Читать книгу A Cadence Creek Christmas - DONNA ALWARD, Donna Alward - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS TAYLOR’S experience that if the rehearsal went badly, the wedding was sure to be smooth and problem free. A sentiment which boded well for Callum and Avery, as it turned out, because nothing seemed to be going her way.

First of all, everything was an hour late starting thanks to a winter storm, which dumped enough snow to complicate transportation. The minister had slid off the road and into a snowbank. The car wasn’t damaged but by the time the tow truck had pulled him out, the wedding party was waiting and quite worried by his absence. Then Taylor opened the box that was supposed to contain the tulle bows for the ends of the church pews to find that they’d been constructed of a horrible peachy-yellow color—completely unsuited for a Christmas wedding!

The late start and the road conditions also meant canceling the rehearsal dinner that had been organized at an Italian place in the city. Taylor was just about ready to pull her hair out when she felt a wide hand rest on her shoulder.

“Breathe,” Rhys commanded. “It’s all fine.”

She clenched her teeth but exhaled through her nose. “Normally I would just deal with stuff like this without batting an eyelid. I don’t know why it’s throwing me so much.”

“Maybe because it’s for your brother,” he suggested.

He might be right. She did want everything just right for Callum’s wedding. It wasn’t some corporate dinner or celebrity party. It was personal. It was once in a lifetime.

God, there was a reason why she didn’t do weddings.

“What can I do to help?”

She shrugged. “Do you have a roll of white tulle in your pocket? Perhaps a spare horseshoe I could rub for good luck or something?”

He grimaced. “Afraid not. And you rub a rabbit’s foot, not a horseshoe. I’m guessing our plans for dinner have changed.”

She looked up at him. He was “dressed up” for the rehearsal—neat jeans, even with a crease down the front, and a pressed button-down shirt tucked into the waistband. His boots made him look taller than ever, especially as she’d decided on her low-heeled boots tonight in deference to the weather. There was a strength and stability in him that made her take a deep breath and regroup. For some reason she didn’t want to appear incapable in front of him. “I’ve had to cancel our reservations.”

“I’ll call my mom. It won’t be as fancy as what you planned, but I’m guessing she can manage a meal for a dozen of us.”

“We can’t have a rehearsal dinner at a diner.”

His lips puckered up like he’d tasted something sour. “Do you have any better suggestions? I guess you could pick up some day-old sandwiches at the gas station and a bag of cookies. You don’t exactly have a lot of options.”

“It was supposed to be romantic and relaxing and...” She floundered a little. “You know. Elegant.”

He frowned at her and she regretted what she’d implied. “What would you do if you were in Vancouver right now?” he asked.

“This kind of weather wouldn’t happen in Vancouver.”

He made a disgusted sound. “You’re supposed to be so good at your job. You’re telling me nothing ever goes off the plan?”

“Well, sure it does, but I...”

“But you what?”

“I handle it.”

“How is this different?”

“Because it’s family.”

The moment she said it her throat tightened. This wasn’t just another job. This was her big brother’s wedding. This was also the chance where she would prove herself to her family. She could talk until she was blue in the face, but the truth of the matter was she still sought their approval. The Shepards were driven and successful. It was just expected. She knew she’d disappointed her dad in particular. He thought what she did was unimportant, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall on her professional face in front of him.

“This isn’t Vancouver, or Toronto, or New York or L.A.” Rhys spoke firmly. “This isn’t a big-city event with a bunch of rich snobs. It’s just Cadence Creek. Maybe it’s not good enough for you but it’s good enough for Callum and Avery and maybe you should consider that instead of only thinking about yourself.”

His words hurt. Partly because he was judging her without even knowing her and partly because he was right, at least about things being simpler here. How many times had Avery said they didn’t need anything fancy? Taylor had insisted because it was no trouble. Had she messed up and forgotten the singular most important rule: Give the client what they ask for?

“Call your mother, then, and see if there’s any way she can squeeze us in.”

“Give me five minutes.”

The words weren’t said kindly, and Taylor felt the sting of his reproof. Still, she didn’t have time to worry about Rhys Bullock—there was too much left to do. While the minister spoke to Avery and Callum, Taylor fished poinsettia plants out of a waiting box and lined them up on the altar steps in alternating red and creamy white. The congregation had already decorated the tree and the Christmas banners were hung behind the pulpit. The manger from the Sunday School play had been tucked away into the choir loft, which would be unused during the wedding, and instead she set up a table with a snowy-white cloth and a gorgeous spray of red roses, white freesias and greenery. It was there that the bride and groom would sign the register.

The altar looked fine, but the pews and windowsills were naked. In addition to the wrong color tulle, the company had forgotten to ship the candle arrangements for the windows. This would be the last time she ever used them for any of her events!

Her father, Harry, approached, a frown creasing his brow. “What are the plans for after the rehearsal?”

Taylor forced a smile. She would not get into it with her father tonight. “I’m working on that, don’t worry.”

“You should have insisted on having the wedding in the city, at a nice hotel. Then the weather wouldn’t be an issue. Everything at your fingertips.”

She’d had the thought a time or two herself; not that she’d admit it to her father. “This will be fine.”

He looked around. “It would have been so much easier. Not that the town isn’t nice, of course it is. But you’re the planner, Taylor.” His tone suggested she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“It wasn’t what Callum and Avery wanted,” she reminded him. “And it’s their day.”

He smiled unexpectedly, a warm turning up of his lips that Taylor recognized as his “sales pitch” smile. “Oh, come now. A smart businessman knows how to convince a client to come around.”

Businessman. Taylor wondered if counting to ten would help. She met her father’s gaze. “Callum isn’t a client, he’s my brother. And he’s giving you the daughter-in-law and grandkid you’ve wanted, so ease up.”

Anything else they would have said was cut short as Rhys came back, tucking his cell phone in his pocket as he walked. “Good news. Business is slow because of the weather. Mom’s clearing out that back corner and she’s got a full tray of lasagna set aside.”

It certainly wasn’t the Caprese salad, veal Parmesan and tiramisu that Taylor had planned on, but it was convenient. She offered a polite smile. “Thank you, Rhys.” At least one thing had been fixed.

“It’s no trouble.”

With a brief nod, Harry left the two of them alone.

“Everything okay?” Rhys asked.

She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Yeah, it’s fine. Dad was just offering an unsolicited opinion, that’s all.”

He chuckled. “Parents are like that.”

“You’ve no idea,” she answered darkly. “I still wish I knew what to do about the pew markers. There’s no time to run to Edmonton for materials to make them, even if it weren’t storming. And the candles never arrived, either.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect. No one will know.”

His words echoed from before, the ones that said she was too good for this town. She dismissed them, because she still had a certain standard. “I’ll know.”

Clara heard the last bit and tapped Taylor on the shoulder. “Why don’t you call Melissa and see if she can do something for the pews with satin ribbon?”

“At this late hour?”

Clara nodded. “Worst she can say is no. I have a feeling she’ll try something, though. She’s a whiz at that stuff. And I might be able to help you out with the windowsills.”

Taylor’s eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean?”

Clara laughed. “Just trust me.”

“I’m not in the habit of trusting details to other people, Clara. It’s nothing personal—it’s just how I work.”

“Consider it a helping hand from a friend. You’re going to be here before anyone else tomorrow anyway. If you don’t like what I’ve done, you can take it out, no hard feelings.” She smiled at Taylor. “I’d like to do this. For Avery. She’s like family, you know?”

Rhys’s hand touched Taylor’s back. It was warm and felt good but Taylor got the feeling it was also a little bit of a warning. “I’m sure Taylor’s very grateful for your help, Clara.”

Dammit. Now he was putting words in her mouth. Perhaps it could be argued that this was “just family” but to Taylor’s mind, if she couldn’t manage to get the details of one small country wedding right, what did that say about her business?

Then again, in Vancouver she had staff. She could delegate. Which was pretty much what Clara was suggesting. She was just asking her to trust, sight unseen. And then there was the word “friend.” She was a stranger here, a fish out of water for the most part and yet everyone seemed to accept her into their group without question. She wasn’t used to that.

“Thank you, Clara,” she said, but when Clara had gone she turned on Rhys. “Don’t ever answer for me again.”

“You were being rude.”

Now he was judging her manners?

“Look, maybe Callum and Avery are family but I still hold to a certain standard. This is my job. And it’s all carefully planned down to the last detail.”

She’d had things go wrong before and it wasn’t pretty. She’d been determined never to fail like that again. It was why she dealt with trusted vendors and had a competent staff. She’d pulled off events ten times as complicated as this without a hitch.

Knowing it was like sprinkling salt in the wound.

He put a finger under her chin and lifted it. Considering how abrupt he’d been earlier, the tender touch surprised her. “You don’t have to control everything. It’ll be fine, I promise. It’s okay to accept help once in a while.”

“I’m not used to that.”

“I know,” he said gently. “You’re stubborn, strong, bossy and completely competent. But things happen. Call Melissa, trust Clara, pretend to walk down the aisle for the rehearsal and then go stuff yourself with lasagna. I promise you’ll feel better.”

She didn’t like being handled. Even if, at this moment, she suspected she needed it. It was so different being here. More relaxed, laid-back. She was used to grabbing her non-fat latte on her way to the office, not sipping from china cups in a B&B dining room while eating croissants. Maneuvering her SUV with the fold-down seats through city traffic rather than walking the two blocks to wherever. Definitely not used to men looking into her eyes and seeing past all her barriers.

Cadence Creek was a completely different pace with completely different expectations.

“Rhys? Taylor? We’re ready for the walk-through,” Avery called down the aisle, a happy smile on her face. Despite the wrinkles in the plans, Taylor’s soon-to-be sister-in-law was beaming.

Well, if the bride wasn’t worried, she wouldn’t be, either. She looked up at Rhys. “I’ll call Melissa when we’re done. But if this goes wrong...”

“I expect I’ll hear about it.”

The other members of the wedding party joined them at the end of the aisle—first Clara and Ty, then Sam and Angela, Jack and Avery’s friend Denise, who’d flown in from Ontario just this morning and thankfully ahead of the storm. Rhys held out his arm. “Shall we?” he asked, waiting for her to take his elbow.

She folded her hand around his arm, her fingers resting just below his elbow as they took slow steps up the aisle. It was just a silly rehearsal, so she shouldn’t have a tangle of nerves going on just from a simple touch.