Marry Me (15 page)

There should be a law about having to deal with difficult people before 9:00 a.m. Especially if said difficult person's last name happened to be Manning. As in Catherine Manning, mayor's wife and all around pain in the… neck.

Today's mission involved cake. They were meeting with Chef Devon and her baker-slash-cake designer, Audrey Samson, a robust, brown-haired woman with rosy cheeks and twinkling blue eyes. Think Mrs. Claus without the white hair.

Julia and the Mannings were all seated in the empty dining room of Devon's restaurant as she and Audrey brought out plates filled with different flavors of cake for tasting.

Getting paid to eat cake… Best idea Julia had ever heard. No doubt she'd actually enjoy the experience if Mrs. Manning weren't such a pain in the…
neck
. No question as to who had a say in the wedding planning process, either. Poor Laurel, the bride, had done little more than take bird-like bites of each cake and then turn to her mother before giving anything resembling an opinion.

Mrs. Manning puffed out her considerable chest and eyed the delicacies as if they were live grenades. “The butter cake is too common,” she announced. “Everyone has that.”

“The angel food is too sweet.”

“Lemon? No, too overpowering.”

“Mocha? We'll serve the coffee in a silver urn, not in the cake.”

“Golden vanilla? We might as well serve the butter cake.”

“Mousse? We're serving mousse as the dessert for the dress rehearsal. We can't have it twice.”

“Chocolate? A chocolate wedding cake? Oh, no dear. Now, for a groom's cake…”

“Orange? Oh, my goodness, no.”

By the fifteenth cake Julia had gone way past the novelty of sampling. In fact, she might never eat cake again, a crime against nature she could lay right at La Manning's feet.

Enough. “Mrs. Manning?”

Julia fought a shiver as the mayor's wife turned her perfectly smooth, unwrinkled face in her direction. “My boss was the president of a Fortune 500 company, and his daughter had a white chocolate wedding cake.”

Julia did not consider her statement an outright lie. There had been a white chocolate wedding cake. Her old firm in no way approached a Fortune 500 status, however.

Mrs. Manning didn't need to know the whole truth, especially as she seemed intrigued. “White chocolate?”

“It's all the rage, apparently,” Julia said, perfectly comfortable with her subterfuge if it meant she could leave this restaurant within the next century. “Everyone who's anyone in the northeast has one. The cake was square with four tiers and had little, hot pink roses cascading down the sides.”

Mrs. Manning turned to Devon and Audrey. “Can you do something like that? Of course Laurel's would need five tiers, and her colors are violet and white.”

Audrey Samson was no fool. “Five tiers it is,” she said without missing a beat. “I'll draw up some sketches for the decorations, and you can choose the one you'd like. I can have it ready by Monday morning.”

Mrs. Manning bent her head forward in a regal nod to her serfs.

Julia nearly sank to the floor in relief. She'd started to have visions of dancing wedding cakes invading her dreams. Everyone stood up. Mrs. Manning took the lead out the door, and like any good servant Julia followed ten paces behind.

As she was about to slip out the door, Julia looked over her shoulder. Devon and Audrey Sampson stood by the table. Audrey winked, while Devon grinned and mouthed,
“You're my hero.”

Julia stifled a laugh as she slipped out the door, only to stop short when she realized Mrs. Manning had also turned back.

“Is there a problem, Miss Richardson?” Mrs. Manning asked, regarding Julia with a hawk-eyed glare.

Julia swallowed. “None whatsoever, Mrs. Manning.”

The little
hmph
said La Manning didn't buy the quick save, but she must have decided to delay the execution because the Grande Dame swiveled on her elegant pumps and led the way down the street. Once they reached the shop, Mrs. Manning came to an abrupt halt. So abrupt, Julia almost knocked over everyone like a bowling ball. She stumbled and opened her mouth to ask what was wrong. Then she realized Her Majesty stood waiting for the door to be opened for her.

Clipboard is not a weapon, Julia. Not! A! Weapon!

Julia reached around and pulled the door open, allowing Mrs. Manning and Laurel to pass through. They hadn't gone more than two steps before coming to yet another halt. This time Julia did barrel into someone, and thankfully Laurel took the brunt of the collision with grace.

“Sorry,” Julia whispered. “Is there a problem?”

Yes, there was a problem, in the form of Amy Vining, who sat at the desk.

“What are you—” Julia began, but didn't get to finish the thought as Mrs. Manning glided forward with her arms outstretched.

“Amy, dear. Don't you look lovely?”

Julia's mouth dropped open. She hadn't known the woman possessed the muscles required to form a smile. Amy rose from her seat, and the two met in the middle of the shop. They exchanged a French two-cheek kiss, while Julia continued gaping at the transformed mayor's wife.

Amy flashed a smile in Julia's direction. “I hope you don't mind that I let myself in. I waited outside for a while, but I declare, a girl could melt in this heat.”

There went the “I declare” nonsense again. Did Amy think she was on the set of a Civil War movie or something? Julia half expected curtains would be pulled down soon so Amy could sew her own dress.

Julia tried her question again. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to help.”

“With what?”

Amy giggled. “With the wedding planning, of course. I visited dear Sarah this morning, and she told me how hard ya'll have been working over here. I've been feeling so sad about her situation, but I didn't know how to help.”

“You want to help run Marry Me?” Julia asked, her blood going cold.

“I do,” Amy said, giggling at her own little joke.

Oh, please no!
“I couldn't ask you to do that.”

“It's no trouble. Sarah mentioned sweet Laurel's wedding, and I'm sure you're completely overwhelmed with the preparations. I know quite a bit about Covington Falls. I did grow up here after all, and I've been told I have quite the flair for planning and decorating.”

“That is so sweet of you, dear,” Mrs. Manning said. “I'm sure Miss Richardson would be grateful for your assistance.”

A cold sweat broke out all over Julia's body. She could not work with Amy Vining. Talk about a nightmare.

Only one thing stopped Julia from tossing Little Miss Sunshine out the door. Amy probably did know more about Covington Falls than anyone on the face of the earth. So, Julia silenced the shrieking voice inside, and nodded as Amy beamed and Mrs. Manning signaled her approval.

Oh, Sarah, you are so going to be punished.

Julia stepped inside the house late that evening and stumbled upon a gaggle of women in the dining room. They were gathered around a dozen or so baskets, along with piles of food spread out across the table. Some of the women were filling the baskets, while others were shuttling back and forth to the kitchen. The noise level was deafening as they chattered and laughed. Julia felt as if she'd walked into a human ant pile. A noisy, giggling, gossiping, ant pile.

She tried to escape upstairs, but before she'd taken more than two steps, Sarah's mother-in-law spotted her.

“Julia. Hello, dear.”

A dozen heads swiveled in her direction. Julia froze, having a sudden notion of what an animal must feel like while staring into the glare of oncoming headlights.

“Hi,” Julia said, giving them a weak beauty pageant wave.

Grace emerged from the kitchen, and a smile broke out on her face. “Hi. The ladies are here helping to put together baskets for some of our members who've been ill, or in need of a good, home-cooked meal.”

“Sarah and Eric are on the list,” Mrs. Austin said.

Julia nodded, even as she eyed the door. “How nice. Everything smells wonderful.”

“Are you hungry?” Grace asked. “There's plenty of food.”

Julia would have refused, but her stomach suddenly took the time to remind her she hadn't eaten anything except sample wedding cake since breakfast.

Stupid stomach.

Grace chuckled. “Go help yourself.”

Well, why not? A body needed food. With a smile of thanks, she headed toward the kitchen. Then nearly whirled right back around when she realized who had cooking duty.

Mrs. Vining nodded, but there was no welcome in the gesture.

“Umm. Grace told me to… ah… help myself,” Julia said, fighting the urge to squirm like a kid sent to the principal's office.

“There's roast beef on the counter,” Mrs. Vining said after a long, tense silence. “It should still be hot.”

Julia crossed the room and grabbed a plate. She dished out some of the tender meat, along with some green beans and potatoes, keeping her back to the woman at the stove.

Another ice-filled silence fell.

“I understand Amy came by your shop today,” Mrs. Vining said.

Julia held back a sigh and braced for the punch line. She didn't know when the blow would come, or what form the roundhouse would take, but she expected an assault. “Yes, she did. She volunteered to help with Marry Me.”

“My Amy has always been a generous girl. So kind and helpful. So nurturing. She'll make a wonderful wife and mother some day.”

Uh, huh. Start with a game of my-daughter-is-the-bestest-thing-in-the-world. Julia understood the rules of this challenge and decided to play along. She leaned back against the counter and forked a piece of meat into her mouth. “With you as her guide, how could she not?”

As Julia hadn't bothered to disguise the bite in her voice, Mrs. Vining didn't miss the sarcasm. “Amy is also a woman of virtue and grace,” she said, eyes narrowed in challenge.

“Again a credit to you, no doubt.”

Mrs. Vining's nostrils flared. “I pride myself on knowing I raised a daughter who understands the right way. A woman of faith. She is, in fact, the model of a good, Christian woman.”

“I know my experience is rather limited in these matters, but I understood we're all on a level playing field in God's eyes. We're all supposed to be sinners, right?”

“Of course we are.”

Mrs. Vining's face went red and splotchy as she fought to hold on to her temper. Julia watched the build up with a touch of glee. Even so, she didn't want to fight so she reached for a glass from the cabinet.

Mrs. Vining apparently had no intention of letting the round end, however. “Reverend Graham has even commented on Amy's lovely qualities.”

Well, now at least they were getting down to the reason for the interrogation. Seth. Julia had no idea why the old bat would bother to warn her off, though. Surely no one knew about “the kiss”.

“Seth is kind that way,” Julia said.

“Sometimes too kind. He often doesn't see things that could hurt him.”

The pointed words carried enough venom to make the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “What do you mean?”

“There has been some talk.”

“About what?”

Mrs. Vining hesitated. “The… uh… living arrangements here. You know?”

Oh, Julia understood, but if the harpy planned on making ugly accusations, she'd have to come right out and say them.

“No, I don't know,” Julia said, daring the woman to step across the line in the sand. “You'll have to explain these accusations to me.”

“You have to admit, it is unconventional for you to be living here while he's in that apartment,” Mrs. Vining said, cheeks flushing as if knowing she'd gone too far.

“Are you implying Seth would act in an inappropriate manner toward me?” Julia asked.

“I would never—
”

“Or perhaps you think Grace would condone improper behavior under her own roof?”

“Of course not.” Mrs. Vining said, looking aghast.

“Or maybe it's me you're worried about? The heathen outsider? The daughter of the man who betrayed Covington Falls' resident angel?”

Mrs. Vining blanched and pulled herself up straight. “I hope you know I would never insult you that way.”

“Not to my face, anyway.”

“I was only trying to help.” Mrs. Vining said. “I know how much Grace and Sarah mean to you.”

“They all mean a lot to me.”

“I know, dear, and that's why I wanted to warn you. There are people who will think the worst. We're human after all, and we're prone to the same harmful thoughts as any other.”

“You mean you're apt to think the worst, especially of someone you don't know or particularly trust?”

Mrs. Vining huffed in exasperation. “I wanted to tell you, for Reverend Graham's sake. I'm sure you wouldn't want—”

Julia held up a hand. Any more kind warnings and she might resort to violence, and she didn't want blood all over Grace's kitchen. “I get it. You're only acting from a loving heart.”

“Exactly,” Mrs. Vining said, missing the irony in Julia's words.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

Mrs. Vining beamed, as if they'd come to an understanding. And maybe they had.

“Well, I'm done here,” Mrs. Vining said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “I'm going to help the ladies with the baskets. You enjoy your meal now.”

The roast beef suddenly tasted like sawdust. Leaving the plate in the sink, Julia escaped upstairs. A half hour later there was a knock at her bedroom door.

Grace stuck her head in. “How tired are you?”

“I guess that depends on what you're about to ask me to do.”