The Wedding Promise (32 page)

“It was lovely. What’s the name of that song? I can never remember.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s called ‘At Last.’”

“I think you’re right,” Liza replied unable to meet his gaze. “At Last.” Of course that was the title. She knew she would never forget it again.

 

 

THE hours flew by and before Liza realized it, the bride and groom were departing for their honeymoon night at the Ritz-Carlton in Boston. They would take a day’s rest in the city and leave for their honeymoon on Tuesday.

Jennifer hugged Liza close to say good-bye. “Thanks for everything, Liza. The wedding was wonderful, even better than I ever imagined,” she said.

“I’m so glad you’re happy, Jen. With the wedding—and with everything else,” Liza replied sincerely.

“Thank you, Liza,” Kyle said. “We appreciate all you did and all your patience and help. Now more than ever, I think there was a reason why we
had
to be married here. I’m not sure we would have made it if we’d planned to get married anyplace else.”

“Oh, I didn’t do that much,” Liza said lightly.

“Maybe there were some angels watching over you, though,” Claire added with a smile. “God bless you both and keep you forever in His sight.”

Claire had been hovering in the background of the party all night, Liza had noticed, spending a lot of time in the kitchen, too, though Molly had everything under control. Liza hadn’t even noticed that she’d emerged until she stepped forward to offer her good wishes.

Then they were off, flying down the road in Kyle’s sleek black car. Jennifer had promised to stay in touch and visit when she came back to the area. Liza hoped that she would. She knew that their story was just beginning, and she wanted to keep up with every new chapter.

I
T took Liza several days after the wedding to recuperate and get the inn back in order. On Wednesday morning Molly dropped by to pick up some chafing dishes she’d left behind. Liza was on the porch, having an extra cup of coffee. She brought one out for Molly, and they sat together in the bright morning light and cool, fresh air.

“Ready to do it again?” Molly asked brightly.

“Not quite,” Liza said with a laugh. “Give me a few more days, at least.”

“You’re getting rave reviews all over town. You know Sylvia. She doesn’t hold back with her opinions.”

“Good thing she was pleased with the results,” Liza said.

“Better than good. It’s like Internet gossip going viral. I’ve already had two brides call and ask if they can move their wedding to the inn.”

Liza felt her jaw drop but couldn’t help it. Was Molly teasing now?

“You did . . . really?”

“Really, I did. One family has signed a contract. But the other wedding is just in the early planning stage. Would you like to meet with them?”

“Yes . . . yes, of course I would. I appreciate this, Molly. Not to mention all the help and coaching you gave me to pull together the Bennets’ reception.”

“My pleasure. I think we make a good team,” Molly added. “And I love working at the inn. There’s something special about this place,” she added, gazing around.

Liza couldn’t argue with that. She had always felt that way about the inn, coming here to visit her aunt and uncle. But now she saw it differently and knew it was even more unique than she’d fathomed as a child.

After Molly left, Liza finally had time to call her brother, Peter, and give him a full report. She only hit the highlights, not wanting to worry him about the blown-down tent or other potential insurance liabilities. He was alarmed enough at the mention of a storm and the bride nearly left at the altar.

“—but they finally came up from the beach when the rain stopped, and the ceremony and reception went on pretty smoothly after that,” Liza concluded.

“I’m glad to hear the story has a happy ending. And the family was pleased?” he asked.

“Very pleased. They’ve already recommended the inn to other brides. There could be a second wedding here very soon.”

“That’s great news. Sounds like you’re building a nice extra stream of income for the inn, Liza. Good work,” he commended her.

Peter liked to talk about streams of income, as if money flowed along on little pipes in some cosmic, financial plumbing system. Liza tried not to laugh.

“Yes, weddings can be profitable, no question. But I was also really happy to see them finally get married and start their new life.”

“Well, that’s good, too, I suppose. But maybe that was just because it was your first wedding. Maybe you won’t get that emotionally involved after this,” her brother suggested.

“Maybe,” Liza replied. “But I hope I do.” Getting to know Jennifer and Kyle, and even Sylvia had been the best part of the experience, she realized.

After talking to Peter, Liza realized she had checked in with just about everyone close to her with the post-wedding wrap-up. Everyone except Daniel.

She hadn’t heard a word from him since the wedding and wondered now if she had merely imagined their romantic moment dancing together. Or was he in hiding again because of it? They were just friends, she reminded herself. He had made that very clear.

But deep down, that was not what she really felt or wanted.

She missed him and missed the feeling of falling in love with him. That part was real. Could they just wipe that all away, like chalk from a board, and start again? Liza didn’t think so.

Perhaps it was best not to see him for a while. She couldn’t win either way. If he acted cool and distant, she would feel hurt, and if he acted interested and attracted . . . well, she would feel even more confused.

She heard Claire come out on the porch and quickly turned to face her.

“Mrs. Ripley just called to confirm her reservation for this weekend,” Claire reported. “I noticed there are several couples coming in.”

“Yes, three couples coming on Friday,” Liza confirmed. “Time to get back to business,” she said, rising from her chair.

“High time, I’d say. I just started some cooking,” Claire agreed with a smile.

Liza never failed to marvel at Claire’s abundant energy and cheerful attitude. You would never know the older woman had worked so hard before, during, and after the wedding. Liza was in awe of her.

“Do you need anything from the store?” Liza asked. “I can run up now, before it gets too warm for the bike.”

“If you don’t mind, I do need a few things,” Claire replied. She slipped a folded sheet of paper from her apron pocket. Liza had to smile, noticing Claire was already prepared.

Liza scanned the list. “Looks like some classic clam chowder is on the menu,” she remarked. “And some scones?”

They had come to have a little game: Liza guessing the dishes Claire planned by the clues on the shopping list.

“You got the chowder, but that one is easy. I wasn’t planning on scones. I was thinking of popovers, but maybe scones would be a good idea.”

“Whatever you make will be delicious.” Liza knew that for a fact. She tucked the list in the front pocket of her jeans and headed inside to get her cell phone, wallet, and a knapsack to carry the groceries. The bike had a basket, but it filled quickly.

A few minutes later, Liza was pedaling along toward the town center, the inn disappearing around the first bend in the main road. She passed the Gilroy Goat Farm and other neighbors. It was not even noon but already hot and sticky. Summer was here, no doubt about it. About halfway to the village center, she decided to take a break, maneuvering her bike into the shade of a large tree on the side of the road.

She took out her water bottle and took a long drink, her attention drawn by the brightly colored wildflowers that bloomed in the tall grass all around her.

She suddenly heard the smooth whiz of bikes far fancier—and more efficient—than her own and turned to see a group of cyclists flying up the hill she had just crawled along. They were soon swooping past her, like a flock of birds flying in formation, their legs pumping rhythmically at top speed.

One of the riders waved to her as he pedaled past. Liza smiled and waved back.

A cloud of sandy dust rose in their wake, and Liza watched it settle back to the road in the shimmering heat.

She wiped her mouth on the back of her arm, stored her water bottle, then took her bike up on the road again. She didn’t mind traveling at her own pace, especially in this weather, and was glad she hadn’t been on the road when that group passed. They were taking no prisoners.

Liza reached the island’s little cluster of shops a short time later. She saw a bunch of sleek new bicycles parked in front of the General Store and realized that the cyclists who had passed her on the road had arrived—some time ago, by the looks of it. Several had come out of the store, toting snacks and cold drinks, and were ready to go again.

Liza found a space for her own bike and went inside. Marion Doyle spotted her quickly and trotted the length of the deli counter. “Hello there, Liza. We hear you had quite a shindig at the inn on Sunday.”

Shindig? Liza wasn’t sure when she had last heard that word. She struggled to hide her amusement. “It was a very nice party. We had a few challenges with the weather. But it turned out fine.”

“I’ll bet it was.” Marion drew closer, practically whispering. “But I heard the groom went AWOL, and Frank Bennet had to chase him down the beach almost a mile in the rain . . . in a dune buggy,” Marion concluded. She looked at Liza expectantly, waiting for her to confirm or deny the information.

A dune buggy? How did people come up with these embellishments?

“Oh, no, it was nothing like that.”

Of course, there was gossip about the wedding. Especially on the island. It hadn’t been the typical ceremony, that was for sure, and people were bound to tell stories. But this one seemed totally beyond belief.

“There was a delay,” Liza confirmed, “but the couple was thrilled to be married. Happiest I’ve ever seen,” she stated sincerely.

Marion leaned back and stuck her hands in her apron pockets. “That’s very nice to hear. I knew that story couldn’t possibly be true.”

Though that hadn’t stopped her from repeating it, Liza thought with an inward sigh. “It was a very happy day,” she assured Marion, “happy for everyone.” Liza picked up a basket to collect her groceries, then took out the list, written in Claire’s neat, even handwriting. “Do you have any littlenecks today?”

“Sure do. How many are you looking for?”

“Let’s see. The list says five dozen,” Liza told her.

“Sounds like Claire’s cooking a batch of chowder,” Marion remarked. She headed toward the back of the store, where the fish was stored in a walk-in refrigerator.

Liza heard the shop door open and turned at the sound. A cyclist entered, still wearing his helmet. He was red-faced and sweating, his eyes bulging.

Liza stared at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

“There’s been an accident. Up the road, at the turn. Just as we were leaving town . . . ” He was breathless and could hardly speak.

Marion came forward. “What happened? Do you need an ambulance?”

The young man nodded, unable to speak.

“Did you try the medical center? It’s just a few doors down,” Liza added. She dropped her basket and headed for the door. “Come with me, I’ll show you. . . . ”

The cyclist followed as Liza ran across the small square toward the storefront marked by a red first-aid cross.

Luckily, other riders in the group had noticed the sign and were already coming out the door.

“He’s just down the road, not too far,” she heard one of the cyclists say.

Liza stopped in her tracks when she saw who followed them.

It was Daniel. He ran out of the clinic behind the bikers. He suddenly glanced over at her and met her gaze for an instant. Then he turned and ran after the cyclists again.

Marion came out of the store and called to Liza. “An ambulance is coming. From Cape Light.”

“Thank you,” called back the young man who had come into the store. Then he turned to Liza. “I don’t know why I missed that clinic. I ran right past it.”

“You were upset. It’s understandable.”

“I guess. I’m going to follow them, see if I can help.”

“Me, too,” she said suddenly, and began to run alongside him.

It had turned into a hot day. The sun beat down mightily as they ran. But Liza soon spotted the cluster of cyclists gathered at the edge of the road, just past a sharp turn.

Daniel was crouched down beside the fallen rider. When he saw Liza approach, he glanced up and said, “Liza, I need your help.”

Daniel looked so serious, she knew at once the man was badly hurt.

“My truck is parked in front of Daisy Winkler’s shop. Here, take the keys. You’ll find a black medical bag on the floor, behind the driver’s seat. Bring it back as quickly as you can.”

Liza nodded. She knew this could be a life-or-death matter and she ran off at full speed, back up the hill to the town center.

Marion was still in the doorway of her store and called out to her. “How bad is it, Liza? Is he conscious?”

“I’m not sure. Tell the ambulance where we are,” Liza called back without stopping.

She pulled open the passenger side door of the truck and grabbed the bag. Then she slammed the door shut and ran back down the hill.

The bikers were so quiet when she approached that Liza feared the worst.
Please let him be all right,
she found herself silently praying.

Daniel was kneeling beside the injured rider, who was stretched out on his back. Someone had removed his helmet and Liza saw his eyes were closed. He looked bruised and limp, and his breathing was labored. Liza wondered if he was even conscious.

She quickly handed Daniel the medical bag.

He grabbed it and yanked open the zipper without even looking at her.