Picture Perfect (Weddings by Design Book #1): A Novel (16 page)

She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could read the concern in her eyes. “So you’re afraid that Drew Kincaid—a very handsome guy, by the way—is going to knock you off that wagon once again? You’re going to end up feeling compromised?”

The trembling began again, and I lowered my voice. “I hate that part of it, Bella. I didn’t mean to let things go so far with Jon, but they did. And I can’t ever let that happen again. You know what I mean?” Another glance across the room landed my gaze squarely on Drew. Yikes.

“I do. And you’re right to be careful so you don’t have to go back down that road. But Hannah, take a look at your middle name: Grace. That’s how God feels about what you’ve been through. He sees it all through his eyes of grace. If you’ve gone to him to deal with the past—”

“Oh, trust me, I have.”

“Okay, then that part is done. Over. You don’t have to think about anything you did or anything Jon or anyone else did to you. You just have to look at where you are today. And when it comes to Drew, I can tell you that he’s a great guy.
He’s not some sleazy guy on a cruise ship hitting on multiple women at once.”

“How do I know that?”

“Because he’s the real deal, Hannah. He’s solid—in his walk with God and in his reputation with the community. I know because he and D.J. are good friends from church. You want to know why I’ve shown Drew such favor as a photographer? He sings on the worship team. I’ve watched him in action with the teens from the youth group. I’ve seen him take photos at small church weddings where the bride and groom had nothing to pay him. I’ve done what I could to help him because I’m proud of him.”

Wow. In that moment I was pretty proud of him myself.

“Nothing to be scared of here, Hannah.” She patted my arm. “So when you think about Jon or anything else from the past, just do what my uncle Laz always says.”

“What’s that?”

“Fuggetaboutit!” She spoke in a thick Italian accent, which made me laugh. In fact, once the laughter got ahold of me, it trickled over into her. Soon we were both in a fit of laughter.

We finally got things under control, thank goodness. I glanced across the room at Drew, who held the three Splendora sisters captive with his Bing Crosby imitation.

“What about the fact that he’s my Jacquie Goldfarb?” I asked, my voice lower than before.

Bella chuckled. “Girl, there’s only one Jacquie Goldfarb, and I doubt she’s anything like Drew Kincaid.”

I shifted my focus to the left, and Drew Kincaid’s gorgeous face came into view. Instinctively, I swung my camera around and zoomed in. He must’ve realized I was looking, because he flashed a Bing Crosby–esque smile, which I saw up close and personal through the eye of the camera. I caught the
moment on film, naturally. Any photographer with half an ounce of creativity would have.

Still, I had to admit, Bella was right. Drew Kincaid was nothing like the real Jacquie Goldfarb. In fact, he wasn’t like anyone I’d ever known before. And though I couldn’t say the words aloud, I could no longer deny the fact that he had somehow—heaven help me—landed squarely in the center of the photo . . . and my thoughts.

May you always walk in sunshine.

May you never want for more.

May Irish angels rest their wings right beside your door.

Irish blessing

A
fter wrapping up the heartfelt conversation with Bella, I knocked off a couple of scones and a piece of shortbread. I’d just swiped my sticky fingers against my skirt, thanked God for my gym membership, and given serious thought to my rising blood sugar levels when Drew approached.

“I just had the best idea.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

“What’s that?” I pressed aside the temptation to lick the
sugar from my fingertips and clasped my hands together instead. Great. Now I’d never get them apart.

He raised his voice to be heard above the men on the other side of the room, who’d taken to playing my father’s favorite game, Name That Tune. “Well, you’re dressed to the nines. So’m I. We should take photos of each other.”

My heart quickened. “I . . . I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” He reached for his bag, unzipped it, and pulled out the expensive camera. “You already snapped one of me, right?”

“Oh. Well, yeah, I guess I did.”

“Now it’s my turn. It’ll be perfect. I’ll get some shots of you for your website, and you can get some of me for mine. We’re both dressed for the occasion, after all. When are your clients ever going to see you dressed up as Grace Kelly again?”

“Not anytime soon, likely.”

“Right. And besides, you need a new photo for your website. The one you have on there is outdated. Your hair is longer now.”

“Wait, how do you know I need a new photo for my website?” The very idea set my nerves on edge.

A boyish grin lit his face. “I always check out the competition.” His elevated right eyebrow had me wondering if he was still referring to my website.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Heat filled my face. “I thought you said I wasn’t the competition.”

Across the room, one of the men yelled out, “‘Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better’!” Ironic.

“Well, you know . . . I mean . . .” Drew gave me a wink. “I look to see what sort of portfolio other photographers have. That sort of thing. But I happened to notice you don’t
have an updated photo of yourself on your site, and that’s a crime.”

“The one I have is okay,” I argued.

“Humph. It’s buried several pages deep. I had to search for days to find it. You’re a photographer, for Pete’s sake. You need a photo of yourself front and center.”

“Well, yes, but . . .” A deep sigh followed on my end. How could I explain that I hated photos of myself?

From the far side of the room, my father hollered, “‘Oh, You Beautiful Doll’!” Another song guess.

“See?” Drew’s eyes twinkled as he gestured to my dad. “Even your own father thinks you’re as pretty as a picture.”

Well, if that didn’t make a girl feel good, nothing would.

“C’mon, I know the perfect spot.” Drew took hold of my hand and pretty much pulled me along until we arrived in front of the family Christmas tree. “Those colors are perfect with your skin tone.”

“My skin tone?”

“Sure.” He snapped a photo of me before I could argue.

Talk about a candid shot. I’m pretty sure my mouth was wide open in argument.

Before long he had me posing. Go figure. The Splendora trio squealed with delight when they caught on to our little plan. They asked for photos too. Turned out their little singing trio had a name. And a website. And they needed head shots. Tonight, apparently. So much for my one-on-one time with Drew.

The ladies posed themselves in front of the tree, their voices drowning out the sound of my dad’s lodge buddies, who continued to play Name That Tune on the other side of the room.

“We’ve hired a web designer,” Twila hollered out above
the chaos. “Very efficient fellow. He’s asked us for photos of the three of us performing together, but we don’t have any recent ones.”

“We’re performing at Dickens on the Strand in a few weeks, so catch some candid shots of us singing in front of the Christmas tree to put our fans in the Christmas spirit.” Jolene nudged me out of the way and struck a pose in front of the tree.

After washing my hands, I went in search of my camera, which I’d somehow left on the Bob table near the scones. I picked it up and went to work taking pictures of the trio.

They couldn’t just pretend to sing, of course, so they put on another impromptu concert right then and there. I managed to catch several great shots of them. And when I heard Drew’s camera clicking to my left, I realized he was photographing them too. For whatever reason, the idea didn’t bother me at all. The whole thing threw my dad and his buddies a bit, though. They wrapped up their game and joined the chorus in short order.

Good for you, Dad. Learning to adapt in the moment.

Would wonders never cease?

When the ladies wrapped up their performance, Twila took me by the shoulders and physically moved me in front of the tree. “Now it’s your turn, Hannah.” She turned to Drew. “Doesn’t she look like a million bucks in this Grace Kelly getup?”

“Ten million.” He started snapping again, and I tried to resist by putting my hands up in the air and easing my way back.

Twila clucked her tongue. “C’mon now, Hannah. None of that. You’ve got to lean into the camera, girl.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“That’s a new expression.” Twila clasped her hands together, speaking in a singsong voice. “I just coined it. Lean into the camera. Let go of your inhibitions. See yourself the way God sees you.”

Clearly easier for some folks than others. Still, I gave it my best shot, even turning a couple of my poses into possible glam-shot opportunities. Hey, I might not enjoy getting my picture taken, but I knew better than to argue with a buxom country gal who liked to hug.

I’d just offered to snap a few photos of Drew when Scarlet and Kenny announced that they were cutting the cake.

My best friend beamed with pride as she sliced Bing’s features into smithereens. “Hope you’re all hungry. By the way, Bing is an Irish whiskey cake, and Bob is a chocolate truffle.”

This, of course, got an energetic response from Rosa and the other ladies, who couldn’t wait to sample both. And sample they did! The expressions of wonder and glee filled the room as the lifelike cake structure disappeared right before our eyes. Even my father, usually not much for sugary treats, dove right in, eating not one piece but two.

As I nibbled on a slice of scrumptious chocolate truffle cake, contentment settled over me. I did everything in my power to push my confusion regarding Drew aside and just focus on the delicious dessert.

Scarlet approached with a relaxed smile, cake plate in hand. “What a great night. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome. And I think your cake was a hit.”

“Really? Well, since you said that, I might as well ask a favor.” She paused and glanced across the room at Rosa. “You’re on the inside track with the Rossi family now. Can you just put in a good word for me? Sing my praises? Tell
them that I’m working hard to gain a reputation as a cake decorator? I would love to schedule some weddings at Club Wed, you know.”

“Scarlet . . .” My words drifted off. “I’ve told you before, Rosa does most of the cakes for their weddings.”

“Emphasis on
most
. Surely there are times when they need a backup. Especially if she’s busy with her show on the Food Network.”

“Wasn’t it just a month or so ago that you said I put too much stock in Bella controlling my future?”

“Well, yeah.” Scarlet pursed her lips.

“So, what happened? Now you want me to use my connections to help your business too?”

She sighed. “It’s not me, Hannah. It’s Aunt Wilhelmina. When she heard about Rosa’s ties to the Food Network—”

“Wait. You told her?”

“It just sort of slipped out in conversation, and you know how she is.”

“Actually, I don’t. I’ve never met her in person. Just heard stories.”

“Well, she’s very forceful. Very. You don’t want to cross her. So she suggested—
suggested
being a loosely used word here—that I somehow meet Rosa and Laz and get some cake samples into their hands. And that’s kind of what I’ve done tonight by making the Bing and Bob cake.” She gave me a pleading look. “Just please let Bella know that I’ve got my portfolio online. And I’m definitely going to open my own shop.”

“Right. I’ll help you find a place when things slow down, I promise.”

“You might not need to.” She wiggled her brows playfully. “Aunt Willy and I looked at a place on the Strand, near your
studio. She still wants to fund the whole thing. You know she has the most famous cake shop in Houston, right?”

Scarlet began to fill my ears with a lengthy description of all her aunt planned to do for her. “If I’m going to be half the businesswoman my aunt is, I have to get busy. Besides . . .” Her voice took on a strained tone. “I have to find some way to pay her back. She’s the one who paid for me to go to culinary school. Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”

“No.”

“It’s ridiculous. She’s very keen on me succeeding. And it’s important to me too. I want to keep the family legacy moving forward. I come from a long line of bakers, you know.”

And preachers too. Apparently she’d learned a thing or two about giving a persuasive message, because I felt convicted right now. Convicted to help her, anyway.

“Well, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best to spread the word—not just to Bella but to all of my clients.”

“So will I.”

I turned as Drew’s voice sounded behind me.

“You will, Drew?” Scarlet clasped her hands together at her chest. “How can I ever thank you?”

“By writing down the recipe for that chocolate truffle cake.” He grinned. “My mom’s already got a pen and paper in her hand.”

“Ooh, I’ll be happy to. And that’s exactly the cake I’ll bake for her birthday too.” She leaned my way and whispered, “If I play my cards right, I really can have my cake and eat it too. My business will grow, and I can garner some new friends in the process.” She headed over to visit with Drew’s mother, who seemed delighted to get the recipe.

“I never understood that whole ‘have your cake and eat it too’ expression,” I said after a moment’s pause. “I mean, how can you eat your cake and still have some left? The phrase makes no sense.”

Drew jabbed the prongs of his fork into his giant piece of cake, which, strangely, looked like Bob Hope’s nose. “That’s the point, I think. You can’t consume something and still have any left to enjoy after the fact. Think of it like a relationship. If you end the relationship, you can’t still have it afterward.”

He went to work on the cake, eating it in a hurry. I tried not to watch, the whole thing grossing me out a little. My thoughts remained on his phrase about relationships coming to an end. Visions of Jon shot through my brain. I pushed the images away but must’ve grimaced.

“Did I hit a sore spot?” He narrowed his eyes and continued to eat, Bob’s nose rapidly disappearing before my eyes. “You look like you’re in pain over there.”

“Maybe. If I want to eat cake, I’ll eat cake. Period. End of sentence.” I took another bite of the chocolate truffle yumminess by way of demonstration.

“Hmm.” Drew took a couple more bites. “But what if you want cake tomorrow?” He pointed to his nearly empty plate and gazed into my eyes.

“I . . . well, I’d call Scarlet and she’d bake me another.” I set my plate on the table and shrugged.

“What if Scarlet was out of town? What then?” He stepped closer. “What if what you really wanted required turning on the oven and baking a new one yourself? Or what if what you really wanted was right in front of you, but you just couldn’t see it because your vision was clouded over from too much sugar?” He put his plate down and gripped my hand.

In that moment I realized we weren’t talking about cake anymore.

Oh. Help.

I stared into his eyes and felt myself melting like buttercream on an overheated cupcake.

No, scratch that. I’d already used that analogy one too many times. I was lost in those baby-blue pixelated eyes of his, swept away by the perfect, upturned lips and great photogenic cheekbones.

Good gravy. I was in over my head. And falling fast.

Quick, Hannah. Change the subject.

Thank goodness my father and his buddies took to playing their Name That Tune game once more. Seconds later, Sean hollered out, “‘Some Enchanted Evening,’” and everyone roared with laughter. He might’ve gotten the song wrong, but it was all right to my way of thinking, because it offered me a great opportunity to segue into a new conversation with Drew.

I glanced his way with a smile. “Hey, speaking of enchanted evenings, I, um, well . . . I want you to know that you’ve made my father’s night.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve taken an interest in something that means a lot to him. I’m sure he appreciates it.” After an awkward silence, my embarrassment lifted. “For that matter, so do I. It means a lot to me that you would come and bring your mother.”

“This has been a great night, Hannah. I’m glad we’re here.”

“Thank you. Oh, and by the way, I forgot to say it earlier, but you’re a dead ringer for Crosby.”

“Now if only I had his crooning abilities.” Drew laughed.

“I’ll bet you can sing.” The words came laced with a teasing tone. “Give it a try, and I’ll let you know if you sound like the real deal.”

“No way.” Drew’s face reddened, a clear sign that I’d embarrassed him.

I couldn’t resist the urge to carry it a step further. “C’mon. Just a line or two of ‘Irish Lullaby.’”

He gestured to the chaos on the other side of the room. “In this madness? No way.” Then a smile turned up the edges of his lips. “Okay. Only if it will lay the issue to rest once and for all. But not in here where everyone can hear me.” He took me by the hand and led me out to the front porch.

A chill settled over me and I shivered, so Drew took off his jacket and wrapped it over my shoulders. We stood—very close—with the moonlight shining down on us. His eyes sparkled with a mischief that spoke of more than songs and cake.