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Bridesmaid For Hire
Marie Ferrarella
He was the love she lost… Now he’s back. When Gina Bongino called off her engagement to Shane McBride she thought she’d lost him forever. Now he’s back and both find themselves working at the same wedding. Can the magical setting help heal the past, and allow them both to trust their hearts again…
She’s a professional bridesmaid…
Who’s suddenly reunited with her ex!
Gina Bongino was almost a bride—but she said no. Now she works as a professional bridesmaid, providing brides with whatever they need on their big day as discreetly as possible. Shane Callaghan, however, is anything but discreet. After ten years, he’s now raising his niece and making wedding cakes…for the exact same wedding Gina is working!
USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–winning author MARIE FERRARELLA has written more than two hundred and fifty books for Mills & Boon, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, marieferrarella.com (http://www.marieferrarella.com)
Also by Marie Ferrarella (#uf3b324b6-ac13-5ead-a258-20852b7b1262)
Dr. Forget-Me-NotTwice a Hero, Always Her ManMeant to Be MineA Second Chance for the Single DadChristmastime Courtship Engagementfor TwoAdding Up to Family
The Cowboy’s Lesson in LoveThe Lawman’s Romance Lesson
Texan Seeks Fortune
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Bridesmaid for Hire
Marie Ferrarella
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09166-4
BRIDESMAID FOR HIRE
В© 2019 Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#uf3b324b6-ac13-5ead-a258-20852b7b1262)
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To
Ellie Melgar,
Not Even Four Years Old Yet
And Already
An Endless Source Of
Inspiration
To Me.
Contents
Cover (#ue69b31fc-2c3c-5ad1-aa54-d2fbe95cb643)
Back Cover Text (#u15624e41-241e-5484-9b7f-d0c1d3dc9195)
About the Author (#ufd55d45c-853b-5ca8-9a74-a4635b77c29c)
Booklist (#u0e3fd5f8-0627-57fa-a04e-28644b42e6fc)
Title Page (#uffcfc101-5643-5eba-ab5e-9ad57956042d)
Copyright (#u3584ef05-920c-5b84-8462-79b0afe60c98)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u9bb618a6-dff8-5fd7-8b8a-f46be0bd5d15)
Prologue (#u7d560526-3beb-5d74-b361-eef7b463582d)
Chapter One (#u9b1a5f28-ceb8-5183-b489-8190018c8cf9)
Chapter Two (#uddc1a5f7-df34-59a3-ae55-4659ae70085c)
Chapter Three (#u9758b4b7-aac0-589f-9e4e-de45eddf3353)
Chapter Four (#u515c6bb8-7933-590b-a04e-cb31e5344b74)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#uf3b324b6-ac13-5ead-a258-20852b7b1262)
“You understand that I normally don’t like to interfere in my children’s lives,” Anna Bongino stated emphatically.
Animated, the silver-haired, well-dressed woman was perched on the edge of her chair in Maizie Sommers’s real estate office. Anna drew ever closer to the edge as she spoke.
Despite the declaration written in bold black letters on the outer door, the subject under discussion was definitely not about real estate.
“You’re a mother, Anna,” Maizie told the woman in the kind, understanding voice she often used when calming down nervous first-time buyers. “Interfering in our children’s lives is written in the bylaws. You’ll find it listed right after toilet training and staying up all night.”
Sitting back in her chair, Maizie smiled at her friend. She might have been in charge of a thriving real estate business that she’d started right after losing her husband, but the subject matter under discussion was just as near and dear to her heart. Maybe even more so. To her, matchmaking wasn’t just a hobby. Maizie felt it was her calling.
When approached for help, she and her lifelong best friends, Celia Parnell and Theresa Manetti, both successful small business owners in their own right, pooled their vast clientele and were able to hone in on just the right match. So far, they were batting a thousand.
Finding the perfect match had all begun innocently enough. They had decided to take matters into their own hands and find matches for their own children. That successful endeavor had slowly blossomed to the point that their services were sought out by desperate parents or relatives who wanted only the best for their loved ones. They wanted them to have a chance at the happiness that had, heretofore, been eluding them.
Which was why Anna Bongino was now sitting in her office, tripping over her own tongue and trying not to be overly embarrassed as she stated what had brought her here today.
“Gina is a bright, outgoing, beautiful girl,” Anna said almost insistently.
“I’ve seen her photograph,” Maizie replied, agreeing, at least for now, with the “beautiful” part of Anna’s assessment.
“But she’s turning thirty-two soon,” Anna practically wailed.
“That’s not exactly having one foot in the grave yet, Anna,” Maizie pointed out, doing her best to maintain a serious expression. This “advanced” age was clearly a sore point for Anna.
“Well, it might as well be,” Anna cried. She drew herself up. “Did I tell you what my unmarried daughter does for a living?”
“No, we haven’t gotten to that information yet,” Maizie replied.
“She’s a professional bridesmaid,” Anna all but cried. “Have you ever heard of such a thing? I certainly haven’t,” Anna declared distastefully, then sighed mightily. “You know that old saying, always a bridesmaid, never a bride?”
“I am familiar with it,” Maizie answered sympathetically.
“Well, Gina’s taken it to a new level. Professional bridesmaid,” she said with disdain. “She made the whole thing up.” It was obvious that Anna was not giving her daughter any points for creativity as she went on complaining. “It’s Gina’s job to make sure that the bride experiences her day without any drama. Gina makes sure to handle any and all emergencies on the �big’ day so that the bride and her bridesmaids don’t have to endure any of the hassle.”
“That’s rather a unique vocation,” Maizie commented. “What was Gina before she became this �professional bridesmaid?’” she asked, as calm as Anna was agitated. Maizie was trying to get to know her subject so that she and her friends could ultimately find the young woman’s match.
It seemed clear that she had brought up a sore point. Anna’s face fell as she responded, “Gina was an accountant with a Fortune 500 company. She was going places, Maizie. But she said it wasn’t �fulfilling enough’ for her. So she gave all that up to help brides have a wonderful day—as if becoming a bride wasn’t wonderful enough.”
“Is that why she gave up accounting?” Maizie asked, trying to get as complete and rounded a picture of the young woman as possible. “Because it wasn’t fulfilling enough for her?”
Anna huffed. “That’s what she said. It also wasn’t �hands on’ enough for her. Gina had been a bridesmaid so many times—six,” Anna emphasized almost grudgingly, “that she felt she could take this so-called �knowledge’ and parlay it into this �creative’ vocation.” Anna shook her head in complete despair.
“Now she’s so busy getting other people married off that she doesn’t have any time to look around for a suitable man herself.” Almost completely off her seat by now, Anna leaned forward over Maizie’s desk, her hand reaching for Maizie’s. “I need help, Maizie. I need you to throw a sack over my daughter’s head and whisk her away to some wonderful hideaway where she can meet the man of her dreams—or barring that, anything close to it,” Anna stressed.
The image amused Maizie. “And what’s �he’ like, or don’t you know?”
“Oh, I know. Or I thought I did. Gina was going out with Shane Callaghan about ten years ago. It looked as if that match was getting serious. I had such high hopes for it. And then, just like that, it stopped being serious.” It pained Anna to talk about it, even after ten years. “They broke up.”
“Why?”
Anna frowned, frustrated. “Damned if I know. Gina wouldn’t talk about it. I suspect that she got cold feet, but because I couldn’t get her to talk about it, I don’t know if I’m right or not.”
“Shane Callaghan,” Maizie repeated. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but for the life of her, Maizie didn’t know why or where she had heard it before. “Do you know where this Shane Callaghan is now?”
Anna shook her heard. “I haven’t a clue. If I did, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be going right up to him and doing everything I could to bring him and Gina together. According to Gina, he vanished right after college graduation.”
Maizie smiled, knowing how frustrating it could be, sitting on the sidelines. That was obviously not Anna Bongino’s style. “There are laws against kidnapping in this state.”
Anna shrugged. “It would be worth it if it meant that Gina finally had the right man in her life.”
“And you think that this Shane Callaghan is the right one?” Maizie questioned.
“Oh absolutely. I’d bet my soul on it,” she declared with conviction. “So, will you help, Maizie?” Anna asked eagerly, searching Maizie’s face. “Will you help my daughter find the right man and get married?”
“I can certainly try,” Maizie promised the attractive woman, shaking her hand.
“�Try’?” Anna asked, a touch of disappointment in her voice.
“Only God gives guarantees, but if it helps, our track record is a hundred percent so far,” Maizie assured her friend.
Anna received the news and beamed. “It helps a great deal.”
Chapter One (#uf3b324b6-ac13-5ead-a258-20852b7b1262)
Eight-year-old Adelyn Loren nodded her approval as she watched, mesmerized, as her aunt adjusted a light blue, floor-length bridesmaid dress. There was a touch of wonder in the little girl’s soft brown eyes.
“Aunt Gina?” the little girl, known to her family as Addie, asked hesitantly.
The dark-haired little girl jumped off the bed. She had followed Gina into the room when her aunt had asked her if she wanted to see what the dress looked like on her. A fashion buff, even at the tender age of eight, the girl came in eagerly.
She finally had the dress right, Gina thought, looking herself over in her sister’s full-length mirror. “What, baby?” Gina asked absently.
Encouraged, Addie’s voice sounded a little more confident as she asked, “How many times do you have to do it?”
Gina turned away from the mirror. The dress her latest client had initially picked out had been dowdy and downright awful. With a little bit of subtle hinting, Gina had managed to convince the young woman that being backed up by an attractive-looking bridal party would only serve to highlight her own gown on her big day. That succeeded in making everyone happy.
Satisfied, Gina gave her niece her full attention. The little girl had a very serious expression on her face. “How many times do I have to do what, sweetie?” Gina asked.
“How many times do you have to be a bridesmaid before you get to be the bride?” Addie asked.
Gina laughed softly. She knew where this was coming from. “You’ve been talking to your grandmother, haven’t you?”
Addie shook her head vigorously, sending her long, coal black hair bouncing from side to side.
“Uh-uh. Mama said you’ve been in a lot of weddings and that you were always a bridesmaid so I was just wondering when you get to stop being a bridesmaid and get to be a bride.”
Judging by her expression, Gina could tell that it seemed like a logical progression of events to Addie.
Wiggling out of the bridesmaid dress, she draped it on the side of the bed as she threw on an old T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Dressed, Gina sat down on the bed and put her arm around her niece, pulling the little girl to her.
“That’s not quite the way it works, sweetie,” Gina said, managing not to laugh.
“You mean you’re always going to be a bridesmaid?” Addie asked, her eyes opening so wide that she resembled one of her favorite stuffed animals. “Doesn’t that make you sad?”
“No,” Gina assured the little girl, rather touched that the girl was concerned about her. She hugged Addie closer. “It makes me happy.”
The small, animated face scrunched up in confusion. “How come?”
She did her best to put it in terms that Addie could understand. “Being a bridesmaid is my job.”
But it was obvious that this just confused Addie even more. “Being a bridesmaid is a job?”
“It is for me,” Gina answered cheerfully. “The truth of it is, baby, for some people weddings can be very confusing and stressful.”
Addie’s smooth forehead was still wrinkled in consternation. “What’s stressful?”
Gina thought for a moment. She didn’t want to frighten the girl, but she did want to get the image across. “You know how when you play your video game and if you’re not fast enough, suddenly the words game over can come on your screen and your tummy feels all knotted up and disappointed?”
“Uh-huh.” Addie solemnly nodded her head.
“Well, that’s what stressful is,” Gina told her. “Organizing a wedding can be like that.”
Addie looked at her uncertainly, doing her best to understand. “Weddings are like video games?”
A warm feeling came over Gina’s heart and she grinned. “Sometimes. Your mom almost called off the wedding when she was marrying your dad. Everything suddenly felt as if it was just too much for her.”
That had been the first time she had found herself coming to a bride’s rescue. In that case it had been her older sister, Tiffany, who needed help. And that had been the beginning of an idea for a career.
“Really?” Addie asked in wonder.
“Really.” Gina didn’t emphasize how much of an emotional mess her normally level-headed older sister had been a few days before the wedding. “I saw what your mom was going through so I took over and helped her out. It was just a matter of untangling the order to the florist and maybe threatening the caterer,” she added as more facts came back to her.
That really caught the little girl’s attention. “Did you say you’d beat him up?” Addie asked in an impressed, hushed tone.
Gina laughed. “Worse. I threatened him with bad publicity.”
Addie looked up at her in confusion. “What’s bad pub-lis-ity?” she asked.
“Something everyone lives in fear of,” Gina answered with a smile. “Anyway,” she continued matter-of-factly, “I realized that I was pretty good at organizing things and that I could help brides like your mom really enjoy their day and not get caught up in the hassle.” She decided that Addie didn’t need to know anything beyond that. “And that’s how your aunt Gina got the idea to became a professional bridesmaid.”
“Can I become a professional bridesmaid?” Addie asked eagerly. It was obvious that her aunt’s story had completely won her over.
“You have to get to be a little taller first,” Gina told her, kissing the top of the girl’s head. “But I don’t see why you can’t be one when you’re grown up if you want to.”
“Will you show me what to do once I get tall enough?” Addie asked seriously.
Gina inclined her head as if she was bowing to the little girl. “I’d be honored.”
“Just what is it that you’re going to show my daughter how to do once she gets tall enough?” Tiffany Loren asked as she came into the guest bedroom.
Addie swung around on the bed and looked up at her mother. “Aunt Gina’s going to show me how to become a professional bridesmaid,” she declared gleefully.
Tiffany looked more than a little dismayed. “Just what kind of ideas are you putting into my little girl’s head?” she asked.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Gina said, disavowing her culpability in the matter. “This was all Addie’s idea.”
“An idea she got from watching you come over here, parading around in all those bridesmaid dresses,” Tiffany said pointedly.
“She could do worse,” Gina answered defensively. “I get paid for making people happy and they get to enjoy their big day. Plus I get to eat cake on top of that. Not a bad gig if you ask me.”
Tiffany looked at her daughter. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted the little girl to hear. “Addie, why don’t you go find your cousins? I want to talk to your aunt Gina for a minute.”
Addie leaned in and told her aunt in a stage whisper, “Don’t let her get you stressed, Aunt Gina.”
Tiffany looked after her departing daughter, dumbfounded. “Where did that come from?” she asked her younger sister.
“I’d say she was just extrapolating on what I told her I did as a professional bridesmaid.” Tiffany looked at her quizzically. “I told her that I made sure the bride didn’t get stressed. I also might have told her that you were stressed on your wedding day—you were, you know,” Gina reminded her sister before Tiffany could deny the fact or get annoyed with her.
Gina grinned as she thought about her niece. “I can’t wait to hear how this is going to play itself out by the time Addie gets to tell her father about it.” She flashed Tiffany a sympathetic smile.
“Terrific.” Tiffany looked momentarily worried. “You know how Eddie jumps to conclusions.”
“But you know how to get him to jump back and that’s all that counts,” Gina reminded her older sister. Her brother-in-law had a short fuse, but his outbursts never lasted too long.
Tiffany smiled to herself. “That I do. Can’t wait until you get married so that I can pass along that wisdom and knowledge to you, little sister.”
“About that, I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” Gina advised. She saw the doubtful expression on Tiffany’s face. “I’m perfectly happy with my life just the way it is.”
Tiffany looked at her skeptically. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“That, dear Tiffany, is your prerogative. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare to hold a bride’s hand and get her through what she’ll remember as �the happiest day of her life,’ otherwise known as tomorrow.”
“Do you have any more weddings lined up after that?” Tiffany asked her innocently.
“Not yet,” Gina replied honestly. “But I will,” she added with the confidence that she had managed to build up with this new career of hers.
Tiffany began to ease herself out of the bedroom. “By the way,” she added, nodding at the dress on the bed, “you performed a miracle with that bridesmaid dress.” She had seen the dress before its transformation. It had been absolutely ugly in her opinion.
“I know.” There was no conceit in Gina’s answer. There was just sheer pleasure in the knowledge that she was good at her chosen vocation.
Tiffany left the room, walking quickly. She waited until there was a room between her sister and her before she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. Making sure that she was alone, she pressed auto-dial 8.
The line on the other end was picked up almost immediately.
“Mom?” Tiffany asked just to be sure she’d gotten the right person. When her mother answered in the affirmative, Tiffany declared, “All systems are �go.’ Gina’s got nothing scheduled after she’s done with this wedding.”
“Perfect.” The line went instantly dead.
Anna Bongino wasn’t about to lose any time in calling her friend with the news.
“Gina has nothing immediately scheduled,” Anna breathlessly told Maizie the moment the other woman answered her phone. “Whatever you’re going to do, now would be the right time.”
“I’ll get back to you on this as soon as I can,” Maizie promised.
Maizie had already gathered her best friends and comrades-in-arms together to tell them about Anna’s daughter and her dissatisfaction that Gina was a perpetual professional bridesmaid. Intrigued, Celia Parnell and Theresa Manetti had gotten to work on the so-called “problem.”
Maizie wasn’t surprised that they already had a plan ready to go when she called Theresa with the news. A widow like Maizie and Celia, Theresa had built up a thriving catering service and she had found the perfect solution using that service.
“As luck would have it, the young bride whose reception I’m catering in three weeks is about to have a nervous breakdown,” Theresa announced, sounding far happier than the news should have warranted.
“Why?” Maizie asked.
“It seems that her photographer somehow accidentally double-booked two ceremonies at the same time, one of them being my bride’s. In addition, her cousin dropped out of the wedding at the last minute because her cousin’s boyfriend of five years just broke up with her,” Theresa explained.
“And we have just the young woman who can handle that for her and smooth out all the bumps,” Maizie replied happily.
“Yes, we do,” Theresa agreed.
“I admit that this does give us a reason to call Gina so she feels that her particular �talents’ are being utilized, but as far as I know, we still don’t have any suitable candidates to play the potential groom to her potential bride-to-be—or do we?” Maizie asked when Theresa didn’t immediately respond to her question.
“Hold on to your hat, Maizie. This is about to get even better,” Theresa promised.
“All right, consider my hat held. How does this get even better?” Maizie asked.
She could almost hear Theresa smiling from ear to ear as she asked, “You know that young man Anna felt was so perfect for her daughter?”
“I remember. Shane Callaghan,” Maizie recalled. “What about him?”
Theresa paused dramatically, then said, “Well, I found him.”
“What do you mean you �found’ him?” Maizie asked suspiciously.
“Well, actually Celia did,” Theresa amended. “He’s a client of hers,” she explained. “The fact is, �Shane’ has been using another name for his line of work.”
This was all very mysterious to Maizie. “The point, Theresa. Get to the point,” she told her friend impatiently.
That was when Theresa dropped her little bombshell. “It turns out that Shane Callaghan has a vocation that ties right into our little scenario. The man designs cakes—including wedding cakes—for a living—and he’s very much in demand.”
“Wouldn’t Gina know this, seeing that she’s in the business of placating jittery brides-to-be?” Maizie asked.
“That’s where the pseudonym comes in. Shane is an �artiste’ known as Cassidy. His bakery is called Cakes Created by Cassidy.”
She’d heard of it, Maizie realized. One of her clients had remarked that their son had ordered a cake from this “Cassidy.” At the time she’d thought nothing of it.
“Really?” Maizie asked.
“Guess who I’m going to suggest to our bride to �create’ her wedding cake for her reception?” Theresa posed the rhetorical question almost gleefully.
This was playing it close, Maizie thought. “You said the wedding was in three weeks. Are you sure you can get him?”
“Absolutely,” Theresa answered confidently. “It turns out that my son’s law firm did some legal work for Cassidy a few months ago. It pays to have lunch with your offspring occasionally,” she added, although she knew that none of them needed an excuse to get together with their children. Family had always been what this was all about for them, Theresa thought. “That’s how I found out who Cassidy really is. It actually is a small world, Maizie,” she declared happily. “Now all we need is to get Gina on the scene.”
“Well, like I said,” Maizie reminded her friend, “her mother just called me and said that Gina has nothing scheduled after this weekend’s wedding.”
“She does now,” Theresa said happily. “I’d better get on the phone and talk to Sylvie—that’s the bride-to-be—while she’s still coherent. Her maid of honor said she was afraid that Sylvie was going to wind up calling the whole thing off.”
“Something that she’ll wind up regretting,” Maizie predicted. “By all means, Theresa, call her. Tell her about Gina, that she can step in at the last minute and put out any fires that might arise. And then,” she concluded, “you’re going to have to call Gina.”
“All right,” Theresa agreed a bit uncertainly. “But why can’t you call her?” she asked. After all Maizie was the one with a connection to the girl via Gina’s mother.
“I’m a real estate agent, Theresa,” Maizie reminded her friend. “There’s no reason for me to know about a professional bridesmaid, whereas you, as a caterer with a multitude of wedding receptions to your credit, you could know about her through regular channels. Word of mouth, that kind of thing. If I called her up out of the blue with this offer, I’d have to admit to knowing her mother because how else would I know what she does for a living? She’d smell a rat and politely refuse. Or maybe not so politely,” Maizie added.
“Goodness, this matchmaking hobby of ours has certainly gotten more complicated than it was back in the old days, hasn’t it?” Theresa marveled.
“I know, but that’s also part of the fun,” Maizie reminded her friend. “Now stop talking to me and get on the phone to Gina and then to—what did you say was the bride-to-be’s name?”
“Sylvie.”
“Tell Sylvie you know just the person to step in and wind up saving her day,” Maizie told her.
“Wait,” Theresa cried, sensing that Maizie was about to hang up.
“What?”
“I need Gina’s phone number,” she told Maizie. “I can’t tell Sylvie about this professional bridesmaid and then not have a phone number to pass on to her if she asks for it,” Theresa pointed out. “Plus I’ll need it myself if I’m going to set Gina up.”
“Sorry,” Maizie apologized as she retrieved the phone number from the file on her computer. “I guess I just got excited for a minute,” she explained. “I love it when a plan comes together.”
“So now we’re the A-Team?” Theresa asked with an amused laugh. She was referring to an old television program she used to watch while waiting up for her workaholic lawyer husband to come home.
“The what?” Maizie asked, clearly not familiar with the program.
“Never mind about that right now. Just remind me that I have an old DVD to play for you when we all get a few minutes to ourselves.”
“Will do,” Maizie promised. “But right now, I’m going to remind you that you have two phone calls to make. Possibly three,” she amended.
“Three? How do you figure that?” Theresa asked her friend. “Do you want me to call you back once I get Gina and Sylvie?”
“Well, of course I want you to call me back to tell me how it all went. And then,” Maizie continued, thinking out loud, “we have to come up with a way to have Gina and Shane get together before the big day. Maybe you can have Gina helping you with the arrangements, kind of like an assistant, and being a go-between for you and this �in-demand baker.’ And then, we can hope that there are sparks.”
“A go-between?” Theresa questioned.
“We’ll work on it,” Maizie promised. “Now go, call while Gina’s still free,” she instructed her friend just before she hung up.
Chapter Two (#uf3b324b6-ac13-5ead-a258-20852b7b1262)
Gina carefully hung up the light blue bridesmaid dress in her guest bedroom closet. The dress joined the vast and growing collection of other bridesmaid dresses, both long and short, that she had worn as part of the various bridal parties she’d been in. Because she had come in and in effect—at least in the bride’s eyes—saved the wedding, she’d ultimately grown incredibly close to a number of the brides, not an easy feat in the space of two or three weeks.
Some of the brides had actually stayed in touch with her, at least for a little while. The others, though, had faded into the calendar of her life.
Even so, Gina had the satisfaction of knowing that because of her, more than a few women had experienced “the happiest day of their life” without having to endure the proverbial “glitch” that had a nasty habit of cropping up.
And despite what her mother thought of her rather unusual vocation, it did provide her with a nice living. In exchange for her services, she received more than ample compensation as well as another dress to hang in her closet, thanks to the bride, and, after the ceremony had ended and the photographs were taken, there was always a wonderful array of catered food to sample.
Not that she really ate all that much of it. Despite working almost nonstop in the weeks preceding the weddings, on the big day she never seemed to have that much of an appetite. It was almost as if she was channeling the bride’s prewedding jitters even though she always appeared utterly calm and in complete control of the situation.
She supposed that was where her very brief flirtation with acting—or at least acting in her college plays—came in handy.
Gina sighed. With the latest wedding now behind her, she was, once again, unemployed.
She knew that she had word of mouth as well as a growing number of satisfied clients going for her, but even so she really needed to give some thought to building up her network, Gina decided. A network comprised of people who could call and alert her to brides in need of her very unique services.
Gina sank down on the bed, willing herself to wind down.
Each time she watched as the happy bride and groom finally drove off to begin their life together—starting with their honeymoon—amid the feeling of a job well done she also experienced just the faintest hint of feeling let down.
This time was no different. She knew her feelings were silly and she tried not to pay any attention to them, but they were there nonetheless. That tiniest spark of wondering what it might have been like if she hadn’t gotten cold feet and had instead agreed to run off with Shane that one wild, crazy night when he had suddenly turned to her and said, out of the blue, “Let’s get married.”
She supposed that her response—“Are you crazy?”—might have been a bit more diplomatic. But Shane had caught her off guard. They’d dated casually for two years but had only gotten serious in the last six months. When he’d asked her to marry him, the thought of doing something so permanent had scared her to death. She hadn’t been ready for that sort of a commitment.
And he hadn’t been ready for that kind of a total, harsh rejection. She’d regretted it almost instantly, but by then it had been too late. And she might have even said yes, she thought now. Or at least talked to him and suggested that they take things a little more slowly. But she hadn’t been thinking clearly.
They had both just graduated from college that month and life was beginning to unfold for them. There were careers to launch and so many things to do before their lives even began to take shape.
In hindsight, all that uncertainty had frightened her, too. Loving Shane had been a comfortable thing, something for her to lean on. Loving Shane wasn’t supposed to contribute to her feelings of being pressured.
Gina sighed. There was no point in going over all that now. By the time she’d worked up her nerve to apologize to Shane, to explain why she’d said what she had, it was too late. He’d taken off, vacating his apartment and leaving for parts unknown, just like that.
Nobody knew where he was.
Stop thinking about what you can’t undo, she silently ordered herself. It won’t change anything.
Dressed in her favorite outfit—cut-off jeans and a T-shirt—Gina went into her kitchen. She took out her favorite ice cream—rum raisin—and carried it into the living room. She settled down on the sectional sofa in front of her giant screen TV to binge-watch her favorite comedy series. She really needed a good laugh tonight.
Just as she turned on the set and pressed the necessary combination of buttons that got her to the first episode of the extensively long-running series—an episode she’d seen countless times before, whenever she was feeling down—her phone rang.
Gina looked at the cell accusingly. It was either someone trying to sell her some insurance—it was that time of year again she’d noticed—or it was her mother to pointedly ask her how “someone else’s wedding” went and when did she think she would get around to planning one of her own.
Telling her mother that it would happen when she found someone to stand at the altar, waiting for her, never did any good because that only had her mother remembering how much she and the rest of the family had liked Shane. Shane had managed to endear himself to them in a very short amount of time. That was ten years ago and her mother still nostalgically referred to him as “the one who got away.”
No, she definitely wasn’t up to talking to her mother tonight.
Gina glanced at the caller ID. It wasn’t her mother, or, from the looks of it, an insurance broker. The ID below the phone number proclaimed “Manetti’s Catering.”
The name seemed vaguely familiar. And then she remembered hearing the name on the radio along with the slogan “Food like Mama used to make.”
Curious, Gina set aside the half-pint of ice cream on top of a section of the newspaper on her coffee table and answered her phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” a cheerful woman’s voice on the other end of the call responded. “Is this Gina Bongino?”
“Yes,” Gina answered guardedly. “This is Gina.”
She was prepared to terminate the call at a second’s notice if this turned out to be some clever telemarketer who had matched her name to her cell number.
“Forgive me for bothering you so late on a Sunday, but are you the same Gina Bongino who advertises herself as the Bridesmaid for Hire?” Theresa asked.
Before placing the call, Theresa had everything written down on a yellow pad and it was in front of her now. She didn’t want to take a chance on forgetting something or making a mistake. She, Maizie and Celia had covered all the major points before she’d even placed the call to Gina.
“I am,” Gina answered, still wondering if this was going to wind up being a crank call, or if this was actually on the level.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Theresa declared. “You don’t know me, dear, but I’m Theresa Manetti. I run a catering service and I’ve done a good many wedding receptions. Especially lately.”
“Yes?” Gina responded, waiting for the woman to get to the point. She was hoping it involved what she did, but you never knew. Maybe the woman was just looking for some advice. Or even a referral.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Theresa said as if reading her mind. “The reception I have coming up in three weeks just might wind up falling through. The poor girl who’s the bride-to-be is about to have a nervous breakdown and I was wondering—” Stumbling, Theresa took a deep breath and glanced down at her notes. She started again. “Someone told me that you offer a very unique service. You come in and handle any emergency that might come up connected to the wedding so that the bride can enjoy a stress-free wedding day.”
“That’s right,” Gina said, beginning to relax a little. This might be a job after all.
Schooling herself not to sound too eager, Theresa asked, “Just exactly what is it that you do?”
“Essentially, anything that needs to be done in order to make the wedding proceed as initially planned,” Gina answered.
“Such as?” Theresa prompted.
Gina thought for a moment before framing her answer. “Such as anything from turning ugly bridesmaid dresses into flattering ones to lining up last-minute photographers to replace the one who dropped out. The same thing goes for hairdressers and makeup artists if the bride planned on having them. You name it, I’ve probably encountered it.”
“Does that include being part of the wedding party? Because one of the bridesmaids suddenly just dropped out, leaving a lone groomsman,” Theresa explained, checking off a line on her pad.
“I’m in the background,” Gina explained. It was not her intention to take a chance on outshining any bride. “But yes, that’s what the title implies. I actually am a bridesmaid for hire,” she told the woman on the other end of the call.
She heard a large sigh of relief, something she was more than familiar with.
“Oh, you’re a godsend,” Theresa declared, and she was only half acting.
“I will need to talk to the bride herself to make sure she’s on board,” Gina told the caller before things progressed any further. “To be honest, it’s usually the bride or a member of her family who hires me. I’ve never had a caterer ask me to help out the bride before,” she said.
“Oh, I quite understand and I realize this is unusual, but then, so’s a bridesmaid for hire,” Theresa pointed out.
“Can’t argue with you there,” Gina agreed with a soft laugh.
“I did talk to Sylvie about you as soon as I became aware that there was someone like you who did this kind of thing,” Theresa explained. “And she told me to go ahead and see if she could hire you. As I said, the wedding’s in three weeks and it seems like everything that could go wrong at this point has.”
She’d dealt with situations like that before, Gina thought. “As long as the bride and groom are there, the rest can be managed,” she assured the motherly sounding woman on the other end.
“Well, with your help, I’m sure that they’ll be there all right,” Theresa told her, smiling to herself. This was actually going to work, she thought. Wait until she called Maizie and Celia. “And they’re such a cute couple. They’re really made for each other.”
The woman sounded more like a mother than a caterer, Gina thought. “Sounds good,” she told Theresa. “Now, if you can give me the particulars, I’ll place the call to—Sylvie is it?”
“It’s Sylvia, actually. Sylvia Stevens, but everyone just calls her Sylvie. She looks like a Sylvie,” Theresa told her. There was a fond note in her voice that Gina immediately picked up on.
“Give me her cell number and her address and I’ll give her a call first thing in the morning to make the arrangements,” Gina said.
Theresa gave her the information, enunciating everything slowly so that Gina didn’t miss a thing. “I want you to know that you’re the answer to a prayer,” she added with just the right amount of feeling. She didn’t really have to pretend all that much. After all, Sylvie was going to pieces.
“It’ll be my pleasure to do whatever needs to be done to make sure Sylvie has as perfect a wedding day as humanly possible,” Gina assured the woman.
“Speaking of which, there is just one more thing,” Theresa said. She’d saved the most important part for last because she wanted to make sure that Gina was fully engaged in this endeavor before she told the young woman about this part.
Gina had no idea why, but she could feel herself suddenly bracing. What was the woman going to ask for? “Yes?”
“I’m going to be short staffed for the rest of the month—” Theresa began, easing her way into this final chapter.
Gina wanted to quickly stop the woman before this went any further. “I’m afraid that catering the reception is a little out of my league, Mrs. Manetti. Especially if I’m going to be in the wedding party and seeing to other details,” she told Theresa.
“Oh no, dear, it’s nothing like that,” Theresa was quick to assure her. “The fact of the matter is, the bride requested to have her cake done by this cake designer she heard about. His work is in high demand. Perhaps you’ve heard of him as well?” Theresa asked, hoping against hope that Gina’s answer would be negative. “Cakes Created by Cassidy.”
Theresa held her breath, waiting for Gina’s response. She caught herself crossing her fingers as the seconds ticked by.
“No,” Gina finally admitted. “I can’t say that I have,” she added, still waiting to find out just what it was that Theresa was going to ask her to do.
Theresa slowly released the breath she’d been holding, being careful not to alert the young woman on the other end that there was anything out of the ordinary going on.
“Well, because I have all these other catering affairs between now and Sylvie’s wedding, I was wondering if you could handle ordering the cake from this Cassidy person. Sylvie will give you all her requirements when you talk to her.”
The request was doable, but it struck her as being a little strange. “Wouldn’t she and the groom want to sample the cake before they put in their final order?” Gina asked.
In her experience, the bride and groom usually sampled a great many cakes before they settled on their final choice.
“Oh no,” Theresa quickly shot down the idea. “Sylvie worked furiously to diet down so that she could fit into this dress. Now that she’s the right size, she’s desperately trying not to gain any weight between now and the wedding. That also includes not doing any cake sampling.”
Theresa paused for a second to catch her breath before continuing. “That would be what she wanted you for, along with an entire myriad of other bride-related things that ordinarily don’t add up to that much but right now, as I told you, Sylvie is tottering on the brink of a nervous breakdown. To be honest, no one knows what might just push her over the edge. Would you mind terribly meeting with this cake designer and taking care of this for her?”
“Eating a slice of cake made by an in-demand cake decorator? No, not a bit,” Gina answered with a laugh. She glanced over at her melting rum raisin. “Is there anything else, Mrs. Manetti?”
“No, nothing I can think of at the moment,” Theresa answered breezily.
“Then thank you for the call and the opportunity. I’ll get right on this tomorrow morning,” she said again. “And I’ll call you once I speak with Sylvie.”
“Wonderful. And I look forward to meeting you in person, dear,” Theresa told her. “And again, I’m sorry for having to call so late but I just got off the phone with Sylvie and I knew that something needed to be done quickly.”
She did have one question. “Who told you about me again?” Gina asked. The woman hadn’t been quite clear as to who had given the caterer her name when she’d first called.
Theresa quickly checked her notes, finding the name that she was told to use.
“Virginia Gallagher told me about you, although her name is Price now. The Gallagher-Price wedding,” she threw in to substantiate her story.
Gina thought for a moment. “I was in that wedding party over a year ago,” she remembered.
“And Virginia—she’s a friend of my daughter’s—is still singing your praises,” Theresa said, hoping that would seal the deal.
She knew that she and her two coconspirators in matchmaking needed to make sure that Gina didn’t suspect anything was amiss as she engaged the professional bridesmaid’s services to help smooth out another wedding in possible turmoil. That meant not focusing too much on the additional assignment of selecting the cake. The whole idea here was to get her down to the Cakes Created by Cassidy shop so she could cross paths with Shane after all these years.
From everything that she and her friends had managed to uncover, Gina and Shane had once been the absolute epitome of a perfect match and for all intents and purposes, it seemed that they still were. They just needed to be made to realize that again.
“Oh, and I intend to pay you extra for this cake service you’ll be performing since technically, it isn’t something you would ordinarily do,” Theresa interjected, hoping that would do the trick.
But Theresa hadn’t counted on Gina’s integrity. “How’s that again? You want to pay me extra for procuring the wedding cake.”
Theresa hesitated for a moment. “Well, the caterer usually provides the cake unless the bride has other ideas.”
“Wouldn’t that still come out of the bride’s pocket—so to speak? That makes it part of the package deal between the bride and me,” Gina concluded.
“Perhaps, but I don’t want Sylvie stressing out any more than she already is,” Theresa said, hoping that would satisfy Gina and put an end to any further questions, at least for the time being. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, dear,” Theresa promised just before she quickly terminated the call.
Strange, Gina thought. But then, so was what she did for a living. Especially in her mother’s eyes. The bottom line was that she was employed again.
This was good. This was very, very good.
She could feel herself growing enthusiastic, the way she always did at the beginning of a new assignment.
She looked over toward the coffee table. Her ice cream had turned into soup.
Getting up, Gina picked up the rum raisin container and took it back to the freezer so that she could turn the soup back into ice cream again.
She was whistling as she went.
Chapter Three (#uf3b324b6-ac13-5ead-a258-20852b7b1262)
Gina felt that her phone call to Sylvie the next morning went well.
Just as she’d been warned, she found that the anxious young woman she spoke to was indeed two steps away from becoming a bridezilla.
Speaking in a slow, calm voice, Gina made arrangements to meet with the woman early the following morning. She promised Sylvie that everything would turn out just the way she wanted, then proceeded to give her a few examples of other weddings she had successfully handled.
Listening, Sylvie seemed to noticeably calm down. She sounded almost eager to look up Gina’s website to read what other brides had posted about their own weddings and how potential disasters-in-the-making had been successfully averted, thanks to a few well-executed efforts.
By the time she hung up, Gina was fairly certain that Sylvie had calmed down sufficiently to be downgraded from the level of “bridezilla” to an almost normal, anxious bride-to-be.
While talking to Sylvie, she’d gotten very specific directions about the kind of multitiered wedding cake the bride and groom had their hearts set on—although she strongly suspected that the groom’s “heart” wasn’t nearly as involved in this choice as the bride’s was. She’d even had to promise Sylvie that she’d stop by the bakery to engage this so-called sought-after cake “artiste” known as Cassidy right after she ended their call.
All in all, Gina thought, pressing the end call button on her cell, this was shaping up to be a really productive day.
But before she did anything else, she decided as she grabbed her purse and her squadron of keys, she needed to stop at Manetti’s Catering. It was only right for her to thank the woman who had sent this new bit of business her way.
Because of its ever-expanding clientele, the catering company had recently moved out of its former rather small, confining quarters to a genuine homey-looking shop where the shop’s homemade pastries and sandwiches-to-go could be properly showcased and also seen through the large bay windows.
Located in the heart of an upscale shopping center, the sight of the food enticed shoppers to come in, sample, and, ideally, be inspired to book a future party ranging from small and intimate to a blow-out bash.
Walking into the shop, Gina was impressed by what she saw and exceedingly pleased that she had managed to catch the attention of someone like Theresa Manetti. She was certain that if she came through for Sylvie, Mrs. Manetti could be counted on to throw more business her way down the line.
It never hurt to network, Gina thought.
“May I help you?” a soft, almost melodic voice asked, coming from behind the counter.
“Hi, I’m Gina Bongino—the professional bridesmaid,” she answered, tagging on her signature label, hoping that would mean something to the older woman.
Coming around the counter, the thin woman with salt-and-pepper hair took her hand in hers. “Gina, what a pleasure to meet you. I’m Theresa Manetti.”
Gina’s first thoughts were that the woman looked just the way she had sounded on the phone last night. Warm and gracious. And genuine.
Gina found herself eager to please the caterer who she had taken an immediate liking to.
Theresa took out a folded piece of paper from her apron pocket. “I’ve written everything down for you,” she told Gina, tucking the paper into her hand. “That’s the baker’s name, phone number, the address of the shop and, of course, the kind of wedding cake Sylvie wants at her wedding.”
Gina glanced at the paper, nodding. “She already described it to me when I talked to her this morning,” she told Theresa.
“Well, it never hurts to have it written down in front of you,” Theresa said with a smile. “I’d take care of this myself,” she told Gina again, “but as I’ve already mentioned to you last night, we are extremely busy these days.”
As if to bear her out, there was continuous noise coming from the back of the shop. Gina guessed that was where the kitchen was located and the woman’s employees were undoubtedly all busy working.
Gina caught herself being very grateful that fate had somehow brought them together. She was sure that Theresa Manetti could throw a little business her way down the line.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Manetti,” Gina replied. “I’ll take care of ordering the cake and everything else that I gathered Sylvie needed done.” She tucked away the paper Theresa had handed her into her purse. “I just wanted to come by and say thank you,” she explained.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Theresa told her. “My fees are nonrefundable, so it’s not a matter of my losing money. But I have to admit I get personally involved with all my clients and I really do want them, if at all possible, to come away happy and satisfied.”
Gina could only smile at the woman. It wasn’t often she heard someone espousing something as selfless as that. Again she found herself thinking that she liked Theresa Manetti right from the start.
“I have a feeling that this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship,” she told Theresa, preparing to leave.
“I certainly hope so, dear,” Theresa replied, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “I certainly hope so,” she repeated as the door closed on the departing enterprising bridesmaid for hire.
Following Theresa’s directions, Gina made her way to another, smaller shopping center. This one was located on the far side of Bedford. She briefly entertained the idea of calling ahead but decided against it. She wanted to be there on the premises in case she had to convince this “Cassidy” to accept the order and have it ready by the day of the wedding.
She knew from experience that people who fancied themselves to be “artistes” were, for the most part, temperamental and constantly needed to have their egos stroked. She had learned that stroking was best done in person.
So Gina went over to the Fairview Plaza where the shop was located, parked in the first empty parking space she saw, and set out to find the bakery and this Cassidy who created works of art that could be eaten with a fork.
The store was so small and unassuming, she missed it on her first pass through the center. She was searching for something eye-catching and ostentatious.
The shop, when she found it on her second time around, was neither. It was a small white shop with blue lettering and it was nestled in between a children’s toy store and a trendy store selling overpriced organic fruits and vegetables.
Gina looked over the outside as she stood in front of the entrance. “Well, either ego’s not his problem or the rent’s really cheap here,” she speculated.
There were no hours posted on the door, so she had no idea if it was open or not. Maybe she should have called ahead, she thought.
Trying the doorknob, Gina found that the door was open. Coming in, her entrance was heralded by the light tinkling of an actual bell that was hanging right over the front door rather than a buzzer or a symphony of virtual chimes.
It was almost charming, she thought. Probably to catch the customer off guard so that they wouldn’t think fast enough to protest being hit with an oversize price tag for a cake that could have just as easily been made out of a couple of everyday, standard box mixes.
At first glance, there was no one in the front of the store. She did, however, see a partially closed door that led to what she presumed was the back where “all the magic happened.”
“Hello?” Gina called out, raising her voice slightly. “Is anyone here?”
Listening, she heard movement coming from the back. Maybe it was the person who took the cake orders, she thought. Odd that they didn’t come out when the bell sounded.
When no one came out to the showroom, Gina tried again.
“I’d like to order a wedding cake for a wedding taking place three weeks from now.”
Actually, it was three weeks from this past Saturday, she thought, but that was a tidbit she was going to save until she had someone in front of her she could make eye contact with.
The movement she’d initially heard had definitely stopped. And still no one opened the back door any farther. Weren’t they coming out?
This was all very strange, she thought. Maybe this “artiste” wasn’t here and she had walked in on a misguided burglar who was caught in the act of trying to rob the place.
She tried one last time. Raising her voice again, Gina called out, “If this is a bad time, I’ll come back. You don’t have your store hours posted, but—”
She saw the door leading to the back room opening all the way.
Finally, she thought.
And then, when she saw the person walking to the front of the shop—walking toward her—her jaw slackened, causing her mouth to drop open. Any other sound that might have come out at that point didn’t.
After a beat, Gina realized that she had forgotten to breathe.
Shane.
But it couldn’t be.
Could it?
And yet… It was definitely Shane, cutting the distance between them in what now felt like slow motion.
Was she dreaming?
She would have blinked to clear her eyes if it didn’t strike her as being almost cartoon-like.
A hot wave washed over her.
Breathe, damn it. Breathe! she silently ordered herself.
When he heard her voice, Shane was almost convinced that he was imagining things. He had come out to see and prove himself wrong.
Even so, he knew he would have recognized her voice anywhere.
And he was right.
It was her.
Ten years went up in smoke and just for an instant, he was that lovesick kid again.
And then reality, with all its harsh reminders, returned with a vengeance.
“Hello, Gina.”
Because for one wild split second, the shop she was standing in had insisted on going for a quick spin around her, Gina grabbed the edge of the counter to keep herself steady. She refused to do something so incredibly hokey as to pass out even though she felt as if she could barely get her legs to support her.
“Shane?” she whispered.
His name slipped out before she could stop herself. It looked like Shane, except that it was a handsomer, upgraded version of the man who lived ten years, unchanged, in her past. His face appeared more gaunt now, and more rugged. Some of the boyishness had worn away, replaced, she noted, by an almost arousing manliness.
His hair was still blond, though, and his eyes, his eyes were still that piercing shade of blue that always seemed to go right through her. Time hadn’t changed that, she thought.
The corners of his mouth curved ever so slightly at the confusion that was on her face.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what I look like,” he said in response to the questioning way she had said his name.
Oh God, no, Gina thought. Even if she had gotten amnesia, there was no way she could ever forget Shane’s face. Like it or not, it was and always would be permanently embossed on her brain.
Because she realized that she was staring at him as if he were an apparition, Gina cleared her throat and stumbled her way through an explanation.
“I’m sorry—” she began only to have him interrupt her.
“Nice to finally hear you say that,” Shane said.
Gina wasn’t able to read his expression, but she instantly pulled her shoulders back, prepared to engage in an unpleasant exchange. Not that, at least from his point of view, she could actually fault him. But in her own defense, she had tried to find him and apologize. But she wasn’t able to and that was his fault. He was the one who had taken off and disappeared, not her.
“—but I seem to be in the wrong place,” Gina continued tersely. “I’m looking for a cake designer named Cassidy—”
Shane inclined his head. For now, he stayed behind the counter. He didn’t trust himself to come any closer to Gina than he was at this moment. Despite the fact that he felt she had humiliated him, despite being angry at her, the woman had still managed to fill his head, not to mention his dreams, every waking minute for more than an entire year.
It had taken that much time for his longing to subside, and then another year for him to pull himself together. That was when he admitted to himself that he didn’t want to be a lawyer. That had once been his parents’ dream, not his, even though he’d tried to honor it. So one day he just walked away from it, had gone to work with his older brother halfway around the world and ultimately found something he felt he had a passion for. Something unique and unlike anything he had ever done before.
Myriad emotions pulsed through Shane right now as he looked at Gina, although he was able to keep any of that from registering on his face.
Instead, he told Gina in a very calm voice, “I’m Cassidy.”
Gina stared at him, her eyebrows coming together almost in an upside down V. What was he trying to put over on her?
“No, you’re not,” she contradicted, almost annoyed that he was trying to fool her. “You’re Shane.”
Just saying his name again after all this time sent ripples of warmth and longing undulating through her. Her brain was having trouble computing seeing him after all this time. At the very least, the man should have had the decency to look a little paunchy and worn around the edges, not like some rugged movie star stepping off the big screen.
And why was he smiling at her like that? Was he going to say something sarcastic?
“You don’t remember,” Shane guessed.
“Remember what?” she asked, feeling more and more confused, befuddled and exasperated.
This morning, she had been happily saving yet another anxious bride’s wedding, and now, less than a couple of hours later, she felt as if she was suddenly caught up in the center of a whirlpool, being tossed around and unable to figure out which way was up.
“That my middle name is Cassidy,” he went on to tell her. “Shane Cassidy Callaghan,” he said, giving her his full name as he watched her face.
Seeing Gina again without any warning just served to remind him how much he had missed looking at that face. How much he had missed the scent of her hair and the feel of her soft body pressed against his.
Get a grip, Callaghan. She did a number on you once, don’t leave yourself open for another assault. She’s even forgotten your middle name.
But that didn’t surprise him. She’d undoubtedly forgotten a great many things about him, Shane thought. And about the two of them.
Things that he couldn’t forget no matter how much he tried.
“Then Cakes Created by Cassidy is your company?” she asked him, not bothering to hide her disbelief.
Gina was having a great deal of trouble processing any of it. Not just seeing him again, but the rest of it, as well.
A cake designer? Really? Shane?
The Shane she’d known back in college had occasionally slipped her notes with drawings of the two of them at the bottom. She recalled that he liked to draw. But back then the only thing he was capable of doing in the kitchen was opening the refrigerator door.
How had he gone from kitchen illiterate to a master baker?
“It’s catchy, don’t you think?” Shane asked. There was a touch of pride in his voice that she found hard to miss now.
“More like incredible,” she admitted.
“That’s a word I usually hear after someone has sampled one of my cakes.” Before she could say anything, Shane changed the conversation’s direction. “When you walked in, you said something about coming here to order a wedding cake.”
She was almost grateful to him. It was as if he had snapped his fingers, getting her out of her mental haze and forcing her to focus on the reason she had come here in the first place. The sooner she stated it, the sooner she could get away.
“Right.” She took out the paper that Theresa had given her. The cake’s specifications were written in the woman’s rather striking handwriting. She focused on it now. “I need to have this cake made and delivered to the Blue Room at the Bedford Hilton Hotel by two o’clock.” Pointing to the line on the paper, she said, “I need it by that date. That’s in three weeks.”
He didn’t bother looking at the paper. “I know when it is—”
“Good then.” She left the paper on the counter for him. “You can send the bill to—”
“—and it’s not possible,” Shane said, completing his sentence.
Caught off guard, she stared at him, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”
“I said that it’s not possible,” Shane repeated in the same quiet, calm voice.
“What do you mean it’s not possible?” Gina demanded. “I’m giving you three weeks’ notice.”
“I know,” Shane responded, unfazed. “And I’m booked solid.”
Was he bragging? Okay, she’d let him have his moment. All things considered, he deserved it. She had never wished him ill. She looked around, noticing for the first time that there were framed photographs on the walls. None of him, she noted, but of some of the cakes he had created.
The one that caught her eye was amazingly constructed in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. How did someone even begin to do that? she wondered, stunned.
She looked at Shane, utterly impressed. “You’re doing well, I see.”
Shane nodded and replied without a trace of bravado, “Very well, thanks.”
“And I’m happy for you,” she told him—and she meant it, aside from attempting to get on his good side for the sake of her client. “Surely you can squeeze in one more cake.”
She couldn’t read the expression on his face. But there was no misunderstanding his words. “No,” he replied flatly. “Sorry.”
Chapter Four (#uf3b324b6-ac13-5ead-a258-20852b7b1262)
He couldn’t be serious, Gina thought.
“But it’s just one cake,” she argued, unable to believe that Shane, or whatever he chose to call himself these days, couldn’t find a way to make this important cake a reality. “It’s not even anything especially elaborate, like that tower or bridge,” she said, gesturing at the photographs of cakes he had made. “Just a lot of tiers and your signature swirl around the edges.” Theresa had told her that Sylvie insisted on the swirls.
But Shane remained steadfast and shook his head again, turning her request down. “Sorry.”
He wasn’t sorry at all, Gina thought. This had to be his way of getting back at her after all this time. Well, she had no intentions of having her client wind up paying for something that she had done a decade ago.
“Why won’t you do it?” she asked. She knew that if she came back and told Sylvie that she wasn’t able to get her cake for the wedding—failing so early in their association—the bride was just going to fall to pieces and most likely fire her. This was becoming a challenge for her. “What if I pay you twice the amount that you normally charge?” Gina proposed. “Will you find a way to do it then?”
But Shane remained unmoved. “Sorry, Gina. You’re going to have to just find someone else to bake your cake for your big day.”
Was that it? Did he think that she was asking him to make her wedding cake? Gina was quick to set him straight. “The cake isn’t for me.”
“Right,” Shane replied sarcastically. “It’s for everyone at the reception.” He’d heard that approach before.
“Well, technically, yes,” Gina agreed. She was right, she thought. Shane did think she was asking for him to bake her wedding cake. She could see how he felt that she was rubbing salt into his wounds, even after all this time. “But if you don’t make this cake, in less than three weeks, there is going to be one unhappy bride who will be having a nervous breakdown because she is going to feel that her big day is just crumbling all to pieces right in front of her.”
Gina saw something in Shane’s eyes that she couldn’t quite make out, and then he shrugged, unmoved. “I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do for you, Gina. I’m booked solid. You’ll just have to eat someone else’s cake at your wedding.”
A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. Had she hurt him that much? Over the years, when she couldn’t locate him, she’d talked herself into believing that he really hadn’t cared.
But he had, she realized.
“It’s not my wedding, Shane,” she told him quietly.
About to go back into the kitchen area and send out one of his assistants to usher her out, Shane stopped and turned around again.
“Wait, what?” he asked. Was she lying, trying to get him to agree to create one of his signature cakes for her, or was she being truthful?
“I said it’s not my wedding,” Gina repeated, slowly enunciating every word.
This didn’t make any sense to him. Shane was accustomed to having the bride—usually accompanied by the groom—be the one who placed the order for the cake. And this was only after an unusual amount of deliberation and questions, not to mention cake sampling, took place. If Gina wasn’t the bride, then what was she doing placing the order for the wedding cake?
“All right,” he said gamely. “Whose wedding is it?” he asked.
“The bride’s name is Sylvie Stevens,” she answered, adding, “Right now, quite honestly, the groom’s name escapes me.”
Most of the miscellaneous thoughts that usually resided in her head had all inexplicably vanished, leaving her to fend for herself. The reason for that was because she had run into Shane in the least likely place she would have ever thought of seeing him. In a shop that he apparently owned and operated as a creative baker. All of this had left her practically incoherent and totally unprepared to deal with any of this.
“This Sylvie Stevens,” Shane said, picking up on the bride’s name, “is she a relative of yours?”
There was no doubt about it. Shane felt as if he was groping around in the dark, trying to find the door so he could get out.
He was fairly certain that he had met all of Gina’s relatives during the time that they had been together. As he recalled, it wasn’t that big a family. He knew he would have remembered someone named Sylvie.
“No—” Gina began.
He cut her off. “A friend, then?” he asked in disbelief. This was really an unusual circumstance if she was making the decision for a friend. Despite his initial decision to just close the door on Gina the way she had so callously closed it on him, Shane found his curiosity aroused. “Are you here making arrangements for a cake for a friend?”
Saying yes would have been the easy way out, but Gina knew her best bet was to be totally honest with him. “I can’t call this bride-to-be my friend, although some of my clients do wind up that way by the time the wedding takes place.”
He stared at her. He hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.
“You’ve lost me,” Shane told her impatiently.
His choice of words vividly brought back the past to her.
I did, didn’t I? Gina thought, a huge pang of regret twisting her stomach. She really wished that there was such a thing as a do-over button she could press.
She took a breath. “Maybe I should explain,” she began.
“Maybe you should,” Shane agreed crisply.
He silently warned himself not to get caught up in any of this. That meant that he couldn’t allow the sound of her voice to get to him or allow the way he had once felt about her to influence him in any way.
But despite everything, Shane had to admit that his curiosity had been aroused in a big way.
Gina took another deep breath before telling him, “I’m a professional bridesmaid.”
His reaction was the same sort she had become used to getting. “What the hell is that?” Shane demanded.
“Just what it sounds like,” she told him. “Simply put, I hire out my services to prospective brides. I promise them that I will take care of any and all possible emergencies that might arise before and during the ceremony. Emergencies that could derail what the bride had envisioned as her perfect day.”
Gina’s explanation had almost rendered him speechless.
Almost.
“You’re kidding,” Shane said, recovering. “You, the woman who couldn’t commit herself to the man who foolishly bared his soul to her, you’re in charge of making other people’s weddings a success?” he asked incredulously.
There it was again, Gina thought, that wave of guilt that threatened to all but drown her. “Shane, I can’t tell you how much—”
Shane upbraided himself for dropping his guard and allowing this to get personal. Aware of his error, Shane waved away what he could tell was going to be another apology. He didn’t want to hear it. The damage had long since been done and they had both moved on.
As possibly a direct result of her rejection, he had forged a better version of himself and had gone on to create a career out of the ashes that was far more satisfying to him than the path he had been set to follow when she’d suddenly stomped on his heart.
“Never mind all that now,” Shane told her rather formally. “This cake you’re trying to order, it isn’t for you?” he asked, wanting to be totally sure before continuing.
“No, it’s not. And Sylvie really does seem to have her heart set on you being the one making this cake for her.” And then she added what she hoped would be the argument that would tip the scales in Sylvie’s favor. “If you won’t make the cake, it’s almost as if the rest of her wedding is doomed.”
Shane laughed shortly at the absurdity of what she’d just said. “That’s a little dramatic and over-the-top, don’t you think?” he asked.
For the first time, Gina laughed in response. He found the sound disturbing in a way he definitely didn’t want to be disturbed.
“You’d be surprised what some of these brides are like and what they say when they feel stressed,” Gina told him, extrapolating on this momentary temporary truce that they had struck. “The term bridezilla is not just some whimsical, weird name that someone dreamed up. It’s actually rather an accurate description of the transformation that some of these perfectly sane women undergo when dealing with the one hundred–plus miscellaneous details that comprise pulling off the perfect wedding,” she told him.
“Just as an example,” Gina went on to say, “suddenly the size and color of the table napkins take on a whole new meaning. Weddings put enormous pressure on the bride and on the people around the bride who are trying to emotionally support her.”
He supposed, although he hadn’t given it much thought, he could see that happening. “If that’s the case, why not just go to a wedding planner?” he asked.
“Some do,” Gina agreed. “But I’m actually less expensive and in many cases, a lot friendlier. I’m more like a paid best friend, there to listen and to hold the bride’s hand for the duration ranging from just before the wedding to the three or four weeks leading up to the big day, depending on when I’m called in.”
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