One Hot Summer (24 page)

“You and me again. Soon,” she said.

He smeared a hand over his chin as though fighting for composure. “Oh, it's on,” he said in a husky whisper. “Tonight. Here, your place, my place, the resort. First time I catch you alone, it's on. Mark my words.”

He looked her up and down; then, with a head shake and a growl, he turned on his boot heel and returned to the line of grills with a loose-limbed swagger that she couldn't take her eyes off of. Hot damn, she loved the way that man moved. He walked like he made love, all alpha confidence and muscled, masculine grace.

“Promise?” she called after him.

She caught notes of a low, deep chuckle as he tucked his chin over his shoulder and sent her one last heated look that curled her toes.

An elbow nudged her ribs. “You're watching him.”

Shaking herself out of the spell she'd fallen into, she turned to find Litzy grinning at her.

“What? No. I don't know who you're talking about,” Remedy said. “I was just wondering who I should talk to about centerpieces and smelling all that grilled meat cooking. Makes me wish I could stay for the reception.”

“I'm sure you could. Albert and Tabby invited the whole town—including Chief Garrity,” Litzy added along with a shoulder shimmy.

Remedy fought a cringe. “Can you pretend not to know about that?”

“Don't worry. Every woman with a pulse in Dulcet has a crush on him, so you're in good company. Oh, and I checked with Tabby. She said you'll want to talk to Barbara Kline about centerpieces. Bright red hair, pink jogging suit. She's inside. You can't miss her.”

Could it be the same Barbara who'd ignored Remedy at Petey's Diner? She was about to find out. Inside the fellowship hall Remedy saw some faces she recognized from the resort, but none with names she knew. A handful of women, including Skye, were adorning the tables with the tablecloths already, and one even had a centerpiece in place. Remedy buzzed the table, admiring the ingenuity of the centerpiece, a mason jar tied with a raffia bow and filled with wildflowers. A box along the wall was stuffed with similar arrangements. Sweet, simple, and perfect for a spontaneous summer wedding.

It was, indeed, the same Barbara from Petey's whom Remedy found wearing a pink jogging suit. She was standing near the buffet table laying out trivets and serving spoons.

“Barbara? I don't know if you remember me, but I'm a friend of Litzy's named Remedy. I'm wondering if there's anything I can help with.”

Barbara set her hands on her hips and seemed to look right through Remedy. “Of course I know you. You're that wedding planner. We've got everything pretty near done, but thanks.”

And dismissed.

But Remedy was nothing if not persistent. “What about wedding favors?”

Barbara's sigh of impatience was audible. “We're going to worry about those tonight. The food's all taken care of, I've got Jimmy running the dance music, Bob's daughter taking the pictures, the Randolph girls out buying sheet cakes, and I can't remember who's donating a cake cutter, but someone is. This isn't some fancy schmancy wedding like your type are used to.”

Geez, she sounded like Micah. “No, it was an offer to donate them, if that would please Albert and Tabby.”

Barbara's peeved expression softened. “Well, that's … That'd be nice.”

Remedy had a huge order of pastel butter mints sitting in her office, neatly packaged in mesh pouches. That would do for tonight. “What about champagne?”

“That's too much money, even for you. We got Albert and Tabby a bottle, and the rest of us can toast with the drink we have in our hands at the time.”

Champagne for a whole church of people would be pricey but not outrageous, and Remedy had two cases of it at her house. She'd swing by and get those first, then go to the grocery store to load up on more bottles, then stop at the resort for the mints and to borrow some champagne flutes from the catering kitchen supply room.

A sliver of dread snaked through her. She was certain that Ty Briscoe wouldn't approve of this. Neither would Alex or Emily or any of the other bigwigs at the resort. But if Ty was truly planning to use Remedy, as Micah believed, then he wasn't going to fire her for this minor infraction.

With only a few hours until the wedding, it was time to get to work. After a quick stop at her house, she drove her car right up to the resort's employee exit near where Skye had parked her minivan. She loaded boxes of champagne flutes onto a dolly on top of the box of butter mints, then crept back down the hall, out the door, and onto the final exterior walkway to her car, her heart pounding the whole time. Just because she didn't think she'd get fired didn't mean she wanted to get caught, either.

“Remedy!”

Shit.
Remedy gritted her teeth. “Hi, Emily.”

Emily was dressed in a worn chef's jacket, black leggings, and army green clogs. Her hair had been gathered under a red-and-green bandanna, though sweaty tendrils of curly hair had escaped around the edges. “I need a new oven.”

“I know.” As it had been explained to Remedy by Alex, Emily's favorite lineup of ovens were failing holdovers from a bygone era, but Emily hadn't found a suitable replacement in all the ones the hotel had attempted to install. “What happened this time?”

“Those wedding bell cookies that my pastry chef was baking for Friday's wedding are coming out uneven. Again. That stupid oven never works right when I need it most and Alex is such a cheap ass that he won't buy me a new one until next quarter. So now my pastry chef is pissed and I've got to waste my night helping her bake a whole new batch instead of perfecting the menu for the firefighter ball.”

“Do you have a new oven in mind this time?”

“That's not the point. The point is you need to talk to Alex.”

Not likely anytime soon, given Emily's track record and Alex's annoyance about it, but she wasn't going to stand around and debate it while standing with a stack of pilfered champagne flutes and butter mints. “Will do, next time I see him.”

Then genius struck. After a moment's pause to debate the wisdom of her idea, Remedy said, “Instead of tossing those wedding bell cookies out, could I have them? I'm attending a wedding in town tonight.”

“You are? For real?”

“Yes. I was invited.”

“By Micah,” Emily said.

“No, Skye Martinez.”
Sort of.

“And you want to give them the burnt cookies?”

Remedy feigned a casual shrug. “If you don't mind.”

“The only thing I would mind is if you told anyone they came from my kitchen. I will not have my professional name associated with imperfection.”

“Noted.” On a wild hair, Remedy added, “You should come with me to the wedding tonight. Let your pastry chef make the cookies. The groom's family invited the whole town. I'll be there and so will Litzy and Skye. We could hang out.”

Emily adjusted her bandanna, not quite meeting Remedy's eyes. “Oh. No, that's okay. I never know what to do with myself at things like that. Parties, you know? All those flashbacks of high school. So awkward. I'd probably end up in the church's kitchen trying to help, and that's stupid because, like I said, I've got a fresh batch of cookies to bake here before I can go home for the night.”

Remedy hadn't known Emily was capable of rambling or insecurities. She gave in to the urge to hug Emily, she looked so discomfited by the idea of relaxing at the reception as a guest.

Emily stiffened in her embrace. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry.” Speaking of awkward. What had gotten into Remedy? She and Emily weren't on hugging terms. “I'll just grab those cookies and get out of your hair.”

By the time Remedy returned to the church there were some seriously mouthwatering smells coming out of the grills in the parking lot. The men manning them, Micah not among them, filled the air with gregarious laughs and loud stories, which probably had something to do with the nearby trash bag that was stuffed with empty beer bottles and cans.

Chet raised his tongs in greeting but kept his distance until Remedy hauled the dolly out of her backseat and popped the trunk. Then he was beside her, scooting her out of his way and stacking the boxes. He insisted on pushing the loaded dolly through the fellowship hall to the kitchen.

Micah had his back to them at the kitchen sink, elbow deep in dishwater and scrubbing a pan. When he glanced in Chet and Remedy's direction, he did a double take, then nodded discreetly at her.

“Thank you, Chet. How's the barbecue coming along?”

“It's going to be the best meat you've ever had.”

She waited until Chet had left again before whispering, “Doubtful,” just loud enough for Micah to hear.

He took a long look at her lips before shaking his head and getting back to tackling the dishes.

Barbara buzzed across the room with speedy purpose, but Remedy managed to snag her attention. This time, Barbara looked right at her and offered a tentative smile. “You're back.”

“Yes, with party favors. Cookies and mints.” She opened a plastic bin filled to the brim with sugar cookies in the shape of wedding bells, their edges turned a slight toasty shade.

“My goodness, thank you. I'll get someone to set those cookies on a tray and put the mints around on the tables.”

Remedy held a flap of the box open so Barbara could see the champagne bottles within. “Oh, and, um, I was handed these boxes in the parking lot by someone who asked me to keep her identity anonymous. She said she wanted to help Albert and Tabby.”

Barbara gasped. “Oh my, that's incredibly generous. I can't believe how this whole town is coming together. Delinda, look!”

An elderly woman hobbled over and hooked arms with Barbara. “Gracious.”

“And, um, after she handed me the champagne to give to you, I realized you'd probably need champagne flutes, so I scrounged some up,” Remedy said.

Her mouth agape, Barbara lifted one of the flutes out and admired it. “You have all these glasses at your house?”

“Well, I'd rather not say where they came from, if it's all the same to you. I'll just need to have them back where they belong by tomorrow morning.”

Barbara squeezed Remedy's hand. “Thank you. And please tell that anonymous donor thank you, too. Whoever she is, she's a mighty generous woman.”

The way Barbara said it let Remedy know she wasn't pulling any wool over anybody's eyes about who had donated the supplies, but it would guarantee the focus remained on the bride and groom and not shift any spotlight to Remedy.

“The flutes will need a rinsing, but I'll take care of that after I find room in the refrigerator for the champagne,” Remedy said.

While she was on her knees transferring bottles to chill, a pair of stockinged legs shuffled to her side. Delinda, the woman Barbara had called over.

“I'm Tabby's grandma, Delinda. Ain't nobody done something so nice for us before as everybody in Dulcet is doing today. Thank you.” Delinda's voice hitched twice as she spoke.

Remedy slid the last bottle into the refrigerator and stood.

Delinda threw her arms around Remedy's shoulders and wept. It wasn't the first time the mother- or grandmother-of-the-bride had shed tears on Remedy's shoulder, though it usually wasn't out of gratitude but because of some element of family drama or the memory of a loved one who'd passed and wouldn't get to witness the wedding.

Remedy walked Delinda into the hall and pulled a chair out for each of them. Remedy held her hand and listened to tales of the hard road her daughter had chosen, her early death, and Delinda's choice to raise Tabby on her own. She talked about how grateful she was for Albert and Albert's family because she didn't think she had much more time left, but she could die at peace because Tabby wouldn't be alone, especially since Delinda had moved to an assisted-living facility.

Around them, wedding prep continued at a frenetic pace. Every so often, Remedy caught sight of Micah out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her attention fixed on the woman before her. If there was one thing she'd learned from years of putting on weddings, it was that they dredged up all manners of vulnerabilities for the people involved—family secrets, old hurts, memories long suppressed, and a sentimentality that the grind of everyday life suppressed. Because of that, listening was often the most important aspect of Remedy's job. Not that it was easy to slow down and take the time to sit when she was being pulled in a million different directions, but that was why she had assistants.

Speaking of assistants, the next time Litzy appeared Remedy waved her over. “Would you make sure the bride has everything she needs in the prep room and bring her some champagne, like you do at Briscoe Ranch? You're so good at that.”

“I'm on the job.”

But before Litzy had crossed the room, the bride herself appeared in the fellowship hall, an older woman trailing behind her and fussing over her dress.

Tabby was a freckled, fair-skinned redhead who was young enough that she didn't quite seem to belong in the slightly wrinkled lacy long-sleeved wedding gown that almost fit her, though not quite.

She spotted Delinda and walked with heavy steps to their table and sank into a chair on a sob. “Tabby, baby. Why the tears?” Delinda said.

“I miss him already.”

The women in the room flocked around her, cooing and offering words of support.

“What am I going to do with myself when Albert leaves? How am I going to bear being in the apartment every night alone?”

“Oh, honey, we'll make sure you're not alone,” Barbara said.

Litzy took her hand. “You could come work with us at the resort. Evenings, weekends, that's when we're busiest.”

Tabby dabbed at her tears with a tissue. “It'd be fun to work with you. And at least I wouldn't be home.”