He shook that thought off right away. He knew from firsthand experience that what his parents had was rare, and that he had not been lucky enough to find it.
Chapter Three
The Donaldson wedding reception was being held at the Yacht Club, a long-time favorite amongst brides in the county because of its waterfront location and elegant amenities, not to mention the quintessential wood-sided building and lush landscaping. It was also on Gabby’s short-list for whenever her big day finally rolled around.
Make that if it ever rolled around. Catching her souring mood before it got the better of her, Gabby set the last centerpiece at the head table and stepped back to admire the space under the tent that had been set up right along the water’s edge, making sure that each round table was anchored with an antique vase overflowing with lavender, peonies, and roses in soft purple, cream, and pink.
She sighed because she just couldn’t help herself. This was a perfectly romantic wedding in the most traditional sense. The bride’s bouquet was bound by a simple ivory velvet ribbon, and Gabby had hung a cone of lavender from each church pew earlier in the day. The reception tables were draped in ivory clothes, and the gilded chairs were the perfect complement to the vases.
In the distance, she heard the ringing of the bells, and the cheer that went up as no doubt the newly official bride and groom emerged from the double doors to be greeted by their guests.
She felt her eyes mist just imagining the thrill of that moment, the gauzy veil trailing behind her, catching in the wind as she stopped to kiss her husband on the church steps. She blinked, forcing herself to the present. She was getting swept away, just like Brooke had accused her of doing. Maybe she did read too many romance novels. It was just that lately, they were the only place she seemed to find any romance.
Quickly, she turned the centerpiece on the head table for optimal display. She was not a true guest at this wedding, much less the bride. She was the florist, and right now she estimated that she had about fifteen minutes before people made their way over to the reception, eager for a glass of cold champagne.
She could certainly do with one herself, but not right now. Right now, she needed to make her rounds, ensure that everything was accounted for, so that the bride was just as thrilled walking into the tent as she had been when she’d walked down the aisle.
Her mother had helped out with the earlier part of the day—dropping off the bouquets and boutonnieres for the wedding party, and getting a start on the reception while Gabby finished decorating the church. But now Gabby was down to the final touches, and she’d sent her mother home to relax—not because she couldn’t have used the extra hands, but because she enjoyed keeping this task to herself.
She walked a perimeter around the grounds, keeping an eye out for a stray leaf or limp bloom, stopping here and there to give the petals a quick spritz. The guests were starting to arrive. She knew from experience that they’d enjoy the cocktail reception while the bridal party was busy with the photographers, probably on the dock with the lake behind them, Evening Island visible in the distance. Gabby always dressed for the event while she set up, so she would blend in if anyone arrived early. Today had been warm, not a cloud could be seen in the blue sky that would soon enough start to change into a glorious sunset, and even though the lake effect could stir up a cool breeze when you least expected it, she was pleasantly warm in her grass green shift dress.
She stepped back from the last arrangement she had shifted three inches to the right and rotated by forty-five degrees, her heel catching on something that made her nearly lose her footing.
“Woah, there,” a deep voice rumbled directly behind her as a hand met her elbow.
Gabby turned to see none other than Doug Monroe, standing right behind her, his dark eyes gleaming as they locked with hers.
She pressed her lips together and stepped away. “I didn’t see you there.”
Because if she had, she would have run. Or at least speed-walked away. So this was what she got for caring too much about her arrangements. Another tête-à-tête with the local know-it-all.
“I didn’t realize that was you,” he was sure to say.
Something he didn’t know? She was surprised he’d so casually admit it!
He held up a place card, saying ruefully. “Table twelve it is. You?”
Here she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just the florist,” she said tightly, sure to accentuate the word just to make sure he understood where she stood with his comments yesterday.
“You’re not staying?” His eyebrows shot up in a way that made her wonder if he was truly disappointed by this. Or just curious.
She looked around the tent. Even though Blue Harbor was small, she didn’t know many of the guests personally. She could duck out after the cocktail hour, drive home, slip off her uncomfortable shoes and dress, and settle onto her sofa with a good book and a cold glass of wine. She had only three chapters left in her latest novel, and despite knowing that it would end happily, she wanted to see just how the heroine reached that point.
Maybe, she could find a few pointers. Or hope, she thought, feeling her shoulders sink a little as she looked over at Doug, who seemed to be frowning now as he studied the name cards at his table.
“Singles table?” she asked with knowing dread.
“At least my brother is with me.” Doug picked up a card and studied it. “Though not beside me.”
He picked up another card and swapped it out. Gabby felt her
