They were getting sidetracked. Bri led Casey away from the plates. “Let’s go look for the bubbles. Maybe they have some bulk packages here.”
“Good idea.”
They browsed the toy aisle, which offered everything from old-fashioned Slinkies to the latest Avenger action figure. “What else is left to plan?”
“You’re still doing my cake, right?”
“One three-tiered petit-four platter, coming up,” Bri promised. “Did you decide on colors for the wedding?”
“Not yet. Maybe black and gold.”
“That’ll be pretty.” Bri hesitated. “Of course, it sort of depends on where the venue is.” She held her breath.
“True.” Casey, wide-eyed, held up a pack of baseball cards. “Look! Did you know they even still made these?”
Off track again. Bri tried to redirect. “An Autumn wedding would be beautiful outside. It’s the perfect weather right now. Just think, a crisp, sunny Saturday afternoon. Gauzy sleeves. Lightweight suits.”
Casey mumbled a noncommitted murmur as she thumbed through the various packs of cards. “Man. I don’t know any of these players.”
She was apparently being too subtle. “You know, a really lovely spot would be that gazebo behind the bakery. By the fountain.” Bri casually cast a sidelong glance at Casey. “And the love-lock wall.”
There. She’d said it.
Casey nodded as she tossed the cards back in the bin. “That would be pretty.”
“So, you’ll do it?” Bri clasped her hands in front of her. Had it really been that easy? All that worrying and scheming for nothing.
“Do what?”
Well, maybe not. Bri’s hands lowered to her sides. “Get married at the love-lock wall.” She held her breath.
Casey shrugged. “Sure. Why not? That’s where it all started.” She winked and nudged Bri in the ribs. “And it’s free, right?”
“Of course.” Relief and excitement vied for first place in her soaring emotions—along with a fresh dash of hope. “I’ll even discount your petit fours.”
“No way! They’re already practically free. I know how much you’re taking off for me.”
“Then I’ll take off another ten percent. This is perfect!” Business would have to pick up once word spread of a wedding—the wedding of the famous love-lock couple, no less—happening in mere weeks. The Puff would be back in the news, which would generate another rush of sales.
And bonus—it would make Charles’s attempt to buy out and tear down the love-lock wall look incredibly petty. Talk about poor timing for his repeated offers. He’d have to back off if he didn’t want the bad publicity. And if she remembered anything about Charles Richmond, it was that image was everything. That had to be half the reason behind his grudge—she’d made him look bad by breaking up with him, the successful lawyer.
“Look! Bubbles.” Casey held up a package of a dozen. “How many, do you think? Five packs?”
“Let’s get them all.” Bri handed Casey several more, then piled the remaining boxes in her own arms. She was feeling more than a little generous at the moment—and giddy. “Consider it one of your wedding gifts.”
Now for phase two of her plan—ensuring Casey’s wedding memories stayed intact.
“The love-lock couple is getting married at the love-lock wall?” KCUP producer Adam Sikes propped his sneakered feet up on the station’s long conference table. “Tell me more.”
“It’s in two weeks.” Bri handed him the details she’d typed out during the Pastry Puff’s late afternoon lull. Or rather, the entire afternoon’s lull. They’d been pretty dead for a Saturday. “The time is still tentative, but it’ll be held outside the Pastry Puff at the gazebo, by the love-lock wall. The whole town is invited.”
Adam pulled his skinny jeans–clad legs off the table to reach forward and accept the paper. He’d run the local news station for as long as Bri could remember yet rarely seemed to age. The whole town wondered if he snuck away annually for Botox injections. “We could run a quick promo for it. I assume you’re doing the cake?”
“Petit-four tower.”
“Well, I’m in.” He grinned. “Put me down for a plus one.”
“You’ll want to do more than a promo, though. Trust me.”
“We always do a Friday morning shout-out for weddings, anniversaries, happy birthdays, and the like.” Adam nodded. “I can squeeze this in, no problem. Everyone loves Casey.”
Bri pointed to the paper in his hands, fluttering slightly in the draft from the air vent above. “There is a problem, though.”
His eyes skimmed over it for the first time, and his voice turned wary. “A ‘I don’t want to touch this’ kind of problem or a ‘This makes it juicy’ kind of problem?”
“You tell me.” Bri crossed her arms and leveled her gaze at him, trying to appear confident despite her pounding heart. “Local attorney seeks to destroy wedding destination.”
Adam smirked. “This isn’t a newspaper, doll. We don’t do headlines—we do sound bites.” He tilted his head. “But I kind of like it.”
“You want this scoop, trust me.”
He studied the sheet. “Who’s the lawyer involved?”
“Charles Richmond.”
Adam squinted at her beneath a shock of dark brown hair, also speculated to be dyed. “Didn’t y’all used to date?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Is it, though?” Adam leaned across the table. “Maybe we have a different scoop here. Are you seeking revenge?”
Hardly. “I broke up with him.”
“Oh. Then yeah, that’s irrelevant.” Adam flapped the sheet of paper in her direction. “We almost had something.”
She was losing him. Bri sat up straighter, heart jump-starting in defense. “You still do. A prominent town figure is trying to buy—and destroy—a beloved city landmark.”
“Landmark?” He raised a dubious eyebrow at her.
Too far. “Okay, maybe it’s not that big, but a national travel magazine is doing a write-up on us. That’s noteworthy.”
“Indeed. I’ll give you that.” Adam nodded. “Who’s the travel writer?”
Bri handed him another sheet of paper, on which she’d already written Gerard’s name and the phone number to the B&B. “He’ll help with anything you need.”
He better, anyway. He promised.
“You’ve been busy. KCUP?” Gerard raised an eyebrow.
“It’s the station’s call letters. K-C-U-P.” Bri shrugged as she shut the oven door. “Their morning broadcast is ‘Wake Up
