href="#ue714aeb4-6f0a-573c-90f6-2cc75f332f9e">CHAPTER THREE
PALLAS WENT THROUGH a fast-food drive-through window on her way back to work. By the time she arrived, she’d finished her double cheeseburger and only had a few fries left. She tossed them in a belated attempt to be virtuous, then took the stairs to her office at a jog. As if that would burn off any excess calories.
“Mothers,” she muttered as she changed from her dress into jeans and a T-shirt. “What was God thinking?”
She tied her tennis shoes, then drew in a breath. She was restored to her regular self. The day would go on as if the unfortunate lunch incident hadn’t occurred. Pallas genuinely didn’t know what to do about Libby’s job offer. She’d earned her degree in finance because it was expected and required to go into the family business. Shouldn’t she be thrilled at the thought of working at the bank? It had always been her dream. Weddings in a Box was hardly making her a fortune. The sensible decision would be to sell it and start living a normal life. Only she just couldn’t seem to do it.
“I’ll decide in September,” she said aloud. “When the season is over. I’ll know what to do.” Assuming there would still be a job waiting with her mother. There was no way to know.
She went downstairs. The ballroom needed a good vacuuming and doing that would probably count as exercise. She would—
She turned the corner and screamed when she saw a man in the hallway.
The intruder turned and morphed into Nick. Pallas pressed a hand to her chest.
“What are you doing here?”
“I work here and have a key.”
Both were true, she told her rapidly thudding heart. “I forgot.”
“Which part?”
“Apparently all of it.”
He flashed her a smile. “Second thoughts on hiring me?”
“Gifted artist willing to restore my sad wooden panels for almost nothing above minimum wage? No second thoughts, although I do worry about your mental state. Not that I’m complaining about it. As long as you fall in the nonthreatening spectrum of crazy, I’m good with it.”
He chuckled. “I told you. I’m between projects and I’m excited to work on the panels. They need some serious love.”
She knew what he meant but had to admit the phrase “serious love” had her thinking of something other than wood restoration. She’d been without that particular brand of maleness for a long time now. Her lifestyle didn’t exactly lend itself to dating. For one thing, she worked weekends. For another, when guys found out she was “in the wedding business” they tended to get nervous.
To distract herself, she thought about how lucky she was that Nick was interested in helping her. What with him being talented and famous. Not that she knew more than the basic information. It wasn’t as if she’d actually seen his work in person. There had been lots of pictures online, but that was different than seeing the real thing. Maybe she should go to Atsuko’s gallery and poke around. Or not. Staring at what he’d created, complete with five-or six-figure price tags, would probably give her a heart attack.
“I came by to figure out what tools to bring with me when I get started tomorrow,” he added.
“You’re going to have to take them down, aren’t you?” She eyed the massive panels. “How is that going to work? And where will you put them?”
“I thought I’d move all the princess wedding props to the Roman wedding prop room and take over that space. My brothers and Alan will help me get the panels down and onto supports.”
“You’ve thought this through.”
“It seemed best to have a plan.” He hesitated. “You okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You seem upset or something.”
Ack! Having lunch with her mother was starting to leave actual marks. “It’s nothing. Family drama.”
Nick stayed right there in the hallway, as if waiting for her to say more. She told herself to keep quiet, but then belatedly remembered she generally caved under pressure.
“How much do you know about the history of Happily Inc?” she asked as she leaned against the wall.
“I don’t know. It was founded and people moved here?”
She laughed. “Probably. I’m talking more recent history. Say the 1960s.”
“Before my time. Yours, too.”
“But not my grandfather’s.” She drew in a breath. “In the 1960s Happily Inc was struggling. My grandfather on my mother’s side owned a local bank. If the town failed, no one would pay back their loans and he would lose piles and piles of money.”
“Bad for anyone,” Nick acknowledged.
“Exactly. Being the kind of man who wasn’t going to let that happen, Grandpa Frank invented a story about a stagecoach full of brides-to-be heading for the gold rush in northern California.”
Nick frowned. “I know this one. The stagecoach broke down right here and it took several weeks for the repair parts to arrive. By then, all the brides had fallen in love with local guys and the stagecoach continued its journey empty. That’s where the town gets its name.”
Her grandfather would be so proud, she thought humorously. “That is the legend.”
“It’s not true?”
“It’s a total crock, made up by Grandpa Frank. The thing was, he not only knew how to make up a good story, he knew how to sell it, and to whom. It played very well in Hollywood. Several movie stars were so intrigued, they held their weddings in Happily Inc. The media followed and now we have this.” She waved her arm to indicate the building. “An entire town devoted to the destination wedding.”
“Built on a lie. Pretty slick.”
“He’s an impressive guy.”
“Still around?”
“Grandpa Frank will outlive us all.”
“I hope I get to meet him.”
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”
He nodded slowly. “There’s a family bank and you work here. That’s interesting.”
“You mean what’s a nice girl like me doing in a place like this?”
“Something like that.”
She told him the abridged version of her failure at college and having to finish putting herself through school before she could be considered for the family firm.
“Working full-time, it took a little longer, but I got there. I have officially matriculated.”
“Damn,
