Chapter One

      “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

      Bride-to-be Allie MacDougal Stark stood in front of the mirror in the Wedlock Creek Town Hall’s “Bridal Preparation” room, her sisters, Lila and Merry, on either side of her. Lila, the most traditional of the MacDougal triplets, was insisting that Allie tick off the old wedding poem checklist.

      Even though nothing about today’s wedding was traditional.

      “Hmm, something old,” Lila said, tilting her head and surveying Allie’s reflection. “Ah—got it. You’re wearing Grandma’s pearl drop earrings. Perfect.”

      The earrings were beautiful, and Allie loved the idea of having a part of her beloved grandmother with her today.

      “And the ‘something borrowed’ are my shoes,” Merry pointed out, gesturing at the salmon-colored suede pumps on Allie’s feet. They were a great match for the blush-colored lace jacket and matching knee-length pencil skirt that Allie wore for every special occasion. The usual shoes that went with this outfit had horribly scuffed heels, so Merry and her shoe collection to the rescue.

      “Something new is next,” Lila said. “Sexy underthings perhaps?” she added, wriggling her blond eyebrows.

      Uh, no. Allie made a face at her sister, who knew perfectly well that things between her and her fiancé didn’t—and would likely never—merit a trip to Victoria’s Secret. Honestly, if tonight, their wedding night, she and Elliot watched a movie and played Boggle before turning in early with a peck on the cheek, she wouldn’t be surprised.

      “You know,” Allie said, looking herself up and down, “I don’t think I have anything new on right now.”

      As if she would. As the widowed mother of eleven-month-old quadruplets, new was not a word in Allie’s vocabulary. She hadn’t bought anything for herself in at least two years, and most of the quads’ stuff—and there was a lot of stuff—was hand-me-downs or gifts.

      “You actually do have something new, though,” Merry said, nodding at Lila, who ran over to her purse on the chair in the corner and pulled out a small square box.

      “What is this?” Allie asked as Lila handed it to her.

      Merry smiled. “Open it. It’s your wedding present from us.”

      “You guys,” Allie said, looking from one sister to the other and back to the box. She opened the lid. Aww—it was a beautiful oval-shaped gold locket on a filigree chain.

      “Now open the locket,” Lila said.

      Allie flicked open the tiny latch. An itty-bitty photo of her babies, one she recognized was taken just a few weeks ago, was nestled inside. Tyler and Henry were smiling, Ethan was midlaugh, and Olivia had her big toe in her mouth, her trademark move.

      Her heart squeezed. Her sisters were everything. “I love it,” Allie said, grabbing each MacDougal in a hug. “I absolutely love it. But I have to say I’m surprised you got me anything.”

      Her sisters had made their feelings about her marriage to Elliot Talley crystal clear. Don’t marry a man you’re not in love with, Lila had said quite a few times. You have us! Merry had insisted even last night, when the triplets had gotten together for a “bachelorette party,” which meant dinner at Allie’s favorite restaurant for incredible Mexican food and margaritas. We’ll always help you with the kiddos, Lila had said. You don’t have to do this.

      This was marrying Elliot Talley in about twenty minutes.

      “Of course we did,” Lila said. “Because we love you and support you.” She took the necklace out of the box and put it around Allie’s neck. “I can never fasten these things,” she said, frowning. “I have fat fingers.”

      Merry laughed and took over. “We all have the same fingers. And mine are not fat.”

      Allie snorted. “Mine, either,” she said, wiggling hers in the air. The Irish friendship ring Elliot had given her as a symbol of their commitment when he’d proposed barely gleamed in the bright room. Lila wrinkled her nose at it. Hardly traditional, she’d groused the day Allie, newly engaged, had shown it to her sisters.

      Allie didn’t need or want a diamond ring. She had one, the beautiful solitaire in a gold band that her late husband had given her six months before they’d married seven years ago. After Elliot had proposed, she’d moved the diamond ring and wedding band to her right hand, but they didn’t fit comfortably on any of her fingers. So she’d put them away, dropping to her knees afterward in a round of sobs that had shaken her entire body.

      “Wait, what about something blue?” Lila said, shoving her long, curly blond hair behind her shoulders. “You don’t have anything blue.”

      Blue. The face of police sergeant Theo Stark, killed almost two years ago in the line of duty, was vivid in her mind, the first time she saw him in uniform as a twenty-four-year-old cadet in the police academy. He’d joined right after three tours of duty in the army.

      “Sure I do,” Allie said, sucking in a breath. “A two-fold ‘something blue.’ Theo’s memory. With me always.”

      Lila’s face crumpled. “Oh, God, now I’m gonna cry.”

      “Me, too,” Merry said and squeezed Allie in a hug, Lila smushing her way in.

      “You’ll ruin your mascara,” Lila warned, stepping back and handing Allie a tissue. “You can’t marry Elliot with raccoon tracks down your face.”

      Merry opened her mouth to say something, then turned away and put on her usual pleasant expression, and Allie knew exactly what her sister had wanted to say.

       You can’t marry Elliot, period.

      Allie had been dating Elliot, a kind, responsible tax accountant, for only three months. According to her sisters, dating was a stretch, considering they’d never had sex. Ten years her senior at forty-one, Elliot wanted a family, she had a ready-made one, and they got along great. Their relationship had the added bonus of increasing his business, since he seemed like a saint to everyone in Wedlock Creek, and the proposal had turned him into a hometown hero.

      People felt bad for Allie Stark, widowed mother of baby quadruplets. For the first few months after they were born, she’d barely had to lift one baby, let alone figure out how to juggle four. Her family, neighbors, even total strangers in town had rallied around her, whispers of “that poor woman,” “those poor babies,” wherever she went with her huge choo-choo train of a four-seat stroller. Her freezer was still stocked with everything from casseroles to soups. She had an entire kitchen drawer full of gift cards to Baby Blitz. And babysitting offers, from overnights to a few hours to let her nap and pee and have a cup of coffee, had been aplenty. But six months in, Allie had known she had to start standing on her own two feet and learn how to take care of her children by herself.

      Her sisters had been pushing her to date, to get back out there, but even if she could imagine