he’d put his arm around her or taken her hand. But, she sighed, they were working, and how professional would that look?
Before the rehearsal ended, George vanished to oversee the setup for dinner up on the wide front porch. Anne wrapped up a few minutes later and sent everyone in that direction.
She was stopped from following them by a bone-jarring hug from Courtney. “Thank you for everything, Miss Anne. I know this is going to be the most beautiful wedding ever, and it’s all because of you.”
Cliff grinned at Anne over his fiancée’s head.
She smiled back at him. “It’ll be the most beautiful wedding, Courtney, because you’re going to be the most beautiful bride ever.”
Courtney stepped back to be engulfed by Cliff’s huge arm. “I hope you have lots of business cards with you tonight, Anne. Lots of the girls were asking me about you.”
Anne shooed them toward the house. She set the crew George had hired to breaking down everything and followed them.
Throughout the evening, she tried to find a few minutes alone with George but couldn’t seem to find him when he wasn’t surrounded by people or on his way to run an errand for Cliff. She was a bit disconcerted by his inattention but reminded herself he had a job in addition to helping her, and if she knew Cliff, he kept George running at all times.
But tomorrow night… She sighed. Tomorrow night, it would all be over. Cliff and Courtney would be gone on their honeymoon. And she and George…
She couldn’t wait to see what happened then.
Chapter 27
Anne watched from a distance as Cliff and Courtney fed each other a piece of the enormous cake Aunt Maggie had labored over for weeks. Cliff had insisted on being at Vue de Ciel when the cake was scheduled to be delivered just so he could see Aunt Maggie. Anne shook her head. She never thought she’d see the day when she’d be happy to witness Cliff Ballantine getting married.
Where was George? She’d only had glimpses of him throughout the evening, and he’d slipped away while Anne arranged the cakecutting. A casual perusal of the warehouse-sized Vue de Ciel ballroom didn’t reveal him.
She’d hoped they’d find a few minutes alone tonight. They needed to discuss the partnership. She wanted a yes or no answer out of him before the end of the night. Every time she’d broached the topic in the last few weeks, he’d come out with one excuse or another about his work visa. She was beginning to feel like he’d decided against it but just couldn’t bring himself to tell her.
Something about the distance that still remained between them kept her from fully trusting him, held her back, made her want to retreat behind her old emotional walls and protect herself. Even talking at length with Meredith about her parents’ death and the expectation she carried with her since then—that everyone who professed to love her would eventually leave or disappoint her—hadn’t helped her put her fear aside.
Working her way around the perimeter of the room, she spoke to guests as she was spoken to, nodding at the service staff who caught her gaze.
As she neared the corridor that led to the kitchen, Major intercepted her.
“We’re running low on caviar,” he divulged in a hushed whisper. “Only half of what we ordered came in, and there is no more to be had in town anywhere—I know because I’ve called every grocer in a hundred-mile radius.”
Anne looked over her shoulder at Cliff and Courtney. Neither of them liked caviar. They’d only put it on the menu because it was expensive and would impress people. “Don’t worry about it. If it’s gone, it’s gone.” She looked down the hall toward the kitchen.
“What are you looking for?” Major looked over his shoulder in the same direction.
“You haven’t seen George in the last few minutes, have you?”
A smile spread across her friend’s face. “I think I saw him headed out onto the observation deck a few minutes ago.” He caught her arm as she turned to go. “Am I going to have to compete with your aunt for the privilege of catering your reception?”
Anne forced a smile. With the way things stood between them now, would there ever be a Hawthorne- Laurence wedding? “I think I can probably put both you and Aunt Maggie to work.” She spun around with a wave and headed for the opposite side of the top floor of Boudreaux Tower. Although the room, with its glass walls and roof, gave a spectacular view of downtown Bonneterre, the observation deck allowed visitors to experience the view unobstructed.
George Laurence wouldn’t leave tonight without discussing their future partnership—whether business or personal.
“I’ve got to wait until the time’s right. If I do this wrong, she’s likely to bolt.” George paced the width of the deck overlooking the twinkling lights of the sleeping city. While he stood at the top of the tallest building in Bonneterre, Louisiana, in the middle of the night, his brother Henry sat in evening rush hour traffic in Sydney, Australia.
“Look, mate. You’ve been in love with this woman since the first time you clapped eyes on her. You’ve spoken of little else since you met her.” Henry paused to yell a few colorful phrases at another driver. He had adapted to his new environs quickly.
“It took me awhile, but I know Anne is the woman God created especially for me.” George sighed and leaned against the waist-high safety wall. “But if I resign my post, I’ll have to return to England for six months and apply for a new visa—I’ll lose my years of residency toward becoming a citizen.”
“So what’s to keep you from just courting her until she’s ready to marry you?” Henry asked.
“Because in two weeks when Mr. and Mrs. Ballantine return from their honeymoon, I’ll be going to New Zealand with him for nearly three months. After that, it’s off to who knows where. I’m afraid she’ll give up on me. I can’t lose her.”
“Listen, Brother, I’m almost to the harbor bridge, and traffic is bad so I need to go. There is one idea that I don’t know if you’ve thought of. You could always marry an American and stay in the country that way. You already have the ring for your Miss Hawthorne, do you not?”
George reached up and felt the slight bulge in the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “I do.”
“Well…?” Henry prompted.
“What you’re saying is that I should propose to Anne tonight and convince her to marry me in two weeks so that I can stay in the country?” He had a feeling Anne would say yes to his proposal, but would she want to get married that quickly?
“I don’t think you’d have to get married in two weeks. I think if you got engaged and could prove it to the immigration services office, they would probably give you an extension until you do get married. That way, you can resign your post and stay there with her. At the worst, you’d have to go back to England for a few weeks until you’re issued a temporary green card.”
“Marriage to Anne would be the perfect solution.” George paced as he ruminated on the idea. “She’ll have the business partner she longs for, and I’ll get to stay in the country.”
“Oh, and spending the rest of your life with the woman you’re madly in love with doesn’t factor into the equation?”
“Well, there’s that as well.” Anxiety tingled through him. Would she say yes? He took a few moments after the phone call to compose himself, then returned to the ballroom in search of Anne. He had to propose before Courtney left, or the girl would never forgive him.
He didn’t immediately spot Anne in the room, no surprise among seven hundred guests. He stopped a few servers, who said they’d seen her come through recently but weren’t sure in which direction she’d gone.
Courtney gazed adoringly into Cliff’s eyes as they glided about the dance floor. The one area where she’d disagreed with Anne had been music. Anne just couldn’t convince her to have a swing band instead of one that
