Kiss the Bride (33 page)

“Maybe you didn't have to,” Annie said softly.

“Ethan was hoping to score some extra points with Coach by being nice to his geeky daughter.” And then he'd
promptly forgotten about her. “I'm okay, Annie. It was a long time ago.
Ethan
was a long time ago.”

“But he's here now,” Annie pointed out. “In Red Leaf.”

“And I'm leaving.” Mac felt the need to point that out too.

“I don't know why.” Her friend's face took on a look of dreamy contentment. “Red Leaf is perfect.”

“You say that because you didn't grow up here. When I moved back home after Coach's heart attack, it was as if I'd never been away. It doesn't seem to matter that I graduated from college and lived in the city for a year.

“Every time I go into the bakery, Mrs. Sweet tells me that I'm too skinny and tries to force-feed me sprinkle doughnuts. When Vivienne Wallace sees me at church, she asks how my piano lessons are going.”

“I didn't know you played the piano.”

“I don't. Not since fourth grade anyway.” Mac released a sigh. “If I stay, people are always going to see me as the geeky little girl with braids . . . Why are you smiling?”

“Because Ms. Viv
is
a bit eccentric . . . and because I can't wait until those kinds of things happen to me. I've lived in a lot of places but I never felt like I was part of them.” Annie reached out and squeezed her hand. “You have roots here. A shared history. I don't think people look at you as the geeky girl with braids. They look at you with . . . love.”

Mac didn't have time to process that because the door of the nursery suddenly swung open and a petite brunette charged in.

“Can I help—
Hollis
?”

“I talked to your dad,” Hollis said without preamble. “He said you're the one who's going to write about my wedding.”

Mac tried to come up with her qualifications but she really didn't have any. Or explain that her editor had given her the story based on the assumption they'd been close friends—but that would have sounded more like the punch line of a joke.

Leaving Mac with only one option. The truth.

“That's right.”

Ethan's sister took two steps toward her, bringing them nose to perfect freckle-free nose. Then she threw her arms around Mac's neck. “Thank goodness.”

Ethan had wandered into his dad 's office on Monday morn
ing, cup of coffee and Bible in hand, not expecting he would find an answer to prayer when he was searching for a pen in his father's desk drawer.

But there it was. The most unusual collection of memorabilia Ethan had ever seen. Photographs of bald-headed babies and gap-toothed children. Stats cut from the sports page. Fishermen proudly holding up the catch of the day. Handwritten notes and a four-leaf clover preserved under a yellowed piece of Scotch tape.

As Ethan had slowly flipped through the pages, he realized these weren't random items. They were gifts from his dad's patients. Pieces of their lives.

Ethan closed the cover of the scrapbook, along with any remaining doubts he'd been having over his decision to stay in Red Leaf.

He'd been putting a fresh coat of paint on the boathouse Sunday night when his mother had marched up to him.

“I just had an interesting conversation with Frank Heath in the frozen food aisle of the grocery store. He seemed surprised that I didn't know you're planning to take over his practice.”

Mac was right. He had forgotten what it was like to live in a small town.

Ethan had tried to explain his reasons, but his mother looked more frustrated with him than she had when Hollis announced that Hank Ackerman had agreed to provide the music for the wedding reception.

“I don't understand you, Ethan. You have a
future
at Midland Medical. I can't believe you're willing to give up everything for a family practice in Red Leaf.”

“It depends on your definition of everything,” Ethan had said quietly.

Connor had shown up with a paintbrush and Ethan's mother had backed off, but he'd had a hunch the conversation wasn't over.

“Ethan?” His mother's voice floated down the hall.

And his hunch had been right. Ethan braced himself for round two.

His mother appeared in the doorway a moment later. “Have you seen your sister? I can't find her anywhere.”

“No, but maybe she went into town. She wanted to talk to Mrs. Sweet about ordering cupcakes for the reception.”

“Cupcakes.” His mom's nose wrinkled with distaste. “I don't know why they're so popular. Cupcakes are for children's birthday parties, not weddings.”

“It's what Hollis wants.” A phrase Ethan had repeated at least a dozen times over the past twenty-four hours. “She and Connor want to keep things simple.”

“Simple.” She sniffed.

“That doesn't mean it won't be special. The two don't cancel each other out.” Quoting Mac made Ethan think about Mac.

And thinking about Mac made him want to see her again.

When
was
he going to see her again?

On the way home from church yesterday, Hollis had told him that Mac wanted to interview her before the next issue came out, but she hadn't come over to the house.

Now that his mother had arrived, Mac probably assumed he didn't need her help with the wedding anymore. But he needed her honest opinion. Her spunk.

Her smile.

“I don't know what's gotten into your sister lately,” his mother said. “She used to be so sensible.”

No, Hollis used to do exactly what their mother wanted. She didn't know what to do with her offspring when they deviated from her perfect plan.

“Hollis is marrying a great guy, Mom, so I think you can trust her decisions.” He pressed a kiss against her cheek. “Just enjoy the day.”

“I'll do my best, but I still think they should have gotten married at Porter Lakeside—”

“I meant enjoy
this
one.” Ethan didn't know whether to be amused or exasperated by his mother's tenacity. Considering it was a trait she had passed on to both her children, he should probably go with amused.

“I just took a batch of blueberry scones out of the oven.” She pivoted toward the door. “I'll bring a plate out to the patio if you care to join me.”

Ethan would rather have one of Mrs. Sweet's cinnamon rolls, but he nodded. “I'll be there in a minute.”

He walked to the desk and slid the scrapbook back into the drawer.

“Thanks, Dad,” Ethan whispered. “In a few weeks I'll be starting one of my own.”

“Ethan!”

Ethan shook his head. The scones must be getting cold.

“I'm right here—” He pushed open the French doors leading onto the patio, and the first thing he saw was an enormous black Lab camped underneath the table.

His mother stood a safe distance away, as if she wasn't sure whether the dog posed a threat to her or the scones. “I can't get it to leave! Do you have any idea who that animal belongs to?”

Ethan scraped a hand across his jaw to hide a smile. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Thank you, Snap.
“I'll make sure he gets home.”

“I'm going inside.” His mother closed her eyes. “I feel a headache coming on. If you see Hollis, please remind her that we have a list of things to accomplish today.”

“I will.” Ethan clapped. “Let's go, Snap.”

The Lab zigzagged through the woods as Ethan made his way to Mac's house. The scent of bacon—so much better than scones—filtered through the screen in Coach's kitchen window as Ethan rapped on the back door.

A barefoot Mac appeared a moment later. She wore a T-shirt
and denim shorts and the same guarded look Ethan had seen on her face when he'd stumbled upon her in the gazebo the day he arrived in Red Leaf.

“I think this belongs to you.”

“Snap.” Mac yanked the door open and the Lab shuffled past her. “He doesn't usually leave the yard when I let him out in the morning. He didn't get into any trouble, did he?”

“Are you kidding? He saved me from having to eat a blueberry scone. Now I can sneak into town and buy one of Mrs. Sweet's cinnamon rolls.”

“Get one for me!” a voice sang out.

Ethan blinked. “Is that Hollis?”

“They came over a little while ago.” Mac's reluctance was obvious as she ushered him down the hallway and into the kitchen, where his sister and her soon-to-be husband sat at a table in the breakfast nook.

“Well, this explains why Mom couldn't find you.”

Hollis had the grace to look guilty. “I promised her that I would go through her wedding checklist this afternoon, but Connor and I made a list of our own.”

Ethan glanced at the empty plates. “Starting with breakfast at the neighbor's?”

“That was an added bonus.” Connor smiled at Mac.

“We want to take the canoe out to Granite Rock this morning, so I asked Mac if she minded interviewing me on the way there,” Hollis explained.

Ethan's gaze shifted to Mac. “So you're working from a canoe this morning instead of your office?”

“A reporter has to be flexible.” A smile chased through Mac's eyes and Ethan realized that was what he wanted to see.

Hmmm. Maybe
he'd
start a list too.

“Connor has never paddled a canoe,” Hollis whispered, even though her fiancé was sitting right next to her. “He's a city boy.”

“I've never climbed a tree, either, or caught crayfish under the dock,” Connor confessed cheerfully.

“I haven't been in a canoe for years,” Ethan murmured.

“You should come with us, then.” Hollis rose. “Mac was just telling us that she would see you doing cannonballs off the side of Granite Rock.”

Ethan looked at her with interest. “You did?”

“You can see it from the deck.” Mac collected the empty coffee mugs from the table. She didn't look at him but Ethan felt a surge of satisfaction when her freckles turned pink.

Check.

“So.” Hollis dipped her paddle into the water as Mac steered the
canoe away from the dock. “What do you want to know first?”

Mac wanted to know what had happened to the Hollis Channing who'd dropped her wet towel on Mac's clothes in the locker room after PE, forcing her to go to history class looking like she'd taken a shower with her clothes on. The one who ran for class president just so she could lobby for full-length mirrors in the girls' bathroom.

When Ethan's sister had marched into the church nursery, Mac was sure she was about to be fired. Hollis's unexpected appearance had been as disconcerting as the hug that followed.

Over Hollis's shoulder, Annie had given Mac a see-I-told-you-people-can-change smile.

Mac wasn't sure about that. Until Hollis had shown up
at Mac's door that morning, her ponytail threaded through the back of an old baseball cap and not a speck of makeup on, her celebrity fiancé in tow.

“Well,” Mac said slowly, “when it comes to wedding stories, everyone wants to know how you met.”

“At a hospital fund-raiser . . . What? You look surprised.”

“I thought you were going to say you met at a club or a swanky party.”

“No swanky parties for me.” Hollis chuckled. “Running your own business doesn't give you much time to socialize. I'd been away on a business trip, previewing a new clothing line for Crush—that's the boutique I own—so I was late for the dinner.

“Ethan never mentioned he'd met Connor, let alone that they'd become friends. He squeezed in another chair at the table and Connor and I . . .” Hollis paused, searching for the right word.

“Clicked?”

“More like rubbed each other the wrong way. Connor was so standoffish. Whenever I tried to start up a conversation, he would get this strange look on his face.”

“What kind of look?”