Champagne and Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (28 page)

Beth shook her head as Wanda added two pins
to her dress.

"Don't move," Wanda warned.

Katie's eyes widened. "Have you narrowed it
down?"

Beth shrugged and let Wanda unzip the back
of her dress as Katie held up the robe for her to slip into. "Not
yet."

"Ohmigod. Beth!" Katie squawked.

"What?"

"You're getting married in, like, April!
What if you have to order something?"

Beth and Wanda exchanged a look.

"Well..." Beth said slowly. She led Katie to
the main room where Wanda had the wedding gowns.

As if drawn by a magnet, her eyes settled on
the featured gown of the month, its layered tulle barely fenced in
by the ample display case. Spotlights highlighted the bodice
piping, flecks of mother of pearl, and every dream Beth had ever
had of her wedding day.

"No," Katie said firmly. "You can't wear
that."

"Why?" Guilt warmed Beth's face.

"That dress has always centered around
Oz-filled fantasies. You need a dress to center around Nash."

"Seriously?" Beth cast a glance around the
shop.

"Yes. Seriously. You need new energy.
Everything must be as different as the groom."

Realization hit Beth like a sugar rush. Head
spinning, she sunk into a nearby chair. She was going to relive the
excitement of trying on wedding gowns in her all-time favorite
store. Today. All day. With her sister and best friend. "No wonder
people bother getting remarried," Beth said with a smile.

Katie zeroed in on her. "Wanda, come help.
This girl is a sinking ship and doesn't even know it." She grabbed
two dresses and pushed them into Beth's arms. "These two would be
good for your build." Katie headed toward the racks of designer
gowns. "Nash can afford designer, right? Hell, he'll probably
insist," she said as an afterthought. "You should pick a classy
dress us small town girls will drool over, but can't afford. Turn
us green."

"I'm putting you in charge of narrowing down
the bridesmaid dresses," Beth called as she headed toward the most
elaborate gown in a hundred mile radius. She set Katie's picks
aside as she stroked a beaded gown. They barely even had a guest
list. They had the hall booked and a date set and were working on a
color scheme. They were going to have to move head-spinningly fast
to make up for lost time.

Beth sucked in a deep breath. She was
marrying Nash. A solid, wonderful man whom she loved. He was
organizing so many of the details and had lists upon lists already
on the go. She didn't need to worry, things were under control.
Right now all she had to do was choose a dress. When she got back
to the condo she would figure out how to be more involved so the
whole thing felt less scary.

She pushed the heavy gown aside and flipped
through the rest of the rack, moving around gushing women. She
pulled in a deep breath. All she had to do was pick a gown. Nash
would prevent her from morphing into Cynthia. They could do this.
Together they could do this; that's all she had to remember. She
was part of team Bethlehem.

Dear Lord. Was she going to have to act
modern and keep her maiden name?

"Beth," Katie called. "I have the bridesmaid
gown, pending your approval."

Wanda held out Katie's choice.

"That," Beth said, walking over to touch the
dress, "is gorgeous!" She glanced at the tag and felt her eyebrows
land somewhere near her hairline. Was Katie assuming Nash would
shell out for designer bridesmaid dresses? It seemed as though
everything she should be in charge of was being outsourced. Why it
was relaxing, in some ways it was starting to feel like the wedding
wasn't hers. What if she chose the wrong dress? What if she looked
out of place at her own wedding?

She snatched the beaded wedding gown as well
as Katie's picks and fled to the change room. She could always
return the dress if it didn't fit with his scheme.

Cynthia, dressed in jeans and a sweater,
slid into the dressing room with Beth. "What's wrong?" she asked
quietly.

Beth moaned, "The wedding
doesn't feel like mine." She caught sight of her pale reflection
and sucked in a deep breath and blurted, "And I can't
not
love Oz. Every time
he does something stupid or pushes me away, I think,
Well, that's it. I'm over him now. I can't
possibly love him anymore.
"

Beth slipped to the floor and her sister
crouched beside her.

Beth continued, eyes covered, her voice soft
and wobbly, "It's like when it rains and the water table rises and
the basement floods. You sponge up every last bit of water and go
upstairs, figuring you have it licked. Later you go back, and there
it all is again. It's seeped back in." She let out a shuddery
breath. "Every time I turn around, Oz has seeped back in."

"Well," Cynthia said with a gusty sigh.
"That's kind of heavy."

Beth sniffed and wiped her eyes, looking at
her sister for answers.

Cynthia wrapped an arm around her. "This
might be one you have to solve on your own, kiddo. But whatever you
do, you need to choose one over the other and get closure so you
can move on."

Beth's voice raised in pitch, "I'm supposed
to be getting married. I can't love two men."

They both sat silently, listening to the
swish of material in the adjoining rooms. One girl said firmly,
"This is the one."

Beth sighed, resisting the
urge to ask through the wall:
How do you
know?
How do you ever know?

***

Beth stood at the back of the church,
shifting from foot to foot, waiting to walk down the aisle. Oz, in
all his handsome glory, was in position at the front of the church.
Tuxedo, haircut, and a close shave had transformed him back into
the Oz that made her heart go pitty-pat. The Oz who was currently
nudging her body into discarding the memo stating he was persona
non grata.

She sucked in a nervous breath, her
bridesmaid bouquet trembling in her grip. She inhaled its soft
scent and tried to relax.

Damn that nasty stomach bug that took down
Nash. She couldn't believe there were some things that had to be
ridden out, M.D. or not. It was Valentine's Day for crying out
loud! He was supposed to be stuck to her. And he was supposed to be
the buffer between her and her mixed-up feelings.

Hearing her cue, Beth hoisted her bouquet
and began marching down the aisle.

Oh God, she couldn't help but look at Oz
standing behind Dan with the other groomsmen.

Oz was tall, handsome, and delicious.

Oh God, now she couldn't
look away. And she couldn't breathe right. She squeezed her eyes
shut and shoved down the hurricane of anticipation that was
storming her body. She was
not
walking toward Oz. She was
not
getting married today.

They had
not
chosen each
other.

But what if they had? He was like he used to
be. His hands strong and capable. Fixing her car problems and so
much more. That sweet smile was back and so much more.

What was she thinking? She had Nash. Oz had
rejected her. Why couldn't she get it through her head?

Using every ounce of determination she could
wheedle and whine from her preoccupied mind, she pried her thoughts
away from Oz. Oz waiting for her to walk down the aisle. Toward
him.

She risked opening her eyes. They flew to Oz
who smiled. It felt right, walking toward him. The flowers. Feeling
beautiful. His smile, like they were the only two in the
church.

Stop it! Stop thinking!

And stop smiling, dammit.

All she had to do was walk. No thoughts. No
emotions. Nothing. Just move her feet.

She marched up the steps to where Dan and
his men were waiting. She placed herself in position, ignoring the
familiar, shadowy form on the other side of the groom. She swore
she could smell Oz. Musky. Manly. Familiar.

The music changed and Cynthia glided down
the aisle on the arm of a grinning Gran. Beth fingered the wedding
band tied in her bouquet. Her eyes drifted to Oz.

No.

This was about her sister. She had a job to
do and that was all. Smile, hand over the ring, sign as a witness,
march out. No looking at the men. Eyes on Cynthia.

Gran released Cynthia and the ceremony
began.

What if she had to pose with Oz during the
photos? What if he was wearing his heavenly cologne? Of course he
was wearing his cologne. It was for special occasions. She gave
herself a mental smack. She needed to get a grip. She was promised
to Nash. She would never risk that. Ever. He was her choice. Her
new love. Her eyes drifted to Oz who was absorbing the vows. Beth's
breathing went funny as she took in Oz's tender expression.

She closed her eyes, unwanted tears floating
through her coated lashes. Tuning out everything, she worked on
regaining control of her emotions. A rough nudge knocked her off
balance. Eyes springing open, she stepped forward, practically
flinging her bouquet at her sister. The audience giggled and with
shaking fingers Beth snatched back her bouquet and freed the
wedding band.

The couple tenderly exchanged rings as Oz
dabbed at his eyes, unshed tears blurring Beth's.

Today wasn't going to be easy.

***

After calling Nash, who was still too ill to
get out of bed and come rescue her, Beth mentally prepared herself
for the most Oz-interactive part of the wedding: the reception. The
photos had been a non-event, but the reception... she was half
excited as well as half terrified.

She entered the hall's lobby, praying
Cynthia had sprung for some form of champagne fountain like Katie
had suggested. She was going to have to stand next to her gorgeous,
knee-weakening ex-fiancé in the receiving line, share a table with
him, dance with him, and, for her sister's sake, act like it didn't
bother her one iota.

Beth hung her coat in one of the rooms off
the lobby and carried her gift to the reception hall. She gently
placed the wrapped chocolate fondue fountain Dan had wanted on the
gift table and dropped a little gift card for her sister in a card
basket. Beside the table stood a large, well-crafted china cabinet
sporting a massive red bow.

"Wow."

She walked around the cabinet, admiring it
as she went. Why would someone bring such a large wedding gift
here? Why wouldn't they simply deliver it to the bride and grooms'
apartment?

Obviously, the gift giver wanted to display
their generosity, not practicality. This thing was going to be a
bitch to move. Damn showoffs.

She ran a hand over the glossy, dark, half
counter that broke the upper glass cabinet from the closed-in
cabinet below. It was cool and smooth. Experimentally, she opened
one of the glass doors and was impressed by how perfectly it swung
on its hinges. This piece had been handmade by a master. Stupid
sister. She always had all the luck.

She checked for a card. Maybe she could
invite the gift giver to her own wedding.

Nothing. It figured.

She lightly ran her fingers
over the counter, letting her thumb rub the bumpy edge where she
discovered an engraving.
May the circle of
your love be like a golden ring: as giving, precious, and
unending.

Beth sighed. She wanted one of these.
Bad.

Cynthia swished past, glowing. Beth pointed
to the cabinet. "Where did you register, girl? Did Dad send
it?"

Laughing, Cynthia propped the doors open to
the lobby. "No. I doubt he even got the invitation I sent to
Botswana or wherever he is. I ended up sending invites to three
different addresses." She straightened her back and proudly took
her spot in the soon-to-be receiving line. "Oz made it. Now, come
on. People will be arriving soon."

Beth faced the cabinet again, confused. Oz
didn't do carpentry. She didn't think he even owned a hacksaw.
Someone didn't turn into a master cabinetmaker in a handful of
months.

"Yeah, right," Beth muttered and gave the
cabinet a last look. "Bought it is more like it."

She turned to join her sister and just about
bowled into Oz.

"Oh." Embarrassment flooded her nervous
system with lava, and she took several steps back.

"Hi." Oz gave her a calm, studying look and
tucked his hands in his pockets. His eyes weren't nearly as relaxed
as his demeanor. She glanced over his shoulder for his date; she'd
been expecting Mandy to appear all afternoon.

Beth gave a little laugh. "Where did you buy
this? It must have cost you a fortune."

Oz shifted, turning a shoulder to Beth. "I
made it."

She leveled him with a give-me-no-guff look
and waited.

He gripped the top of the
cabinet, rubbing the varnish with a thumb. He propped up a card on
an upper shelf that said
Handcrafted by
Oswald Reiter.
"I had to keep myself busy."
He met her eye. "This is it, Beth."

She laughed, staring at the card in
disbelief. "This is what?"

Oz pushed past Beth.

Beth stared at the cabinet. Saw dust. Saw
dust on his shoulders. The whittled the cigar box he was so nervous
about giving. Benny's cabinets. She turned, facing his back. "Oz.
I'm sorry."

Oz paused, half turning to judge her
genuineness. He silently moved closer. "This is my debut. Nobody
knew until now. Well," he looked over her head at the cabinet and
sucked on his lower lip for a second before admitting, "I told Dad.
He laughed and said I should focus on a real career. There was no
way I could pay the mortgage and support you and a family playing
with wood."

Shit.
She'd just laughed at his dream like his father had. No wonder
he didn't tell her this stuff. He probably felt like it was his
life or hers—not their lives melded together.