A Proposal at the Wedding. Gina Wilkins
own, as his predominantly married, tied-down friends had pointed out to him lately. Footloose traveling was something he’d never felt he could do—never wanted to do—while Cassie was growing up.
“I still can’t believe you’re going to take cooking classes,” Cassie commented as she stabbed a fork into her takeout grilled chicken salad. “I mean, it’s great—but funny.”
“Bonnie warned me I’ll be the only man. It’s a small class. Only six students.”
His daughter grinned. “Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting there. Someone single, nice…and a healthy cook, as a bonus.”
Cassie had been trying to fix him up with someone for quite a while, but especially since she’d become engaged. He suspected she was afraid he’d be lonely after she moved away. And maybe he would, at least at first…but he’d deal with it, he thought in dry amusement. He didn’t need his kid to find companionship for him. Nor did he see any reason to mention to her that the most intriguing part of the class for him at the moment was the fact that pretty Bonnie Carmichael was the teacher.
“So did you pick up your wedding programs yet?” he asked her, abruptly changing the subject.
Her face lit up. The one sure way to distract Cassie from any uncomfortable subject was to ask about her wedding preparations. “Yes, this morning. They’re so pretty! Exactly what I wanted to hand out at the wedding, with the poem Mike and I love so much printed at the top and very cool, stylized flowers as a border. I left them at Mom’s house, but I brought one home to show you. I think I left it in the car. I’ll run out and get it when I finish my salad. I’m so glad I decided to go with pistachio and dove-gray for my wedding colors, even though Mom was concerned about the combination. It’s going to be gorgeous, Dad. Really.”
“I have no doubt.” His design-major daughter had impeccable tastes, if not as traditional as her mother would have liked.
“And just to make Mom happy, I’m adding a few pops of coral here and there,” she confided.
“You know your mother will like anything you decide for your wedding. She just wants you to be happy. As do I.”
“I know.” She smiled somewhat mistily at him. “I’m so lucky to have you as parents, Daddy. I want you to know I’m aware that you’ve both always put my best interests ahead of your own. Someday, when Mike and I have kids, I hope we’ll be nearly as good at parenting as you two have been.”
He cleared his throat with what Cassie would probably have termed his typical male awkwardness at such a blatantly sentimental moment. “At least you and Mike are getting married and establishing your careers before diving into parenthood. Your mom and I did the best we could considering we were just dumb kids ourselves.”
“And you learned to change diapers and braid hair and kiss boo-boos while other guys your age were chilling at college keg parties,” she teased fondly. “Mom told me you never missed even one of your visitation weekends even when you spent all week juggling work and college, nor did you hesitate to babysit any time she needed a break. And you never complained about child support payments. In fact, she said you often slipped her a little extra when you had it.”
Hearing her describing his life since his late teens served as a reminder of the freedom that lay ahead for him. There were parts of it that were going to be very nice, indeed, even though he knew there would be times when he missed those earlier days. Still, he was rather intrigued by the idea of discovering what it would be like to be Paul, the bachelor, rather than just “Cassie’s dad.” But for the next few weeks he would continue to fill that role willingly and to the best of his abilities.
“Do you need a little extra, Cass? I know the wedding stuff must be getting expensive.”
Her laugh pealed musically through his functional little kitchen. “Daddy, I’m not hinting for cash. Trust me, you’ve paid enough toward the wedding. I’m just trying to thank you for all you’ve done for me. I don’t know, I guess I woke up in a sappy mood this morning. I realized that in just a little over five weeks, I’ll be getting married and moving hundreds of miles away from you for the first time in my life. And I don’t want to do that without making sure you know exactly how much I love you and how grateful I am to you for giving me such a happy childhood.”
“Your mom and Larry had a lot to do with that, too.”
“Yes. And I’m thanking both of them for their part. The three of you have been a rare and amazing team. I know it wasn’t always easy, and I know it required compromise from all of you—but you did it for me. And for the twins, by the way. They know how lucky they are to have their ‘Uncle Paul’ in their life.”
From across the table, he pointed his fork at her. “Okay, I’m going to say one thing and then I want to change the subject before I embarrass myself by bursting into unmanly tears here. Regardless of how it came about, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I knew it from the first time I laid eyes on you, when I was just a scared kid who’d barely started shaving. Yeah, it was hard sometimes, but I wouldn’t change one thing that brought us to where we are today. I love you and I am so proud of you. Now, change of topic, please.”
Cassie blinked rapidly and gave him a sweet, misty smile. “So, Bonnie Carmichael is really pretty, hmm? I can’t help wondering if that has anything to do with your sudden urge to learn about healthy cooking.”
Actually, he’d been wondering that, as well.
Chapter Two
At five minutes before six on the following Tuesday, Bonnie mingled politely with the five women who’d assembled for the first of the three cooking classes. She was confident her bright smile hid her foolish disappointment that Paul Drennan hadn’t shown up. It wasn’t as if she’d really expected him to take the class, despite his impulsive acceptance of her invitation last week. It had been silly to spend so much time thinking about him and hoping she’d get through the classes without making a fool of herself because of her atypical clumsiness around him.
For this first class, she had the students gather for refreshments around one of the tables in the large, sunny dining room of Bride Mountain Inn. China cups and saucers and plates of petits fours and delicate meringues sat in front of them.
Silver candlesticks graced the tables, along with white linens and colorful flowers in crystal vases. An antique silver plate and crystal chandelier gleamed overhead. Great-grandmother Finley had salvaged that piece from an old Virginia plantation when she and her husband originally opened the inn in the 1930s, and it had hung here since with only occasional refurbishing, most recently when Bonnie and her siblings had taken ownership. Bonnie had insisted on keeping as many of the original furnishings and decorations as possible during the remodel. They’d restored almost all of the beautiful old light fixtures. Given the value of these items, they limited their guests to ages twelve and older, directing callers with smaller children to nice family motels and inns nearby.
Kinley and Logan both had other part-time jobs—Kinley selling real estate, Logan consulting for business software design—but Bonnie’s whole life was here at the inn. She worked here seven days a week, and she hadn’t even taken a real vacation in the past three years. As far as she was concerned, teaching this class was just another task that went along with her responsibilities as hostess, head chef, housekeeper, decorator and concierge. Kinley called her “the heart of the inn.” Bonnie rather liked that title.
Standing beside the demonstration table she had prepared, she cleared her throat to claim the attention of the chattering group of friends. “I think we’re almost ready to start. Some of you may want to move to another table so everyone can see clearly. Before we begin, does anyone need a refill on coffee, tea, lemonade or water?”
The women gathered their snacks and arranged themselves around two tables, their noisy conversations barely abating in the process. Bonnie wondered if she could get this ebullient group quiet long enough to teach them anything. Nora Willis, the woman who’d persuaded Bonnie to offer this class for her group of thirtysomething