the only family member, continued to sob quietly into Aurora’s tissue. Tony, Lucia’s youngest, climbed over his mother, stirring up a little cloud of hay dust, and settled himself against Aurora to examine the charms on her gold bracelet. Aurora held her arm still so he could peruse them to his heart’s content.
Someone from the church sang while Meg and Owen held hands and smiled at each other.
Yes, Aurora decided, all cleaned up like this, it was the perfect place for a wedding. Her own bar, the Dahl, was overdue for a makeover, too. But something more extensive than the good scrubbing Owen had given this barn. She’d been working on reno plans for months, not telling anyone what she intended. It was to be a surprise for the women in town.
We’ll have a patio, she mused. And a lovely room for bridal showers and bachelorette parties. The bathrooms, which she’d upgraded when she bought the place, would be enlarged and brightened. She wouldn’t do anything to change the log walls, of course, because the original building had an ambiance that was impossible to replicate, but she would definitely replace the stinky old wood paneling.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister announced. “You may now kiss the bride.”
The crowd roared its approval. Loralee pumped a fist in the air. Tony climbed from his seat beside her on the hay onto Aurora’s lap and surprised her with a wet kiss on her neck.
Life in Willing was about to improve in all kinds of ways.
CHAPTER TWO
AS THE GATHERED guests began to stand and mingle and the bride and groom signed official papers, the mayor of Willing, Jerry Thompson, sat trapped on a bale of hay between the town’s teenaged unwed mother and the infamous mother of the bride, a woman married so many times she’d lost count. As a young man deeply committed to improving the small town, Jerry was accustomed to being in situations where the utmost tact was called for. He was the master of small talk, of mingling, of schmoozing.
Unfortunately he was not comfortable sitting next to a woman who was feeding her baby in a very, um, natural way. There was a blanket, there was no skin showing, but still...
Awkward.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, there’s another one.” Loralee, mother of the bride and self-appointed grandmother to Shelly’s baby, wore a slinky purple dress and pale pink boots with purple embroidery on the shafts. She was sixty-two and, as she’d told Jerry earlier, not ready to wear a polyester housedress and serviceable shoes.
“Another what?” Shelly shifted her lump of baby against her chest. Little Laura didn’t make a peep.
“Another man hoping to meet women from California. Some of these men think that single women by the busloads are running rampant on Main Street.”
“So?” Jerry entered the conversation against his better judgment. Like eating half a chocolate cream pie, he would regret he’d done it. He didn’t bother to notice who Loralee was staring at, having decided to look straight ahead and avoid any risk of seeing the breast-feeding process.
“The word’s out.”
“That was the whole idea to begin with,” Jerry muttered. “Attract people? Make the town viable again? The word being out is a good thing, remember? Besides, he’s probably a friend of Owen’s from Washington. There were quite a few coming, weren’t there?”
“Not with a child. I pretty much memorized the guest list, having gone over it so many times with Meg.”
“He’s very handsome, too,” Shelly murmured. “He seems a little familiar. Are you sure we don’t know him?”
Jerry finally turned to look. An unfamiliar tall man stood inside the barn door and looked around as if he was hoping to see someone he knew. A young girl with gold short hair stood close to him. The stranger leaned over and said something to her and she shook her head.
“I’ve never seen him before. Maybe he’s another reporter,” Jerry said. “I’ll go find out.”
“Don’t give him an interview. This is a private party.” Loralee sniffed. “Publicity is okay, but not at my daughter’s wedding.”
Jerry paid no attention to Loralee’s complaint. He lived for publicity. He’d engineered the town’s involvement in the reality dating show and he’d welcomed the Hollywood crew to Willing. His girlfriend produced the show, which had resulted in at least one of the town’s bachelors finding the woman of his dreams, and the show was due to be aired the last Monday of April. He’d had many calls from many reporters, but he hadn’t talked to anyone who’d intended to come to Willing six weeks early.
He hadn’t talked to anyone who was interested in the MacGregor wedding, either, because it had nothing to do with the upcoming show.
“I’ll check him out.” Jerry lifted himself from the bale of hay and brushed off his pants. The barn, decorated in a real Western flavor, could be used for many wedding receptions in the years to come. They’d filmed one of the big moments of the show here this winter, and since then Owen had kept it empty. It was a huge space, undivided by stalls or stanchions or whatever barns had inside them. It would have held a lot of hay, if that’s what it was originally used for.
The wooden floor was faded and worn, but it had charm and character. The huge beams sparkled with ropes of tiny white lights.
“One whole day,” Les said, pointing to the beams as Jerry paused beside him. “That’s how long it took us to string those lights. We strung some for the show, but Meg wanted more. A lot more.”
“It looks good.”
The young man glanced toward Shelly, who was now holding her baby upright and patting its little back. “It’s a good place for weddings.”
Jerry agreed. “Owen and Meg could do a nice business here, with the barn and the catering and the whole rustic Montana historic ranch thing going on.”
“It holds more people than the community center, or the café,” Les added.
“If it looks good on the show, they’ve got it made. You can’t buy that kind of publicity.”
“No, sir, you can’t.” Les’s attention moved back to Shelly. “I’d sure like to get married. This wedding is pretty big, though. And it sure must cost a lot. It would take me a real long time to save up for a wedding.”
“Your money’s best spent elsewhere,” Jerry agreed. The young man’s love for the once homeless teenager was sweet, but Shelly had issues. She was only nineteen, had a baby with a rodeo charmer who’d turned out to be married and lived with Loralee in one of Meg’s cabins. She worked as a waitress and lived off tips, plus the extra money she made cleaning houses.
She wasn’t Jerry’s idea of the perfect love interest, but to each his own.
“I’m saving up for a house,” Les said. “I’m thinking about building something small, out at my grandparents’.”
“It’s good to have a plan.” Jerry pointed out the man near the doorway. “Do you know who that is?”
“Nope.”
“Well,
