A Small-Town Bride Page 14

  “Like, for example, I know Danny has been brainwashed like everyone else in the family. He’s determined to do the right thing for Scarlett and marry Mia whether he loves her or not. Just like Daddy married Mom. Just like Uncle Charles married Aunt Julie. It’s a pattern in this family. Everyone gets married for the wrong reasons, and the kids have to put up with it. I feel sorry for Scarlett. She’s going to have to live in a house where her parents hardly speak, and I know what that’s like.” She stopped when her voice wavered, surprised by the hurt that still lived down deep.

  Amy turned her back and took several steps before she realized that her last statement needed one small amendment. She stopped and turned. “Uh, Willow, what I just said? It doesn’t apply to you and David. You guys really love each other, and Natalie is a lucky little girl.” She glanced at Pam. “If you want to know what I want, Aunt Pam, it’s not Grady Carson and his fat bank account. I want what Willow and David have. I want someone who loves me for who I am, brown hair, flat chest, dirty clothes, and all.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Willow strolled into Dusty’s office and settled into the chair beside his desk. “I don’t mean to pry, but what’s going on? You never miss a day of work.”

  Dusty scrubbed his hands over his jaw and filled her in on his father’s return, the fight down at the roadhouse, Daddy’s injuries and maladies, and the fact that the old man seemed to think he was entitled to more money.

  He blew out a long sigh. “And I’m stuck. I can’t kick him out because he’s hurt. I’ve got him sleeping on the Murphy bed for now, but I have an appointment with a social worker this evening. To be honest with you, I just want to dump him somewhere, sell the land, and run away.”

  Willow had the good sense not to say a single word. They sat together in silence for a long while, like they used to do when they were kids. Willow had always been there to listen, never to pass judgment, and always ready to come to his defense or beg him a bed at the run-down farm where she’d grown up.

  “Where would you go?” she finally asked in a soft, heartbreaking voice.

  “I’ve been thinking about Montana or Wyoming. Fishing’s good, and there aren’t a whole lot of people up there.”

  “No, I guess not, just a lot of snow in the winter. What about your plans?”

  “You mean for the resort?”

  She smiled. “I know you hate that word. I was merely suggesting that you market your fishing camp as a resort because it sounds better. It’s all in the marketing, Dusty. And to that end, I sent you a whole bunch of information on how to write a business plan. Did you get my e-mails?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you going to do something about them?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head.

  “I’d hate it if you moved to Montana. I’d miss you.”

  “I’d miss you, too, but I have no clue what to do about Daddy.”

  “I do.”

  “What?”

  “Kick him out the way he kicked you out.”

  “But—”

  “I know. It’s cruel. It’s unkind. And you’re one of the kindest people I know. But you can’t back away from your fight with the Historical Society. I won’t let you. And I won’t let you give all your money to that man. It’s not right. It’s not fair.”

  “I can’t kick him out.”

  “Okay. I guess I understand. But promise me you won’t go running off to Montana. I need you. Which is another reason I darkened your door.”

  “If you’re here to ask me if I’ll re-landscape the grounds so that reality-show girl can get a long camera shot, we’re likely to come to blows.”

  “That’s not why I’m here. I’m here about Amy. Pam is really putting the screws to David about her, and David thinks I’m being mean making her work on the grounds crew when she’s so obviously not suited for it. And then Brianna quit yesterday when Courtney had one of her profanity explosions. It wasn’t directed at Brianna, but I gather Brianna is a born-again Christian, which probably disqualifies her from working with Courtney, the f-bomb queen. Courtney desperately needs an assistant, and for reasons that have everything to do with Amy’s quick thinking last Saturday, Courtney wants Amy for the job. And since Pam would prefer that Amy work inside, you can see my problem.”

  “So you’re here to tell me you’re reassigning Amy?”

  “I would have thought you’d be thrilled.” The expression on Willow’s face was easier to read than even the big letters on the eye charts at the eye doctor.

  “Does she want to be reassigned?” he asked, trying to keep his cool.

  “I don’t know. Given that she’s learning the Latin names of plants and has told Pam that she likes gardening, probably not. But, honestly, I don’t see Amy as a gardener long term. Do you?”

  Willow’s eyebrow arched, and she leaned forward and gave him her what-kind-of-idiot-do-you-take-me-for look.

  “I had no idea she was learning plant names. But that’s the way she is. She throws herself into things body and soul. You know?”

  Willow shook her head. “No, I don’t know. According to David, Amy is a spoiled featherbrain without aim or purpose or even strong opinions about much. Although a minute ago she stood up to Pam, and I almost found myself applauding her.”

  “Let’s face it, Willow. We both adore David, but he’s never been one of the most observant guys in the world.”

  “He says everyone in the family thinks she’s a lightweight. Until a minute ago I shared that opinion. How on earth did I miss her steel backbone?”

  “Maybe because she hid it under her designer clothes. Maybe you had to strip her naked or something to see it.” His mind wandered back to last night. Oh yeah, she had a really nice naked bod.

  “Have you seen her naked?” Willow asked.

  “Was that a rhetorical question?”

  “Dammit, I told you to stay the hell away from her. She’s your employee, and—” Willow jumped up from the chair and started pacing. “If David ever finds out you played around with his cousin, he’s going to punch you in the nose.”

  “Why?”

  Willow turned and made eye contact. “Do you want me to lay it out for you?”

  “No, please don’t. Believe it or not, I get how you’d be concerned about sexual harassment or whatever, assuming I played around with Amy as you put it. But why would David be so upset? Are you saying I’m not good enough for her?”

  “Come on, Dusty, stand down. This has nothing to do with status. It has to do with the fact that you don’t ever commit—to anyone. You string women along, and you break their hearts. Amy is innocent and sweet and, oh, I don’t know, ditzy or something. She would be easy to hurt.”

  “She’s not ditzy. Amy is smart as a whip; she just sees the world differently. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

  Willow stopped pacing. “You like her.”

  “Of course I do. What’s not to like about someone who rescues an abandoned dog and gives it her whole heart? Or someone who…?” He stopped before he mentioned the two cans of chicken soup she’d bought for him with almost her last dollar.

  Willow said nothing but stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “Maybe you never realized it until today, but Amy has a lot more grit than most people think,” he said into the silence.

  Willow sat down again and leaned forward on the edge of his desk. “Wow. I never thought any woman would ever get to you.”

  “Get to me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s supposed to mean that you care about her.”

  “I do care about her. But not the way you think.”

  Willow shook her head. “No, Dusty, you’re lying to yourself. You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?”

  He said nothing, and his silence spoke the truth.

  “If you break her heart, Pam and David will never forgive you. And I might have to fire you.”

  “I’m not going to break her heart. I’m pretty
sure it’s made of unbreakable steel, same as her backbone. If she were that easy or that dumb, she would have gone off with that guy everyone wants her to marry. But near as I can tell, Amy isn’t interested in any long-term relationships. With anyone.”

  “No?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I’m sorry, Dusty, but you’re wrong. She just gave an impassioned speech about how much she wanted to find someone who loves her, and you’re not that man. So for your own good as well as hers, I’m going to reassign her. And I want you to keep your distance.”

  He nodded. “Sure, whatever.” But something down deep in his chest hitched. He would miss Amy’s ready smile and her baggy pants and the sweet, hot, crazy things she dreamed up between the sheets.

  “You need to promise me, okay? I’m not kidding. You can’t make Amy Lyndon your girl of the moment. If her father finds out you’ve been sleeping with her, he won’t be happy, and Jamie Lyndon has the means to do terrible damage to your life. He could easily give a donation to the county that would allow them to move forward with the park plan. You don’t want that to happen, do you? You need to get going on that business plan and give the county an alternative.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I promise.”

  * * *

  Amy spent most of the day working on the new landscape being installed at the Laurel Chapel’s cemetery. She had just finished planting a rhododendron when Willow and Courtney came strolling down the path from the manor house, dressed like well-put-together professionals.

  “Wow,” Willow said. “The new plantings look wonderful. You’ve done a nice job.”

  “Yeah, well, Dusty planned the bed, and Mario dug the holes. I just put the plants in the ground,” Amy said, brushing the dirt off her baggy work pants, which now sported holes in both knees. Her golf shirt dripped sweat, and black earth rimmed her broken fingernails. She was a mess, but she stood straight-shouldered and proud of the labor she’d put in today.

  “Is there something you need me to do?” Amy asked.

  Courtney grinned like the Cheshire cat. Willow not so much. In fact, Willow’s expression suggested that Amy was in need of pity, or maybe an intervention. Crap.

  “I have some good news,” Willow said without a smile. “You know that event planner job you wanted? Well, it’s—”

  “Brianna quit on me, and I’m desperate for help,” Courtney interrupted, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “And I think you’d be perfect for the job. You have mad skills with cut flowers, and I’m sure you’d much rather work with centerpieces than haul chairs or plant shrubs. I need you, Amy. I’m overwhelmed with too many things to do.”

  Courtney’s words lit a little fire inside Amy. No one had ever wanted or needed her before. A week ago, she would have jumped at this opportunity, but the look on Willow’s face argued for caution. Something was up. “Did Aunt Pam put you up to this?”

  Willow shook her head. “No. I know she hates the idea of you working on the grounds crew and would be pleased if I moved you into event planning, but I’m offering this job to you because you’ve earned it. Courtney came to me the minute Brianna quit to ask if you could be promoted.”

  Amy glanced at the smiling Courtney. She would have hugged her right there if she hadn’t been all sweaty and covered in dirt. Still, for some reason, she didn’t want to say yes to this offer. She needed to prove something to Mister McNeil, even if she’d slept with Dusty. And there was always the chance that, regardless of what Willow said, Aunt Pam had manipulated this.

  “What if I told you I wanted to continue working on the grounds crew?” Amy asked.

  “I’d say you were insane,” Courtney responded. “The planner job is permanent, and it pays better. Plus you don’t have to wear baggy pants and work boots and you can go out after work to the Jaybird for happy hour without taking a shower.”

  Willow gave Courtney one of those I’m-the-boss looks. “Um, Court, could you give me a minute here?”

  Courtney leaned in toward Amy. “You need to take this job, okay? I’m not going to take no for an answer, no matter what Willow says.” Then Courtney turned toward Willow. “I’ll be inside checking on the altar flowers. But don’t let her say no.”

  When the chapel’s front doors had closed behind Courtney, Willow folded her arms and assumed the stance of a woman who intended to have her way. “I need you to take this job,” she said.

  “You need me to take it or you want me to take it? There’s a huge difference.”

  “Let me rephrase. I’d like you to take the job. Courtney would be overjoyed to have you—and that’s saying something because she goes through assistants like some people go through M&M’s. The event planner job isn’t easy either. You’ll work your ass off, and there’s a ton of stress that goes with it. But Courtney wants you, and that’s important to me.”

  What? Wait. No one had ever expressed that much faith in her abilities. Willow had to be lying. So Amy folded her arms over her chest and mirrored Willow’s badass posture. “Am I getting this job because the family thinks I’m too good to be a gardener?”

  Willow’s mouth quirked at the corner. “Absolutely not. I don’t look down on people who work with their hands, Amy. My own mother is a farmer, and I spent a lot of time shoveling goat manure in my time. Besides, I value everyone who works here, from the front desk to the grounds crew.”

  “Okay, I believe you. But the family wants me to give up this job. And there’s a small part of me that doesn’t want to, just to prove something to Daddy when he gets back from his vacation.”

  “Amy,” Willow said in a commanding tone, “is this reticence on your part about putting your father in his place? Or is it about impressing Dusty McNeil? Because if it’s either of those reasons, then you’re probably making a mistake. I’m offering you a stepping-stone to a career where you could excel. Think about what you want for you, not what anyone else wants or expects of you. If you truly want to become a gardener, then go for it. I won’t stand in your way. But I don’t think that’s what you really want.”

  Amy continued to stand her ground. “Did you pay Mr. McNeil to be nice to me?”

  “Of course not. What gave you that idea? Besides, he hasn’t exactly been nice to you.”

  “Yes, he has.”

  Willow shook her head. “Amy, I know he’s handsome and charming at times. But the fact that he sent you on a snipe hunt means he doesn’t exactly respect you.”

  “You know about the snipe hunt? He told me not to tell—”

  “I’m not surprised that Dusty didn’t want me to know,” Willow said. “But he happened to mention the hunt to David, and David told me all about it. But here’s the thing. There is no such animal as a snipe. A snipe hunt is a prank someone plays on a naive and uninformed person. It’s a huge sign of disrespect.”

  “There’s no such thing as a snipe?”

  “No. So if Dusty has been nice to you since the snipe hunt, it’s probably because he feels guilty. Dusty’s a careful man and he’s already locked in a battle with your aunt Pam over his land. The last thing he needs is to tick off your father or anyone else in the Lyndon family, including my husband.”

  How could Amy have been so stupid? Her stomach cramped up, and the muscles along her shoulders quivered while anger corkscrewed through her. How could he have fooled her? Easy. She’d been thinking with her hormones, not her brain.

  “Okay, I guess you have a point about Mr. McNeil,” Amy said in a tight voice. “I’ll take the job.”

  * * *

  A kind of madness seized the staff at Eagle Hill Manor on Saturdays, especially in the spring. Every Saturday was a wedding day for at least one bride, and sometimes two, depending on the size and timing of each wedding.

  Amy’s first day on the job as an assistant event coordinator was a Saturday. Courtney was super busy with all kinds of details, but she put Amy in charge of the Carriage House setup for the Leblanc-Afolayan wedding, a one-hundred-and-fifty-guest affair with
a spring-garden theme.

  Amy spent hours working with the waitstaff on setting up the tables and futzing with the centerpieces—tall twenty-four-inch-high crystal vases each filled with three dozen white tulips. That added up to six hundred stems in all, which had been shipped from a tulip supplier in Holland in plastic shipping boxes filled with water. Amy had to make sure each vase looked appropriately casual, as if the tulips had been freshly cut and just tossed into the vase. It took a lot of time to make sure each blossom draped appropriately.

  Each round table had one of the tall centerpieces and six smaller crystal vases filled with white carnations—more than a thousand of them. And once the flowers were in place, a hundred and fifty etched-glass votive candles had to be distributed among fourteen tables and a dais.

  Courtney gushed over the flowers when she came to check on Amy, and her approval made Amy feel all grown up and competent in a way she’d never felt before.

  “You are such a godsend,” Courtney said, giving her a warm hug. “I knew I didn’t have to worry about anything here. The room looks gorgeous. I only wish the bride looked as nice.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Boob drama.” Courtney rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you would think that a bride would check to make sure that her underwear and wedding dress are compatible before the wedding day. But no, Megan bought a gorgeous lace bra for her gorgeous lace dress, but the bra shows above the neckline. And, unfortunately, Megan is not what I’d call well endowed. She can’t go braless, and while her bikini bra doesn’t show above the neckline, she can’t wear a swimsuit under her wedding dress. She’s sent her sister off to the Victoria’s Secret store in Tysons with instructions to buy every A-cup push-up demi bra in the store.”

  “Why?”

  Courtney frowned. “Because she doesn’t fill out the dress without—”

  “I know. I heard you. But she doesn’t need another bra. All she needs is some duct tape and maybe a pair of socks.”