The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers

He indicated he did.

“Just come there and drive around until you see the barn.” She cupped her hand around her ear. “Did you hear that? Someone just called for Jude O’Leary’s toast to the bride and groom. Guess that’s my cue.” She crossed the portico but stopped in the doorway. “Thanks for the dance, Liam Manning. You’re very good at it, and I’m actually not as bad as I thought I’d be.”

He gave her another winning smile. “My pleasure, Jude O’Leary.”

There had to be a flaw somewhere in this man’s character, and on Monday, if he showed up, Jude would certainly look for it. But for the rest of the weekend, she might enjoy imagining a head-to-toe appraisal of Mr. Perfect. And if he didn’t show, which was more likely, no harm done.

* * *

LIAM IMMEDIATELY SOUGHT out Martin Foster. While he was trying to convince Liam to help, how could the good doctor have forgotten one vital piece of information?

“Well, how did it go?” Martin actually found Liam on the patio and put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “I saw you two out here getting close.”

Liam flinched. “Not half as close as your daughter is to the foundation she runs,” Liam snapped.

“What are you talking about?”

“You could have told me that her charities are all under the umbrella of her dead husband’s name! It’s almost as if she’s built a shrine to Paul O’Leary.”

Martin managed to look guilty as he dropped his hand to his side. “I didn’t think it was important. The name of the foundation has nothing to do with its financial problems.”

“Sorry, but I disagree. This is too personal now. You’re asking me to come between a woman and her deceased husband, a man who is probably regarded around here as a national hero.”

“Paul has been gone for more than five years,” Martin said. “It’s time for my daughter to move on. And it’s definitely time for her to be more sensible about this foundation.”

“Helping lonely widows move on is generally not the job of an economist.” Liam let the doctor’s words sink in. “But at least now I understand what this is about,” he said. “You want to heal your daughter’s heart as much as you want to curtail the spending.”

“I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Again, I feel I should remind you, I’m not a grief counselor.”

Martin sighed. “I only want your services as an economist. Jude has family to help her with the rest. You leave her heart up to us.” His voice mellowed. “We have an agreement, Liam. I’m counting on you. This is the first step, a vital first step in enabling my daughter to get on with her life, as well as putting a Band-Aid on the endless spending.”

“But I’m a stranger to her,” Liam said.

“Not really. She’s met you before...”

Right. Truly auspicious.

“And she knows you’re a family friend. She’ll listen to you. I know she will. Don’t disappoint me now, son. If you back out of the deal, I’ll just have to find someone else to examine those books and steer Jude in the right direction. And I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

Liam sighed. This was a ticklish situation. Jude was doing her good deeds to honor her dead husband. That meant she wasn’t exactly impersonal or impartial about her decisions. She no doubt made monetary decisions based on emotion. What would Paul want? But still, he could help her. As an outsider, he could keep an open mind, something she might have problems doing. He could influence her, help her to be rational. Liam could look at this assignment, this favor, as a profitable job, couldn’t he, despite pressure from both Dr. Foster and his father?

Martin smiled. “Does that look mean you’re going ahead with our plan?”

Liam closed his eyes a moment, took a deep breath. “Yes, I’ll give it a try.”

“Wonderful. So, again, how did the first meeting with Jude go?”

“We talked and it went fine,” he said. “She seems like a nice girl. In fact, I’m stopping at the barn on Monday to find out more about the foundation.”

“Good, good. Get her to show you the books, see where all my money’s going and give her some pointers.” Martin stared at his middle daughter as she picked up the microphone to speak. “Don’t intimidate her, though. That’s not what I want. I picked you for this job because there’s a gentlemanly quality about you that I like. Jude hasn’t been happy for a while, and I don’t want you making it worse.”

So besides throwing Liam under the bus, the good doctor was practically threatening him? But unknowingly Martin had just voiced Liam’s own concerns—that he might end up making Jude’s attachment to the foundation even stronger, her loneliness even worse, especially if she felt emotionally connected to every dime she gave out. “I’ll certainly try,” he said. “But remember, you said you would level with her as soon as possible. Monday wouldn’t be soon enough.”

“Not so soon, Liam. She won’t open up with me looking over her shoulder. She thinks I trust her judgment, and if she believes I’m questioning her ability, it will cause a rift between us. I know my daughter. This will work much better if she gets to know you, if she appreciates your expertise in this area. Then she won’t just be dealing with an interfering daddy.”

Liam didn’t like deception of any kind. He dealt with figures, and numbers didn’t lie, but he had to agree with Dr. Foster in this case. Family situations were often delicate. Jude actually might accept criticism and advice from someone like him much more readily than she would her father. Or she might not.

“I know a lot about how foundations work, and I can help her, but I’ll be more comfortable if we don’t let this game play out for too long. You’ve got to be honest with Jude once I’ve set the groundwork for improvement.”

“I’ll tell her everything soon enough,” Martin said. “But the first thing we need to do is pinpoint the problems, get her to see where mistakes are being made. And I’ll step in and tell her I hired you when the time is right, a few days, maybe a week at most.”

A week? Liam supposed he could play along with the doctor’s plan for a week. Like Martin, Liam believed that the spending was out of control and Jude did need sound guidance. Her father obviously cared for her. Liam had promised his father, and he definitely wanted to go to that world economic conference in Stockholm... “Okay, Dr. Foster. One week. And then no more charades.”

Liam was met by his father when he came back into the dining hall. “You met Jude?” Lawrence asked.

“I danced with her,” Liam said. “And then we talked outside for a few minutes.”

“And you’re going to help Martin with this problem?”

Liam nodded. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“Okay, then,” Lawrence said. “I told you I’d fill you in on a few details I’ve learned about Jude through the years. Have a seat.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Liam said. This arrangement was already tinged with deception. He didn’t want to add gossip to the mix. “I don’t anticipate any big problems.”

“Okay, but one word of warning. This is a business deal, son. Martin is paying you handsomely. Don’t get interested in Jude romantically. Go after that pretty little one, Carrie. Martin wants her to stick around home anyway.”

“I’m not interested in anyone, Dad,” Liam said. “It was just a conversation. But even if it were more, I don’t think I’m in need of romantic advice. Neither one of us has been very successful in that arena.”

“No, I suppose not. But your mother never approved of that daughter. Always thought she was wild and daring, even going so far as to get in scrapes with the law. She’s nothing like the other two. She’s not your type, son. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’d like it if you were saying anything else.”

He walked away from his father and tried to tamp his irritation. Suddenly he felt the oddest urge to defend a bridesmaid in running shoes.

CHAPTER THREE

“GOOD MORNING AGAIN, MAGGIE.” With a breakfast tray in his hand, Martin Foster crossed the soft plum-colored carpeting and stopped at his wife’s bedside. He set the tray on a nightstand and fixed Maggie’s tea the way she liked it—a little cream, one sugar.

“Rebecca is going to be late this morning,” he said, explaining why he would feed Maggie instead of her nurse. “But that’s fine with me, gives us a chance to talk more about the wedding.”

He glanced over at the twin bed situated close to his wife’s larger one. Martin slept in the narrow bed every night now that the master bedroom had been converted to a sickroom. The sheets were still rumpled, but the weekend nurse would see to light housekeeping chores.

He tipped a teaspoon of tea toward Maggie’s mouth. She opened, swallowed and seemed eager for more.

“Later today, I’m going to make some large prints of photos I took with my phone so you can see how grand the wedding was, how happy our Alexis is with her new husband.” He hoped the pictures would stir some reaction in his wife. Maybe in some deep, quiet place that the Alzheimer’s had taken her, she would recognize the family who still loved her. But probably not.

He dipped a toast corner in tea and offered it to Maggie. She chewed automatically, swallowed. He followed that bite with scrambled eggs. So far, his Maggie was eating well this morning. He wouldn’t feel so badly about leaving her to go out for a while to run errands.

“Carrie’s leaving tomorrow,” he told Maggie. “This time, the forestry department is sending her to Michigan for an assignment. We’re lucky Carrie’s employers are so understanding about her asthma. They try to send her places where the triggers are seasonal so she can avoid them. The cool temperatures in Michigan this time of year should be beneficial.

“I wish I could think of a way to persuade her to change careers and find a job that is safer for her but you know how determined she is. She’s so much like you in that respect. She thinks she can take on the world, one tree at a time. Our Carrie only seems to flourish in the outdoors where every breath can threaten her health. But I’ll load up her duffel bag with medications and call her every week to be sure she’s taking them.”

Martin raised his wife’s head and put the teacup to her lips. She blinked rapidly while taking several long swallows.

“Now, Jude is another matter,” he said, scooping scrambled eggs onto a spoon. “I took a big step with regard to her yesterday. I’ve hired a crackerjack financial planner to look at the foundation’s books. Lawrence Manning’s boy, Liam.”

He searched Maggie’s face for some sign of disapproval. If Maggie hadn’t been ill, she probably would have chastised him for putting any part of Jude’s future in the hands of a relative of Alicia Manning’s. Maggie had never gotten on well with Lawrence’s now ex-wife, whom Maggie referred to as “Fox Creek’s self-appointed royalty.” When Lawrence and Alicia divorced, Maggie had privately congratulated Lawrence.

“Liam is going to take a look at the books, see if he can’t curb some of the spending.”

He paused as if waiting for Maggie to say something. Realizing his foolishness, he said, “I know what you’d say to me if you could speak. You’d tell me I should just talk to her myself. Well, I can’t. You were always the one who disciplined the girls. And as far as Jude is concerned, you always saw an inner spiritual strength in her that I never fully appreciated. ‘Our little fighter,’ you called her. Our Old Soul.” He chuckled. “You didn’t even seem upset when we drove to the police station to pick her up after some bit of nonsense, though you grounded her for weeks.

“I know she’s strong. I know her heart is as big as Dancing Falls. But to me she’s wounded, Maggie. Her hurt goes deep, and I can’t take a chance that something I say will drive us apart.” He sighed. “But I can’t let her continue spending as if there’s no end to the money, no matter how worthy the causes are.”

Martin stroked Maggie’s curly gray hair. The girls insisted that a beautician come once a week to wash and style their mother’s hair. “Liam is coming over tomorrow sometime,” he said. “Supposedly the kid has a brilliant mind. He’ll be able to steal a quick look at the books and figure out where Jude’s going wrong. I know the simple answer. She’s giving away more money than she’s bringing in. But telling her to let some of the charities go would be nearly impossible for me, hopefully not for Liam. Once Jude sets her mind to helping someone, she won’t quit. I guess that’s the fighter in her. And she finds it just as hard to say no.”

His phone rang and he took the instrument from his pocket. Checking the screen, he said, “It’s Aurora from next door. I’m going to bring her up here to meet you soon. The girls like her a lot.”

He connected. “Hello, Aurora. I can almost smell your cinnamon rolls from here. Save me one...” He held the phone away from his ear and grimaced. “What’s that? A goat is eating your fern?”

Background noise kept him from hearing Aurora’s words clearly. Her parrot was squawking up a storm. A lady guest was screaming that the goat tried to eat her skirt. And the goat—Martin didn’t know which one, but he was certain it had a name, since Jude named all her animals—was braying with enthusiasm.

“I’ll pick up Jude and be right there,” he said. Remembering Aurora’s penchant for using anything as a weapon, he said, “For heaven’s sake, Aurora, don’t hit the goat with a toilet plunger. Jude will never speak to us again.”

Martin called his housekeeper upstairs to sit with Maggie until the nurse arrived in a few minutes. Then he dialed Jude’s number as he sped to the barn. She and Wesley were waiting in front when he circled to pick them up. When Martin stopped, the two piled into his SUV. “Would you rather I take my truck?” she asked her father. “After eating ferns and skirts, the goat might—”

“No, there isn’t time.” Martin glanced back at his pristine SUV. “Let’s just hope his breakfast didn’t upset its stomach.” He stared across the seat at his daughter, who was still buttoning her jacket. “And I hope to heck this goat doesn’t have a hankering for parrot.”

“I think the culprit is female—Eloise,” Jude said, winding her long hair into a knot on top of her head. “I took a quick look around and didn’t see her with the herd. She likes to wander anyway and might have discovered a new hole in the fence.”

Dollar signs danced in front of Martin’s eyes. He’d just repaired the fence a few months ago when Jude’s dog, Mutt, invaded Aurora’s property. The incident had not been a particularly favorable way to meet his new neighbor who was setting up her bed-and-breakfast business. Thank goodness Aurora hadn’t held a grudge, and in fact, had become a considerate and helpful neighbor. Martin didn’t know how she would react to a full-fledged goat invasion.

* * *

BY THE TIME they’d entered Aurora’s property and driven around back, the situation had calmed. A middle-aged man had corralled Eloise with a cotton rope and was keeping her from further dietary damage.

Jude was the first out of the SUV. She skidded to a stop in front of her goat and placed a hand on each side of Eloise’s face. “You are one naughty goat,” she said. “Look at the trouble you’ve caused.” She took the end of the rope from the man. “I’m sorry about all this,” she said. “I’ll remove the nuisance right away.”

“No problem,” the man responded. “Gives me something to talk about at the golf club when I get home to Florida.” He handed his camera to Jude. “Do you know how to take a picture? I’d like to have proof that I tamed this mighty beast. Can you get one of me and the goat?”

“I should be able to,” Jude said.

“And another one with you in the picture. It would be nice if it looks like you’re praising me for my bravery and quick thinking,” the man added.

“Sure.” Martin watched in awe as Jude took the first picture and then squeezed close to the man with Eloise between them. The adults smiled. Jude smiled at the man. The goat contentedly chewed whatever had last gone in her mouth. Jude snapped a photo. Then as if realizing she’d thrown on yesterday’s barn clothes in her hurry to get downstairs this morning, she backed away rather than offend the man’s sense of smell. Her jeans had chicken feed stuck to the legs, and her shirt wasn’t even buttoned below her waist. She quickly tied the ends of the shirt into a makeshift bow.

Aurora came across the yard and stopped in front of Jude. “I’m sorry for the panic, dear,” she said. “The situation has been under control for the last few minutes.”

“No problem. You are definitely within your rights to expect an absence of goat on your property.” Realizing she was still the object of attention for Aurora’s guests, she walked Eloise toward Martin’s SUV. “Hey, Wes,” she called to her son. “Help Grandpa and me get this monster into the back.”

Wesley ambled over as if the last thing he wanted to do was lift the hindquarters of a goat. He’d probably been sleeping off wedding festivities when his mother woke him with an urgent call to “Get up!” this morning. Jude lowered a pair of ramps from the back of the SUV to the ground, and the three of them got Eloise inside. Then she and Martin went over to apologize once more to Aurora.

“Looks like we’ve got another hole,” Jude said. “But don’t worry, Aurora. I’ll keep Eloise on a leash until it’s mended.”

“And you get that helper of yours, Johnny Ray, to fix it, Jude,” Martin said, knowing he sounded unnaturally irritable. “I’ve spent enough on fence mending for one season.”

“Sure, Daddy. I’m on it.” She gazed around the now serene backyard scene. “Any damages, Aurora?” she asked. “Did Eloise eat someone’s smartphone or chew off a finger?”

“No, nothing so bad as that,” Aurora said. “Why don’t you have some tea and a cinnamon roll?”

Jude looked like she was about to accept the offer, but a pointed glare from her father followed by a nervous glance at the goat-filled SUV changed her mind. “Thanks, Aurora, but I think I’ll get Eloise home,” she said. “Dad, you can stay and I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

He agreed to the plan, watched his daughter and grandson drive his vehicle around to the front of Aurora’s home and then allowed Aurora to lead him inside her sunroom to a table set with a floral tablecloth and a pitcher of autumn wildflowers. His irritation suddenly vanished. Sometimes there was nothing so sweet as a glass of tea and a moment’s rest at Aurora’s Attic Bed-and-Breakfast.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with that one,” he said to Aurora. “Her projects are getting out of hand. She must have two-dozen goats over there.”

“Besides you, Wesley and the girls, Marty, those animals are Jude’s family. You can understand her attachment to them.” She smiled. “Not that I’m looking forward to another goat trespassing on my property anytime in the near future.”

“You’ve been very patient, Aurora. The girls are lucky to have you as a friend.” In the short time she’d lived next door, Aurora had managed to defuse several difficult situations in the Foster family. And Martin had found solace in being able to communicate with someone near his own age.

“And I’m lucky to have them,” Aurora said. “Now sit down and have some tea. I want to ask you about that young fella I saw Jude talking to at the wedding yesterday. They looked so cute together. If you ask me, a little love affair is just what that girl needs to get her mind off goats.”

“Aurora! A love affair?”

She laughed. “Don’t be such an old fuddy-duddy, Martin. You know what I mean. Jude needs romance in her life. Do you think it might happen?”

No, Martin hadn’t thought that could happen. He’d point-blank told Liam that Jude’s heart was a family matter. Besides, Jude was still in love with her husband, probably always would be. Was that a healthy way to live her life? Probably not. But Liam Manning hooked up with his wild, good-hearted Jude? No way. Three-piece suits did not go well with chaps and boots. And he wasn’t at all sure how he would feel if they were somehow attracted to each other.

CHAPTER FOUR

LIFE WAS FILLED with too many bittersweet moments. That was how Jude felt almost every day. Those moments happened when she visited her mother and remembered when Maggie Foster was vibrant and brilliant and loving. Or when she waved her sister Alexis off in a limousine to begin her honeymoon. Or when she thought of Paul, as she so often did, in so many ways. The freshest of the bittersweets occurred Monday morning as she shared a last cup of coffee with her sister Carrie before the airport shuttle came to get her.

“Don’t forget to take your meds,” Jude said. “I saw Dad stuffing your duffel with them this morning.”

“I won’t forget.” Carrie smiled over the rim of her mug. “Does everyone in my family think I enjoy having asthma?”

Jude chuckled. “Point taken.”

“Now, let’s get back to the subject of Liam Manning.”

“What do you want to say about Liam?”

“He’s gorgeous. How’s that for a start?”

“He’s decent looking, I’ll agree with that. But I’m not interested in him, gorgeous or otherwise.”

“So why are you so upset that he might not show up at the barn today?”

“Upset? I’m not upset.” Jude had confided in her sister this morning about the possibility of Liam coming out to the farm. Jude didn’t believe he would and had admitted this to Carrie. Since leaving the reception on Saturday night, she’d tried to put the entire incident out of her mind. Meeting someone on a starstruck night of love and having it actually materialize into something was not Jude O’Leary luck.

“Besides,” Jude said. “He was just being polite at the wedding. Dad coerced him into asking me to dance, and I guess small talk was a part of the deal.”

“But he said he was interested in your charities,” Carrie reminded her.

“I can’t believe that’s true. Oh, here, Liam. Here are my goats. Aren’t they adorable?” Jude mimicked her own voice. “Come on, Carrie, any interest he may have shown was just small talk.”

“All right. Maybe he’s not interested in your charities,” Carrie said, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe his interest has everything to do with you.”

Jude snorted, one of her unladylike habits. “Care Bear, be reasonable. If Liam wanted to date a Foster girl, he’d sure as heck pick you. Cute, petite, soft-spoken and smart. You’d be Liam’s dream girl.”

“According to who?” Carrie said. “He never even spoke to me at the wedding.”

“Because, unlike me, you were never lacking a dance partner! The poor man never had a chance to whisk you onto the floor.”

“I’ll bet he shows up,” Carrie said. “And just in case, I think you should put on a bit of makeup...” She held up her hand as if she believed Jude were going to protest the notion. “Not a lot, just a touch. A little blush, some eye shadow.”

Jude leaned back in her chair and threw her hands up. “Will you look at me for once, Carrie? I mean really look! I wear makeup. I have some on now, and you can’t even tell.”

Carrie tried to appear guilty. As usual, the expression came across as Care Bear cute. “Oh. Now I see it. Maybe a little more blush...”

“I am not going to any fuss for a man who’s not going to show,” Jude said.

“Okay, have it your way. Be stubborn and negative and don’t take advantage of this opportunity if it should happen today.”

“I’m not stupid, Carrie. Even I recognize that Liam is a good-looking guy with a lot going for him. If he comes by, I’ll try to be all girly and sweet.”

“And phony.”

Jude rolled her eyes. Pleasing Carrie was not easy.

“Just be yourself, Jude. That’s the person he talked to at the wedding.” Carrie got up and looked out the kitchen window. “The shuttle is coming up the drive, so I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tonight. Let me know if you hear from the honeymooners.”

Carrie slung her duffel over one shoulder, her purse over the other, and picked up her suitcase.

“Let me carry those things for you,” Jude said.

“Stop it! I can manage my own things. Quit babying me, Jude. And get a life, will you? I worry about you. Try some positive thinking for a change, and good things will happen.”