to mar your record.”
The truth was, Linnea couldn’t have asked for a better partner in her business. Katrina possessed a lot of business savvy, loved the boutique as much as Linnea did and was an excellent salesperson. Michael liked to tease them by calling them the odd couple because Katrina was petite with a stylish black bob, while Linnea stood several inches taller and had long, wavy red hair. They might look different, but in all the ways that mattered they were a perfect business match.
“So, how many times have you been back to stare at your dress this morning?” Katrina asked before taking a drink of her coffee.
“Only once.”
Katrina laughed a little. “Going into withdrawal yet?”
Linnea bumped Katrina’s shoulder with her own. Before she could think of an appropriate response, however, their first appointment of the day arrived— Rena Cavendish and her very demanding mother. Linnea put on her best smile and went to work.
By the time Rena’s mother finally agreed on the last of the details for her daughter’s wedding, Linnea felt as if she needed about twelve hours of sleep to recuperate. Still, she didn’t let her smile waver as the Cavendish women made their departure. It was her job to make them happy, to make them believe helping them was the absolute highlight of her day. Most of the time, she did love every minute of her job. But there was the occasional mother like Marilyn Cavendish or a true bridezilla who made keeping her smile from faltering extra challenging.
When Rena and Marilyn disappeared around the corner, Linnea felt like massaging her aching facial muscles. She glanced across the store to where Katrina was aiding a young bride who, by contrast, was as sweet as pie.
The door chime drew Linnea’s attention. A woman perhaps a few years older than her with blond hair pulled back in a chignon walked in.
“Good morning,” Linnea said, smiling more naturally this time. “How can I help you?”
“You’re Linnea Holland.” The fact that the words weren’t a question left Linnea with an odd feeling. Maybe it was the way the woman was staring at her without looking away.
“Yes. I’m sorry, have we met?”
“You’re engaged to Michael Benson?”
Linnea searched for a reason for the strange conversation. “I am. Do you know Michael?”
“You’re going to want to call off that wedding.”
Linnea jerked back a bit at the woman’s words and what seemed like anger barely banked below the surface. “And why would I do that?”
“Because he’s already married. To me.”
Linnea gripped the edge of the counter to steady herself. Before she realized Katrina had moved away from the customer she was helping, she was there next to Linnea, placing a comforting hand on her arm.
“Ma’am, what is the meaning of this?” Katrina said softly to shield her words from the young bride-to-be.
A glance in that direction, however, told Linnea that the unexpected conversation had not gone unnoticed.
The woman also looked toward the customer. The latter held a wedding gown in front of her as she looked in the mirror and failed to do a very convincing job of pretending she wasn’t listening to them. Shifting her gaze back to Linnea, the woman claiming to be Michael’s wife stepped closer.
“Listen, I’m not accusing you of husband stealing or anything.”
“Good, because I’m not,” Linnea said with more than a little heat in her response. She wanted this woman and her crazy accusations to go away.
The sympathy that appeared in the other woman’s eyes scared Linnea more than anything she’d said.
“My name is Danielle Benson. Michael and I have been married for six years.”
Linnea shook her head. “No, you’re wrong.”
“I assure you I’m not.” Danielle pulled a photo out of her purse and placed it atop the counter.
Linnea’s breath caught as she stared down at a photo of Michael, a little younger, in a tux and holding the hands of the woman who now stood in front of Linnea. The younger version of Danielle wore a wedding gown and was looking up at Michael as if she couldn’t believe she’d gotten so lucky. Linnea knew that feeling. Again, she shook her head. “Photos are remarkably easy to manipulate.”
Danielle patted her purse. “I have a copy of our marriage license.”
“All that would prove is that you were married at one point.” Sure, Michael had said nothing about being married before, but she needed to believe that if he ever had been he was now divorced. The alternative was just too horrible to be believed. Her Michael wouldn’t do something like that.
“I know this is hard to hear, and trust me when I tell you that it isn’t any easier to say. I didn’t want to believe my husband was cheating on me, but when I found out that he was actually planning to marry someone else, someone who had no idea he was already married... Well, I knew I couldn’t let him hurt you like he has me.”
“No, this can’t be right. You’re mistaken. There are probably lots of Michael Bensons.” Even as Linnea tried to explain away Danielle’s claims, doubt began to seep in like water finding the cracks in a rock. There might be a lot of Michael Bensons, but they didn’t look like her Michael. Linnea’s hearing seemed to fade, and the world around her started to spin in nauseating circles as Danielle explained how she’d hired a private investigator to follow Michael and that the PI was the one who’d relayed that Linnea was totally unaware of Michael’s marital status.
In the blink of an eye, the meager contents of Linnea’s stomach staged a revolt that sent her racing for the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and made it to the toilet just in time. After she finally stopped retching, she found she didn’t have the strength to push herself up from the floor. And then the tears came.
She needed to call Michael, to straighten this mess out. But as she sat on the floor in her favorite teal pencil skirt, doubts and questions began to peck at her like the beaks of sinister birds. The fact that she’d never met Michael’s parents, how he’d never taken her to any company function and all the long business trips. She strangled on a sob when she considered those trips hadn’t been for business at all but that he’d been going home to his wife.
A knock on the door was followed by Katrina’s voice. “Are you okay?”
No, she wasn’t okay. She might never be okay again.
When Linnea didn’t answer, Katrina opened the door.
“Oh, hon.” Katrina kneeled beside her and pushed an errant lock of hair back behind Linnea’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
Linnea met her friend’s gaze. “You believe her?”
The sympathy on Katrina’s face, different from Danielle’s but no less devastating, caused Linnea’s insides to twist into painful knots. “Is she still here?”
“No, she left.”
“Please
