The Wedding Planner: A heartwarming feel good romance perfect for spring!

As a way of disseminating gossip quicker than rural broadband speed, Crispin’s village meetings were unsurpassable. She’d even used the forum herself, she remembered, wincing at how she’d stood up in one of the meetings last summer and told everyone assembled just who newcomer Daniel Westlake had formerly associated himself with.

She was lucky Daniel had a forgiving nature.

These days, whenever it was her turn to be key-holder for the meeting, the first thing she did after turning the giant clock back ten minutes to ensure everyone arrived on time, was to swipe a stack of Post-it notes from Daniel’s desk in the co-working office space he ran from the top floor of the clock house and write her village meeting mantra: less speaking, more smiling and absolutely NO rolling of the eyes.

She looked under the bar now to the scribbled Post-its (other sticky notes are available at Hive @ The Clock House) and stifled the sigh.

As Crispin started rambling on, she tried to pay attention but within moments all she could think was how on earth was she going to pull off the role of bridesmaid? Didn’t they have to be supportive, and involved and, oh joy, wear one of those dresses in floaty pastel?

Of course the minute the deal had been sealed with the hugging, it had started … The first conversation of no doubt millions, in which she’d quickly realised, she was a) not supposed to want to escape, and b) expected to participate positively in.

‘When’s the date, then?’ Juliet had immediately wanted to know.

‘Yes,’ Kate had said. ‘Because we’ll have to close this place, or are you getting married at the Hall?’

‘Surely it will be at the Hall,’ Juliet had answered on Emma’s behalf. ‘There’s probably some sort of tradition or something?’

‘Or church,’ Kate had said, looking at Emma. ‘Are you thinking the whole big church wedding?’

Gloria had shuddered at the thought of having to step foot inside a church again. Nervously she’d glanced across to Emma, who looked how she felt, out of her depth and completely overwhelmed.

‘Um …’ Emma had trailed off and then bravely admitted, ‘we haven’t set the actual date yet. We’re waiting until we find the perfect one, where everyone’s free. Mum’s on another cruise and we don’t know when Jake’s oldest brother Marcus is planning to come back.’

‘But surely Seth is Jake’s best man,’ Gloria had squawked indignantly. After all, out of the six Knightleys, he was the only one here supporting Jake’s plans for the Hall.

Three pairs of intelligent, knowing eyes turned to her.

Bugger.

Why had she had to go and mention Seth like she was invested or something?

‘Jake’s asking Seth right now,’ Emma had assured. ‘But—’

‘Look, I know it must be like herding cats getting all the brothers and sisters in the same place at the same time, but isn’t it more important for you to get the date you two want?’ The words had tumbled out of Gloria’s mouth as she remembered receiving the list of suitable dates that Bob’s mother had issued for their wedding.

‘Or, if you don’t know the date yet,’ Kate had interrupted, ‘what season do you want? You could have a winter wedding. Ooh, I’ve always wanted a winter wedding.’

‘Winter?’ Emma wrinkled her nose. ‘I think I’m more—’

‘Absolutely,’ Juliet had instantly agreed, assessing Emma, ‘with your blonde hair, I’m thinking summer or autumn. That’s only a year away – will that give you enough time to plan?’

A year?

As in three hundred and sixty five days of wedding stuff?

Shoot me now, Gloria had thought, and announced, ‘I think you should do it as soon as possible.’

When they stared like she was the font of all wedding knowledge, it had occurred to her that, technically, she was. She was certainly the only one out of the four of them who had organised a wedding and been married.

The nausea had become more pronounced as she’d mumbled, ‘If you spend too much time planning, everything about the day gets blown out of proportion and you lose sight of the fact it’s to celebrate your union rather than pulling off the perfect party.’

There’d been shocked silence and then Kate had murmured, ‘Actually, she has a point.’

‘She has a name and thank you,’ Gloria had said, with a nod, the nausea abating somewhat.

‘To be honest for now I’m just happy to have organised the bridal party,’ Emma had said.

Gloria had looked at Emma’s dreamy expression that suggested a definite lack of feeling the need – the need for speed – and had asked herself how much she really want to be accepted by these women?

‘So let’s ask Gloria,’ Crispin’s voice suddenly boomed across the room.

At the sound of her name she shot up from behind the bar where she’d been quietly rummaging in her bag for those handy stress balls she’d taken from Fortuna’s office. ‘Huh?’ she responded, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes so that she could eye the agenda.

Tonight’s meeting was supposed to be about the infrastructure for the Beer Festival. Now that Whispers Wood had reactivated their summer fetes, this year the village had voted on moving it to autumn to tie-in with the local micro-brewery who’d won some sort of award.

She thought Kate had submitted The Clock House’s ideas when she’d realised the meeting conflicted with Thursday Night Dinner at her mum, Sheila’s. Emma was with Jake no doubt celebrating that they’d made one wedding decision and Juliet had been whisked out for dinner by Oscar after Gloria had snuck out to find him and mention he might want to spoil Juliet that evening.

It wasn’t butting in, she’d told herself. It was making sure two people she sort of liked made time to talk about what was going on because once the talking stopped it usually meant you were completely unpractised at it when the big stuff hit the fan.

‘So, how about it, Gloria,’ Crispin asked, ‘are you going to enlighten us?’

‘Pretzels,’ she said, looking around the room. At the blank stares she added a confident nod. ‘You all know we stock the micro-brewery’s Whispers Wrangler. We had a think about what goes with beer and came up with pretzels. Sheila’s going to cook up huge batches and presto: a Beer and Pretzels tent from The Clock House.’

‘Yes. I have you down for the pretzels but I was asking about the other thing?’ Crispin repeated.

There was another thing?

What other thing?

She certainly couldn’t tell him what she thought about the bridesmaid thing.

She couldn’t tell anyone.

Besides, it was going to be fine.

It had to be.

She could survive without imploding, or worse, exploding all over Emma and Jake’s Big Day.

‘Gloria?’

‘Wow—yes?’ Gloria blinked rapidly, tipping her head to the side on the off chance her own Big Day wedding montage would simply fall right out of her head. Just because Emma and Jake’s wedding was going to be the first wedding in Whispers Wood, since, well, hers … ‘What?’ she said grumpily.

Crispin gave her eye-rolling a run for its money and lifted his hand impatiently, ‘Can you shed some light onto the proceedings?’

‘The pretzel proceedings?’ She stood behind the safety of the bar, caught in the glare provided by some of the residents as they turned to stare at her. Unable to take it, she glanced upwards, straight into the large sparkly chandelier. The one with the ridiculous fairytale attached to it. The one responsible for making her think about Seth Knightley in a light which, if it ever got out and saw the light of day, she’d have to disavow all knowledge of, and leave Whispers Wood in the middle of the night, never to return.

‘You know Gloria,’ Crispin said, his voice exasperated, ‘after all that Whispers Wood has done for you I don’t think it’s too much to ask you to share your intel.’

Intel?

‘I know you’re in the know,’ Crispin declared.

‘The know?’

‘As if you wouldn’t be – what with being Emma’s bridesmaid.’

Gloria’s mouth dropped open. Everyone knew already? There would be no graceful backing-out? Not that Gloria had the first clue as to what constituted graceful. Should have studied ballet like that Arabella Jones.

Yanking up the agenda for the meeting, she pointed to it. ‘There’s nothing listed here about Emma and Jake and their wedding. How did you find out?’

‘Felix heard it from Sheila who I believe got it from Cheryl who told Mrs. Harlow when they met in Big Kev’s corner shop earlier this afternoon.’

General consensus noises could be heard throughout the room.

Unbelievable, except, if you lived in Whispers Wood, and had had first-hand experience of the village vine, completely believable. ‘What has my being one of Emma’s bridesmaids have to do with the beer festival?’

Crispin stared at her like she’d dropped twenty IQ points. ‘I would have thought that was obvious. I did ask both Jake and Emma to be here tonight so that we could address the,’ he brought up his hands to make speech marks, ‘matter openly.’

‘What,’ she brought her hands up to copy his speech marks, ‘matter? Are you asking me what beer they’ve chosen for the reception? Or whether they want to use the tents for the big day?’

‘I’m asking you to give us the date for their wedding.’

‘Are you worried it will clash with a golfing day?’

‘I’m worried it will clash with the beer festival.’

With a glance at her Village Meeting Mantra, she pasted on another smile and said, ‘Just pick a day and let them know. I’m sure they’ll be able to work around it.’

Crispin shook his head. ‘No can do. It needs to be the other way round so I can organise accordingly. These stall-holders aren’t going to wait indefinitely. If I don’t give them a date – a date that I’m certain won’t conflict—’

‘Oh, for—’ Do not swear. Do not swear. ‘Do you really think the whole of Whispers Wood is going to be invited to Emma and Jake’s wedding?’

Shocked gasps rung out and then everyone started speaking at once.

Oh … my … God … just as she thought she might have to suggest to Emma that they store riot gear on the premises, Crispin got to do his favourite thing and as his gavel rapped sharply against the lectern, and his shouts of ‘Order, order,’ rang out, the room quietened back down.

He looked confused as he asked, ‘Why ever wouldn’t we all be invited?’ And then suspicious as he added, ‘Do you know something we don’t?’

Fifty heads turned in her direction.

‘I know nothing.’ Shit. Her heart was pounding now and her mouth dry. ‘About anything,’ she added. Crikey, was that sweat breaking out on her upper lip?

‘You obviously do,’ Crispin pressed. ‘You’re being very mysterious about the whole thing.’

Telling herself she couldn’t afford to get arrested for clearing the bar in one tall leap, and braining Crispin with either a cocktail shaker or teapot, she tried to infuse her tone with patience. ‘I promise I’m not.’

‘There’s not trouble in paradise is there?’ Ted the mechanic, completely unhelpfully threw out, causing a worried, ‘oooh’ to go around the room.

‘Of course not,’ Gloria answered hurriedly. ‘They’re sickeningly in love. It’s foul.’ Wait, that hadn’t come out right at all. At this rate she was going to need those stress balls super-glued to her hands.

‘Then if there’s no hiccup with their relationship, what’s the issue? In-law trouble?’

Gloria stared at the rabble. They just kept coming. Like Walkers – of The Walking Dead variety, rather than the local ramblers’ society. ‘No. That’s not it, I’m sure.’

‘Then give us the date,’ Crispin pressed, folding his arms.

‘Yes, when’s the big day?’ Carole Jones piped up, probably hoping to get darling-daughter, Arabella, cast as a flower girl.

‘Look, they haven’t decided yet, okay?’ Gloria ground out.

‘Of course they have, they’ve gathered the wedding party,’ Trudie McTravers insisted. ‘You don’t gather the wedding party until you’ve decided on the date, everyone knows that.’

‘Come on, Gloria, dish the date,’ Ted’s wife said. ‘If I don’t get home soon, I’m going to miss the season finale of Merriweather Mysteries.’ Turning back to Crispin she said, ‘I don’t know why you scheduled the meeting for tonight, Crispin.’

‘Catch-up TV, maybe you’ve heard of it?’ Crispin replied.

‘Yes, but then I can’t tweet along during it and I have to turn off all my notifications so I don’t get spoilers before I get to see it.’

‘What’s to tweet? The most famous person is always the murderer,’ Gloria murmured and then reminded herself that the longer they were talking about this, the less time to talk about the other thing.

‘I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Merriweather Mysteries fan,’ Janet, one of the beauticians at the spa told Ted’s wife. ‘What do you think of the second series?’

‘It’s taken a bit of a delicious darker Dr Foster-esque turn, hasn’t it? Have you heard who they’re lining up for series three?’

‘Damn it, Janet,’ Crispin moaned, seemingly bemused at why people were now asking if Trudie could look into the next Whispers Wood production being The Rocky Horror Show. ‘Please everyone, we don’t have time for this. We need the wedding date so we can progress the beer festival. It’s in Emma and Jake’s best interests anyway. I can’t imagine their distress if it’s accidentally double-booked and residents have to decide whether to support them or the village.’

Frustrated and feeling the bilious-inducing green walls closing in, all Gloria could do was look around the room helplessly and repeat, ‘Come on, you can’t seriously imagine the whole of Whispers Wood is invited?’

‘Of course we’re invited. It’ll be up at the Hall, won’t it?’ Trudie insisted. ‘We’ll all get the chance to see the gardens and Cheryl’s probably going to be asked to provide some of her prize-winning dahlias for the arrangements. Who won’t want to see and support that?’

At this new barrage of wedding-date harassment all Gloria could think was if she didn’t shut this down, they’d be egging each other on from now until the Doomsday Clock hit midnight.

‘All right, all right,’ she shouted. ‘You want a date? You want me to, like, give you their actual booked and completely planned wedding date?’

The room erupted into one great big fat affirmative.

As her thought process leapfrogged all over her brain in panic she suddenly found herself opening her mouth and saying, ‘Fourth of October.’

Wait—What the what?

The fourth of October?

As in her wedding anniversary, the fourth of October?

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Blood pounded in her ears.

Her heart felt tachycardic and she gripped the edge of the bar as the ground shifted under her.

Chapter 6

Treading on Toes, Financial Woes and Post-Divorce Goals

Seth

Seth Knightley stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and automatically took a step back as he lifted the bathroom door gently to aid opening it.

He’d only needed one close encounter with the ‘slicing zone’, the first morning he’d moved back into his childhood home, for his toes to remember the danger.

Muscle memory was weird, he thought, remembering how at sixteen, after the family dog had sadly departed this world, it had taken him months to stop taking that extra-wide step every time he got up off the sofa so that he didn’t accidentally step on his old faithful friend, Digger.

He eased a hand across the old familiar ache in his heart. He hadn’t thought about Digger in years.

Probably something about this place because speaking of weird, a few months living back at Knightley Hall and all he’d done was think.

About things.

All the things.

Okay, let’s get real. This place might provide the perfect ruminating ambiance but it was signing the divorce papers that had brought about that perfect trifecta of cogitation also known as: thinking about the past, present and future.

A necessary but hard task since all the work he’d put in over the years to deliberately shut-down philosophising on life’s hard questions.

Life was too short and at twenty Seth had learned the hard truth – that sometimes there were no reasons for what went down. You just had to look forward and get through, collecting as little shrapnel as possible.

The approach had served him well until at twenty-eight, finding himself at the end of something that hadn’t worked right from the beginning … probably because of too little thinking on his part, he’d been forced to conclude that going forward it might help to find out where he stood on the really big things.

Escaping the cloud of steam from the bathroom, he headed back to his room, bumping straight into his brother, Jake, in the hallway.

‘Going somewhere?’ Jake asked.

Seth shoved hair that was not quite as long and was shades lighter than his brother’s raven-coloured-brooding-Poldark-look back from his face and considered his answer.

Actually he had two places to be – the first place on account of now knowing where he stood on the really big things and the second place … yeah … there was no way it needed to get out how he made his living these days.

He had time before he needed to be at either though and contributing free labour around the place was, for the time being, the only way Seth could help out.

‘You want me to drive that framework for the courtyard garden over to The Clock House?’ he asked. It had been hard, sweaty work loading the iron fret-work Jake had designed onto one of Oscar’s flat-bed trucks so that it could be installed in the courtyard garden of the clock house later that week. Seth knew Jake was miffed about the project being badly delayed but he really hoped his brother wasn’t heading down there this afternoon to get a head-start on the installation. He’d been counting on Jake working in the gardens here, so that he could go to the clock house himself. He had a desk booked at Hive @ The Clock House and it was going to be hard enough to avoid all the curious looks, without Jake wading in with blunt questions as to what he was doing.

‘No need, I’ll do it tomorrow,’ Jake answered. ‘So have you got a job interview or something, then?’

Irritation wormed its way under Seth’s usual happy-go-lucky demeanour. That particular question came out of his brother’s mouth more often than the summer’s hit was played on the radio and played in his ear like the worst kind of ear-worm. If he had his way he’d be working here at Knightley Hall, not necessarily drawing a salary yet, but definitely recognised as part of the team.

But in order to be part of the team what he really needed to do was nail the presentation he was working on.

It was as simple and as difficult as that.

Simple because selling, whether it be a country estate, or a trip to the dentist, was supposed to be right in his wheelhouse, and so who was he if he couldn’t sell Jake on the idea this place could work harder for him, rather than the other way around?

Difficult because ever since he’d lost his job as a sales negotiator for an independent estate agency specialising in large manor house sales and got divorced, and ended up back at Knightley Hall sleeping in his old childhood room, he’d been somewhat off his game.

Not that he’d let anyone notice enough to comment on the fact. Well, except for maybe Gloria, he thought. But they were friends now and besides, her super-power was zeroing right in on a person’s weakness. He was just fortunate that lately she’d chosen to use her powers for good, rather than evil.

He didn’t think anyone other than her had worked out his confidence had sort of gone for a Burton and he’d like to keep it that way, even if it meant he had to resort to faking it until he made it.

And practising.

Practising a lot.

Because upon doing the hard thinking, he’d found to his amazement, that what he really believed in was Knightley Hall and what his brother, Jake, was trying to do here.

Since Christmas, watching his brother get up every single morning at Ungodly-Hour and work tirelessly to get the gardens ready to open to the public it had begun to sink in what this place offered and what he could offer back.

When he and Joanne had separated moving back here had been convenient even if bunking down in his old room and having to acknowledge he’d come full-circle hadn’t exactly made him feel stellar. Something about the freedom to think instead of simply taking up the next opportunity though, together with the honest hard work outdoors, had worked their considerable charm, and now?

Well, it was affirming to have something new to believe in.

Healing to discover he could make a home here.

Be a part of something bigger here.

Make a difference.

He just needed to convince Jake he was going to need someone with sales experience to drive the public to the gardens when they opened and to keep them coming back.

Seth was that person. He knew it. He felt it. He wanted it. Hell, he needed it.

‘You could say it’s job-related,’ Seth answered unsurprised to see his brother’s eyebrows this time draw down into a frown. He felt the pressure to get Jake on-board with his latest idea for generating income for the Hall mix with the pressure to get Jake to believe in him at all. ‘Look, are you going to be in later tonight?’ He’d deliver his presentation and Jake would see.

‘I guess I could make sure I am,’ Jake replied, his tone cautious, his dark eyes suspicious.

‘Good. I have something I want to run past you.’

Jake released a short, tired breath. ‘I knew it. If this is another one of your quick money-making schemes for the Hall, I’m too busy.’

‘Well, thanks bro. You know if you actually listened without the prejudice of seeing me only as the baby of the family—’

‘I’d what?’ Jake wanted to know. ‘I’d have approved the naturist glamping idea? Because who doesn’t want to worry about nakedness and treading on a garden tool and law-suits? Or what about the forest bathing retreat idea?’

Seth shook his head sadly. ‘I can’t believe you actually thought people would be flinging off their clothes and going full-moon feral in the woods.’

‘And let’s not forget the donkey sanctuary?’

‘Again – the fact that you could have pictured nakedness being a part of that … have you considered there might be help available for you—’

‘The falconry …’ Jake mentioned, ignoring Seth.

‘Hey, falconry is really in right now. People pay lots of money to have giant birds of prey swoop over their head and shave years off their life and it’s not a naked thing, it’s a majestic thing.’

‘Actually the falconry idea wasn’t totally awful,’ Jake admitted. ‘But do you have any idea how much outlay we’d be looking at to introduce even one of those plans at the Hall?’

‘I do actually. I wrote the cost-analysis reports you didn’t bother looking at. You know, I may be your kid brother but I’m not an actual kid anymore. I get it. You want to open the gardens to the public. You want to get married. You don’t have any money—’

‘What the hell?’ Jake bellowed, all patience immediately leaving the building faster than you could say Elvis already had. ‘I have money,’ he insisted, folding his arms. ‘Of course there’s money. Enough to support the Hall and get married.’

Damn.

The whole I need a dollar, dollar, a dollar is what I need subject was about as welcome a refrain around here as Seth having to hear the Have you got a job interview?

But this was why Jake was walking around so moody lately, wasn’t it? This was why he and Emma were both being so remarkably chill on finalising all those wedding details?