romantic, that’s how she got started in this business. Yards of tulle, tons of hearts and flowers—it’s been a part of her world for so long I doubt she could envision Woodwards any other way now.”
“Why should she?” Cade tilted his head back to study the ivory stone facade of the building. “Her way obviously works. I was told Weddings by Woodwards assisted with more than four hundred weddings last year.”
“And each of them was absolutely perfect. That’s my family.” There it was again, that proud but irritated tone. “How did you choose Woodwards, Cade?”
“I talked to some friends of Karen who told me that if I wanted a spectacular wedding, Weddings by Woodwards was the only way.”
“I see.” Sara’s eyes narrowed. She made a notation on her pad, then lifted her head, brown eyes narrowed. “These friends—are they good friends? The kind of friends your sister would ask to be her attendants if she were planning her own wedding?”
Cade slowly nodded. Sara Woodward may have been out of the family business for a while, but she caught on to his line of thinking faster than the ranch foreman who’d been working for him for ten years.
“Exactly that kind of friend,” he told her.
She grinned, her eyes dancing.
“Now we’re cooking. Tonight I want you to write down everything you can think of about Karen. Bring your notes and her album tomorrow. That will give us a place to start.”
“Okay.”
Sara was easy to talk to. Cade surprised himself by prattling on and on about how much he wanted his sister to come home, how he worried about her safety, fussed about her future happiness.
When Sara’s attention slipped from him, Cade turned, saw a diminutive figure in black in the display window, writing in big brown letters.
Do you want your wedding to look like this?
“That’s Winnie!”
“But I thought—” Cade trailed behind Sara into the store, right up to the narrow door from which she’d first emerged. He halted, knowing how tight the fit was.
Sara slipped through.
“Winnie? What are you doing here?”
He heard a forced cough, then a familiar voice that didn’t sound the least bit ill.
“Hello, darling. I thought I’d stop by to check on things. I figured the twins must have rearranged the window, so I—”
“Never mind the twins,” Sara scolded. “You’re supposed to be at home. Resting. Come on, out you go.”
Cade stepped back as Sara emerged, leading her grandmother. He’d only seen photographs of Winifred Woodward, but she looked exactly like the elegant duchess in her publicity photos. Today she wore a black sheath dress with silver jewelry and high heels. She looked significantly younger than her rumored age. Her silver white curls were swept up into a regal style that enhanced merry brown eyes and rose-tinted cheekbones.
“You’re Cade Porter, I think.” She thrusted out a tiny blue-veined hand to grasp his. “Winifred Woodward. I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep our appointment.”
“I’m sorry you’re not well.” Except she looked the picture of health.
“It’s just a cold. My family is overreacting.” Winnie patted Sara’s cheek. “I’m getting better every day.”
“You don’t sound better. Your voice is scratchy.” Sara frowned. “How did you get here, Grandmother?”
“A cab.” She brushed her fingers against Sara’s golden curls. “Don’t be angry, dear. I couldn’t sit around that house a moment longer. I’m used to being busy.”
“Katie said the doctors ordered rest. You’re to follow their advice, Granny. That’s why I came.” She grasped the old lady’s arm as Winifred tried to stem a bout of coughing. “Now you’ve tired yourself out. Home you go.”
“I never thought you’d try to tell me what to do.” Winifred’s perfectly made-up face wore a sly look. “You, of all people, Sara. Aren’t you the one who’s always championing your right to live your life your own way?”
“I’m not sick. And my doctor didn’t tell me to stay in bed.”
“I thought I heard—Grandmother?” Katie rushed into the room and, seizing the older woman’s arm, seated her in one of the fussy chairs that littered the foyer. “Look at you. Your face is as white as a calla lily. You’ll probably faint any moment.”
Cade thought Katie’s concern was exaggerated considering Winifred hadn’t exhibited any sign of fainting. But it was nice to see the old lady was cherished.
“I’m fine,” Winifred repeated. Her smile looked slightly forced now.
“You’re not. Your hand is too warm and you’re sniffling.”
“She’s going home, Katie. I’ll take her.” Sara shuffled papers on the desktop, obviously searching for something. “Do you know where my car keys are? I’m sure I left them beside the phone.”
“Oh, dear.”
Katie fluttered her eyelashes at him, then pressed her fingertips against her lips. In Cade’s opinion this was the sister who belonged in Hollywood, except Katie’s acting was too forced. And why was she looking at him like that?
“Is something wrong?”
“Well, you see, Reese’s car wouldn’t start,” Katie said. “He had to get to another appointment, so I gave him Sara’s car keys. I didn’t think she’d need them and he promised he wouldn’t be long.”
“Then I’ll take yours, Katie.” Sara held out her hand.
“No! You can’t have them.” Katie’s shrill voice broke on a nervous laugh at their stares of surprise. “I mean, that’s the problem. I put my car in the shop this morning for an oil change. If I’d known we’d need it—”
Something about Katie’s quick response bothered him, but Cade wasn’t going to speculate. He needed to get back to the ranch. But when Mrs. Woodward’s thin form shuddered and another cough rattled her tiny figure, he put his own plans aside.
“I’ll be happy to drive you home, ma’am. My car’s just across the street.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll call a cab.” She wheezed out the words, her handkerchief muffling something he didn’t quite catch.
“It’s not a problem. Please, allow me.” Cade held out his arm, surprised by the weakness of her grip when she rose. The old lady must be sicker than she looked. “I could bring the car around to the front door if it’s too difficult for you to walk.”
“I’m fine. Sara, where’s my coat? Oh, good. Now you come here on the other side where I can hold on to you. All of a sudden I’ve gone a bit wobbly.”
Sara
