A Small-Town Bride Read online

  “Fix the problems? Daddy, there are no problems here.”

  “Of course there are. You’re living in a cabin without central heating, out here in the boondocks where you’re not safe. You’re working as a laborer, and the fact that you’re spending time with riffraff like Dusty McNeil only underscores my point. Honey, that man has gone through more women than—”

  “Don’t say one more word. First off, I’m happy living here. Second, I’ve been promoted to an assistant wedding planner. And third…” She couldn’t think of a third thing because she was angry. So she turned away from him. “Muffin, heel,” she commanded, and the dog padded right to her side and followed her as she set off down the path toward the cabin. A part of her wanted to run so she could stop Dusty from leaving, but she held herself and her heart in check. This fight with Daddy and the rest of the family was about more than Dusty McNeil.

  What if she decided, right here and right now, to stop letting her family define her? What if she stood on her own two feet the way Mom never had?

  She stopped in her tracks and turned around. “I’m not moving back into the house. I do not want to marry Grady Carson. I will sleep with whomever I choose. And Dusty McNeil may be a consummate player, but he is not riffraff. And if you do anything that jeopardizes his job, I will never speak to you again.”

  She turned around and picked up her pace.

  “Amy,” Daddy bellowed from behind, “you’re being ridiculous.”

  Oh, how she hated that word.

  She stopped again and faced her father. “I am not ridiculous. You need to quit calling me that. And I’m not my mother, so quit treating me as if I am. Throwing me out of the house was the best damn thing you ever did for me. I thought you did it so I would learn to stand on my own. But now, it appears, it was just some ploy to get me to say yes to Grady Carson. But I’ve said no, Daddy, and I’m not taking it back.”

  “And what about Dusty McNeil? Is he a ploy to get back at me? He must be ten years older than you. Honestly, Amy, did it not occur to you that McNeil is only interested in your money?”

  “What money are you talking about? I don’t have any money. That’s why everyone says I need a rich husband, so he can keep me the way you kept Mom for all those years.”

  Daddy shook his head. “No, that’s not the reason. Honey, one day, when I’m gone, you and your brothers will inherit what I’ve built. My kids will get majority ownership of the vineyard and the orchards and the apple-processing businesses. You’ll be a wealthy woman in your own right. You think Dusty McNeil hasn’t figured that out?”

  She stood stock-still. She had never thought of this before, probably because she had never even considered the possibility of Daddy dying one day. “Daddy, you’re as healthy as a horse, and I’m not going to live my life worrying about the day when you’re no longer with us. I want to live my life now, not tomorrow.”

  She turned and tramped through the meadow grass with Muffin following dutifully. Dusty was long gone by the time she arrived at the cabin, and he’d taken his notebook and the books he’d borrowed from the library with him.

  Daddy spent the better part of half an hour pacing the screen porch and raging at her while she sat calmly in the Adirondack chair with her arms folded. She didn’t argue. She didn’t say one word.

  “Jesus, Amy, what the hell has gotten into you?” he finally asked.

  “Independence,” she said.

  He stared at her for a long moment, clearly confused. Then he turned and slammed through the screen door. But as he left she heard him mutter, “Maybe Pam knows what to do about you.”

  Amy almost smiled at that. Pam didn’t have a clue either. And besides, her aunt was obsessed with her own set of problems involving Danny, Mia, and a reality TV show.

  * * *

  Dusty peeled out of the cabin’s driveway and headed toward town. He should have told Jamie Lyndon where to shove it. But how could he? Amy’s father was the most powerful man in Jefferson County. What Jamie Lyndon thought about a person mattered.

  And to make it more complicated, Jamie Lyndon had a sterling reputation as a good guy who gave money to charity and local causes. Everyone liked and respected him because he listened to people, was humble, and even funded Linda Petersen’s secret effort to buy Christmas presents for needy kids every year.

  So Dusty couldn’t hate the guy, even if he wanted to deck him. Success in this town required Dusty to make friends with everyone, including the Lyndons. In short, his future depended upon Dusty being the exact opposite of his old man.

  And yet, even after years of Dusty being respectful and avoiding fights, Jamie Lyndon—and a lot of other folks in town—still held him in contempt because of the legacy of failure and addiction that had been handed down to him. And just to prove the naysayers right, Dusty left the fishing cabin and went running straight to the Jaybird Café, his favorite watering hole. As he strolled into the restaurant, he made a promise not to drink himself into a haze no matter how ragged his emotions.

  The café was semi-deserted on a Sunday afternoon in the early spring, with just a couple of sports fans watching the Nationals lose to the Mets on the flat-screen TVs. He snagged a seat at the bar, and before he could even order a drink, Juni Petersen, Willow’s little sister and the bar’s manager, came over, studied him a moment, and then said, “Your aura’s off.”

  “Can I have a Sam Adams Boston Lager, please.”

  Juni pulled the beer and slid it across the bar to him. He took a long swallow of the bitter brew while Juni continued to eye him.

  “Hey, what’s up with you, Dusty?” she finally asked into the silence. “Usually when I read your aura, you immediately make some comment about how aura-reading is bullcrap.” Juni leaned on the bar right across from him, her dark eyes smiling.

  In so many ways, Juni was like a little sister. He never would have made it through his childhood if it hadn’t been for the kindness of Juni and Willow’s mother. Linda Petersen was an eccentric, but she had a heart of gold and had raised two wonderful, independent, and nosy daughters.

  “The usual,” he said on a sigh. “Daddy’s come back, wanting me to sell the land and give him the money. And then he got drunk and picked a fight and got all busted up. And the docs told me he’s got a bad liver and diabetes and shit.” He took another slug of beer.

  “I was trying to find him a place,” he continued, “a recovery home or something. But he took off. And now I don’t know where he is. And I shouldn’t even care.”

  Juni reached out and patted his hand. Like any good bartender, she combined a talent for mixology with commonsense psychology. “That’s not what’s eating you, Dusty.”

  He looked up from his beer. “No?”

  She shook her head. “No. You’ve always had this bright yellow thread in your aura that’s all about your dad. I can see it’s brighter than it has been recently. But I’m more interested in the pink.”

  “Pink? In my aura? Juni, when you say stuff like that it makes me want to roll my eyes.”

  “Roll away, but it’s true. There’s someone new in your life, isn’t there?”

  “What?” Juni had mastered this guessing game so well that a lot of people never figured out that the whole aura-reading thing was a sleight of hand that distracted while she pried out all the juiciest bits of gossip.

  She smiled and raised her eyebrows. “Oh, let me guess. It’s one of Mia Paquet’s girlfriends. I think Pearl is beautiful, don’t you?”

  “You watch Vegas Girls?”

  She laughed. “No, but the whole cast came in here a few days ago. Spent a lot of money and talked a lot of smack. It’s funny how Daniel Lyndon was the only one missing. I gather from the conversation, he stayed home with the baby.”

  “And you think I belong with one of those women?”

  “No, Dusty. That’s why I’m so intrigued by what I see in your aura.”

  Dammit. He’d just been played for a fool.

  “I’m not talking
about this.” He took another swig of beer.

  “Okay, but you should know that you usually have this red color, which goes with your reputation as an unrepentant bachelor. But all that’s disappeared entirely, and suddenly there’s this pink everywhere.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked. Man, she was reeling him in like a fat trout.

  “You’ve fallen in love.” She stepped back a pace. “And then there’s the fact that you’re here drinking a beer on a Sunday afternoon when you’d usually be fishing. Obviously something has gone terribly wrong in your life. Your equilibrium has been unbalanced. And I know your daddy’s return is not the cause. There’s a woman, am I right?”

  Well, damn. Nothing like getting psyched out by Juni Petersen. “How much for the beer?” he asked, standing up.

  She waved her hand. “It’s on the house. And so is my advice. Dusty, if you have a chance for love, then don’t be an idiot. Love is a lot like playing poker. Even with a winning hand, you’re going to lose if you don’t risk something. You know?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  On Monday morning, Amy woke early after a fitful night’s sleep in which she dreamed about Dusty and Daddy having a knock-down, drag-out fight that left them both bloody. The nightmare left her shaking and deeply disturbed.

  Dusty may have disappointed her yesterday by walking away from a confrontation with Daddy, but maybe her subconscious was trying to tell her that he’d done the right thing. She didn’t want Dusty to stand up to Daddy as much as she wanted Daddy and Dusty to respect each other.

  Like that could ever happen in the real world. So she shoved the whole Daddy-Dusty problem into the back of her brain, took Muffin for a long walk, and went to work.

  Mondays were usually so slow that the event staff took the day off. But not today. Willow had called a midmorning summit in the dining room with all the principal Eagle Hill Manor staff as well as the Vegas Girls stars and production team. The purpose was to discuss the Paquet-Lyndon wedding scheduled for April twenty-sixth.

  By all reports, this meeting promised conflict and drama, even though it wouldn’t be taped for the show. Everyone at Eagle Hill Manor, Willow included, had completely lost their patience with Mia Paquet and the show’s producers. Courtney, upon whom most of the ridiculous requests had fallen, was especially put out. The summit would undoubtedly turn into an f-bomb festival if Mia asked Courtney to do one more stupid thing.

  Amy would have given anything to be there when Courtney blew a gasket, but Courtney needed her to cover a meeting with Brandon Kopp and his fiancée, Laurie Wilson, whose wedding was scheduled for August.

  Amy already knew a lot of details about this event, even if she’d been on the job for only a few days. Brandon was practically a member of the family, so of course she’d met Laurie on many occasions. And Laurie had been planning her wedding for at least two years. She was so obsessed about every detail that it was all she ever talked about.

  Even so, Amy took a moment before the meeting to review Courtney’s notes on the event. She was reading through several pages of minute detail when Aunt Pam strolled into her tiny office on the third floor of the manor house and sat in the straight-backed chair by her desk.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  Uh-oh. By now Pam had probably heard all about the whole Dusty-giving-Amy-kisses-while-teaching-her-fly-casting situation. If Aunt Pam had blown off the summit meeting to come up here, then Amy was in trouble.

  “Is the summit meeting with the Vegas Girls people finished?” Amy asked.

  “No, but Willow seems to have things well in hand.” Pam leaned in. “There are many things I do not admire about David’s wife, but I must say she has a backbone made of steel. She started the meeting by telling Mia to take her wedding and shove it.”

  “What? You mean the wedding isn’t—”

  “No, the wedding is on, unfortunately. But no landscaping will be torn out to accommodate camera angles.” Pam let go of a long, mournful sigh.

  “To be honest,” she continued, her shoulders drooping a little, “I’m resigned to the fact that Danny is going to trot us all out to be ridiculed.”

  “You could convince him not to marry Mia.”

  “I wish I could. The more time I spend with that woman, the less I like her. She’s indifferent to the baby. It’s quite sad.”

  “That’s why he decided to marry her. To protect Scarlett.”

  “There are dozens of ways he could protect Scarlett without tying himself to that woman.” Pam settled back into her chair as if she had just discovered this obvious truth.

  “Right, but he’s not listening to that particular line of argument. I know. I’ve tried.”

  “We need to try harder.” Pam showed no signs of leaving. Damn.

  “Okay, I’ll try. But right now I’m about to go into a meeting.” Amy loved being able to tell her aunt that. Maybe she’d get a clue and leave.

  “I know,” Pam said curtly, busting Amy’s balloon. “I thought I’d help you out with Laurie and Brandon. I gather she’s bringing a crowd with her to this meeting.”

  Amy wanted to scream. Did Pam think she needed help to do her job? But instead of yelling or pitching a fit, she took a breath and said, “According to Courtney’s notes, this meeting is just with Laurie.”

  “Well, Courtney doesn’t have all the facts. Roxy called last night. She, Brandon, and Andrew are all coming with Laurie because she wanted her groom, best man, and maid of honor’s opinions about the final details. She’s really become quite OCD about this event.”

  “Andrew took a day off from work to help Laurie plan her wedding? Really?”

  “I guess she needed reinforcements. So, are you prepared?”

  Amy gave her aunt a cheesy smile through her clenched teeth. “Yes, I am.”

  “Good. Now, in the five minutes we have before they get here, I need to talk to you about Dusty McNeil. Really, Amy, you’ve taken your rebellion quite far enough.”

  “I’m not rebelling. I’m taking a principled position,” Amy replied in a tight voice that barely masked her anger.

  “Amy, don’t take that tone with—”

  “You know, Aunt Pam, courtesy goes two ways. I don’t want to hear what you have to say about Dusty McNeil. And I don’t need to hear about how Jeff’s cabin is not safe or how I am incapable of doing this job. I’m getting my life together. Courtney and Willow trust me to manage this meeting with Laurie. I’m fine up at the cabin, but I don’t plan to be living there for that much longer. I already posted my name on an online roommate-matching site. I need to find a place that accepts pets, and I—”

  “You put your name on a public roommate service? Oh my God, Amy. You’re so naive. You could end up rooming with a serial killer. Honestly, you’re being so…”

  “Ridiculous? Yes, I know I’m being ridiculous, Aunt Pam. And you know what? I’m enjoying it.”

  Aunt Pam’s mouth dropped open.

  Amy willed herself to be civil as she continued. “I know Daddy asked you to talk with me. And I know exactly what Daddy thinks of Dusty because Daddy said it right out loud so that Dusty could hear it. Daddy’s words were ugly and cruel, but Dusty was the better man. He walked away from the fight, even though Daddy tried to goad him into one. So when you report back to my father, please tell him that I expect him to apologize to Dusty McNeil.”

  * * *

  Danny would have been happy to avoid Willow’s summit at Eagle Hill Manor. He wanted no part in the minutiae of planning this wedding. He’d ceded all that to Mia, and he’d opened his checkbook and paid for the stuff the studio wouldn’t go for.

  He would have avoided the showdown at all costs except that Mia had a fake-crying jag, accused his family of being snobs (the truth), and insisted that he had to make a choice between her and them.

  He tried to explain that Willow Petersen could be pushed only so far, but Mia wouldn’t listen. His Vegas girl truly believed that if Danny threw a temper tantrum, his family
would do as he demanded. She had no clue.

  And so Mia was in for a rude surprise when Willow started the summit by making it clear that Eagle Hill Manor would not be hosting the wedding for free; nor would she waive the usual event contract.

  This unleashed more drama than Vegas Girls had seen in three seasons, and it was a pity that Willow had banned all cameras from the powwow, because Mia had a full-fledged tantrum.

  Willow remained unmoved by Mia’s hysterics. Apparently she had a lot of experience dealing with distressed brides. She handled the tantrum by gathering up her papers and saying, “Well, I guess that’s that. I’m sorry we couldn’t accommodate your needs.”

  She started toward the door before Antonella jumped up and said, “Wait. I think we can work things out.”

  Willow was no dummy. She’d learned negotiation at Wharton, and she had all the leverage. The studio had already invested too much time and money in this location. Besides, the story line required Eagle Hill Manor because Pam had refused to let them use Charlotte’s Grove. The producers needed the historic manor house.

  Willow stopped and turned toward Antonella. “Let me make one thing clear, Ms. Mastriani. There will be no changing of the inn’s landscaping. No holes will be drilled in the two-hundred-year-old reclaimed barn-wood beams holding up the Carriage House roof. If the circus aerialists need rigging, they need to figure it out without damaging or defacing any of the interiors.”

  “Sure, no problem,” Antonella said.

  At which point Mia pitched another fit, turned on Danny, and demanded that he fix the situation.

  “For chrissake, Mia, you can’t expect people to destroy hundred-year-old hand-hewn beams so you can have the Cirque du Soleil perform for our wedding guests. This isn’t Vegas, baby. The stuff here isn’t made of plastic. It’s real, and it can’t be replaced if it’s broken. So sit down and shut up.”