Risky Moves. Carrie Alexander
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swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. “Maybe we were too perfect together,” she heard herself saying, as if from a distance. All her energy was focused on Adam, who broke their moment of mutual awareness as quickly as he’d started it. He slipped beyond her sight, the heavy carved doors of the former bank building closing solidly behind him.
“How’s that?” Allie asked.
Julia waved a vague hand, waiting for her hammering pulse to fade. “Um, you know. There was no lasting heat.” Not a problem as far as Adam was concerned, even with very little encouragement.
Zack had been her first love, a puppy love, the summer she was sixteen. Adam hadn’t caught her attention in that way then—he was still a scrawny boy, always off poking around in the woods and climbing anything vertical, including the post office flagpole. Zack had been slightly older, a handsome icon of maturity and popularity, working as the lifeguard at the Mirror Lake beach. Everyone had said they belonged together. Soon Julia and Zack believed it, too. And since they were the kind of people who did what was expected of them, they’d lasted longer than they ought to have.
“No heat?” Allie repeated. “C’mon. I remember how you two always looked so right together. High-school sweethearts. Every girl in town envied you.”
“That was years ago. We broke up, remember?”
Allie reached for a beribboned party-favor bag and tore apart the netting with her fingernails. Pastel mints and candied almonds spilled across the tablecloth. She began popping them in her mouth one by one until her lips were puckered. “And it’s just coincidence that you haven’t been serious with anyone since?”
“I’ve dated,” Julia said. “Plenty.” At least by Quimby standards.
“Yeah, stodgy guys with briefcases and beepers.”
“Suits me fine. I have my own briefcase and beeper.” Julia nibbled an almond. After working for one of the nationwide real-estate franchises for a few years, she’d come back to Quimby to open her own agency. It was doing very well, by Quimby standards.
“Which is why you need the opposite, of course!” Cathy Timmerman—Cathy Brody, Julia remembered—swooped on them with the numerous layers of her swagged ivory skirts bunched in her hands. She kicked out a chair with the toe of a dyed-to-match ivory pump and collapsed with a loud exhale. “Gad. Weddings really take it out of you.”
“But the honeymoon puts it back in,” Julia said, giving Cathy’s hand a squeeze. Quite a reach over their voluminous, rustling gowns.
“No, that’s the groom’s job,” Allie said mischievously.
Cathy groaned. “Please, no more bawdy honeymoon jokes. I’ve had enough of those from Zack’s uncle Brady. Brady Brody, if you can believe it. That’s him in the magenta velvet tux. He thinks it’s funny to sneak into every picture our photographer takes.”
“I remember Uncle Brady,” Julia said. “He used to pinch my derriere at family functions. Consider yourself forewarned, Cath.”
“Too late. He got in a good one right there in the receiving line. But with all these layers of tulle and genuine polyester silk, what was the point?”
They laughed.
“Zack didn’t tell me about his relatives,” Cathy continued. “Turns out there are heaps of them.” She tried to frown, but nothing could take away the happiness that wreathed her face as clearly as the floral headpiece framed her sable hair. Despite the over-the-top Bridal Bonanza finery, Julia had never seen a bride who glowed more than Cathy. There was no doubt that Zack had chosen right this time around.
“We booked hotel rooms all over the county, and it still seems as though most of them are bunking in at either Zack’s house or mine. We haven’t managed a moment to ourselves for days and days.”
Then neither would Adam, Julia thought, knowing how much he’d hate that.
“When do you escape?” Allie asked, crunching.
“Very soon now.” Cathy’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as they followed Zack, who was making one last turn around the room, distributing thanks and handshakes. “I can hardly wait.” She looked sidelong at her grinning friends. “Not for that. For the peace and quiet.” She paused, reflecting. “And maybe some of that, too.”
Cathy was a lucky bride, Julia told herself. Her groom was an exceptional man. Julia had known so even before a dozen Quimby busybodies had taken it upon themselves to inform her that she’d let a good one get away. She had no hope of explaining why their chemistry hadn’t worked when she didn’t understand it herself. Put Zack together with Cathy, a relative newcomer to Quimby, and the pair of them smoked. You could practically see the steam rising from their pores.
Maybe it was the comfort and normalcy that had doomed Julia’s relationship with Zack. And that continued to doom her with the few acceptable men she’d encountered since. Briefcases, beepers and boredom—she knew them far too well.
The other two women were discussing the honeymoon plans, six days of autumnal marital bliss at a mountain resort. “By the time we return, I’m hoping all the relatives will have gone,” Cathy confessed in a whisper. “It’s going to be cozy enough as it is, living right next door to Zack’s parents until our new house is built.”
“And Adam, too,” Julia said. “If he stays, that is.”
“Oh, his mother’s working on that. Whereas Zack said we were lucky that his brother agreed to fly in last night instead of putting it off until this morning. I hear Adam’s always been impossible to peg down.”
“He missed the rehearsal dinner.” Julia had been all pins and needles, anticipating the sight of him. Instead her first glimpse had come this afternoon, in the church itself, when she’d preceded Cathy down the aisle. The shock of Adam’s magnifying presence and stark, handsome face had put a noticeable stutter in her step. Enough that the busybodies had clucked over it, though none had guessed the true reason. They all thought she was regretting the loss of Zack.
“Does he know that Laurel booked herself onto a convenient Mediterranean cruise ship so she wouldn’t be in town for the wedding?” Allie said, looking from one woman to the other.
“He knows.” Cathy was eyeing Julia with too much sympathy. Now that the mints were gone, Allie was beginning to notice. “Laurel’s not what matters.”
Allie’s lips pursed. “His legs?”
“His legs are fine,” Julia insisted. Too much emphasis.
Allie squinched again, her eyes narrowing to slits, her long nose twitching suspiciously.
“You only have to look at him to see.” Julia couldn’t seem to stop herself. Very unlike her. “He’s every bit as vital as he was when he left.”
“Vital?” Allie echoed. “Like a daily vitamin?” She chortled. “If I were you, I wouldn’t count on Adam sticking around for another dose tomorrow, let alone the long haul.”
Julia winced. “If you were me? I—I’m not counting on anything. Which isn’t the point, anyway. All I meant—” She took a breath, appalled at herself for losing her cool for so little reason. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Cathy stepped in. “Allie, would you gather together the single women? It’s time I threw the bouquet.” As soon as Allie was out of earshot, she turned to the flustered Julia. “Honey—are you okay? I knew it was going to be hard on you, seeing Adam again.”
You don’t know the half of it, Julia thought. She clenched her hands, safely hidden in a lapful of tulle netting. Cathy had guessed about Julia’s feelings for Adam months ago, when Julia had confessed that—contrary to public speculation—she was not heartbroken over Zack. But Cathy didn’t know that there was a lot more to the story.
“Well, sure,” Julia said slowly, “I was a little nervous about what to expect. But it