The Vengeful Groom. SARA WOOD
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Dear Reader,
When I left my home near Plymouth, England, and flew across the Atlantic to Massachusetts to research The Vengeful Groom, I imagined myself as nervous as any Pilgrim. I found woodlands, clapboard houses, glorious beaches and historic inns. “English” scenery, and yet everything felt so foreign.
I filmed, I researched, I learned new languages. Pudding is dessert, estate agents are Realtors, cafés are diners…. I also walked in Giovanni and Tina’s footsteps, living their lives, dreaming on beaches, talking to students, exploring mansions, a garage and small-town life. I visited Harvard and Boston’s Italian quarter.
There was also time for playing hooky—wandering the wilder shores of Cape Cod, boating up silvery rivers and across vast salt marshlands. At Plymouth Plantation, I told a costumed carpenter that he’d find old Plymouth much changed if he went back! We drew maps for each other in the dirt and talked about the Old World and the New.
I wasn’t as daring as the settlers who’d made the journey from England long ago, but I felt an affinity with them. I’d come from a great distance, with high hopes of adventure and a broadening of my world. I gained a deep respect and admiration for the American way of life—for its energy and enthusiasm and family values.
I think we need those strong, caring qualities in a marriage; Giovanni and Tina have them in The Vengeful Groom—a tough grit, a regard for family and a “can do” attitude. With a never-dying love for each other, they’ll be happy together for eternity. Hope you agree!
With affection,
Sara Wood
INVITATION TO ALL COUPLES IN LOVE
We, the citizens of Eternity, take great pleasure in inviting you to hold your wedding at the Powell Chapel. Remember the legend: Those who exchange their vows in the chapel will remain together for the rest of their lives.
So let us help plan your special day. We’ve been making dreams come true for more than a hundred years.
Weddings, Inc.
Eternity Massachusetts
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Directory Your guide to the perfect Happily-Ever-After
BRIDAL CONSULTANT…. Bronwyn Powell
INVITATIONS & STATIONERY…. Jennifer Thompson
ANTIQUES & GIFTS…. Patience Powell
HAIR SALON…. Dodie Gibson
CATERER…. Manuel Silva
BRIDAL GOWNS…. Emma Webster
FLORIST…. Julianna Van Bassen, Marguerite Van Bassen
LIMOS…. Daniel Murphy
RECEPTION/ ACCOMMODATION…. Lincoln Mathews
TRAVEL AGENCY…. Jacqui Bertrand
PHOTOGRAPHER…. Sarah Powell
LINGERIE, ETC. ….. Christine Bowman
JEWELRY…. Marion Kent
BAKERY…. Lucy Franco
GIFTS…. Jean Stanford
FABRIC…. Marg Chisolm
SHOES…. David Guest
BAND…. Kerry Muldoon
The Vengeful Groom
Sara Wood
For David Santa Maria, who helped me build the True Love Ranch
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
SHE OUGHT to go over there. Even a Lamborghini could break down—otherwise why would that guy be lying underneath it? Tina shut the apartment door, mesmerized by the seductive lines of the dark green automobile on the derelict lot next door. From beneath the megasize front bumper emerged a pair of leather shoes and a small pool of oil.
Man at work, she thought in amusement, and there was the obligatory crowd—almost a dozen students! Though why the guy had run the car up the clamshell path and parked by the ruined barn, she couldn’t imagine. Her grandfather’s garage stood within pushing distance.
With a quick gesture, she thrust back the disorderly chunks of black hair that had flopped into her eyes from the dash downstairs and contemplated leaving the Lamborghini owner to cope. A slow smile curved the poppy red of her mouth as she speculated on the shock the poor guy must be in!
She could ignore his predicament since her grandfather had ordered her to concentrate on her own pleasures for once and let everything else go hang. Since he’d taken Adriana away on an extended birthday treat, the weekend didn’t involve planning a whole heap of the enriching experiences Adriana needed if she was to progress. Although Tina loved them—from the hilarious cooking sessions at breakfast to the stories she read at night to help Adriana unwind—it meant she never had a moment to herself.
Today she was as free as a bird, with nothing to concern her but which pickle to put on her sandwich. She’d felt a little guilty, a little lost, that morning. Scrambling into her T-shirt and shorts, she’d realized she needn’t hurry for once. No dependents. No detailed planning. No mental exertion. No dealing with emotional dramas. Bliss!
Seven-fifteen. The part-timers would arrive at the garage in half an hour. And business was business. She clambered over the picket fence and strolled toward the students.
“Hi, everyone,” she called amiably.
“Hi, Miss Murphy!” they answered with enthusiasm.
She beamed back and found she had to stretch all of her curvy five-foot-two frame to get a glimpse of the low-slung auto above the milling heads.
“Are you guys studying chiropody this term, or is this a customer for my grandpa?” she asked, nodding in amusement at the leather soles sticking out from beneath the car. To her surprise, the feet wagged as if they enjoyed the feeble joke.
“More’n that, Miss Murphy! Come see!” cried Josh Davis, good-naturedly shoving his neighbors in all directions to clear a space for her.
“Oh, boy!” she murmured in approval, running a connoisseur’s eye over the auto. It would snarl and roar and overtake everything in sight, leaving a choking cloud of dust behind. She smiled. “Grandpa will die