From the expression of pitying concern on George’s face, Anne knew he’d overheard her phone conversations. She should have walked farther away. Following George and Meredith out of Lafitte’s, she felt turmoil built up inside. If he had been checking up on her Saturday because he didn’t trust her ability to plan his wedding, she needed to know. She’d prove to him she could do this as well as or better than anyone else.
Her thoughts returned to her more pressing situation as George took pictures of Lafitte’s Landing with the digital camera in his PDA. She and Amanda had grown up together but had never really been friends until just a few years ago when they had run into each other at church. She’d been surprised when Amanda asked her to plan her wedding, knowing how tight finances were for the couple, as they were also purchasing a house.
What Amanda and David didn’t know was that for their wedding gift, Anne was providing her services for free. Through her connections in town, she’d gotten deep discounts on nearly everything for the rehearsal dinner, ceremony, and reception. She hadn’t asked them for a deposit check, and she was scheduled to have the final meeting with them tomorrow, when she planned on handing them her bill, marked PAID IN FULL.
Now she had to try to put all the pieces back together before her friends made a huge mistake by calling off their wedding. She wasn’t worried about the logistics of canceling an event with such short notice—she’d done it several times before. But she knew deep down that these two people were supposed to be married. She just had to get them to see that.
She nearly bumped into George when she walked out the front door.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” George shook hands with Meredith again. “I will speak with the bride by telephone tonight and hope to speak with you again tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Laurence. I hope your fiancée likes Lafitte’s Landing as much as you do.” Meredith turned to Anne. “I’ll see you later.”
Anne hugged her cousin. “Thanks for meeting us up here, Mere. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Anne ignored the saucy gleam in Meredith’s eyes and followed George to the car.
A slight breeze rustled the top of the canopy of trees. The buzz of cicadas resonated in harmony with the sound of the lake in the background and the birds chirping overhead. Lafitte’s Landing was one of Anne’s favorite places, and she recommended it to nearly every client with a large guest list. The fact that it was owned by B-G Enterprises and she could count on Meredith’s help, as well as B-G’s executive chef, Major O’Hara, helped a lot.
In the car, she turned up the air conditioner and looked at her day planner. They had appointments to visit two additional sites down in the nearby town of Comeaux but weren’t scheduled to see the next one for nearly two more hours.
She fastened her seat belt and pulled out of the small parking lot. Her stomach clenched, reminding her that breakfast five hours ago had consisted of a banana and a small bowl of dry cereal, as she’d been out of milk.
Mr. Laurence—George—deserved to be able to stop for lunch, too. Just because she usually worked through lunch didn’t mean she had to force him to do the same.
“Do you like seafood, George?” She stopped at the end of Lafitte’s Landing’s long driveway. She waited for his answer, since it would determine which direction she turned.
“Yes. And I have heard that the seafood in Louisiana is incomparable.”
“Well, I think it’s pretty wonderful, but I don’t have much to compare it to.” She turned right and headed south instead of back toward her office.
After a few moments of silence, George asked, “Is planning an outdoor event more difficult than indoor?”
“Somewhat. There are more variables—more things that can go wrong, more safeguards and alternatives that need to be planned. It’s almost like planning two events in one.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Even though his posture was erect, his body language was relaxed, comfortable. She narrowed her eyes a little as she returned her focus to the road. She wanted to ask him why he’d been watching her Saturday morning, but the words wouldn’t leave her mouth.
“I’m very pleased with Lafitte’s Landing. I believe we’ve just secured the location for the engagement party. I’ll send my… Courtney a message.”
She glanced at him again and saw he was reviewing the digital pictures he’d taken of the location on the screen of his PDA. Whenever he spoke of Courtney, he tripped over her name. He never personalized the relationship—and if he ever did say “my,” he always stopped himself as if not wanting to commit to saying “my fiancée.”
Silence descended on them as she navigated lunch-hour traffic in midtown. Without thinking, she powered on the stereo.
Beside her, George started visibly when Dean Martin singing “That’s Amore” blasted through the speakers. Embarrassed, she fumbled with the buttons and turned it off again.
“No, don’t turn it off.” George reached over and turned it on again but adjusted the volume lower. “Not many people listen to Dean Martin these days.”
Her cheeks burned. Yet another example of how backward she was—she didn’t even listen to contemporary music.
“They just don’t make music like this anymore. It’s a shame, really.”
Was he serious or patronizing her? He’d leaned his head back against the headrest, and he looked fully relaxed. The CD moved to the next track, and he started to hum, then sing along with “Memories Are Made of This.” Same taste in music to add to the ever-growing list of his attractions. He probably liked old movies, too.
Twenty minutes later, after being treated to George’s perfect imitation of Dean Martin through several of her favorite songs, she slowed and passed an old-fashioned general store and gas station. “This is the town of Comeaux.”
George craned his neck to take in the sights. “How far outside of Bonneterre have we come?”
“We’re only about twenty miles from Town Square—about ten miles from the city limits. I know it feels like we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”
“How beautiful.”
Anne glanced past George at the enormous, gingerbread Victorian house. “That’s the Plantation Inn Bed and Breakfast. Some of my clients who can’t afford big expensive trips for their honeymoons come down here. I’ve stayed here a couple of times, too, when I just needed to get away.”
A few blocks down, she pulled into the gravel parking lot in front of a building sided with rough wood planks that featured fishing gear hanging from rusted iron nails as decorations.
The interior of the Fishin’ Shack was dim and cool compared to the sultry sunshine of a June day in Louisiana. The aroma of sweet seafood and spicy Cajun seasonings hit her full force as she entered. Her stomach growled loudly.
“Anne, what are you doing here?” Jenn stepped away from a table and met her at the door.
Anne hugged her cousin. “I’m in the area looking at venues and had to stop somewhere for lunch.” She stepped out of her cousin’s embrace before the younger woman spilled the iced-tea pitcher she held.
Jenn looked behind Anne, and her eyes widened when she saw George.
“Jennifer Guidry, this is George Laurence, my client.” Anne stepped back to include George. “Jenn is the owner of this place.”
“My pleasure, Miss Guidry.” He paused, her hand still clasped in his. “Guidry… let me guess—another one of Anne’s cousins.”
“Yep, and proud of it.” Jenn led them to a table away from the moderate-sized lunch crowd and placed the large laminated menus on the table as Anne slid into the booth. Jenn turned to George. “Since you’ve never been here, I’ll let you know that our Cajun dishes are very spicy, but we can tone that down if you like. If you don’t see anything on the menu that you like, just let me know, and I’ll talk to the chef.” She winked at him.
Anne held in her laugh as her cousin turned on all of her Southern charm for the handsome Englishman. When Jenn returned with their beverages, George ordered the traditional fish ’n’ chips basket, while Anne ordered her favorite Cajun grilled shrimp Caesar salad.
As they waited for their meals, she struggled to think of a neutral topic of conversation but was saved from having to come up with appropriate small talk when George remarked, “Hawthorne isn’t a name one would typically associate with Louisiana.”
He wasn’t the first person who’d pointed that out to her. “No. My father was from Boston but came here for college, where he met my mother.” She’d explained this so many times over the years it was hard to keep it from sounding rehearsed.
“I’ve been to Boston. It’s a very interesting city.”
“So I’ve heard.” Anne traced the ring of moisture her glass of tea left on the table as she took a sip.
“You’ve never gone there yourself? Not even to visit family?”
“I… don’t fly.” Anne swallowed hard and raised her left hand to make sure her shirt collar covered the twenty-seven-year-old scar on the side of her neck.
“Why ever not?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he held up his hand in front of him. “No, wait. I apologize. That question is presumptuous. Please do not feel you have to answer it.”
“It’s all right.” She took a fortifying breath. “You see, when I was eight—”
“Here’s your lunch!” Jenn called cheerily as she swooped down upon them. She gave Anne a wink and floated away to visit with other patrons.
“You were about to tell me why you don’t fly,” he reminded her. Anne lifted her napkin to dab the corners of her mouth and cleared her throat. “The only time I was ever on a plane was with my parents when I was eight. It was a commuter plane that held thirty people. The pilot tried to take off in the middle of a thunderstorm, but…” She took a deep breath to calm her voice and try to settle her stomach. “We crashed, and I was one of only five people who survived.”
Silence settled over the table. He swallowed a couple of times. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. It was a very long time ago. I tried to get on a plane when I was fifteen and had such a bad panic attack that they had to take me to the emergency room.” She hadn’t meant to reveal that to him. No one outside of her family—except for the airline and emergency room staff who’d helped—knew about it.
He nodded slowly, taking a moment to push a morsel of fish onto the back of his fork with his knife. Before putting the bite in his mouth, he asked, “Where would you have gone had you gotten on that plane?”
“New York with my grandparents and aunt and uncle.” She pushed her half-finished salad toward the end of the table to let Jenn or the other servers milling around know they could take it away. She’d felt half-starved when they sat down, yet talking about her aversion to flying spoiled her appetite.
“And have you never tried to board a plane since then?”
Why had he decided to take such an interest in this topic? She leaned back against the padded booth seat and crossed her arms. “No. I’d love to see Europe, but I don’t want to go through another panic attack.”
“Hmm.” It was a short sound from the back of his throat. “Have you ever considered taking a ship over?”
He was as tenacious as a coonhound that had treed its prey. Why wouldn’t he just let it drop? “I’ve looked into it, but being self-employed, I can’t be gone for that long. How often do you go back to England?” Hopefully he’d take the hint and let her change the subject.
“I’ve traveled to England several times in the past few years in the capacity of my job.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin, then laid it beside his plate. “Do you mind if I ask, how did you come to the decision to pursue a career as a wedding planner?”
Not really the topic she wanted to discuss, but much better than talking about planes and flying. “When I left graduate school, I went to work as the event planner for B-G—yes, the job Meredith has now. After several years, I realized I enjoyed planning weddings the most and felt like God was leading me to start my own business.”
A light Anne hadn’t seen before sparked to life in George’s eyes. “You felt God was leading you? I’ve always admired people who listen for God’s voice and take the leaps of faith He sometimes asks of them.”
Was George a believer? She wanted to ask but didn’t want to embarrass him. “Faith is something I’ve struggled with my whole life. But I knew I just had to do it.”
“What a blessing… to know what you’re doing is God’s plan.” His voice sounded almost sad. “And you are good at it. I…I happened by the Bonneterre Chapel Saturday morning and watched you work. I should have made my presence known, but you were busy, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
His admitting he’d been there was a surprise, but the words of affirmation floored her. “Thank you. What brought you by the church?”
“I was out for a drive and was drawn to it. I would like to find a congregation to attend regularly, since I will be living here until October. I noticed the door was open and let myself in. It’s a beautiful church.”
“Yes. It’s a very easy place to hold a wedding. Not much in the way of decoration is needed, and the colors are neutral enough that they go with anything a bride could choose. Plus, I know practically everyone on staff—that’s the church I grew up in.”
“And do you still attend there?” Interest in the subject lent a new warmth to George’s handsome features.
Anne’s heart skipped a beat when his brown eyes twinkled. “I do, although sometimes it’s hard to make it to Sunday morning service when I have a late evening wedding the day before. Are you—did you grow up going to church as well?”
He shook his head. “No, I prayed to receive Christ as my Savior about twenty years ago. The head of staff at my first professional position was a Christian. We read the Bible and prayed together every day before we started work.”
“Do you still keep in touch with him?” She smiled up at the waiter who came by to clear their plates, then returned her focus to George.
“He passed away five years ago, just after I came to the States to work.” George’s eyes softened as he spoke of his mentor. “I couldn’t attend his funeral, and while I do miss being able to speak with him, I know I’ll see him again.”
His openness made Anne even more uncomfortable. Every detail she learned about him served to reinforce her attraction to him. She couldn’t allow herself to feel this way about a client. She wasn’t sure what to say, and silence once again settled between them.
They were saved from a moment of awkwardness when Jenn returned to the table. “How were your meals?”
“Very good, as usual,” Anne told her cousin, but Jenn wasn’t looking at her.
“The fish and chips reminded me of a pub in London we frequented when I was a boy.” George smiled politely.
Even though she hadn’t known him long, just from watching him carefully today and in their past few meetings, Anne was starting to be able to read his facial expressions. He was better at controlling his reactions and schooling his features than she, but his eyes gave him away. His beautiful eyes that were the color of sun-brewed iced tea… the very same eyes that were now looking at her askance.
“Anne?” Jenn nudged her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just zoned out there for a second.” Heat crawled up her cheeks.
Jenn removed the cap of her pen with her teeth to write something on her order pad. Speaking around the cap, she said, “I asked what site y’all are going to visit next.”
“Oh. Comeaux Town Center. Then Benoit Hall.”
“Lafitte’s Landing has those two beaten, hands down.” Jenn tore off the sheet she’d written on and put it facedown on the table in front of Anne. “George, great to meet you. Hopefully I’ll see you around again soon.”
He nodded noncommittally.
Jenn leaned over and kissed Anne’s cheek. “Annie, I’ll see you back here for dinner Thursday night.”
“I should be here, but don’t be surprised if I’m late.” Anne picked up the ticket and slid out of the booth.
“I’ll save you a seat.”
“Thanks.” She gave her cousin a quick hug. As soon as Jenn walked away, Anne reached into her small purse and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, which she left on the table.
George reached for his wallet, but Anne stopped him. “I never make a client pay for a meal. Company policy.”
He looked uncomfortable but didn’t argue with her.
Anne looked down at the check. Rather than a receipt for their lunch, it was a note in her cousin’s chunky, loopy script. She read it as she walked toward the door.
He’s hot. Find out if he has a brother and let me know.
—J
Anne smiled and shook her head. When would her cousin figure out that she was a wedding planner, not a matchmaker?