Page 14 of Save the Date
Normally, the wedding party’s arrival would signal Cara’s departure. If she left now, maybe she could drive back to the dognapper’s house on Macon Street. Maybe there was a backyard. She could cruise down the lane and steal her dog back while Jack Finnerty was still at the wedding. Cara was heading for her van when she heard her name being called.
“Cara… so glad you’re still here.” It was Ellie Lewis, the wedding planner.
“Just leaving,” Cara said. “I’ve checked everything in both tents, and it’s all good. By the way, thanks again for referring me to the Fannings.”
Ellie’s face was shiny pink with perspiration. “Don’t thank me yet,” she warned. “The photographer wants to get some candid shots of the wedding party down at the dock, and Torie is insistent that you should be there to style things.”
“I’m not a photo stylist,” Cara protested. “And honestly, Ellie, I’m whipped. I’ve been on my feet for nearly twenty-four hours. All I want right now is a shower and a cocktail—and my bed.”And my dog,she thought.
Ellie nodded glumly. “I don’t blame you. I’ve had a bellyful of Torie and Mommy Dearest these past few weeks. I’d leave too, if I could. But you know how it goes—I’ll be here till the bitter end tonight.”
She turned and began to trudge back across the lawn.
Cara had her hand on the van’s door handle, but when she saw the dejected droop of her colleague’s shoulders, she just didn’t have the heart to abandon ship.
“Ellie,” she called.
“Yes?”
“Wait for me, dammit.”
***
By eight o’clock, the big reception tent vibrated with life. Dinner service for three hundred guests was winding down and the eight-piece orchestra was just starting to tune up. Cara made a few last-minute adjustments to the flowers on the cake table and tiptoed toward the door.
“Cara!”
Torie’s voice rose above the din of the crowd. Her mermaid skirts rustled as she cut a swath through the crowd. The bride reached out and grasped Cara’s hands in hers. “You’re not leaving already! The party’s just starting to crank up.”
“Well, yes, I was,” she said, a little taken aback by Torie’s sudden show of friendliness.
“But, you can’t,” Torie said. “I mean, of course, you don’t have to stay, but Ryan and I really, really wish you would stay. You’ve been such a big part of all the planning for the wedding, and it would really, really mean a lot to us if you would stay and help us celebrate.”
Huh?
“Well, uh,” she stammered.
A large hand clamped down on her shoulder. Cara looked up to see Ryan standing beside her, his freckled face beaming with happiness—and maybe just a little extra Knob Creek bonhomie.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Honey, tell Cara she needs to stay and celebrate with us,” Torie cooed.
“I was just fixin’ to tell her that,” Ryan said. He gestured around the tent. “You made everything so awesome for us—now you need to stay and enjoy it for a while.”
“Oh no, I really couldn’t,” Cara demurred. “You’re very sweet to invite me, but honestly, my job is done here. And I wouldn’t dream of imposing.…”
“It’s not imposing,” Ryan said. He pointed across the room. “Look. Layne’s gonna hang around and party.”
Layne Pelletier had shed her chef’s jacket and was bellied up to the bar with a long-necked bottle of Sweetwater in her right hand. She saw Cara looking, and raised it in a salute.
“But Layne has to stay and make sure the dessert service and after-dinner drinks and the cake cutting go off,” Cara protested. “That’s nothing to do with me.”
“That’s just it,” Torie admitted. “Mama and I would love it if you’dat leaststay for the cake cutting. The photographer wants us all to have our flowers around the cake, just so… and nobody can make things look the way you can.…”
So… it wasn’treallyabout having her stay to enjoy the party, Cara realized. It was just one more task Torie had assigned her florist. Resistance, she knew, was futile.
“Okay,” she said wearily.
