go getting all misty-eyed on me.”
“I can’t help it. You look like Cinderella.”
“Hey, in the Bellamy family, I am Cinderella. So you like the dress?”
“I love the dress.”
“Me, too. Olivia has exquisite taste.” Olivia Bellamy, the bride, was Philip’s daughter, too. As her newly discovered half-sister, Jenny would be the matron of honor. Jenny was just starting to learn what it was like to be a Bellamy. The wedding was a full-blown family affair and already the talk of Avalon.
Nina blinked and cleared her throat. “Remember when we were little, and we had our weddings all planned out?”
Jenny laughed. “Totally. I’d still have the notebooks where we wrote down all our plans, except they were lost in the fire.” She had lost virtually everything she owned in a house fire the previous winter. The way she had rebuilt her life and moved ahead was an inspiration to Nina.
“We were supposed to marry in a double ceremony,” Nina recalled, reliving the memories. She and Jenny used to sit on Jenny’s chenille-covered bed, discussing their weddings.
“Yep, a double ceremony with Rourke and Joey. Best friends marrying best friends. It was all so nice and neat, wasn’t it?” There was a soft note in Jenny’s voice, a wistful affection for the girls they had been, and regret for all that had happened since they’d dreamed those dreams.
“The music was going to be the greatest hits of Bon Jovi and Heart,” Nina recalled. “And the dresses—Good lord, we drew so many versions. Yards of metallic fuchsia with puffy sleeves. And bridal gowns that were not of this world.” She laughed, remembering how they had planned out every last detail, from the vows they would recite—an e. e. cummings poem, what else?—to the menu at the reception—macaroni and cheese, barbecued chicken and Sky River Bakery donuts. After dual honeymoons—Hawaii, of course—they would buy houses next door to each other. Nina would run the Inn at Willow Lake while Jenny wrote the Great American Novel.
“I hadn’t thought about that in years,” Nina said. “We had some imagination, didn’t we?” If she tried very hard, she was able to remember the kid she had been, before everything had happened. She’d been so full of hopes and dreams, and all her goals seemed completely and utterly reachable. “Nothing went according to plan for either of us, did it?” she added.
Jenny smiled and fluffed out the hem of her dress. “I never could have planned for anything this good. And you could say the same. You ended up with Sonnet, after all, which is the equivalent of winning the amazing-daughter lottery.”
Nina couldn’t dispute that. “Does it bug you at all that Olivia’s getting the big formal wedding?” she asked her friend.
“Lord, no.” Jenny waved a hand dismissively. “Philip offered—did I tell you that? He said he’d pay for any wedding I asked for.” She grinned. “Lucky for him, all I wanted was a quick trip down the aisle with a minimum of fuss, and a honeymoon in St. Croix. And I have to tell you, it was perfect for Rourke and me. And I’m sure you remember, I had a great dress.”
“I’ll never forget that dress,” Nina assured her. Jane Bellamy, Jenny’s new grandmother, had insisted on taking Jenny to Henri Bendel’s on Fifth Avenue, where they picked out a cocktail-length couture gown. “No one in the history of Avalon will forget that dress, are you kidding? You and Rourke are a great couple. Olivia is going to have the greatest maid of honor—”
“Matron of honor, please.”
“Sure. You’ll look like a million.” Then Nina, to her dismay, recognized what she was feeling—a tug of envy. She caught herself thinking that Jenny should be Nina’s matron of honor, not Olivia’s. This was ridiculous, though. In order to have a matron of honor, she would need to be a bride, which was the last thing on her mind. There was a lot Nina wanted now that she was single and her nest was empty. Getting married surely wasn’t one of them. Not anytime soon. But falling in love? Who didn’t want that? Unfortunately, you couldn’t make it happen the way you made a wedding happen, by hiring a planner and picking out china patterns.
Jenny presented her back. “Here, unzip me. And let’s get back to talking about this thing with Greg.”
“There is no thing with Greg.” The zipper snagged. Nina gently teased it away from the delicate fabric.
“He wants you to be his partner at the inn. I’d call that a thing.”
“He wants to suck me dry and then push me aside.”
“Greg’s not like that. He really does need help getting the place back up and running, and he’s smart enough to know you’re perfect for the job.”
“I just don’t get it. There are a hundred business opportunities in Avalon. A hundred and twelve last time I checked—and I did check.” She knew what was out there. When she was mayor, one of Nina’s priorities had been to dedicate a page of the city’s Web site to local business opportunities to attract investment. “Why does he have to pick the one thing I want?”
Jenny pulled on her T-shirt. “The two of you want the same thing. Maybe it’s a sign.”
“Right.”
“I don’t know why you’re so upset by this. You were willing to run the place on behalf of the bank. Greg is offering you virtually the same deal, only he wants to pay you a much bigger salary. Better benefits.”
“It’s completely different. The bank would have sold me the place as soon as I could qualify for a loan. Greg took that off the table.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“What, and make myself seem even more pathetic? No, thank you.”
“Nina, be honest with me, with yourself. Did you really think the bank’s asset division was going to wait for you to qualify for a small business administration loan?”
Like most government programs, the SBA moved with leaden slowness. Nina had been told that the process could take months, even a year. “Mr. Bailey would have waited. I’m sure he assumed his successor would have, as well. Her name’s Brooke Harlow and I think Greg’s dating her. Cozy, huh?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. This is a safer bet for you, anyway,” Jenny said reasonably. “Maybe you’ll hate it and want to get out. Maybe Greg will hate it, and he’ll be the one to get out.”
“Suppose it turns out to be perfect for both of us? Then we’d end up plotting to kill each other.”
“Or making a permanent merger.” Jenny wriggled her eyebrows.
“Don’t even.”
“Why not? Olivia filled me in on him. He’s her youngest uncle—twelve years younger than Philip, so that makes him … thirty-eight. He’s single. He’s a Bellamy. He’s a catch.”
“He’s got a half-grown boy and a grandbaby on the way.” Not that Nina had anything against pregnant teenagers. She herself was a member of that club.
“A big family is a blessing,” Jenny pointed out. “You of all people know that, Miss middle-child-of-nine.”
Nina
