Save the Date (33 page)

Just then, Poppy trotted over to see what her owner was doing. She nudged the back of Cara’s knees with her head.

Leo looked stunned. “A dog? You got a dog?”

He knelt down and tugged at Poppy’s collar, until she was halfway out the door. “Hey, fella,” Leo crooned, scratching her nose, then her ears. “What a good fella. What a good dog!” He looked up at Cara. “I never saw a dog like this before. What kind is he?”

“
She
is a golden doodle—a cross between an English golden retriever and a standard poodle.”

“Beautiful animal,” Leo said. Poppy, the shameless little slut, fell hard for him, flopping onto the ground and rolling over so he could scratch her belly. If she’d had a telephone number, she would have given it to him.

“What’s her name?”

“Poppy,” Cara said.

“Figures. A flower name for a flower girl’s dog.” He stood up. “I always thought we’d get a dog. Pick one out together. Take it for a run in the park.”

He gave her that crooked little grin that always used to work, back in the day. “Another thing to add to my list of regrets. You went and got a dog without me.”

Enough, she thought.

“Look, Leo. I have to go. I actually do have a wedding tonight, and every second I stand here with you puts me that much further behind.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Tick tock, right? You’re quite the career girl these days, from what I hear.” He leaned in again, and before she could stop him, he was kissing her, a lingering brush on the lips.

“Happy anniversary, Cara Mia mine. I’ll call you.”

She was just about to close the door.

“Cara?” Jack stood in the hallway entrance to the shop. He strode to her side and glared at Leo.

“What the hell?”

Leo glared right back, then pointed at Jack. “You. The guy in the towel. Last week.”

“Yeah. That was me. And you were the guy in the truck, cruising down the lane.”

Cara looked from Jack to Leo. “You two know each other?”

Leo shook his head. “What? You’re sleeping with this guy?”

Jack put an arm across her shoulder. “
This
is your ex? The dude is stalking you, Cara. He drove down the lane twice last week while you were gone. Hell, the way he stared at me, I thought he was getting ready to proposition me.”

“In your dreams, towel boy,” Leo sneered.

“That’s enough, kids,” Cara said. She gave her ex-husband a not-so-gentle backward shove. Then she closed and locked the door. And pulled down the shade.

*   *   *

“What was that he called you?” Jack asked.

“Cara Mia. Mia is my middle name,” Cara said. “What’s your middle name?”

“Joseph. John Joseph. But back to you. So, your name is Cara Mia, like the song?”

“Yep. Jay and the Americans. My mom was a big fan.”

“Mine too,” Jack said. He jerked his head in the direction of the front door. “What did he want? Besides to suck face with you?”

“He seems to think it’s our anniversary.” She looked down and realized she was still holding the flowers and candy he’d thrust into her hands. Cara walked over to the trash can and dropped them in.

“He’s a tool,” Jack said. “And the next time I catch him driving by here, I’m gonna take my pry bar and put a big ol’ dent in that pretty-boy Lexus of his.”

“Ooh. Drama,” Cara said. But she was smiling when she said it.

40

It had taken Cara two weeks of calling, emailing, and texting, but she’d finally gotten Brooke and Harris to agree to meet for lunch and go over wedding plans.

But when Brooke arrived in the lobby at Johnny Harris, the iconic barbecue restaurant on Victory Drive in midtown, she was alone. She was dressed in a black and white herringbone checked suit, with black pumps and a pink silk blouse, and to Cara’s shock, the bride’s long, lustrous dark hair had been chopped off at chin length.

“Harris’s flight from New York didn’t come in,” Brooke said. “Anyway, he pretty much said he’s fine with whatever we decide.” She caught Cara staring at her hair, and she pushed a strand behind one ear.

“You don’t like it, do you?”

“It’s just … different,” Cara said. “Usually my brides are trying to grow their hair out before the wedding.”

Brooke shrugged. “It’s been so hot. And long hair is such a pain. Blowing it dry and everything, I just don’t have the time.…”

The bride looked pointedly down at her watch, and then at the vacant hostess stand. It was a Monday, and the restaurant was already crowded. “Should we have made a reservation? I only have an hour before I need to get back to the office.”

“The hostess will be back in a minute. A party of twelve came in right before you did,” Cara assured her. She couldn’t get over Brooke’s hair. It was not a flattering cut, emphasizing the sharp planes of her hollow cheeks.

“What does Harris think of it?”

“He says he loves it, but I’m not so sure. Mom would never say anything critical—at least to my face. And of course, Patricia and my dad are appalled. Which kind of makes it fun.”

“Brooke? Brooke Trapnell?”

A tall slender man with sun-streaked shoulder-length brown hair broke away from the group of men with whom he’d just entered the lobby. He wore a forest-green golf shirt with an embroidered logo, khaki cargo shorts, and Topsider deck shoes.

Brooke turned to see who was addressing her. For a moment, she looked puzzled, but then her face lit up. “Petey!” She flung her arms around the newcomer’s neck. They hugged tightly.

Brooke pulled back a little, beaming up at his face. “Oh my God, Pete. I can’t believe it’s really you. Where have you been? What are you doing here?”

“Well, you know, I’ve been out west, Montana and Colorado, working for the Park Service. And I’ve just transferred here a couple months ago.”

“Here? You’re back in Savannah? That’s awesome.”

“Actually, no. I’m working on Cumberland Island. I’m just up here today for some meetings with our regional director.” He gestured toward the group of men who were drifting toward the dining room. “What about you? Are you still living here in town? I heard you graduated from law school, so what, you’re a lady lawyer now?”

Brooke’s laugh was almost giddy. “I don’t know about the lady part, but yeah, I’m a second-year associate. I do mostly corporate law.”

“Cool.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey. Didn’t your folks used to have a place down on Cumberland?”

“My mom’s family does. Loblolly. I can’t believe you remember that after all these years.”

“Do you ever go down there?”

“Hey, Pete.” One of the park-service men was standing at the hostess stand, gesturing toward him. “Our table’s ready.”

“Coming.”

Pete turned back to Brooke. “Gotta go. But we need to catch up. Wait. Let me give you my card.”

He dug in the pocket of his cargo shorts, but came out empty-handed. “Damn. Wouldn’t you know? I didn’t bring any with me.”

Brooke reached into her pocketbook and brought out a sterling silver case. She withdrew a thick vellum square and handed it to him. “Here’s mine.”

“Pete!”

“Coming!”

*   *   *

When they were seated and the waitress had taken their orders, Cara brought out her iPad, and they got down to business.

“So. Here’s the reception menu we came up with after you had to leave the other day.…”

“You mean after Patricia took over the whole thing?” Brooke scanned the screen, nodding. “Sure. This looks okay. But it seems like a lot of food to me.”

“We’re doing a seated dinner,” Cara reminded her. With her fingertip, she scrolled over to the next page. “These are the appetizers that will be passed during cocktail hour.…”

Brooke wrinkled her nose. “Fried calamari? Gross. Let me guess. Patricia’s idea?”

“Layne’s version is really lightly battered. If you want, I can set it up for you and Harris to taste that, and the rest of the appetizers.”

“Never mind.” Brooke took a bite of her salad and looked around the big, dome-ceilinged dining room, her eyes lingering on the men taking up a table at the far end of the room.

“Pete? Was that his name? An old friend?” Cara asked.

“Hmm?” Brooke’s face flushed. “Yeah. Pete Haynes. We uh, I guess we sort of had a thing, the summer before I left for college. But then I went away, to University of Virginia, and he was already a sophomore at Georgia. You know how that goes.”

“And this was the first time you’ve seen him since then?”

Brooke stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. “Um. Not really.” She looked away, then down at her plate, then leaned forward across the table. “My parents totally don’t know anything about this. Okay? In fact, none of my friends know it.”

Cara waited.

“Summer after I graduated from UVA, my dad got me this big-deal internship with our congressman. In Washington.” Brooke rolled her eyes. “What a blowhard that guy was. Typical, right? Anyway, Pete was living there too that summer, he’d graduated with a degree in marine biology, and he’d gotten a desk job working for some government agency. Something to do with endangered species? And we kind of, you know. Got together.”

“Dated?” Cara laughed. “Brooke, you’re almost thirty. Why does that have to be a secret from your parents? Or your friends?”

Brooke’s face colored. “Because at the time, Harris and I were unofficially engaged.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s like that.” She smiled sadly. “Technically, I was sleeping with two guys. Which is
not
who I am. In August, Pete had a job offer, with the Park Service, out in Montana. His dream job. And he wanted me to go with him.” Brooke fiddled with a strand of her hair.

“But you said no.”

“I was supposed to start law school at Emory. Harris was already there, starting on his MBA. He’d rented a house for us. And right around then, that’s when the shit hit the fan with my parents. My dad moved out, and moved in with Patricia. My mom was a mess.…”

“Bad timing,” Cara said sympathetically.

“The worst.” Brooke stared down at her half-eaten salad. She picked up a cellophane-wrapped package of saltines and crumbled it between her fingertips.

“It’s probably a good thing Mom couldn’t come today.” Brooke looked around the dining room, its dark paneling and leatherette booths, at the domed blue-painted ceiling with twinkling lights. “This was their place. Hers and dad’s. Back in the seventies, when they were dating, it was kind of a big deal to come to dinner here.”

“Really?” To Cara, Johnny Harris was just a barbecue restaurant. She liked their barbecue sauce, but it was hard for her to imagine the place as a hot nightspot.

“Yeah. They’d get all dressed up. I remember we used to have a photo album, with a picture of them sitting at one of those booths over there.” Brooke pointed to the opposite end of the room. “You can’t really tell from here, but there were curtains you could draw, for privacy, and you could push a little button to summon your waiter. The buttons are still there. Anyway, if you can believe it, Dad had this bushy hair, and big ol’ sideburns and a kind of handlebar mustache. He looked like a porn star! And Mom’s hair was really long and straight, and she wore dangly earrings. And she’s sitting right beside Dad, with his arm around her shoulders and he’s totally looking right down her cleavage!”

Brooke got a sudden fit of giggles, which were over nearly as soon as they’d begun. “After they split up, I thought Mom probably burned all those old pictures. But the last time I was home, I was in her bedroom, and she’d told me I could borrow her pearls, for this stupid engagement party, and I found that picture in the bottom of her jewelry box.”

“You think your mom’s still not over him?”

“Not really. She tries to put on a good show around me, but I think she’s still really sad. And hurt.”

“Does she date?”

“My mom? No. I wish she would though.”

Brooke’s gaze had returned to the table where Pete Haynes was sitting.

“How about you?” Cara asked. “And your friend Pete? After your breakup, he was okay?”

“Yeah.…” Brooke’s voice trailed off. “Pete—he knew how my parents were. Well, my dad, anyway. Snobby, right? Pete wasn’t from the wrong side of the tracks, not at all, but he went to public high school, that kind of thing.”

“Did Pete know about you and Harris?”

Brooke’s eyes widened. “Oh God, no. That summer, it was just such an odd thing for me. It was like the first time I realized I was an adult, and I didn’t have to be under my dad’s thumb for the rest of my life.”

“A summer of rebellion,” Cara said. “I get that. My dad was career military. He still expects everybody to stand at attention and salute.”

“Rebellion. Exactly. But at some point, even a rebel has to figure out what to do with their life. And for me, law school and Emory made sense. I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. And Harris made sense. He’s sweet and loyal and smart.”

“Harris is a good guy,” Cara said.

Brooke twisted her engagement ring. “The absolute best. He loves me. I don’t know why, or how I got this lucky, but Harris loves me. Pete was cool with whatever I wanted to do. He probably only asked me to move out there with him because he thought he
should
ask.”

“And you didn’t keep in touch after that? At all?”

Brooke colored again.

“Facebook?” Cara guessed.

“He doesn’t know it’s me,” Brooke said. “I made up a name, said I was a friend of a friend of a friend of his who likes whitewater rafting.”

“Did you know he’d moved back to Georgia?” Cara asked.

“No! Pete’s hardly ever on Facebook. Occasionally he posts a picture of his puppy, or a sunset or something. Nothing personal.”

Cara arched one eyebrow. She’d done enough Facebook stalking of her own to know how this worked.

“You’re telling me you don’t check his status?”

“Not in a relationship,” Brooke said, her voice barely a whisper. “Anyway, what else do we need to discuss? About the wedding? Patricia texts me every day, asking for a status report. She’s making me nuts.”

“Right. Okay. Did you get a chance to look at the photoraphers’ websites that I sent you? Any preferences?”

“Yeah, but I thought Patricia already hired some photographer.”