Next, Cole phoned home. When his mother answered, he smiled. A boy never got too old to find comfort in his mom's voice. “How's my best girl?”

“Cole, sweetie! Where are you?”

“I'm in town.”

“Dad and I saw you'd been here, but we weren't quite sure when you'd come or how long you planned to stay.”

Chagrin tugged at his conscience. He really should have stopped in to say hello, to share a cup of coffee. After he'd run into Jenni Beth…

“I got in late last night, took an early run this morning, then had breakfast in town.”

“That's what we figured. Will you have time to stop by before you head back to the city?”

“Sure will. Actually, I'm gonna stay a couple days.”

“Oh, your dad will be so happy. He's missed you.”

“And you?” he teased.

She laughed. “Okay, you caught me. I miss you something terrible. I've been naggin' your dad to take a trip into Savannah to visit you.”

“Well, now you won't need to.”

“Here on business?”

“Yeah. I had some banking to do. Could have done that over the computer, but there were a couple estate sales close by I wanted to check out. I ended up buying a few things. As long as I'm here, I figure why not take a day or two at home.”

“Anything you need me to do?”

“Nope. I left the windows open to air out the place.” Renovating the old barn on his parents' acreage had been one of the smartest things he'd ever done. As much as he loved them, they were all better off with their own space.

“How about I leave some homemade caramel creams in your fridge?”

“Did I tell you how much I love you? That you're the best mom ever?”

“You might have mentioned it a couple times. I know you have lots going on, but can you join us for dinner tonight? I'm makin' fried chicken, some greens, and my homemade biscuits.”

A sliver of guilt—along with a huge hunger for his mom's cooking—arrowed through him, and he waffled. He really wanted to talk to Beck tonight, though, needed his take on this Jenni Beth thing. Nobody knew the inner workings of Misty Bottoms better than Beck.

He went with his gut.

“How about breakfast, Mom? I'm gonna be kind of busy the rest of today, and Beck and I thought we'd hook up for dinner. Catch up a little bit.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful, honey. You boys don't get to see each other often enough anymore. Go out and play with your friend, then come on over for waffles in the mornin'.”

“I'll look forward to them. Not sure when I'll get home tonight, so don't stay up watchin' for my headlights.”

She chuckled. “I won't. I
will
stick some leftovers in your fridge, though. Just in case you want a midnight snack.”

“Again, you're the best. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Son.”

He ended the call, wondering what he'd do for the rest of the day. He'd fibbed to his mom when he'd said he had plans. He didn't.

Actually, he wanted badly to spend the afternoon with Jenni Beth, and, because he wanted it so much, he wouldn't. Tomorrow would be soon enough to start squabbling with her over what she could and couldn't do. No doubt they'd butt heads.

Too bad the circumstances weren't different. He'd like to make contact with more than that hard head of hers.

Nothing said he couldn't take a quick trip over to the salvage yard in Springfield, though. Last time he'd been there they'd had some humdinger columns. The Beaumonts needed four to redo the front of their place. If Jenni Beth thought she'd be able to fix the ones on her porch, she was fooling herself. Way beyond fixing, the columns absolutely had to be replaced.

He could drive to Springfield, check out what they had, and still be back in time to meet Beck. Good thing he'd left a trailer at his folks' place. He wouldn't take it this trip. If he found what he needed, he'd run back, pick up the trailer, then present the columns to Jenni Beth, deed done. Or maybe he'd take her to look at them first. Either way, the two of them working together should have the porch up and running in two, three days at the most.

* * *

Enough lollygagging, Jenni Beth decided. If…no, damn it,
when
Richard came through with that loan, time would literally be money. Every day it took to get this place up and running was a day she'd be spending rather than making money. Time. A luxury she couldn't afford.

Picking up her tape measure and notepad, she tackled the job she'd been doing when Cole interrupted her. A lot of the floorboards could be salvaged with a few nails and some sanding. But the task of evaluating and measuring was downright tedious.

When she finished the last board, she checked her watch. Still enough time to run into town. She'd order the wood she needed, cut to length, from Beck's lumberyard, then stop by the flower shop and introduce herself to the new owner.

And how strange was that? Brenda Freedman had run the only flower shop in town since time began. But a few months ago, she'd decided to retire and sold her shop to a Yankee. Then she'd bought herself a condo in Florida and was right now, no doubt, splashing around in the ocean.

Too bad. It sure wouldn't be the same without her. But when Jenni Beth opened the doors to Magnolia House, she'd need a florist, one who'd work with her. And that meant touching base—and making a personal connection—with Pia D'Amato at Bella Fiore. Both the owner's and the shop's names sounded too foreign for Misty Bottoms, but nothing remained the same forever. And wasn't that, sometimes, a good thing?

Fortunately, the new owner had decided to keep the garden center, too. Like Brenda, she'd sell plants as well as floral arrangements. The town needed that. The nearest nursery was more than twenty miles away.