The Boss's Bride. Brenda Minton
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smiled, but she knew it was a poor attempt at best. The frown on Janie’s face confirmed it. She exhaled and looked again at her reflection in the mirror. Janie was right; a bride shouldn’t look sad.
“Gracie, what’s wrong?” Janie walked up behind her and peeked over her shoulder so that their reflections stared back at them.
“Nothing. I’m good.” She leaned her cheek against Janie’s hand on her shoulder. “Other than the fact that you’ve moved one hundred miles away and I never get to see you.”
What else could she say? Everyone in Bygones, Kansas, and probably for miles around, thought she’d landed the catch of the century. Trent Morgan was handsome, charming and came from money. She should be thrilled to be marrying him. Six months ago she had been thrilled. Five months ago she’d still been happy.
But then she’d started to notice little signs. She should have put the wedding on hold the moment she noticed those signs. She should have slowed down and not worried so much about what everyone else would think. And when she knew for certain, she should have put a stop to the entire thing. But she hadn’t. Because once the wedding wheels had been put in motion, she hadn’t known how to stop it all from happening.
It made her feel weak. And she’d never been a weak person.
“You’re not convincing me.” Janie smiled tenderly, a best-friend smile reflected from the mirror. Gracie turned to face her friend, the skirt of the dress pushing them apart.
“I’m just tired, Janie. I mean, it’s been a long three months of wedding planning, right?” Did she sound convincing?
“And Mrs. Morgan isn’t a dream of a woman to deal with.” Janie gave an exaggerated shudder to prove her point.
“Exactly.” Gracie twirled in the lace creation that had a skirt that made her look like a dinner bell or a Southern belle—she wasn’t sure which. “Do you care if I have a few minutes alone?”
“Of course not,” Janie gave her another hug. “But not too long. You dad is outside, and when I came in to check on you, the seats were filling up out there.”
“I won’t be long. I just need a minute to catch my breath.”
“Of course you do. And just think, after today you’ll be going to Hawaii and you’ll have a week on the beach to catch your breath. And then you’ll move to Manhattan and your new home.”
Gracie smiled and nodded her head, trying to pretend the idea excited her. A week in Hawaii. On the beach. With Trent.
Janie smiled back at her and then the door to the classroom closed. And for the first time in days, Gracie was alone. She looked around the room with the bright yellow walls and posters from the Sunday school curriculum. She stopped at the poster of David and Goliath. Her favorite. She’d love to have that kind of faith, the kind that knocked down giants.
She knew a few Davids. Ann Mars was a faith giant. And Miss Coraline Connolly. They both believed the town of Bygones could be saved. Not with stones and a slingshot but with new businesses and new people.
And of course those new businesses made her think of her boss at The Fixer-Upper. Patrick Fogerty, one of the most genuinely nice people she’d ever met.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Today was her wedding day. Instead of worrying, she had to remember back to when she met Trent and how love had felt then. Not how it felt now—sadly lacking because he’d not only pulled away, he’d betrayed her trust. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
“You almost ready, Gracie?” her dad called through the door.
“Almost.”
She opened the window, just to let in fresh air. She leaned out, breathing the hint of autumn, enjoying the breeze on her face. She looked across the grassy lawn and saw…
FREEDOM.
She shook her head at the word. That was the wrong word. A bride shouldn’t be thinking of freedom. She should be thinking of happy-ever-after with the man she loved. The word ached deep inside, mocking her. Love. It meant something, to love someone, to want to be with them forever. It meant loyalty.
She closed her eyes and thought back to that day one month ago when she’d meant to surprise Trent. She’d packed a lunch for them. She’d thought a picnic would be romantic. Instead she sat in her car watching him and then she’d eased out of the parking space, driving away as if she hadn’t seen anything. That moment had confirmed her suspicions.
It all added up. He had been seeing someone else while she’d been busy at home, planning their wedding. He had texted the other woman while they’d been sampling cakes at the Sweet Dreams Bakery. He’d called her while he and Gracie had dinner with his parents.
Gracie hadn’t known how to end a relationship just weeks short of the wedding.
But now she did.
Quiet as a mouse, she slid herself and the hoopskirt through the window. Once she stood on the grass outside the window, her heart began to pound. She thought about how wrong this was. She thought about all the money Mrs. Morgan had spent.
She thought of how things would have been different if her own mother had been alive and she’d had a woman to turn to, to talk to. If she didn’t feel so responsible for everyone else.
It hadn’t been her plan to sneak around the side of the church, to look out at the crowded parking lot. The limo was already decorated with cans, streamers and painted windows; two teenage boys were finishing up with cans of shaving cream. She hadn’t planned to slip away and then run as fast as she could down a side street.
But she did run.
And she felt freer than she had in months. She felt the breeze on her face, the coolness of the air, and knew she couldn’t marry Trent Morgan. But she didn’t know where to go or what to do now that she’d left her groom standing in the sanctuary of the church waiting for a bride who wouldn’t be walking down the aisle. She only knew that she couldn’t go through with this wedding.
Chapter One
The stockroom of The Fixer-Upper hardware store was dark, warm and strangely peaceful. Gracie sat on a stool, staring down at the white dress that hadn’t made it down the aisle. She shifted the skirt, all lace and silk, the type of creation she never would have picked on her own. The only things of her own choosing were her white cowboy boots with sequins and the crystal ribbon on the flowers.
She studied the bouquet Trent’s mother had picked, so different from the daisies Gracie had wanted. When Gracie had sneaked into The Fixer-Upper, she’d tossed the bouquet on a worktable. Even from several feet away, she could smell the sweetness of the flowers, a reminder that this had never really been her wedding. Even the yellow roses, which would have been okay, had been enhanced with a few exotic blooms. Mrs. Morgan had a thing for over-the-top.
From the church to the decorations, Trent’s mother had made all the decisions. Mrs. Morgan, wife of a prominent surgeon, had taken charge. After all, as Mrs. Morgan liked to point out, Gracie didn’t have a mother of her own to take care of these things. And because Gracie’s father’s granary was struggling, like every other business in Bygones, Kansas, the Morgan family had been footing the bill for their only son to marry Gracie Wilson.
Gracie smiled as she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She’d finally made a decision of her own. She’d made the decision to bail on the whole dreadful affair.
It seemed as if everyone was counting on this marriage. It had definitely been a big help to the Bygones economy, thanks to the Morgans. My dad. Thinking of him, she felt guilty. He’d been happy, thinking she would never have to work hard again. She was marrying up, he’d said. She’d be set for life, her brother Evan had added.
She’d never agreed with her dad about marrying up. Her dad and her five brothers were the cream of the crop. Very few men could compete with those