Free for the Wedding Read online

  “Let’s just say she called in a song dedication for someone else," he answered. "I figured it was over when she requested ‘Killing Me Softly’ for Brian in Biology 101.”

  He, too, was laughing now, which only revived her own. In this moment, she was seeing the most relaxed version of Riley of their brief acquaintance. Tie undone, the ends trailing as if he’d loosened it after a night of raucous celebration.

  “What about you?” he asked, after a moment. “Any unfulfilled dreams or aspirations?”

  Her heart fluttered, her thoughts automatically picturing the letter tucked inside her bag. That wasn't the only lost dream, of course. She had lost bigger ones than a school-era crush slipping away from her.

  “I’m pretty content,” she said. “A job I enjoy, a great group of friends. But I wouldn’t mind traveling more, I guess. This place is the closest I’ve been to the exotic in a while.”

  Sad but true. Val hadn’t been on a real vacation since college, when her roommates would road trip for spring break to the nearest beach or resort.

  “Maybe someplace like Ireland,” she mused, swishing the contents in her wine glass as she thought of the golf course. “Getting back to my roots so to speak. Jagged cliffs and crumbling castles and evenings in some cozy village pub…”

  She realized she was painting a romantic picture with this fantasy, since her mind was imagining someone to share this with. Someone tall and masculine, with golden hair and an athletic stride–that was where she cut the image short. She was picturing a grown-up version of her childhood crush, the profile picture on Jason’s network page surging beneath her guilty conscience.

  “But instead, you’re going to Virginia," Riley said, his remark making her blush with its unperceived clarity. Her vacation hours, her savings, were funneled into a trip to someone else's wedding.

  “True,” she said. “I guess the Shamrock Golf Course is to blame for this foreign travel urge. Because, of course, I’m excited for the wedding. It'll be good to see them again.”

  She drained the rest of her wine, eager to avoid his gaze. Any little slipup might give away her secret worries regarding this event.

  “At least you’re probably getting to stay at one of those historic plantations. Or is it more of like a garden venue type setup?”

  “A hotel, actually. Something ‘modern with a dash of Antebellum’–that’s what the brochure said anyway.” Her brow furrowed with a puzzled thought. “Jason always liked the beach so I’m really surprised they’re not having an outdoor ceremony. I always pictured–”

  She broke off, heat consuming her face with the realization that the first name she had spoken of the couple was the groom's – a bad sign, if Riley remembered anything at all from their car conversation.

  “Well, everybody changes, right?" she said, with a smile. "Knowing Heather, she probably didn’t want to risk the weather turning bad or something.”

  Exactly the opposite of the kind of behavior which might trigger suspicion in the mind of anyone remotely observant.

  Leaning across the table, Riley searched her face with hesitant curiosity. “This is probably way out there," he said. "But it seems like you and Jason…were you more than just friends? Because it sounds like you were closer to him than you were to your other friend. The bride, Heather.”

  “What?” Val’s eyes grew wide. “I was friends with both of them, in fact, best friends with Heather. Me and Jason, we weren’t anything special. I mean, not anything more special than a good friend.”

  Not for him anyway, she thought. And not in a way which would ever matter to anyone except herself.

  “They invited me because we were all three close,” she continued. “I’m sort of the connection, the longtime friend you keep up with. Sort of like the geyser in Yellowstone Park, 'Old Faithful’. Heather says I'm the kind of person you can always rely on to be there for what matters.”

  “But you're successful,” he argued. “I mean, event planning is a huge force in the job market right now. I'm kind of surprised they thought you'd have time to come all this way for a wedding.”

  She shrugged. “Some of it’s for me," she admitted. "Shaking a lifelong image takes time. It'll be the first chance for them to see me–really see me– for the person I became after we all grew up."

  What she wanted them to see, she didn't say. The person in the note, the potential soul mate and devoted heart who had been overlooked–this wasn't her reason for going there with the note in her possession.

  “Guess I just misread things,” said Riley. Although he didn’t seem too convinced as he added, “Not that I’m a relationship expert or anything.”

  She laughed, albeit a trifle shakily. “Sure, I may have had a little crush back in high school." Admitting this, she felt a slight prickle beneath her skin. "But that was eons ago. Back then, I was just the boring, geeky friend. And as far as anyone knows, I still am. ”

  This was meant to sound good-natured, but even she could hear the ache in her voice. The pain of hearing Jason's voice on the phone, announcing that he was marrying her best friend, had returned in full force. The punishment for that fleeting fantasy that he finally realized their friendship was meant for something more.

  Rather than endure some form of fake sympathy, she made a show of checking the time on her cell phone. “Wow–it’s getting kind of late. I should really get some sleep with a long drive ahead tomorrow.”

  “Right, of course.” Riley rose from his chair at the same instant, but didn’t make a move to follow her. His gaze holding hers a few seconds longer as he said, “Listen, I–I really can’t say thanks enough for what you did today. Even if it didn’t work, I still appreciate it.”

  “You're welcome,” she said. To escape now, without a goodbye was the best thing to do. Except he still wore an expectant look from across the table.

  “There’s an ATM machine downtown,” he began. "So I’ll need the car keys a little longer, if I’m going to round up some cash for a train ticket back to Delaware. ”

  “Sure,” said Val. “I’ll just get them from you in the morning.”

  She shouldered her bag higher as she strode towards the lobby, imagining he watched her leave with something akin to pity. As she passed the front desk, her gaze flitted to the open doorway to the bar. Where her own feelings of gloominess were mirrored in the handful of individuals slumped over a drink.

  Her pace slowed, her eye detecting something familiar in the figure seated closest to the door. A blue business jacket, rumpled gray-brown hair, an expensive watch of the Rolex breed.

  Jack Hammond, it seemed, didn’t have a social engagement after all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A continental breakfast, served buffet style, was part of the Old Shore Inn’s customer appreciation policy. Val wasn’t interested in greasy foods before travel, but she planned to go down anyway on the off-chance that Riley was among the diners.

  After all, he still had the keys to the rental car. And, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, it seemed better to say goodbye in a public dining area than the privacy of his room just a few doors down.

  Why had she blathered about her personal problems over dinner? Perhaps the wine had loosened her tongue, although she was used to a certain amount of social drinking as someone who organized celebrations for a living. It must have been something else that inspired her to come so close to touching the deepest fears regarding her trip to this wedding.

  Second thoughts? No, she couldn’t start questioning herself. If she got to Virginia and everything was perfect between her friends, if they were truly meant to be, then she would sense it. But on the other hand…there would be no other hand. No chance that the words of the note tied her to Jason in any way.

  Val shook the thought away, her worried face reflected back at her from the mirror as she dressed. This was something best played by ear. When–and if– the truth came out about Jason’s note, she would deal with the consequences.

  Her fingers
tied on a silk hair scarf, accenting her polka dot dress and white canvas sneakers. A girlish, carefree look that she hoped her friends would interpret as someone ready to grab life at its fullest. Nothing like the quiet Val of their childhood, who watched from the fringes as others pursued their destiny.

  Shouldering her toga bag, she pulled her wheeled suitcase behind her down the stairs. The scene of last night’s dinner was drastically changed, with an all-you-can-eat style buffet of breakfast foods laid out for hungry customers.

  Val scanned the crowd for Riley’s brown blazer and spiked hair. But the salesman wasn’t visible among the line of patrons busy loading down their plates with selections from the buffet.

  She did recognize someone else though–the middle-aged business tycoon, looking much the same as he had at the bar the night before. His tray of eggs and bacon was barely touched as he scrolled through the items on a PC tablet.

  “Mind if I join you?” she asked. “I hate sitting alone, especially in a room this crowded.”

  This pun didn’t have quite the effect she hoped for. Hammond gestured to the seat across from him, not bothering to return her cheerful greeting. He laid the tablet next to his tray, a color picture visible as the screen saver.

  A smiling young woman in a hospital gown, a newborn baby cradled in her arms.

  “My first grandchild,” he explained, noticing her glance. “A baby girl named Olivia, born at four this morning. And that–” pointing to the baby’s mother– “is Abby, my eldest daughter.”

  “She’s lovely,” said Val. “Both of them. You must be proud.”

  He nodded, eyes gazing fondly at the digital photo. “She wasn’t supposed to go into labor for another week. This airline deal would’ve gone through by then…” he trailed off, a bitter note in his voice.

  This explained everything–the phone call she overheard at the golf course, the distracted and gloomy air he’d worn ever since they met. His mind focused anywhere but on business when Riley was pushing his ill-timed sales pitch.

  “The curse of being at the top, right?” he chuckled. “Too many people needing your time and not enough of it to go around.”

  Val didn’t reply. Her mind was too distracted by thoughts of the businessman’s disappointed family, the new granddaughter whose birth he had missed.

  And–although she hadn’t expected it–equal sympathy for Riley, whose job no doubt lay on the line with this botched transaction.

  “Mr. Hammond,” she began, “I can’t help thinking you’ve made a mistake by dismissing the Solar Systems company. That you’ve cheated yourself out of an opportunity both professional and personal.”

  His brows quirked. “Is that so? And may I ask what brought on this conclusion–other than the fact you’ve already made a deal with that same company?”

  She blushed, feeling like a phony. After all, she knew next to nothing about Solar Systems, and couldn’t exactly recommend it based on the defective music player.

  “I know they’ve had a shaky start,” she said, “but they’re eager to remedy mistakes and please their customers. Surely you can see that. Admire that, even, since you're part of an industry that’s so focused on the client’s convenience.”

  Hammond's mouth pinched itself in a line. Forcing herself to be brave, she went on.

  "Mr. Cohen’s point about the manufacturing cost is one that should greatly appeal to someone in your situation,” she said.

  “Which is?” His faint smile showed he didn’t think she quite understood.

  “Someone in the travel business who would rather spend more of his time at home. Someone with high standards for his company, who wants to provide as many customers as possible with a product that makes their own journey more pleasant.”

  With a nod to the tablet, she said, “It helps to keep in touch, doesn’t it? When your customers are thirty thousand feet in the air, I bet they’ll appreciate having a gadget like that available to check in with family and friends back home.”

  His smile softened slightly with this estimation. “Not bad. But what makes you think a no-name tech company should be my first choice for a provider? I can afford the best, after all.”

  “But you’re savvy,” she insisted. "Any successful businessman has to be. It’s not a brand name you’re looking for–just a quality product that satisfies your customers and saves enough funds to make your own time a little more flexible.”

  This was starting to have an effect. Hammond’s skepticism was replaced by surprised interest, his fingers drumming the table as he studied her. “You really believe in this company then,” he mused.

  “I believe in Mr. Cohen,” she answered, aware a flush tinged her cheeks with this statement. “And if he’s a representative for Solar Systems, then it seems like the rest of the company is worth a gamble. They're willing to correct mistakes when they make them, after all.” She was thinking of the botched warranty offer from Riley regarding her music player.

  No answer came for this, Hammond’s thoughts inscrutable. Reaching over, he switched the tablet off, a blank screen absorbing the picture of mother and daughter.

  Val half-expected him to leave, the way he had during last night’s dinner. Disappointment flooding her as his gaze shifted past her to the doorway. A moment later, his arm raised to flag down a figure joining the line for the breakfast buffet.

  “Mr. Cohen,” he called. “Come join us for a moment.”

  Dressed in a business shirt and khaki pants, Riley looked as if he hadn’t slept much the night before. His hair was rumpled, shadow visible beneath his brown eyes.

  Val glanced away as their eyes met, her heart racing with a panic that could only come from anticipation of Hammond’s next words. Would he scold them publicly? Accuse them of ganging up on him with in some underhanded scheme? If he had figured out she wasn't a wealthy rival donor, he would assume this was all staged to snare his money. Which, in a way, it was.

  She was still considering the awful possibilities when the business tycoon offered Riley a friendly hand. “What do say, Cohen?” he asked. “Still interested in becoming an electronics provider for Cloud 9 Airways?”

  A strange light appeared in Riley's eyes. “For…of course. Yes, sir, absolutely.” His voice faltered, its enthusiasm holding a note of uncertainty, which only diminished as he grasped the businessman's hand.

  “We’ll work out the details via email,” said Hammond. Digging through his jacket, he pulled out a business card. “Get in touch with me sometime next week,” he said, handing it over.

  The salesman was speechless, gazing at the card as if were a million dollar check. Which it almost was, considering the caliber of a business partnership with Hammond Travel Industries. Even an ordinary customer like Val, who had never heard of them before, could imagine the advantage of such an alliance.

  Hammond rose and pocketed his tablet. “Glad we spoke again, Miss McCray. You’re quite the persuasive saleswoman.” A subtle wink followed this statement.

  Turning to Riley, he tilted his head in Val's direction. “There’s your secret weapon, Mr. Cohen," he said. "Maybe she’ll let you borrow her talents for all your major sales pitches.” Patting the salesman on the shoulder, he slipped past them to the exit.

  Riley turned towards her, staring at her with a bewildered expression.

  “He was kidding,” said Val. “All I did was personalize your product, make it a little more friendly. Your platform was still what clinched the deal.”

  Which was true, since the manufacturing cost ultimately played a role in the businessman’s generous decision. That, and his emotional vulnerability after such a major family event. Gathering her toga bag, she offered Riley a breezy smile. “Congratulations–you’ve done your company a big favor.”

  Her movements seemed to melt his shock. "No," he said. "No–you've done me a big favor. In fact, ‘big’ isn’t even the right word. More like earth-shattering or stupendous–”

  She shook her head firmly, aware her cheeks
were scarlet, her smile blossoming shyly beneath his praise. “It’s natural instinct for an event planner,” she said. “Fixing problems, I mean. You don't have to thank me.”

  Riley simply stared, his face still showing traces of amazement. As if she’d performed emergency surgery or solved an age-old mystery of the universe. When in reality, all she’d done was use the basic PR skills she learned in her college courses.

  “I owe you,” he said. “Seriously. Anything, just name it.”

  Laughing, she said, “You can hand over the keys to my ride out of town.” She held out a hand, anticipating a quick escape to this dilemma.

  Getting on the road, getting to her friends–that was a goal she couldn’t delay any longer.

  Riley’s enthusiasm was subdued as he dug for the car keys. Their fingers brushed with a surprising warmth when he tucked them in her hand. His touch brought back the memory of their lighthearted struggle for the tablet, the image captured via digital photo. For a moment, she was aware that he was attractive. Boyish, gentle, a thousand little qualities which added up to a great deal in the eyes of the right person.

  “Well.” She was blushing again, her mind struggling for the right goodbye. “I should probably get going. And you probably have a train to catch.”

  He nodded, vaguely, as if her wasn’t listening to her. Before she could pull her suitcase, he took the handle in a chivalrous gesture. Falling in step beside her as they moved to the lobby, he seemed on the verge of saying something.

  Something she felt certain she didn’t want to hear.

  The receptionist flashed her a chipper smile from behind the desk. “Thanks for choosing the Old Shore Inn,” she said, as Val returned her key. “Come back and see us soon.” A statement that included Riley as he waited behind her, his hold on her suitcase perhaps creating the wrong impression.

  “Guess this is it,” she told him. “I’m glad things worked out. For you and your company, I mean.”

  This wasn’t quite what she meant to say. Their conversation last night had created a sense of camaraderie that she felt almost compelled to acknowledge. Her eyes met his dark brown ones with a deeper understanding then her words expressed.