The Groom Came C.o.d.. Mollie Molay
willow tree that hung gracefully over the newly painted white gazebo. Fat chance. The way her life was headed, her dream didn’t have a chance.
It hadn’t been for the lack of a suitor, she thought sadly. She’d been engaged to the man she’d worked for in San Francisco, and they were about to set the wedding date. Luckily, she’d discovered Paul was self-centered and self-serving before it was too late.
Now there was her Aunt Bertie to consider. What man in his right mind would want to take on a thirty-something spinster and her fey aunt—Ojai’s beloved town character?
She willed the figures on the monitor to change. Instead, they remained solidly in the red. Not even the bridal referral service she’d started a few months ago managed to turn red ink into black. With no ready answers to the financial problems facing her, her thoughts wandered.
She was thirty, almost thirty-one. Single, with no prospective groom in sight. Let alone a man she was attracted to. Her biological clock was ticking loudly. Loudly enough to keep her awake at night. Almost without deliberate thought, her fingers surfed the Net, creating a dream wedding of her own.
No groom? No problem. Her bridal referral library service had access to every possible item a bride could want. After all, this was a harmless fantasy, wasn’t it?
Her fingers raced over the computer keys and clicked onto a dating service Web site. In seconds, she was looking at photographs of men available to “rent” for all occasions. Including that of a stand-in groom for wedding rehearsals. She gasped as she took a second look at a new entrant, tall, athletic, blue-eyed Ben Howard.
He was an older version of the boy she’d had a secret crush on in high school. The school’s top athlete, Ben had been the handsome hero of every young girl’s dream. Including hers.
Drawn to him in a way that still made her blush, she couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. To her dismay, his eyes seemed to bore into hers with a message she found herself responding to. The faint smile that hovered at his lips sent heat rushing through her middle.
Her hormones raced as she recalled the single dance they’d shared at a high school Sadie Hawkins Day party years ago, when the girls chose their partners instead of waiting to be asked. At the time, he was the high school’s star basketball player. She had been a silent, adoring fan.
Even today, she could feel his strong arms around her as he whirled her around the dance floor. She’d been lost in a dream world—until he’d planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and told her he’d see her around.
Twelve years later, here he was again. And although he was only a photograph on a screen, he was still the man of her choice. She studied his image wistfully.
She’d heard he’d gotten married and divorced while he was still in college. Maybe that was the reason there was something about the determined look in his eyes and the edge in his body language that told her he’d turned into a no-nonsense type, definitely not given to indulging in romantic dreams. For sure, he’d changed from the laughing young boy she remembered to the sober, socially prominent and wealthy distillery owner.
What was he doing on a dating Web site?
Still, there he was. Large as life—and for hire. Since this was only a fantasy, she chose him. No one would ever know.
The date of the ceremony? The sooner the better. With an eye on the calendar, she chose a date one month away.
The location? The small walk-in park, of course.
The wedding dress? No problem there, either. A simple three-quarter-length sheer silk slip-dress with pink and pale-green hand-embroidered flowers and a matching jacket from the bridal shop. A simple wreath of pink roses for her hair.
The minister? The Reverend Charles Good, a long-time friend of Aunt Bertie’s.
Deep in her fantasy, she included a caterer to provide a picnic lunch of turkey sandwiches, fresh veggies, fruit and cookies.
Flowers? The local nursery to provide gardenia bushes.
Her excitement grew as she drafted and “sent” an announcement to the local newspaper.
The telephone rang. “Melinda!” a plaintive female voice moaned. “You’re never going to believe what’s happened! You’ve got to do something to help me!”
With her eyes on the monitor screen, Melinda asked absently, “What’s wrong, Sue Ellen? Your wedding is all taken care of. There can’t be anything left to worry about.”
“Frank is allergic to live flowers!”
Melinda’s fingers froze above the computer keys. “He can’t be! Not at a time like this! Your wedding is only two days away!”
“He is! He couldn’t breathe when I took him to the flower shop this morning to show him the flowers I ordered for the church! I thought he was going to faint! When I finally got him into the fresh air, he told me he’s allergic to all kinds of flowers!”
With Sue Ellen Fry’s wedding only two days away, Melinda knew she had to move fast. She improvised mentally. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can locate enough silk flowers here and in Santa Barbara to decorate the church!”
“But my bridal bouquet! And the bridesmaids’ bouquets!” her caller wailed. “I can’t get married without flowers!”
“I’ll think of something for you and the bridesmaids. And for Frank to wear in his lapel. Don’t worry, Sue Ellen. I’ll take care of everything. Just make sure you and Frank are at the church on time.”
She hurriedly set her fantasy wedding aside to turn her attention to the problems confronting a real-life bride.
A quick trip out of town was clearly in order.
Chapter One
The pounding on the front door was loud enough to wake Sleeping Beauty.
Still groggy after a weekend spent scrounging for every silk flower arrangement within a fifty-mile range of Ojai, Melinda stopped in mid-stride on her way to the kitchen. Thank goodness she was invisible to whomever was determined to break down the door. Maybe the caller would give up and go away if she didn’t answer.
She was frazzled. She’d been coping with a wedding featuring a disappointed bride, an allergic groom and eight bridesmaids who couldn’t seem to understand why they had to carry small white prayer books decorated with sprays of silk lilies of the valley.
Footing the extra cost for silk flowers hadn’t helped. She had to figure out a way to return the live flowers so she wouldn’t lose the slim profit Bertie’s Bridal Shop would eventually realize on the wedding.
The pounding on the door escalated. So did her headache. Her eyes misted with pain. She couldn’t take much more.
She glanced at her watch; it was barely eight o’clock—the shop downstairs wasn’t scheduled to open for another hour. For that matter, she wasn’t properly dressed for company. Considering the monster of a headache she was nursing, whomever was out there would have to wait until she had a cup of hot, ink-black coffee to clear her head.
The pounding became frantic. In the background she could hear a male voice—swearing? That tore it! The last thing she needed to cope with right now was an impatient salesman. Anyone who didn’t have the sense to realize it was too early to do business with her was out of luck, and she intended to tell him so.
She tied her sleeveless white shirt in a knot at her waist. Made sure her favorite old denim cutoffs covered her bottom and threw open the door.
The next thing she knew, her caller was shaking the morning newspaper under her nose.
“What in the blazes do you call this?”
“I’m afraid there’s been some mistake. I haven’t reported a missing paper, but thank you anyway.” She would have hollered back and given him a dose