Falling for the Best Man (Sisters of Wishing Bridge Farm, #1)(11)
If you go home, I won’t follow you.
“Why not? You scrub up pretty well when you remember to brush your hair, and he…well, he’s not hard to look at.” Rachel raised her sunglasses and peered over to where Christopher was still talking to Lewis.
“Rachel Cullen, do I need to remind you that you’re a happily married woman?” Emmy asked as she followed Rachel’s gaze. It took all of her willpower not to let out a soft sigh. Yesterday, despite a thirty-hour flight, Christopher had managed to take her breath away. Today he was heart-attack-inducing, and if he could get even the forty-four-year old Rachel hot under the collar, he could work his magic on anyone. Her mood plummeted.
“I might be married, but I’m not blind,” said Rachel. “That man’s damn pretty, so how can you be certain you won’t get involved with him again?”
Because I’m not a masochist, and he only dates well-traveled girls who speak French and leave the country at the drop of the hat.
“He’s made his feelings abundantly clear. I was the girl too scared to leave the farm.” Emmy tried to ignore the small, stabbing pain in her chest.
“You were the girl who came home to care for her beloved great aunt,” Rachel corrected, and while Emmy nodded, she wasn’t so sure. Because even if she hadn’t got that dreadful phone call the morning she was meant to spontaneously fly to Fiji with Christopher, who was to say she wouldn’t still have chickened out? As her sisters were always reminding her, Emmy was a homebody, just like Ivy. A small town girl who didn’t want to leave. Someone who didn’t like change.
And Christopher was Change with a capital “C.”
“Doesn’t matter now,” Emmy said, hoping Rachel wouldn’t push the issue further. Thankfully her friend seemed to pick up Emmy’s reluctance and merely squeezed her hand.
“As long as you know what you’re doing,” Rachel said, but before Emmy could reply, her cell rang with a call from Bec.
“Hey,” her sister said without preamble. “Edo Windsor just came around to tell you his aunt was speaking to Millie Rider, who bumped into Shirley Venture, who said Monsieur Lafayette will be at Grayson’s Diner for apricot pie at two. I have no idea what any of this means, but apparently it was important enough for Edo to knock on the door for ten minutes.”
“He did?” Emmy said, feeling bad Bec had been woken up. Her sister was a girl who liked her sleep. Still, now Emmy had a chance to track down the dove breeder. This just proved knowing everyone in town wasn’t always a bad thing. “That’s wonderful.”
“If you say so.” Bec snorted and hung up. Emmy turned to Rachel, who was staring at her.
“Bec’s back?” Her friend raised an eyebrow. “When did this happen?”
“This morning, just before I came here. I would’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want to interfere with my denial process.” Not to mention she’d been busy following Christopher around the vineyard.
“She means well.” Rachel smiled. “Did she say why she was back?”
“No, but I suspect Pepper put her up to it. You know what they’re like. A sledgehammer away from a demolition crew, especially when it comes to getting what they want.”
“They wouldn’t sabotage the wedding,” Rachel said in a gentle voice. “And they can’t change who you are. You know you’re happiest here, surrounded by people you love and who love you. Surrounded by the memories of your ancestors. And no matter what happens, you don’t have to leave Sunshine. You’ll always have a home with us.”
“Thanks,” Emmy said, but while Rachel meant well, living near Wishing Bridge Farm but not on it wouldn’t be the same. Not even close. It would feel like she’d failed Ivy. Failed the Watson tradition. Failed herself. “But like you keep saying, hopefully it won’t happen.”
“Exactly.”
“Anyway, enough about my dysfunctional sisters. Monsieur Lafayette’s going to be at Grayson’s. Even better, he’s bound to be in a good mood because Grayson’s makes the best apricot pie in the state. And why are you smiling?”
“Because in your new career as a wedding planner, you’ve stolen a best man, and now you’re planning to stalk an eighty-five-year-old, bad-tempered dove breeder. That’s pretty amusing.”
“I’m just doing my job,” Emmy said, defending herself, as Rachel’s cell buzzed with a text message.
“Crisis in the cellar.” Rachel studied the screen before looking up. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Go.” Emmy waved her off. It was a busy time of year for the vineyard, and her friend had already gone above and beyond the call of duty with the tour. As Rachel hurried away, she passed Melinda, delicately holding up her summery dress as she made her way toward the terrace. Her pale curls were piled high on her head, and if she managed to relax during the ceremony, she’d make an exquisite bride.
“Emmy, there you are. I need to talk to you.”
“You do?” Emmy’s overgrown to-do list flashed in her mind. She crossed her fingers. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. It’s perfect.” Melinda beamed, and some of the stress seemed to leave her face. “This place is just as lovely as you described. I just wanted to thank you for calming me down after the disaster at the Rosepot Inn. My mother said a meltdown would happen. Though, between you and me, I thought it would be over the flowers. I mean what’s her obsession with orange gerberas? Can she not see my complexion’s too pale for them?”