Lasso Her Heart. Anna Schmidt
it a chance,” Grace replied. “Just remember what this is going to mean to your aunt Erika.”
Grace had always been good at finding the core of an issue and, of course, the core of this particular issue was that Bethany’s favorite aunt—a spinster for all of her sixty years—was now engaged to be married to Ian Dillard, widower and nationally known businessman. Erika had insisted that only Bethany could help her plan the wedding and the multitude of events leading up to it.
“You did such a terrific job for me,” Grace reminded her now. “No wonder Erika wants you to move in with her for the next several months while the two of you put this thing together. Besides it’s good for you to get away—meet new people….”
Get on with your life now that Nick’s gone.
Grace was a professional matchmaker by trade. She—and the rest of Bethany’s circle of friends and family—had been extremely concerned about Bethany’s change in outlook this past year. They understood that the sudden and unexpected death of her fiancé, Nick, a year earlier would have been enough to stun even the sunniest of souls—which Bethany had certainly been. But lately everyone had urged Bethany to move on—Nick would want that, they assured her.
“Did you set me up?” she asked Grace now. “Did you and Erika—”
“You’re rambling,” Grace interrupted. “I didn’t even know your aunt, a woman I have met exactly three times, was seeing anyone, much less engaged to be married.”
“So the fact that a couple of weeks ago you suggested that perhaps if I got away for a while—”
“Pure coincidence,” Grace assured her. “Or perhaps God’s handiwork?”
Bethany did not reply. God was not part of her life these days. Grace might not like it, but did not push the point. Bethany appreciated her friend’s willingness to accept for now that Bethany had chosen to cope with Nick’s tragic death on her own.
Turning her attention back to the conversation, she was glad to note that Grace had changed the subject. “Any sign of a gate yet?”
Bethany peered out the window. “We seem to be taking the grand tour as the pilot decides which one to choose. It’s raining,” she reported. “Another bad sign.”
“Or it could just be raining,” Grace replied with a laugh. “Give it a chance, Bethany. It means so much to Erika and why not immerse yourself in somebody else’s life and happiness for a while?”
“While I try to unearth a life and happiness for myself?”
“You said it, I didn’t,” Grace said just as the plane finally stopped at a gate and the announcement came on about checking overhead bins, et cetera.
“We’re here. I’ll call you later, okay?”
Bethany clicked the phone off. Next to her the lobbyist had begun to stir. “What can I get you, little lady?” he asked as he struggled up from the seat and into the narrow aisle. He popped the overhead bin across from their seat. “This and the jacket, right?”
Bethany nodded as he wrestled her overstuffed carry-on out of the tight space while she bent to retrieve the large bag disguised as her purse that she had pushed under the seat in front of her. “You carry it all with you,” he commented with a tight smile as he dropped the bag heavily to the floor with obvious relief. “Smart woman.”
Bethany favored him with a radiant smile as she slid across the seat and stood in the space he’d made for her in the aisle. Then to forestall any further conversation, she flicked open her cell again. She had three text messages. The first from her mother—an address she wanted Bethany to be sure and give Erika. The second was from Grace. It read simply, Call any time—I’m here. The third was from her Aunt Erika.
Change of plans, sweetie. Ian’s son, Cody, will meet your flight—probably at baggage. He’ll find you—I gave him a full description. Ciao!
Erika had casually dropped the name of Ian’s son before in the context of his being a major hottie, not to mention a brilliant businessman just like his father, and—by the way—single. Bethany groaned, closed the phone and shouldered her purse, makeup essentials, plus everything she couldn’t stuff in the suitcase bag as the masses pushed forward up the jetway and into the chaotic terminal.
She followed the signs, passed through the security exit and glanced around. Not a soul seemed to be waiting to meet and greet unless she wanted to count the twenty-something guy holding a huge bouquet of red roses. He was a good four inches shorter than she was without her platform espadrilles.
“Couldn’t be,” Bethany muttered, but she made eye contact and the guy lit up like the sky over the Potomac on the Fourth of July. Bethany took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face and started forward as she considered how she would manage to get through O’Hare carrying that bouquet without looking as though she were a candidate for Miss America.
Just then she heard an earsplitting squeal from just behind her left shoulder and a girl she recognized from her plane raced past her and into the waiting arms of the red rose guy. He swung her round and round and neither of them seemed to notice the cascade of rose petals that fell to the carpet to be trampled by the hordes as they made their way past the young couple.
Bethany stood frozen for an instant, unable to take her eyes off the couple. In the year since Nick’s death she had thought she was making progress. Then she would see a couple, madly in love, like these two. When had she last known that kind of unadulterated joy? The truth was that with Nick’s work that often involved traveling and her work, they had really not spent the kind of intense time together that some couples enjoyed. They had been the best of friends for years before becoming romantically involved. They had always assumed that once they were married there would be a lifetime for them to create memories.
They had even assumed that they had plenty of time to set a date and plan their wedding. They had been in love with the romance of being in love, but Nick had also been determined to achieve certain career milestones before settling down.
Bethany was tempted to go over to the couple and warn them, urge them not to take this gift for granted. Then someone jostled her from behind, gave her an irritated frown and by the time she readjusted her luggage, the couple was lost in the crowd. Bethany flicked open her phone and hit speed dial for Grace.
“I’m being met by sonny-boy,” she said without preamble.
“Really? What’s he like?”
“To hear Aunt Erika tell it, he’s Adonis come to earth, but since he’s not here, I couldn’t really say,” she muttered.
“Well, usually when Dad is being met somewhere, the driver stations himself at baggage claim.”
Grace’s father was a United States senator and no doubt used to the protocol of drivers and such. “What if I didn’t check luggage?” Bethany thought it was a perfectly logical question and was not at all amused when Grace burst out laughing and couldn’t seem to stop.
“You?” she gasped. “Without luggage?”
“All right. It was a reasonable question—for most people.” She surprised Grace as well as herself by seeing the humor in the idea of Bethany Taft traveling with anything less than the contents of a full closet.
“Well, at least you’re still in fairly decent spirits,” Grace commented. “Now don’t take out your doubts about this whole thing on Ian’s son. What’s his name again?”
“Cody.”
“Nice.”
“If you like that sort of man-of-the-prairie thing. Okay, so here’s the escalator to baggage. Descending now into the bowels of O’Hare. Looking around, not sure what for. What do you think a Cody looks like?”
“What does his father look like?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure.