Picture Perfect Wedding (24 page)

Think happy.
“Luke, can we take a walk to the sunflower field?”

“Sure.” He whistled Mac.

The border collie raced over to him and Maggie-May followed, her shorter legs working overtime to keep up with the bigger dog.

“I don’t have Maggie-May’s leash.”

“You’ll behave, won’t you, MM.” He bent down and scooped her dog up into his arms.

Maggie-May, who looked tiny against his broad chest, didn’t bark or struggle at being summarily wrenched away from Mac, and neither did she growl. Instead she tried to lick Luke’s face.

Erin laughed, struck by the image. “Have you been taking dog-whispering lessons from your dad?”

Luke grinned, his eyes bright and full of life. “She and I have an understanding.”

A rush of something she couldn’t name filled her. God, she was going to miss him when she left but she wasn’t going to think about that. She rose up on her toes and kissed him until Maggie-May tried to get in on the act too.

Luke released her dog and they strolled down to the sunflower field and clambered up the rails and sat on the fence. The white canopy for the wedding service had been erected earlier in the day and tomorrow the chairs and green carpet would be set out. Sunflowers would be tied with green ribbon to decorate the chairs which lined the aisle. She could barely believe they were less than forty-eight hours away from the big day.

She leaned into Luke. “Do you have your phone? I want to check the forecast.”

He passed the device over with an indulgent smile. “It wouldn’t dare rain on Connie Littlejohn. She wouldn’t allow it.”

She thought of everything she had riding on this wedding shoot. “It has to be perfect, Luke.”

He slipped his arm around her just as the sun dropped below the tall flowers and fingers of fire-red and orange spread across the sky. Pressing a kiss into her hair, he said, “It already is.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Here you go, Dad.” Luke had made coffee in the office and he handed his father a mug. They were taking a break after having spent an hour with the vet doing a herd check. The results were pleasing with many cows ready to be impregnated.

“Did you remember my sugar?”

Luke laughed. “Amazingly, it hadn’t gone hard.” When his mother made the coffee it was always served with thick cream but never sugar and his father had always hidden a jar of the sweet stuff in the office.

“A good seal keeps out the air and the ants,” his father joked. “I’ll start on the AI for you as soon as I’ve drunk this.”

A strand of guilt wound through Luke. When his father had arrived back on the farm, he’d immediately taken on the milking but as the weeks passed Vern had taken on more and more work. Luke had let it happen without comment, not prepared to discuss it with his father because he’d known if he did it would lead directly to Vern saying, “I need a decision.” That in turn would lead to an argument.

“I’m fine to do it, Dad. Why don’t you and Mom take the boat out on the lake?”

“Are you telling me you don’t want me to do it?” The reflections in his father’s direct gaze matched the firm set of his mouth.

“No, it’s just I don’t think you working almost full-time on the farm is what Mom thinks is a vacation. I couldn’t help notice that you and Mom seem a bit...”

“Leave your mother and me out of this.” His father stared silently into the old mug that Luke had given him one Father’s Day years and years ago. Finally, a long sigh rumbled out of him. “She wants me to play golf.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I did when I played it a few weeks a year during the summer.”

Luke thought about the phone calls from his father over the past year. “But not three times a week?”

“Hell, no.”

Luke studied the tension on Vern’s face and a slow realization dawned. His workaholic father hadn’t adapted to retirement in quite the way he thought he’d done. “So despite some of the crap you’ve been dishing out to me, you working on the farm these few weeks isn’t all about you getting prepared in case I walk away, is it?”

His father shifted in his chair but had the decency to meet his gaze. “Not exactly, no.”

Luke felt some of the weight in his chest lightening. “Why didn’t you tell me you missed the farm?”

His shoulders slumped. “Because of your mother. Because in the six months before I left I recognized your eagerness to take over and your frustrations that I was still running the show. They were identical to mine when I was your age.”

Luke didn’t understand. “But Grandpa died before he could hand the farm over to you.”

“I know and truth be told, I doubt he ever planned to hand over the farm to me. Like his father before him and back down the line of Anderson men, he would have chosen to die with his boots on if that truck hadn’t taken him first.”

“I didn’t realize.”

Vern shrugged. “You were young when it happened but I have to tell you, the three years before your grandpa died were tough. I felt hog-tied. I was thirty years old with three kids and I was still working for my father, not with him. I even investigated making cheese.”

Luke remembered his mother’s comment about the cheese tours and stared at him in astonishment. “I can’t imagine you making cheese.”

His father’s mouth curved into a wry smile. “That’s how desperate I’d got. Making cheese would have made me my own boss and I’d no longer have Dad looking over my shoulder all the time and clicking his tongue at me.”

Luke was trying to absorb it all. “That’s why you retired? To give me free rein of the farm?”

He nodded. “That and your mother. She was desperate to go to Arizona and if I couldn’t farm anymore then I needed to be a hell of a long way away from the place.”

“Shit, Dad.”

“Yeah.” He drained his mug.

Incredulity filled him. His father had left the farm earlier than he’d wanted to allow Luke the opportunity to work it his way. No wonder Vern had been so furious with him when he’d said he wasn’t happy. His unhappiness and lack of direction had been the ultimate betrayal of a sacrifice Luke hadn’t even known his father had made.

He wanted to honor what his father had done for him and he pulled up a spreadsheet on the computer. “Dad, can you take a look at this and give me your thoughts?”

Vern pulled his glasses out of his top pocket, slid them up his nose and peered at the screen.

* * *

On the morning of the Littlejohn wedding, Erin had risen well before the milkers and while they worked, she’d held her breath, watching the dawn crawl bright and clear over the horizon. Then she’d breathed out. The farm, bright, shiny and clean after a light shower of rain at midnight, glowed as if it knew it was on show today. The corn leaves shone glossy green, the sunflowers positively beamed, the stream that run under the covered bridge gurgled and sparkled and the B and B in its Victorian splendor waited expectantly for the bridal party to arrive.

All of that had been hours ago and now Erin was waiting for the all-important text that would fire her into action. Everyone else was doing their allotted jobs, with Martha, Keri and Phil all helping Wade out in various ways and Vern looking after the farm. Even Luke had got involved. At breakfast, she’d almost choked on her toast when he’d said, “Do you want me to lug your gear around for you today? Hold the flash, stuff like that?”

She hadn’t been able to hide her disbelief. “You’ve been adamant from the start you’ve wanted nothing to do with this wedding and now you’re offering to be my assistant?”

He grinned sheepishly. “If it’s going to help you take your best shot ever for that award thing, then I can handle crazy Connie Littlejohn for a few hours.”

She’d been so stunned she hadn’t even called him on the fact that Connie wasn’t crazy. He understood how important the Memmy was to her and he wanted to help. The lump in her throat had blocked all words so she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Holding her tightly, he’d kissed her back and then brushing her hair behind her ear, he’d said, “I’ve got champagne chilling and tonight, after you’ve taken your last photo, and the newlyweds are enjoying their reception, you and I are going to enjoy ourselves.”

She’d nibbled her bottom lip. She’d been waiting so long for this day and now it was here strands of anxiety ran through her. “When I’ve seen the rushes and found
the
photo, then we can celebrate.”

He’d kissed her on the nose. “Oh, we’ll be celebrating all right.”

Now, as she stood staring out the cottage window, she appreciated his belief in her photographic skills and every time she thought about his offer to help and his plans to celebrate the shot, the lump in her throat returned. She’d been on her own for so long, pushing forward with her business plans, that she’d forgotten what support was like.

You’ll miss him.

As her phone beeped, she shoved the thought down deep.
Bridal party has arrived.
You’re on.
Wade.

She ran over to the B and B and as she opened the door she heard Connie’s voice floating down the stairs. “Is that the
only
champagne you’ve got?”

“It was the one your fiancé ordered,” Wade replied calmly.

“Honestly, I only gave Toby
one
job to do for this entire wedding and he couldn’t even get that right. I want...” Connie named another brand.

Recognizing bridal nerves, Erin ran up the stairs and passed Wade coming down. “Do you have the champagne she wants?”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ve got one bottle, which will be plenty because the rest of the wedding party is fine with the one Toby ordered.”

She gave his arm a squeeze. “Thanks. Is Nicole here?”

“She was, but Connie insisted she go to the sunflower field and text her a photo of the setup.”

Surprise slugged her. “But I sent her one this morning.”

Wade shrugged. “I guess she wants reassurance.” Continuing up the stairs, Erin arrived at the honeymoon suite, which Connie was using as her dressing room. With her makeup complete, her thick, black hair swept up high on her head and a tiara in her hair, the bride looked utterly regal.

“Connie, you look amazing. Aren’t we lucky with the perfect weather?”

“It wouldn’t dare rain,” she said, sipping the champagne with a grimace. “Where have you been? I expected you to be here to meet me.”

Erin let the disapproval flow over her. “We thought it best to give you a few minutes to settle into the room and open the champagne.” Turning, she introduced herself to the maid of honor and one of the six bridesmaids. The two women were busy enjoying Wade’s canapés and she assumed the other bridesmaids were dressing in another room down the hall.

A harried woman rushed into the room with a large white dress bag slung over her arm. “Darling, it’s time to start getting dressed.”

“No, it’s not, Mom,” Connie said sharply. “I gave you the schedule. I’m having photos in my underwear first and then getting dressed.”

As Connie slipped off her silk robe, Sarah, the overly pale maid of honor with jet-black hair, said, “Toby’s going to die when he sees you in that corset.”

“That’s if he can get her out of it,” muttered Zoe, Connie’s younger sister.

“Shut up, Zoe,” Connie said tightly.

Sarah threw Zoe a scared and pleading look as if to say, “Don’t go there.”

“Why?” Zoe asked, her chin tilting sharply. “All I’m doing is telling the truth. Everyone knows he got so smashed at the bachelor party that he couldn’t walk a straight line let alone operate his fingers to unlace a corset. And last night at the rehearsal dinner—”

“I. Said. Shut. Up!” Connie’s mouth was a jagged line of red lipstick.

“Now, girls...” Their mother’s ineffectual voice trailed off.

Recognizing the signs of a stressed bride and the undercurrents of family tensions, Erin swung into action. “If everyone can just give me five minutes alone with the bride that would be fantastic. Please go check that the other bridesmaids are dressed and ready for photos. I’ll call you back when she’s ready to put on the dress.”

A minute later the room was quiet and Erin guided Connie over to the window. “Look at that view, Connie. Breathe it in and feel the peace of it filling you. This is your day and it’s going to be perfect.”

“Of course it’s going to be perfect,” Connie snapped. “That’s what I’m paying you and everyone else for.”

The words slapped Erin. Okay, so the view wasn’t the key to relaxing this bride. Time to try for another angle. “Let’s get started then, shall we, and take some photos to knock Toby’s socks off?” She laughed. “Or should I say his pants?”

Connie wasn’t the least bit nervous or embarrassed about being photographed in her lingerie; in fact she had some definite ideas which Erin thought at times bordered on slutty but if that’s what the client wanted she took them. She also encouraged and took a few more tasteful shots. By the time the attendants returned, the bride was laughing and smiling.

“Now for the dress.” Erin loved capturing the moment a bride first sees herself in the mirror wearing the dress that represents so much. That moment of “wow” when a thousand strands of girlhood dreams unite.

Connie stepped into the dress and Sarah and Zoe carefully pulled it up to her waist before sliding it up her arms to sit just off the shoulders. Mrs. Littlejohn sniffed and Erin caught the emotional shot of a mother watching her daughter transform into a bride.

Connie’s dress was exquisite. Layer upon layer of lace flowed from a tight-fitting bodice of ruche chiffon and her narrow waist was circled with a yellow sash—the exact brilliant yellow of the sunflowers that would surround her when she made the commitment to the man she loved. While two of the other bridesmaids fitted the veil, Erin raised her camera in preparation for when Connie turned around and faced the antique cheval mirror.

As Zoe smoothed down the wedding dress, Connie grabbed her sister’s wrist and jerked it up to her face. “What’s this? I told you and the manicurist that everyone’s nails had to be gold.”

Her sister shrugged. “I thought this color worked better for me.”

Connie pinched the back of Zoe’s hand.

“Ouch!” The young woman rubbed it against her thigh.

“You bitch.” Connie turned on her, fury blazing from her eyes. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You can’t stand not being the center of attention for one day. Well, newsflash. Today isn’t about you. I’m the bride and it’s all about me. I won’t let you, anyone or anything ruin it. Get out.”

Zoe’s expression was a mash of emotions including relief.

“Now, darling, don’t be like that,” Mrs. Littlejohn said, looking desperately at Erin. “Perhaps the wedding planner can find some gold polish for us and Zoe can paint her nails now.”

“I can certainly ask,” Erin said, pulling out her phone and desperately hoping Nicole had some at the salon.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Connie shrieked, totally ignoring her mother. Her eyes bulged and a hot red flush raced along her skin, staining her décolletage to her jaw. Raising a shaking hand, she pointed straight at Zoe. “I’ve got five other bridesmaids who do exactly what I tell them and I don’t need you!”

Zoe’s shoulders squared. “Good, because I don’t want to have to watch you make Toby miserable.”

“Zoe, shhh,” her mother pleaded.

“You’re just jealous,” Connie said tartly. “You always wanted him but he’s never even looked at you and why would he?”

Oh God.
Erin was used to dealing with mother-daughter tensions but this was a whole new realm of bride drama. Connie was melting down fast and taking happy bride photos with her. Erin frantically wished Nicole was here to help.

Zoe’s cheeks flamed so red it was as if Connie had slapped them and Erin saw the moment the bridesmaid decided to go for broke.

“Toby—”

“Zoe.” Erin clapped her hands so hard it sounded like a gunshot. Crossing her fingers she said, “Please wait for me in the hall. I’ll be two minutes.”

The bridesmaid surprisingly spun on her heel and left the room. Erin grabbed the new champagne bottle Wade had delivered and she poured Connie a full glass before thrusting it into her hand. “You look absolutely incredible, Connie, and I want to photograph that—not your stress. You’ve always said you want amazing photos and they’re going to happen. Right now, all you have to do is enjoy your favorite champagne. Let the bubbles float on your tongue and picture yourself in the sunflower field. I promise you, I’ll sort out the rest.”