The Manning Grooms

Dear Friends,

So here it is—the third and final installment in the Manning series. I hope you’ve enjoyed the stories thus far. I wrote
Bride on the Loose
in 1990 and dedicated it to my friend Ginny and her husband, Dean, for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Ginny was a special reader who inspired me and I came to love her feisty nature and her zest for life.

As is often the case with a series, I thought I was finished. I’d written about all five of the Mannings and was happily moving on with my writing schedule. Yet every now and then, James Wilkens, the man who was once Christy Manning’s fiancé, would drift into my mind. I was touched by the way he insisted that since he was the one to put the engagement ring on her finger, he should be the one to take it off. Nearly four years later I decided to give James his own book, and that was how
Same Time, Next Year
came about. So although James isn’t
really
a Manning groom, his story belongs with theirs.

Like my own family, the Mannings are a close-knit group. At the time I wrote these books, my four children were teenagers. Now, like the Manning sisters and brothers, they’re all married with children of their own. It was a joy to write the Mannings’ stories and it’s been an even greater joy to see them come to life a second time.

My wish is that you’ll enjoy this last installment. I love hearing from readers! You can reach me at www.debbiemacomber.com or you can write me at P.O. Box 1458, Port Orchard, Washington 98366.

BRIDE ON THE LOOSE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

SAME TIME, NEXT YEAR

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

To Virginia and Dean,
whose fifty years of love have inspired me.
Happy Golden Wedding Anniversary!

I
t was one of those days. Jason Manning scrubbed his hands in the stainless-steel sink, then applied ointment to several scratches. He’d just finished examining and prescribing antibiotics for a feisty Persian cat with a bladder infection. The usually ill-mannered feline had never been his most cooperative patient, but today she’d taken a particular dislike to Jason.

He left the examining room and was greeted by Stella, his receptionist, who steered him toward his office. She wore a suspiciously silly grin, as if to say “this should be interesting.”

“There’s a young lady who’d like a few minutes with you,” was all the information she’d give him. Her cryptic message didn’t please him any more than the Persian’s blatant distaste for him had.

Curious, Jason moved into his book-lined office. “Hello,” he said in the friendliest voice he could muster.

“Hi.” A teenage girl who seemed vaguely familiar
stood as he entered the room. She glanced nervously in his direction as if he should recognize her. When it was obvious he didn’t, she introduced herself. “I’m Carrie Weston.” She paused, waiting expectantly.

“Hello, Carrie,” Jason said. He’d seen her around, but for the life of him, couldn’t recall where. “How can I help you?”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Ah…no.” He couldn’t see any point in pretending. If a cat could outsmart him, he was fair game for a teenager.

“We’re neighbors. My mom and I live in the same apartment complex as you.”

He did his best to smile and nod as though he’d immediately placed her, but he hadn’t. He racked his brain trying to recall which apartment was hers. Although he owned and managed the building, Jason didn’t interact much with his tenants. He was careful to choose renters who cared about their privacy as much as he cared about his. He rarely saw any of them other than to collect the rent, and even then most just slipped their checks under his door around the first of the month.

Carrie sat back down, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. “I—I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been trying to talk to you for some time, and…and this seemed to be the only way I could do it without my mother finding out.”

“Your mother?”

“Charlotte Weston. We live in 1-A.”

Jason nodded. The Westons had been in the apart
ment for more than a year. Other than when they’d signed the rental agreement, Jason couldn’t recall speaking to either the mother or her daughter.

“Is there a problem?”

“Not a problem…exactly.” Carrie stood once again and opened her purse, taking out a thin wad of bills, which she leafed through and counted slowly. When she’d finished, she looked up at him. “It’s my mother,” she announced.

“Yes?” Jason prompted. He didn’t have a clue where this conversation was leading or how long it would take the girl to get there. Stella knew he had a terrier waiting, yet she’d purposely routed him into his office.

“She needs a man,” Carrie said, squaring her shoulders.

“I beg your pardon?” The girl had his attention now.

“My mother needs a man. I’m here to offer you one hundred dollars if you’ll take her out on a date. You are single, aren’t you?”

“Yes…but…” Jason was so surprised, he answered without thinking. Frankly, he didn’t know whether to ask which of his brothers had put her up to this, or simply to laugh outright. He couldn’t very well claim he’d never been propositioned before, but this was by far the most original instance he’d encountered in thirty-odd years.

“She’s not ugly or anything.”

“Ah…I’m not sure what to tell you.” The girl was staring at him so candidly, so forthrightly, Jason realized within seconds it was no joke.

“I don’t think my mother’s happy.”

Jason leaned against the side of his oak desk and crossed his arms. “Why would you assume my taking her out will make a difference?”

“I…don’t know. I’m just hoping. You see, my mom and dad got divorced when I was little. I don’t remember my dad, and apparently he doesn’t remember me, either, because I’ve never heard from him. Mom doesn’t say much about what went wrong, but it must’ve been bad because she never dates. I didn’t care about that before, only now…”

“Only now what?” Jason asked when she hesitated.

“I want to start dating myself, and my mother’s going totally weird on me. She says I’m too young. Boy, is she out of it! I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen. Can you imagine anything so ridiculous?”

“Uhh…” Jason wasn’t interested in getting involved in a mother-daughter squabble. “Not being a father myself, I can’t really say.”

“The ninth-grade dance is coming up in a few weeks and I want to go.”

“Your mother won’t allow you to attend the dance?” That sounded a bit harsh to Jason, but as he’d just stated, he wasn’t in a position to know.

“Oh, she’ll let me go, except she intends to drop me off and pick me up when the dance is over.”

“And that’s unacceptable?”

“Of course it is! It’s—it’s the most awful thing she could do to me. I’d be mortified to have my mother waiting in the school parking lot to take me home after the dance. I’d be humiliated in front of my friends.
You’ve just got to help me.” A note of desperation raised her voice on the last few words.

“I don’t understand what you want me to do,” Jason hedged. He couldn’t see any connection between Carrie’s attending the all-important ninth-grade dance and him wining and dining her mother.

“You need me to spell it out for you?” Carrie’s eyes were wide, her gaze scanning the room. “I’m offering you serious money to seduce my mother.”

For a wild instant, Jason thought he hadn’t heard her right. “Seduce her?”

“My mother’s practically a virgin all over again. She needs a man.”

“You’re sure about this?” Jason was having a hard time keeping a straight face. He could hardly wait to tell his brother Rich. The two of them would have a good laugh over it.

“Absolutely positive.” Carrie didn’t even flinch. Her expression grew more confident. “Mom’s forgotten what it’s like to be in love. All she thinks about is work. Don’t get me wrong…My mother’s an awesome person, but she’s so prim and proper…and stubborn. What she really needs is…well, you know.”

Jason felt sorry for the kid, but he didn’t see how he could help her. Now that he thought about it, he did recall what Charlotte Weston looked like. In fact, he could remember the day she’d moved in. She’d seemed feminine and attractive, more than a little intriguing. But he’d noticed a guardedness, too, that sent an unmistakable signal. He’d walked away with the impression
that she was as straitlaced as a nun and about as warm and inviting as an Alaskan winter.

“Why me?” Jason was curious enough to wonder why Carrie had sought
him
out. Apparently his charisma was more alluring than he’d realized.

“Well, because…just because, that’s all,” Carrie answered with perfect teenage logic. “And I figured I wouldn’t have to pay you as much as I would one of those dating services. You seem nice.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “Being a veterinarian is good, too.”

“How’s that?”

“You’ve probably had lots of experience soothing injured animals, and I think my mother’s going to need some of that—comforting and reassuring, you know?” The girl’s voice became fervent. “She’s been hurt…. She doesn’t talk about it, but she loved my father and I think she must be afraid of falling in love again. I even think she might like another baby someday.” This last bit of information was clearly an afterthought. Carrie cast him a speculative glance to be sure she hadn’t said something she shouldn’t have. “Don’t worry about that—she’s probably too old anyway,” she added quickly.

“She wants a baby?” Jason could feel the hair on the back of his neck rising. This woman-child was leading him toward quicksand, and he was going to put a stop to it right now.

“No—no…I mean, she’s never said so, but I saw her the other day holding a friend’s newborn and she had that look in her eyes…I thought she was going to cry.” She paused. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

For one brief, insane moment, Jason had actually considered the challenge of seducing Charlotte Weston, but the mention of a baby brought him solidly back to earth.

“Listen, Carrie,” Jason said, “I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to work.”

“It’s got to,” she pleaded urgently, “just for one date. Couldn’t you ask her out? Just once? If you don’t, I’ll be humiliated in front of my entire class. I’d rather not even go to the dance if my mother drives me.”

Jason hated to disappoint her, but he couldn’t see himself in the role of rescuing a fifteen-year-old damsel in distress from her mother’s heavy hand, even if Carrie did make a halfway decent case.

“Is it the money?” Carrie asked, her eyes imploring. “I might be able to scrounge up another twenty dollars…but I’m going to need some cash for the dance.”

“It isn’t the money,” Jason assured her.

Wearing a dejected look, Carrie stood. “You sure you don’t want to take a couple of days to think it over?”

“I’m sure.”

She released a long, frustrated sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Good luck.” Jason held open the door. He had no intention of asking Charlotte Weston out on a date, but he he did feel sorry for Carrie. Although he hadn’t been a teenager in years, he hadn’t forgotten how important these things could seem. Things like the ninth-grade dance.

Charlotte let herself into the apartment at six that evening. She slipped off her heels and rubbed the tense muscles at the back of her neck.

“Hi, Mom,” Carrie called cheerfully from the kitchen. “How was work?”

“Fine.” There was no need to burden her daughter with how terrible her day had been. Her job as an executive assistant at a large insurance agency might have sounded high-powered and influential, but in reality it was neither. Charlotte worked long hours with little appreciation or reward. For six months, ever since Harry Ward had taken over as managing director, she’d been telling herself it was time to change jobs. But she couldn’t give up the security of her position, no matter how much she disliked her boss.

“How was school?” she asked.

“Good. Tickets for the dance went on sale today.” Her daughter looked hopefully at Charlotte, as though expecting her to make some profound comment.

Charlotte chose to ignore the pointed stare. Her stand on the dance issue was causing a strain in their relationship, but she refused to give in to her daughter’s pressure. Carrie wasn’t going on an actual
date.
She was interested in a boy named Brad, but as far as Charlotte was concerned, Carrie could attend the dance with her girlfriends and meet him there. Good grief, the girl was only fifteen!

“Mom, can we
please
talk about the dance?”

“Of course, but…”

“You’re not going to change your mind, right?” Carrie guessed, then sighed. “What can I say to prove how unreasonable you’re being? Every girl in my class is going to the dance with a
boy.
And Brad
asked
me.”

Charlotte reached for an apron, tied it about her waist and opened the refrigerator door. She took out a package of ground turkey for taco salad. She wasn’t up to another round of arguments over the dance.

“Did you buy a dance ticket?” Charlotte asked, forcing an artificial lightness into her voice.

“No. I won’t, either. I’d rather sit home for the rest of my life than have my
mother
drop me off and pick me up. Brad’s father said he’d drive us both…What am I supposed to tell Brad? That my mother doesn’t trust his father’s driving? You’re making way too big a deal out of this.”

Ah, the certainty of youth, Charlotte mused.

“Will you think about it?” Carrie implored. “Please?”

“All right,” Charlotte promised. She hated to be so hardheaded, but when it came to her daughter, she found little room for compromise. To her way of thinking, Carrie was too young for a real date, even if the boy in question wasn’t the one driving.

The meat was simmering in the cast-iron skillet as Charlotte started to wash the lettuce. The faucet came off in her hand, squirting icy water toward the ceiling, and she gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Carrie asked, leaping up from the kitchen table where she was doing her homework.

“The faucet broke!” Already Charlotte was down on her knees, her head under the sink, searching for the valve to cut off the water supply.

“There’s water everywhere,” Carrie shrieked.

“I know.” Most of it had landed on Charlotte.

“Are you going to be able to fix it?” Carrie asked anxiously.

Charlotte sat on the floor, her back against the lower cupboards, her knees under her chin. This was all she needed to make her day complete. “I don’t know,” she muttered, pushing damp hair away from her face with both hands. “But it shouldn’t be that hard.”

“You should call the apartment manager,” Carrie said. “You’ve had to work all day. If something breaks down, he should be the one to fix it, not you. We don’t know anything about faucets. We’re helpless.”

“Helpless?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows at that. The two of them had dealt with far more difficult problems over the years. By comparison, a broken faucet was nothing. “I think we can handle it.”

“Of course we can, but why should we?” Carrie demanded. “We pay our rent on time every month. The least the manager could do is see to minor repairs. He should fix them right away, too.” She marched over to the wall phone and yanked the receiver from the hook. “Here,” she said dramatically. “You call him.”

“I…I don’t know the number.” They’d lived in the apartment for well over a year and until now there hadn’t been any reason to contact the manager.

“It’s around here somewhere,” Carrie said, pulling
open the top kitchen drawer and riffling through the phone book and some other papers. Within a very brief time, she’d located the phone number. “His name is Jason Manning. He’s a veterinarian.”

“He’s a vet? I didn’t realize that.” But then, Charlotte had only met the man once, and their entire conversation had been about the apartment. He seemed pleasant enough. She’d seen him in the parking lot a few times and he struck her as an overgrown kid. Frankly, she was surprised to learn he was a veterinarian, since she’d never seen him in anything other than a baseball cap, jeans and a T-shirt. Dressing up for him was a pair of jeans that weren’t torn or stained and a sweatshirt.