Marry Me at Christmas (Fool's Gold) (9 page)

Madeline squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. You’ve had a lot of loss in your life.”

“No more than most. Things happen.”

He thought she might say more, but instead she turned to the display and picked up a pair of earrings. There was a knot of gold with a drop pearl.

“Would Annelise like something like this?” she asked.

A graceful shift in subject. He recognized the ploy and was grateful. Once again Madeline had stepped in to save him. He was beginning to think that wasn’t just about him. That it was simply a part of who she was.

The man who generated that lightning strike she was waiting for sure was a lucky guy.

SEVEN

T
WO
DAYS
LATER
,
Madeline’s head was still spinning. Her afternoon with Jonny had been like a roller-coaster ride. Just as soon as she caught her breath, they’d headed around another curve at sixty miles an hour.

The kiss had been wild enough. Just being close to him was enough to send her up in flames, but when he kissed her... She totally lost it. The man was sexy. But it wasn’t just because of how he looked—there was how he made her feel. All girlie and safe. When she was around him, she could be herself. Not that she couldn’t be around other people. It was just...
Inexplicable
, she thought. That described her feelings exactly.

She’d seen the panic in his eyes when the fudge girl had recognized him. Madeline had jumped in because she hadn’t known what else to do. She’d liked that she’d been able to be a distraction, but the taste of what his other life was like had also been a revelation. Then hearing about his first girlfriend and watching how much time and effort he’d put into buying a gift for his manager. Both had surprised her.

The more she knew, the more she liked him. But liking was dangerous and she seriously had to stop it immediately. Not that he was pursuing her. He’d made it clear that as far as he was concerned, it could never work between them.

To be honest, she didn’t know what she wanted. Mostly because she already had plenty on her plate and getting her heart broken would be a time suck she didn’t want to have to deal with.

She glanced at the clock. Ginger was due any second. She was curious about Jonny’s sister. Ginger was sweet in email and on the phone and Madeline was sure they would get along.

At exactly eleven, a petite curly haired brunette walked into Paper Moon. She was small boned, pretty and wearing glasses. She had on jeans and a sweatshirt and carried a simple navy backpack. Clipped to the zipper pull was a small gold star.

“Madeline? I’m Ginger.” Her voice was soft, her smile tentative. “Thanks for taking the time to see me today. I know you’re busy.”

Madeline shook her head. “You’re the one who drove all this way. Thank you for making the time. I know you’re overwhelmed with school. Jonny swears you’re going to save the world, or cure diseases or something. He’s never clear but it’s always good.”

Ginger laughed. “He’s very supportive, even though he has no idea what I’m studying. Which is okay. It’s kind of technical and not that interesting to other people.”

“Come on back to my office. I have lots to show you.”

Madeline led the way. She’d already gone by Plants for the Planet to pick up a few sample flowers. She had pictures for the bouquets, along with some ideas for table decorations. She also wanted Ginger to see the card stock for the invitations. Even though they were already ordered, if Ginger hated them, then they would have to start over.

She pulled her chair around to the front of her desk, so she and Ginger could sit next to each other.

“Here’s the card stock,” she said. “You’ve approved the design. If you want different paper, we still have time to make a change.”

The other woman fingered the heavy paper. “This is nice. It’s just an invitation. As long as everything is spelled right, I’m good.”

“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

Ginger grinned. “Oliver and I don’t want anything fancy. We’re not those kind of people. We’re focused on our work and finishing school. But we do want to be married.”

Ginger and Jonny shared eye color. Madeline thought she saw similarities in their smiles, although their builds were completely different.

“Here are some flower choices. We’ll source locally. I’ve talked to the owner and she can pretty much get anything. Given the number of people and the space, I’m thinking a U-shaped setup for the tables, so low arrangements would work best. That way everyone can see everything. I was thinking white roses as the base. See the shades of green in these small flowers?”

Madeline showed her the pictures of several different styles of arrangements.

“These variations would be pretty together. We want unscented flowers, or as close to unscented as possible.” Madeline flipped to another design. “My friend Dellina is a professional party planner and she says nothing spoils an event faster than stinky flowers.”

“Nothing stinky,” Ginger agreed. “I think these are all pretty. I like roses.”

Madeline stood and picked up a few more samples she’d collected. “Okay. If we stick with white roses as the predominant flower, plus these little green ones mixed in, I was thinking we could use these to hold them.”

She set a rectangular barn-wood planter on her desk. “Plants for the Planet has about ten of these, which is more than we need. The rustic feel fits in great with the barn setting and I think will be a nice contrast for the formality of the roses. They also have dozens and dozens of little glass candle holders.”

Madeline showed her one. “We can wrap a pretty gold ribbon around them to make them festive and have them blend in with the color scheme. The candles that fit in here last between ten and fifteen hours. That means we can have them lit before everyone arrives. It will be really beautiful.”

Ginger sighed. “I love your ideas. The planters, the candles. They’re perfect.”

“Good.” Madeline made some notes. “Now about the cake.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “I saw the one you suggested and the one my brother found. Seriously? This isn’t a White House wedding. What was he thinking?” She held up her hand. “Never mind. Don’t try to answer that. I like the smaller one you suggested. I love the idea of the white frosting with the green ribbon.”

“I’m glad. I’ve spoken with the cake person and she can put little gold leaves around the base, to tie in the colors.” She made more notes, then put down her pen. “Ready to try on dresses?”

“Yes, but I’m nervous, too.”

“That’s perfectly normal. Come on. I have a dressing room all set for you.” Madeline eyed her. “You’re a size six?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s my job. Samples are usually a ten. I have a few that are smaller. Based on our emails, I’ve put some aside for you to try on. I also have a couple I can order from other stores. Let’s try on a half dozen or so and narrow down the style.”

Ginger stood. Her brows drew together. “I don’t understand. I’m not getting my dress today?”

“I don’t know. You might. If not, we can do one more try-on session closer to the wedding. I’ve already reserved my best seamstress for the two days before Christmas. She can work miracles.” Madeline smiled at her. “Even though we’re getting this done quickly, you have to love your dress. It’s a rule.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

Madeline led the way toward the dressing room. “The gowns I’ve pulled are relatively simple. You’re petite and that means we have to be careful with proportions. You don’t want the dress to overwhelm you. You’re wearing
it
, not the other way around. You said you didn’t want a bunch of fussy details, so I avoided those.”

She opened the door and waved Ginger inside. “There are three dresses. Call me when you’re in the first one and I’ll come help with the buttons and zippers. Don’t worry about the fit. We’ll clip it so you can see what the dress will look like when it’s altered to fit you.”

An hour later they were in agreement that a modified A-line was the way to go. Ginger studied herself in the half circle of mirrors in the main part of the store.

“I like it,” she said, her tone doubtful.

Madeline stood behind her and adjusted a couple of the clips. The fit was okay, but the dress wasn’t the one, she thought.

“It’s too simple,” Madeline said. “There’s a difference between elegant and plain and we’ve crossed that line.”

Ginger nodded slowly. “You’re right. I want something.” She pointed at the neckline. “Lace or beading.”

“I agree. I have a couple of ideas. I’ll email you pictures and then get at least three dresses in right before Christmas.”

“Should we hold this one as a backup?”

“Absolutely.” Madeline knew they would find the right dress for Ginger, but also didn’t want the other woman worrying. If having a backup dress allowed her to let it go for the next couple of weeks, then they would have a backup dress.

After Ginger changed back into the street clothes, she walked out of the dressing room.

“You’ve been so great,” she said. “Thank you for all your help. There’s no way I could do my work and plan a wedding.”

“I’m happy to do it,” Madeline told her. “I’m having fun and learning a lot about planning a wedding. There are a lot of details. Your brother always has interesting ideas.”

She’d meant the comment to be teasing, but instead of smiling, Ginger shifted her backpack from one shoulder to the other.

“We should probably talk about him,” she said with a sigh.

Madeline felt herself flush. Oh, no. Was it that obvious that she had a thing for him? Was Ginger going to warn her off? Talk about humiliating.

“My brother is going to be a problem,” Ginger said softly. “It’s already started. That huge flower cake? What was he thinking? I’ve told him I want a small, simple wedding. He says he gets it and then he tries to buy a cake like that.”

Madeline nodded without actually getting the problem. “Too much involvement?” she asked.

“Trying to show me how much he cares.” Ginger pressed her lips together. “You two are friends, aren’t you?”

“I think so. He’s nice.” She didn’t know what else to say. Mentioning the tingles wasn’t appropriate. Talk about the weirdest conversation ever.

Ginger smiled. “Not many people would describe him as nice, but you’re right. He is. He loves me. A lot. Which shouldn’t be a problem. Only he wants me to know he loves me and, for Jonny, that means showing, not telling.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He can’t say the words. I think it’s all the loss he’s had in his life.”

“Like Kristen?” she said before she could stop herself.

Ginger’s green eyes widened. “He told you about her?”

“He, ah, mentioned what happened.”

“Then you can see the problem. First our mom, then Kristen, then my dad. Nearly everyone Jonny’s ever loved has died. He doesn’t want to risk pain again. I can’t blame him, but I’m his sister. He’s stuck with me. So he doesn’t tell me he loves me, he shows me. When I first went to college, he tried to decorate my dorm room. He crammed in so much stuff I couldn’t move. He’s going to try to do the same with the wedding.”

Madeline thought about the giant cake, the extra courses he’d wanted for the dinner and the ice sculptures. “I see what you mean. You want me to keep things in check.”

“If you can. I’m not sure it’s possible.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“Dozens of times. He says he gets it, then goes right out and does exactly what he wants. Any help you can give would be really appreciated. Oliver and I want a simple, low-key wedding. I know there are couples who spend years planning the perfect wedding. Oliver and I are more interested in
being
married than
getting
married.”

“I understand completely. I’ll talk to your brother. If that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure he doesn’t fly in the Vienna Boys’ Choir.”

Ginger winced. “Please don’t mention them to him. I’m sure he would do exactly that.”

“It would make for a great story.”

Ginger smiled. “We’ll have pictures. That’s enough.”

* * *

Madeline hung up the phone and knew that her until-then perfectly wonderful day had been ruined and she had no one to blame but herself. She’d been stupid. Sure there were other words, but that was the truth of it. Dumb her.

She couldn’t say why she’d done it, either. The second she’d looked at her cell phone and seen the 509 area code, she’d known. But she’d taken the call, anyway.

“I have to stop,” she said aloud as she paced back and forth in her office. “I have to say no. Of course, if I refuse, he wins. If I don’t take the call, he wins. And when we go out to dinner, he wins.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a problem.”

She spun toward the door and saw Jonny standing just inside her office. He was wearing a leather jacket, jeans and boots. He looked good. Manly. Handsome. Sexy. All things that should have taken her mind off her troubles, but Ted was bigger than all of that. Which was pretty much the worst thing yet.

“You have no idea. But I’ll deal. How are things?”

In the world of snappy comebacks and distractions “How are things” wasn’t great, but it was the best she could come up with under pressure.

“Fine,” he said, walking toward her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Something.”

She faked a smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He stopped in front of her and did nothing. He just stood there, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

One dark eyebrow rose.

She caved like the weak link she was. “It’s Ted. The ex-boyfriend who always comes to town with his beautiful wife.”

“The one you told me about?”

She nodded miserably. “Yes. The one who loves to reenact that scene from
Bridget Jones’s Diary
.” She lowered her voice and tried for a British accent. “So, Bridge, what’s it like being perpetually single?” She huffed out air. “It’s awful and somehow I agreed to dinner.” She squared her shoulders and faked another smile. “It’s fine. One night, right? I’m sure being with him and Marigold builds character.”

“His wife’s name is Marigold?”

“Uh-huh. She used to be a model.”

“Runway?”

“Catalog, but still. They talk about it and then ask about my ‘retail job.’” She made air quotes. “That’s what they call me working here. My retail job. I’m fine with that. I love what I do and I won’t apologize for it.”

“You shouldn’t. You make brides happy. Ted does weather, so he’s wrong sixty percent of the time. How often are you wrong?”

The question made her smile. “A lot less than sixty percent.”

“So you win.”

If only it were that simple. Despite the dread knotting in her stomach, she didn’t want to be whiny. “That’s how I need to look at it. Thanks.”