Rocky Mountain Legacy. Lois Richer
Sara was the last person to help Cade Porter plan something his sister didn’t want. She had too much experience with interfering families and the pain that came from resisting their strong wills.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Porter. I can’t help you with this wedding.” Sara rose, picked up her purse. “If you still want Weddings by Woodwards, I’ll select another planner. But my advice is to talk to your sister, really listen to what she tells you. Then abide by her decision.”
“But—”
Sara ignored his frown, determined to make him understand.
“You want your sister to treasure happy memories of her wedding day?”
“Of course!”
“That won’t happen if every anniversary she’s reminded that you forced something she didn’t want. She’s entitled to have her own dream—even if it isn’t your dream.”
He couldn’t know she was speaking from experience.
“But—”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Goodbye.”
For a fraction of a second, one thought held Sara immobile.
She was going to disappoint the family.
Again.
Chapter Two
“Wait!”
Cade ignored the curious stares of the other coffee-shop patrons. He needed Sara Woodward. He needed Weddings by Woodwards, needed their expertise and their clout. But more than that, he found himself not wanting this small delicate woman to think badly of him.
And she did.
Her prickly tone, the frost edging her voice, the sharp snap of her consonants—Sara Woodward had pegged him as an overbearing ogre, forcing his sister to bend to his demands.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Will you please hear me out before judging me any further?”
Sara debated for a moment, nodded once then took her seat.
Cade smiled.
“Thank you. I can imagine what you think, Sara. But if I couldn’t, your face gives it away.” Relieved she was still listening, he hurried on. “I apologize. I should have started at the beginning. I’ve lived alone so long, I expect people to read my mind.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I still won’t do it.” The jut of her chin emphasized her determination.
“Give me five minutes?”
She studied him, lips pursed. Finally she nodded.
“I’ll listen. But it’s really a moot point.”
“Why?”
“Unless the wedding takes place very quickly, I won’t be around. I’d have to hand you over to someone else eventually anyway.”
Someone else? But he’d connected with her. Or thought he had.
“I understood that once Weddings by Woodwards took on an event, their planner stayed until the event was over.”
“Usually that’s true.” Her lids drooped, shielding her eyes.
“So?” What was she hiding? Cade leaned in to study her closed-up face.
“I won’t be staying. I returned to Woodwards to help out only while my grandmother is ill.”
“Returned from?”
“Los Angeles.” Sara studied her notepad. “We can go back to the store now. Katie will help you.”
“She said she’s booked today.” Cade dismissed that. “You don’t know when you’re leaving Denver?”
“Not exactly.” Sara avoided his gaze. “But the moment Winnie is back at Woodwards full-time, I’m off to L.A. Working at Weddings by Woodwards is temporary for me.”
Her voice, sheathed in steely determination, gave the impression it wasn’t the first time she’d said that. Cade didn’t argue. Instead he signaled to their server to refill their cups and offered her one of the croissants he’d ordered.
“You said you’d explain,” Sara prodded.
“I’m not sure where to start.” Cade stirred his coffee, then decided it wasn’t going to get easier. “Karen, my sister, is overseas, in the military.”
“Oh?”
“She and her fiancé are in a special tactical force. I hear from her sporadically. In her last e-mail Karen told me she and Trent had just become engaged and that they wanted to be married as soon as they return, at the end of their mission, which is secret. See why I can’t specify a date and time?”
“Yes, I understand.” Interest lit her expressive face.
“Karen’s twenty-three,” he continued. “She and Trent were high-school sweethearts. I want to give her the kind of wedding our parents would have. A celebration.”
“But she wants to elope.”
“Because Karen thinks it will be easier on me, that it won’t cost me anything, won’t make a fuss I’ll have to endure.” Publicizing personal details wasn’t his forte, but Cade could tell by Sara’s dubious expression that he was going to have to open up if he wanted her help. “You see, I was supposed to be married right before Karen went overseas the first time. My fiancée died two weeks before the wedding.”
He heard her soft gasp.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” Cade hated this part, wanted to get past it fast. “Marnie died of an aneurysm. It was totally unexpected.”
“And then your sister left.” Her face softened. “That was a hard time for you.”
“Yes.” He could see Sara didn’t understand. Yet. He’d have to give her more details. “Karen felt guilty for leaving right after I’d lost Marnie. She wanted to ask the Army for leave, but I persuaded her to go.”
“Because?” Sara’s brown velvet eyes missed nothing.
“Because she deserves to build her own life. There was nothing she could do for me. I’m older, I’m stronger. I could get through it on my own.”
“You wanted to protect her.”
Cade smiled at the accuracy of her assessment and the skill with which she cut through his prevarication.
“It’s what I do,” he admitted.
“You protect your sister—because you think Karen isn’t capable of looking after herself?” Disbelief emphasized the arch of one sculpted eyebrow. “At twenty-three?”
“You remind me of her.” Cade recalled the many times his sister had cut through his excuses and demanded the truth. “Karen doesn’t mince words, either.”
The petite blond wedding planner tightened her lips.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with how old she is, Sara.” Cade let the story pour out. “Our parents died when I was eighteen. Karen was ten. I raised her. I was her father, mother and her brother. She’s my only family. That’s why this wedding has to be special.”
“Even if she doesn’t want it?” Sara’s brows furrowed.
“She does! She just doesn’t want to let on she does because Karen thinks another wedding will bring back the pain of losing Marnie.”
“Will it?”
“Probably some,” he acknowledged. “But my experiencing a little pain isn’t a good enough