Menu for Romance (22 page)

He sat up and eyed George, who’d gone back to playing.

George must have sensed the scrutiny, because he looked up, and the music stopped. “What?”

Major hooked his arms around his bent knees. “I need to ask you something really personal. And if you don’t want to answer, I’ll understand.”

“Go on.” George turned to straddle the piano bench and leaned over to brace his elbows on his knees.

“When you met Anne and you couldn’t tell her the truth about who you were and whose wedding she was really planning, how did you handle it? How did you keep from just blurting out the whole truth?”

George registered no expression of surprise or offense—or any reaction at all—over the question. The man should be a professional poker player.

“I wanted to every day.” George rubbed his chin. “Many times I came close to slipping up and saying things that would have shattered my cover story. It was a wrench, I’ll tell you, especially once I started falling in love with her.”

Major could completely understand that. “But how did you make yourself keep the secret?”

“Because I was foolish enough to believe that the contract I signed was more important. But when I finally realized that it was not only wrong but would hurt Anne more the longer I waited to tell her, I gained permission to at least tell her I wasn’t the groom, just his stand-in.”

Major rocked back and forth. “So you wish you’d told her everything from the very beginning?”

“Of course.” George eyed Major speculatively. “Is there someone you’re keeping a secret from that’s vital to your relationship?”

Vital
to their relationship? “No—yes. I guess so. It’s something about me—about my ... family that very few people in the world know. And I’ve kept it that way to protect myself from undue scrutiny and judgment.”

“But it’s something that will affect the person you want to have a relationship with?” Deep lines formed in George’s forehead when he raised his brows like that.

“Yeah—it could. It probably will.” Major collapsed down onto his back again, covering his eyes with his left arm.

“You must tell her, then. Even if you are not dating currently, putting off the telling of your secret will only serve to make it worse when the truth becomes known later.”

The choir room door swung open, and Forbes entered looking like Cary Grant or Gregory Peck in his dark gray, tailored suit and overcoat.

“Still waiting on Clay?” Forbes shook hands with George.

“I imagine he’ll be along shortly.” George turned back square to the keyboard and began playing again.

“In that case, Major, can I have a word with you? Privately.” Forbes motioned to the door leading into the men’s robe room.

Major nodded and followed, hoping this conversation wasn’t about what he was afraid it would be about. He leaned against the metal storage cabinet in the small room.

Forbes stood in the middle of the room and turned to face him, unbuttoning his suit coat. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have to tell Meredith about your mom.”

Yep. That was what he’d hoped this conversation
wouldn’t
be about. “What makes you say that?”

“She asked me about your family last night. She was very concerned about something that happened Wednesday night—you had to leave the banquet?”

“Ma spilled hot water during a cooking lesson and burned her arms. I had to meet her at the emergency room.” Major crossed his arms then uncrossed them—he couldn’t protect himself from Forbes’s penetrating gaze no matter where his arms were.

“Look, I went along with you when you decided not to tell anyone but my parents about your mother’s medical condition, but aside from the fact that Meredith is your boss, she’s a person who cares a lot about you—I have a feeling more than either of us wants to admit—and you’re only hurting her by not telling her the truth.”

Major ran his tongue along the backs of his teeth. Twice within five minutes. It couldn’t have been any clearer if God had taken a cast-iron skillet and smashed him over the head with it. “I promise, I will tell her the truth.” As soon as the right moment presented itself.

“Meredith, you’re going to wrinkle your gown if you keep holding it up like that.”

At Anne’s soft words, Meredith released her death grip on the layers of purple chiffon and satin. “Isn’t the bride supposed to be the nervous wreck and the maid of honor the one reassuring her?”

Anne paused in her circuit around the room, ensuring each person knew what to do as soon as they left the bridal room.

Melancholic joy filled Meredith’s throat until she thought it might burst. She was overjoyed for her cousin yet at the same time felt as if she were losing her.

“Don’t start,” Anne warned, her smile wavering. “You know if you lose it, I will, too.”

“I know—” Meredith’s phone chimed and saved her from dissolving into the unwanted tears. She dug her purse out of her satchel and read the new text message. She deleted it, tossed the phone back in her bag, and turned to Anne. “Ward’s here. Do you mind...?”

“We have a few minutes. Go on.”

Meredith avoided grabbing the front of her dress to lift the skirt. She didn’t need to for walking. She was just used to long skirts that were straighter than this A-line, flared thing. She was also used to being much more covered up on top. Though the straight-cut bodice provided modesty, the spaghetti-straps left her shoulders feeling very bare.

She nodded and smiled in greeting at the guests milling in the vestibule.

Ward’s dark, curly head towered above everyone else. Her pulse gave a halfhearted flutter at the sight of him. Dressed in the tailored charcoal suit he’d worn on their first date, he drew the admiring attention of every female near him.

Why, then, couldn’t Meredith muster even an ounce of attraction for him? She’d hoped that by bringing him as her date to such a romantic affair as a wedding she might be able to jump-start an interest in him as something more than just a friend.

“Meredith Guidry.” Her name came out as almost a low growl when Ward finally noticed her. “You look gorgeous. I’m afraid I’ll break you if I hug you.”

She rested her hand on his chest as he squeezed her bare shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

“When you told me this was going to be a big wedding, I had no idea you meant everyone who’s anyone in Bonneterre would be here. I think I saw the mayor arriving as I pulled in the parking lot.”

“Anne’s worked with him on several events.” As had Meredith. “That’s why the reception is invitation only—and even still, we expect almost three hundred guests there.” She turned and glanced into the sanctuary. The room that seated more than one thousand looked like it was getting pretty full.

“I should probably go in and find a seat, huh?” Ward came up behind her and rested his hands on her waist.

By turning around to face him again, she dislodged his hands, uncomfortable with such a possessive touch from someone she wasn’t sure she liked
that way.
“Yeah, I’d better get back to Anne.”

Ward gave her a cocky grin. “At least I know I’ll be able to find you easily in all this crowd. You’re the prettiest girl here.”

She tried so hard to get her heart to flutter or her stomach to flip-flop at his flirting, but ... nothing. “Aww, just what every maid of honor needs to hear.” She patted his arm. “Now, go. I’ve already been gone too long, I’m sure.” She grabbed her skirt and hurried back to the bridal suite.

Anne directed Meredith to join the rest of the women for photos, discussing them with the photographer as if she were the wedding planner, not the bride. Everyone laughed when the photographer had to remind Anne that she needed to be in the picture.

After a few posed shots as well as several candid shots of them all laughing again, Anne sent Mamere and Aunt Maggie out to be seated.

Meredith shifted her weight from foot to foot as Anne calmly made one final check to ensure everything was ready. Certainly with just Meredith and Jenn as attendants, she didn’t have much to organize. But an aura of peace surrounded her, no doubt from her years of experience planning other people’s weddings. Meredith hoped if she ever got married, she could be so annoyingly serene.

A knock on the door jarred all three of them. Uncle Errol stuck his head in. “You girls ready?”

Meredith’s throat tried to swell closed again. Anne retrieved her bouquet and a large silver picture frame. Meredith took a few deep breaths and followed Jenn down the hall and back into the lobbylike foyer behind the sanctuary. Jason was just taking Aunt Maggie, the foster mother of the bride, down the aisle.

One tear escaped and trailed down Meredith’s cheek when Anne handed the framed photo of her parents to Whitt, her oldest foster brother, to carry down the aisle and place on the pew beside Aunt Maggie.

Jason and Whitt came back to man the doors. Anne motioned a red-eyed, sniffling Jenn to go down the aisle.

Meredith turned to Anne. “I’m so happy for you that I think my heart might explode.”

Anne blinked rapidly a few times, and her lips quivered. “Please don’t do that—it’ll make such a mess.” They both laughed. “And thank you. But you need to go, now. And don’t walk as slowly as you did last night, please.”

“All right, all right. Good grief, I’m going.” Meredith winked at her cousin, grateful that Anne had lightened the mood.

Though more than a thousand people crowded the sanctuary, Meredith had never felt more alone, walking down that aisle. At the other end stood George; his brother, Henry; and Forbes. But though Forbes nodded at her, they weren’t waiting for her. They were waiting for Anne.

Then she saw him. As soon as she got to the front and turned to face the crowd, his face was the only one she could clearly see. In the back row, on an outside aisle, Major O’Hara smiled and gave her a quick thumbs-up.

Meredith couldn’t help grinning like a fool—but fortunately, the doors at the back opened, the organ fanfare at the beginning of the march Anne had chosen started, and the congregation stood to watch Anne Hawthorne come down the aisle on her uncle’s arm.

The wedding planner’s wedding.

Across from Meredith, George Laurence’s brown eyes stayed glued to his bride, his sharp but handsome profile reflecting the joy on Anne’s face.

The happiness Meredith had been afraid would burst her heart did—and flooded her entire being with joy that made her want to sit down and weep. Her gaze broke away from Anne and George, now separated only by Uncle Errol, as the pastor began the ceremony in prayer.

Before she closed her eyes and bowed her head, Meredith stole one more glance at Major and witnessed him sneaking out the side door. No doubt to go back over to Lafitte’s Landing to finish everything for the reception.

Meredith joined everyone else in a prayer posture.
Father God, I hate to sound selfish on Anne’s day, but You know how much I want to get married. Please change my heart toward Major so I can fall in love with Ward—or anyone who’ll love me back.

Major sneaked one last glance through the small, cross-shaped window in the door at the back of the sanctuary. Meredith stood in profile to him, looking at her cousin with such emotion, Major wanted to charge up there and beg Pastor Kinnard to make it a double wedding.

But Major hadn’t missed the sight of Ward Breaux greeting Meredith in this very foyer before the ceremony. Major had had his doubts about how serious Meredith was getting with the contractor, but wasn’t inviting someone to a wedding a sure sign that things were going beyond the “seeing each other” stage? He backed away from the door, needing to get to Lafitte’s Landing to finish setup—and needing to get away from Meredith.

He shrugged out of his suit coat and removed his tie and tossed them in the passenger seat. He grabbed his phone and quick-dialed Steven.

“Anything I need to pick up on my way back?” he asked his second-in-command.

“No, Chef. But you are on your way back?” Steven’s harried tone set off warning bells for Major.

“Yeah. I’m headed that way now.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the narrow service lot behind Lafitte’s. Once inside, he changed into his utilitarian work smock. He’d put his presentation jacket on after the cooking was finished and when he would step out of the kitchen to watch his friend and colleague cut her wedding cake—which his staff had picked up from Aunt Maggie’s house that morning along with the chocolate groom’s cake frosted and decorated to resemble George’s omnipresent PDA.

“Why hasn’t plating started yet?” Major called over the din of work in the large kitchen. He walked over to Steven, the only one from whom he expected an answer.

“The trays all had to be rewashed, Chef. They’re drying them now.” Major glanced at his watch, then looked around, knowing he’d drawn everyone’s attention upon his entrance. “The wedding ceremony will end in less than ten minutes, which means we can expect guests to start arriving in about twenty to thirty. I want cold hors d’oeuvres and canapés on the buffet tables in no more than fifteen minutes; passed hot hors d’oeuvres ready for the servers in twenty.”

“Yes, Chef,” his staff called.

“This is Anne Hawthorne’s wedding reception, folks. I know most of you weren’t working here when she was the event planner for B-G, but you do know how much business she brings the company—and that she’s Mr. and Mrs. Guidry’s niece. So let’s make this perfect beyond her expectations.”

“Yes, Chef!”

He slipped into the staff break room off the kitchen and changed shirts, then plugged in the earpiece that connected him with everything happening outside the kitchen.

“Lori, this is Major. I’m back. How’s everything front-side?”

“Fine. Two of my staff showed up late, so we got off to a later start than I wanted, but everything’s fine now.”

“Good. First guests should be here in about fifteen. Did you and Jana brief the servers?”

“We did. No one is to approach Mr. Ballantine any differently than any other guest—no asking for autographs and stuff like that.”

“Okay, thanks.” He released the Talk button and returned to the kitchen.

Could it really have been nine months since Major had prepared the food for mega–movie star—and Anne’s one-time fiancé—Cliff Ballantine’s engagement party in this very kitchen? Ironic that Anne would have chosen to have her wedding reception in the place where she learned George had been keeping Cliff ’s identity secret from her for weeks.

“Chef, taste,” called one of the cooks. He crossed to the station and tasted the cheese grits.

“Needs more pepper.” Major tossed his spoon into the sink and went to the meat station. “How’s the prime rib coming?”

“It’ll be perfect just in time to set up the carving posts.”

Major ran down the list at each station, pleased that everything had been timed just right.

“Chef,” came Lori’s voice through the earpiece, “guests are arriving.”

He pressed the Talk button. “Thanks.” He clanged a ladle against an empty metal bowl. “Cold trays out now. Hot trays in five.” He spoke into the earpiece again. “Jana, send in the servers, please.”

Meredith managed to make it through the ceremony with only a couple of tears escaping—sighing over George’s British accent as he recited his vows, giggling with Jenn when the kiss lasted a little too long.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in congratulating Mr. and Mrs. George Laurence.” The pastor’s voice was nearly drowned out by the applause from the wedding guests.

Meredith handed Anne’s bouquet back to her, leaned over to adjust Anne’s train, then took Henry Laurence’s arm to be escorted to the vestibule behind Anne and George. She hugged her cousin and new cousin-in-law as soon as they reached the foyer. Inside the auditorium, the pastor invited everyone to stay while photos were being taken.

Meredith groaned.

“I know—you hate the idea of people watching you while we’re taking pictures,” Anne said. “But it was either that or a receiving line, since most of these people aren’t invited to the reception.”

“I guess feeling like a monkey in the zoo is a little better than standing there for two hours—and then still having to get my picture taken.” She followed Anne down the side hall to reenter the sanctuary near the front.

For all that everyone had been invited to stay, not many did. Meredith smiled at Ward as warmly as she could when he joined them at the front, while Anne and the photographer discussed the best way to get the shots Anne wanted.

“You looked stunning up there—like a princess.” Ward pulled Meredith into a hug.

She sighed, disappointed that Major had never hugged her like this. “Thanks.”

When she stepped back from his embrace, she caught a glimpse of her sister hovering nearby. Meredith looked around for Henry Laurence—ah, he and George were deep in a private discussion.

“Ward, I don’t believe you’ve met my sister yet.” She introduced Jenn. Was it her imagination or did his gaze linger, his handshake last just a little longer than necessary when he greeted Jenn? Well, even if it had, it wouldn’t matter. Jenn had had eyes for no one but Henry from the moment George’s youngest brother set foot off the plane.

With Anne’s guidance, the photos were finished in short order.

Meredith, Jenn, Forbes, and Henry climbed into the first of the two limousines waiting outside the church. Forbes and Henry sat toward the middle of the stretch vehicle, while Meredith and Jenn—not wanting to trip on and possibly damage their skirts—sat in the back.

“You never told me Ward is so good-looking,” Jenn whispered, stealing a glance at Henry to ensure he and Forbes were still in deep discussion about the differences between practicing law in the States and in Australia.

“Didn’t I?” Meredith closed her eyes against the inevitable. She’d seen the glaze overtake Ward’s eyes when she introduced him to Jenn.

“And if you two aren’t dating, as you keep protesting, remind me why you asked him to be your date for the wedding.”

“Anne told me I should. And yes, we were sort of dating.”

“Meredith! You denied it all this time? After all this time you finally get a boyfriend, and you pretend like it’s nothing—what do you mean you
were
dating?”