Best Man For The Wedding Planner

He saw her sitting there and his jaw tightened, his initial relaxed expression evaporating. The nerves that had already been dancing in her stomach started a jig and she put the pastry back on the plate. The fact that he still seemed to despise her put her on edge, but not as much as her own reaction. Today, like yesterday, there’d been a split second of happiness and warmth when she’d looked up and seen him there. As if her heart reacted before her brain could kick in and say, “No, Delly. He’s not for you anymore.” The truth was, it still hurt.

He hesitated, but then came over. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said quietly, standing beside her table.

“It’s the easiest place to have a base of operations the day before the wedding,” she replied, trying a smile. “Do you want to join me? You look like you could use your first morning coffee.”

There was a slight pause, and then he said, “Why not?” and pulled out the chair opposite her.

Adele wiped her sticky fingers on her napkin. “The baked goods here are to die for. Though they do have some breakfast sandwich options, so you can have your eggs.”

The look on his face was so startled that she blushed. “I mean, if you still like eggs for breakfast. Not that I’d know. Just that you used to...” The heat in her cheeks deepened. “I’m sorry. This is awkward.”

“You think?” he said, but then smiled a little, dispelling a tiny bit of the tension. “Actually, it makes me feel better knowing you feel awkward. Yesterday you were so...together.”

“I wasn’t, really,” she admitted. She met his gaze. “To be honest, seeing you was a huge shock. I honestly didn’t know you were in the wedding.”

“How could you?” He shrugged, and then ordered coffee and “anything with bacon in it” to eat. When the waitress left again, he rested his elbows on the table. “I suppose talking this morning should help clear the air. Then we can go through the wedding without any weird vibes.”

It sounded very logical and smart, except there were already vibes. Adele had walked away eight years ago, but not because she had stopped loving him. In a way, it was because she’d cared about him so much. As her Aunt Sally would say, sometimes you had to let a bird go. And if it came back to you, it was meant to be. Dan hadn’t come back. And she’d built herself a good life in the intervening years.

Still, seeing him brought back way too many memories and feelings.

His breakfast arrived and Adele made a point of taking another big drink of coffee as he added milk to his cup. The shop was quiet; this was not the hotel’s busiest season, though there were always groups of skiers who, at this hour, were probably already on the slopes.

He put down his spoon and met her gaze again. “So, a wedding planner. How long have you been doing this?”

She cupped her hands around her mug. “Oh, five years now? On my own, at least. I started working for a company in Vancouver, and then I came to Banff with a coworker one summer to help with an event. I fell in love with the area, relocated and started my own business.”

“Risky.”

She nodded. “It was. But I started small, and now I run it from my home. The office space is downstairs, on the main floor, and the upstairs is my living area.” She relaxed a little, pleased that they could manage small talk. “How about you? You’re still in Toronto?”

He nodded. “I’m CFO of a clean energy company now. I actually took next week off so I could enjoy a bit of a vacation here. Then I’ll stop in at the new Calgary office for a day or so before I head back. It’s been a small operation for the last two years, but we’re putting things in motion to make it our western hub.”

“Wow. That’s...great. And you sound as if you love it.”

“Yep.”

She tried a small smile. “I guess we turned out okay then, haven’t we?”

He didn’t answer, just reached for his sandwich. As he lifted it, she noticed there was no ring on his left hand. “Not married, then,” she said quietly.

“Nope. No girlfriend, either. Though that’s a new development.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. It had run its course.”

He sounded so casual, so blasé about it. Adele sat back in her chair and frowned a little. Small talk was well and good, but there was still a wall between them. Perhaps there always would be. It was a wall she’d built, so she could hardly complain about it, could she?

“And your family? They’re well?”

That, at least, prompted a genuine smile. “They are. Mom and Dad still live in Barrie and we kids are spread all over, but we get together a few times a year and video chat. Morgan has twin babies now. Girls.”

“You’re an uncle.”

He grinned and nodded. “They’re three months old. And Tamara is expecting another boy. She and Chris already have two.”

“Two! Your parents must be thrilled. I know how much they love having a big family.”

She really did know. The “big family” had been a big reason why she’d walked away from Dan and the whole Brimicombe clan. Each time they’d visited, his parents had gone on and on about big families and grandkids and having a house full of babies. Dan had said on more than one occasion that being a Brimicombe meant being a part of a big, happy family. That he wanted at least three or four kids of his own, so that all the cousins and siblings could grow up together, as they had.

Finding out she could never give him the children he wanted had nearly destroyed her. She hadn’t wanted him to be destroyed, too. Or for his family to pretend it didn’t matter when it was so obvious it would.

“They’re over the moon,” he replied softly. “Four grandkids, another on the way and apparently we’re just getting started. Dad wants enough to field his own softball team.”

There was a tone in his voice she couldn’t ignore. Was it that he wasn’t contributing to the grandkid count? Or was it deeper than that? He’d wanted children and still didn’t have any. Even though there was lots of time—he wouldn’t be thirty for another four months—she wondered if seeing his sisters with babies was highlighting something he was missing.

“What about Drew?” she asked, changing the subject to the baby of the family. “What’s he up to these days?”

Dan laughed. “Drew never stays in one place for long. He’s busy setting up Aspen Outfitters locations all around North America. But he gets home a lot to visit. Dad’s sixtieth is coming up in a few months. I know he’s planning to be home for that.” Dan laughed. “Somehow he always manages to drag me out in the wilderness with him for a few days. He tells me if I don’t do that more often, I’ll have to have my phone surgically removed.”

“Sounds about right.” She took another bite of Danish, chewed, swallowed and tried not to feel self-conscious. “I will say, despite it being very touristy around here, unplugging and going for a walk in the mountains does a lot for stress levels.”

“I can see that. I’d forgotten how stunning it is. I’m hoping to do some skiing while I’m here. Get out and breathe the mountain air.”

Quiet settled around them. Did they have nothing more to say to each other? She self-consciously ran a hand over her hair, which was still precisely anchored in her topknot. Adele thought about filling the quiet with the action of finishing her breakfast, but she wasn’t hungry anymore. Her laptop screen had gone dark several minutes ago, so she tapped a key to bring it to life again.

“I’m holding you up from your work,” Dan said, pushing back his chair.

“No, not really.” She bit down on her lip. Hadn’t she just touched the keys to fill the awkward gap? Now, at the first moment he moved to leave, she didn’t want him to go. She was an idiot, plain and simple.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be polite. I have a fitting in an hour, anyway.” He patted his flat belly. “Gotta make sure the tuxedo fits.”

He was going to be so dashing. She swallowed tightly, thinking about it. Seeing Dan wasn’t just seeing an ex; it was coming face-to-face with the life she might have had if her illness hadn’t stolen it all away. And yet seeing Dan’s face as he talked about having nieces and nephews reassured her it had been the right thing. Dan deserved babies, and lots of them. He would have been supportive and said it didn’t matter, but she knew it did. That it would eat away at him until their relationship paid the price.

And she hadn’t been honest about why she was leaving because she’d been too afraid he’d be able to convince her to stay.

“If you have any questions, I’ll be around the hotel all day.” Adele smiled, though her heart wasn’t quite in it. “Holly and Pete have some last-minute changes, and we’re setting up for the rehearsal in the hall this afternoon.”

He got up, took his wallet out of his back pocket and put a twenty down on the table. “I’m glad we talked, Delly,” he said quietly. “This doesn’t have to be weird. And after tomorrow, we won’t see each other, anyway.”

“Sure,” she agreed, but a weight settled around her heart. It might not be weird for him, but it certainly was for her. She’d spent eight years convincing herself she’d done the right thing. Sometimes she questioned whether she should have kept the truth from him. But then she reminded herself that she’d set him free to be happy. She’d wanted that for Dan. Wanted him to have the family he’d always talked about.

But she had forgotten to take into account how much she’d loved him. And how hard it would be to ignore those old feelings if they came face-to-face again.

* * *

Dan walked into the rehearsal with his nerves already on edge. This morning’s breakfast had taken his thoughts and turned them into a huge jumble of resentment and nostalgia. He’d spent a long time hating Adele for breaking his heart, but then he’d moved past it—at least mostly. Now and again he was reminded that he had an issue with trusting anyone, but as far as feelings for Adele...they’d faded.

Except they hadn’t, really. Being here, with her, took all the feelings he’d thought he’d locked away for good and sent them bubbling to the surface. He’d loved her more than she could ever know. A man didn’t get over that easily. Or, apparently, at all.

What were you supposed to do when The One wasn’t really The One at all?

The rest of the wedding party milled about the hall, their voices echoing through the huge space. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around. Chairs were set up on either side of the aisle... Were they actually painted silver? He looked closer. They were. And each chair had a swath of fabric woven through the top rungs in rich navy. The effect was stunning.

The knot of people at the back of the aisle moved and revealed Adele, deftly weaving more fabric through the slats. She was still in the dark trousers and sweater that she’d worn this morning, but some of her hair had come loose from her knot. Had she been working all day? It was nearly seven and she had several chairs to finish.

She stood, put her hands on her lower back and stretched. The movement emphasized the curve of her breasts and the long column of her neck before she relaxed again and reached inside a box for another strip of material.

Everyone else simply milled about, oblivious to how Adele was still working while they chatted and laughed.

Holly saw him standing in the doorway and beckoned him over. “Come on in, Dan! Meet our officiant, Ms. Fraser. She’ll be performing the ceremony tomorrow.”

He was aware of Adele looking up, then back down again as he strode toward the assembled group. “Ms. Fraser,” he said, shaking her hand. “I’m Dan Brimicombe, the best man.”

“Pleased to meet you. And now that we’re all here, we can get started.” She laughed a little, a warm and friendly sound. “I know you all want to get this part over with so you can have dinner. I’ll try to keep it painless.”

Over the next half hour, Ms. Fraser deftly positioned everyone where they were supposed to be and ran through the order of the service. At one point she asked Adele a question about the placement of the musicians—a string quartet would be playing the processional and recessional—and then carried on. Dan looked over his shoulder and noticed she still had at least a dozen chairs or more to finish. He frowned. Wasn’t this the job of the hotel staff? Surely she wasn’t doing this all herself.

He stood at the front and waited as they ran through the processional yet again, the bridesmaids and bride coming up the aisle and moving into position. It gave him an unfettered view of Adele as she worked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, reaching into the box for more material as she made her way down the row. Someone from the hotel came in with a dolly and what appeared to be a dozen potted trees. As he half listened to the instructions about witnessing the marriage license, he watched Adele instruct the hotel employee and then help unload the ungainly pots and put them into position. As the employee wheeled the dolly back out again, he watched as Adele heaved a sigh, gave a stretch and then went back to work.

After thirty minutes, Ms. Fraser let everyone go except the bride and groom; she had a few final things to discuss with them before everyone departed for the onsite restaurant and the rehearsal dinner. He took the opportunity to go over to Adele. She had just finished tying a strip of satin to a chair and turned to fetch another piece when he held it up for her.

“Oh,” she said, clearly startled. “Thank you, Dan.”

“Have you done all these chairs yourself?”

She shrugged, anchored one end of the fabric and began weaving. “I had someone for the first thirty or so, but it was the end of her workday, and she wasn’t feeling well. I sent her home.”

“So you’re doing it yourself.”

“It’s no big deal. I’d rather have her away from me if she has the flu or something. It’s been going around.”

He frowned. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

She laughed. “I’ll eat when I get home later. The day before a wedding is always crazy. I’m used to this.”

She finished off the chair, leaving a trail of navy satin that looked to be the exact same length as the other chairs. “How do you even do that?” he asked, impressed.

She took another piece of satin from his fingers. “If you always start in the same place, you end in the same place, too.”

“I suppose you’re right. Is this all you have to do tonight?”

She paused in her weaving and looked up at him. “No. All the trees that just came in? They all need white twinkly lights put on them.”

“But there’s...twelve.”

“I know. I counted.” She laughed then, a tired sound, but a happy one, too. “Seriously, Dan. This is not my first wedding. Look, everyone’s getting ready to leave for the dinner. I’ve got this.”

She threaded the fabric and tied it off again, moving down a chair.

“I just think it’s a lot of work for one person. And it’s Holly and Pete’s wedding. They should—”

She stood up and faced him. “They should what?” she interrupted. “This is my job. This is what they pay me to do, and they’re paying me quite well, so why don’t you leave me to it instead of slowing me down?”

He stared at her, his lip curling as her irritated voice carried through the hall. A few people stopped and looked in their direction. Perfect. It was bad enough that Pete and Holly knew that Adele was his ex. Getting in an argument would only prompt more questions. If she wanted to do this all by herself, fine. He’d only been trying to help.

“I wouldn’t want to stand in your way,” he replied, a touch of acid in his words. “I guess I should have realized you like to be on your own, rather than a team player.”

It was a cheap remark but one that he’d perhaps been holding inside for a long, long time. When they’d been together, they’d insisted that they were a team. A partnership. The abrupt change in their relationship had left him floundering. How did someone say she was your partner and then just move on without a backward glance?

This morning had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have stopped for breakfast with her. He should have listened to his gut from the day before and stayed far, far away. Leave the past in the past.

He walked away before she had a chance to turn her back on him once again.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE COULDN’T GET WARM.

Adele hadn’t been lying when she’d said the flu was going around, but she really hadn’t considered the possibility of actually getting it. And not on the day of the biggest wedding of her career. She stepped under the hot spray of the shower, which felt glorious. She’d have to work through it, that was all. She’d stop at the pharmacy for meds, drink lots of fluids and power through. And wash her hands—a lot. She didn’t feel great, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

She dressed in a variation of her standard uniform, which was generally a little black dress that lent an air of professionalism while also allowing her to blend in with the guests. Today, however, the idea of black stockings and high heels and semi-bare arms was just...no. Instead she pulled out a soft pair of black trousers, her most comfortable heels and a black cashmere sweater. She’d be a little bit underdressed, but she’d be able to do her job and would blend into the background, as it should be. Tea, some acetaminophen, and she’d be right as rain.

She stopped at the drugstore and then for a smoothie, going for a massive vitamin injection. By the time she arrived at the hotel, things were underway. The flower delivery van was parked and workers hustled to get the delicate blooms out of the cold and inside. Adele parked and rushed over to assess their progress, and had a jolt of dismay when she realized the centerpieces for the reception weren’t in the van. A quick phone call assured her they were coming in about an hour, in a separate van. Everything for the reception was being stored near the hall, so that the staff could do a quick turnaround with the room during the cocktail hour in a nearby lounge.

She stifled a sneeze and then reached into her bag for tissues. “Please, please kick in,” she murmured, hoping the medicine she’d taken would help her symptoms and soon. She could be sick tomorrow. Not today. Twelve to fourteen hours was really all she needed.

Once the flowers were inside, she made a beeline for the spa to make sure everything was on schedule for the wedding party. That, at least, was going flawlessly. The bride and her bridesmaids were sitting in chairs, preferred drinks by their sides, having their hair straightened, curled, pinned...whatever their style required. The men, too, had appointments within the hour for hair trims and shaves. Everyone got to be a little pampered on the wedding day. The energy in the spa was warm and celebratory, and she smiled to herself as she left. The few hours leading up to the ceremony were some of the busiest, but also the most exciting.

Tomorrow would be time enough for a little self-pampering. She’d drink tea and stay beneath her very thick, very warm duvet for as long as she wanted. She always took the day after a wedding off as a treat to recoup from the long hours.

The centerpieces arrived and were properly stored. Adele lit the twinkle lights on the twelve trees. A small podium was installed for the justice of the peace, and the chairs were set up for the string quartet.

Her phone rang.

She hung up five minutes later, her heart pounding. Four of tonight’s servers had called in sick with the same flu. Four. With a guest list of two hundred and fifty, that made a huge difference. They were going to try calling in people who were off today, but with the virus going around, Adele wasn’t hopeful. At least the photographer, Harper McBride, showed up early. Harper owned a studio in town and had quickly become Adele’s go-to for weddings, as well as Adele’s best friend.

Harper took one look at her and frowned, her blue eyes worried. “You’re sick. You caught the plague.”

Adele couldn’t help but laugh, a welcome sensation that had been absent the last few days. “I did, yes,” she admitted. “I was hoping it wasn’t noticeable. I’m hopped up on daytime flu meds and a huge smoothie. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you too well. You look great, except the glassy look in your eyes. Well, darlin’, the timing sucks.” Harper lugged one of her bags into the room and hid it in a corner at the back, where she’d set up unobtrusively. “The place looks amazing, though. I think it’s your best yet.”

“Thanks.” The praise went right to Adele’s heart. Harper had a brilliant eye and was also unfailingly honest. “Not too much white?”

Harper shook her head, which provoked one of her auburn curls to escape. “With that rich blue satin on the chairs and the silver accents? Not at all. It’s gorgeous.” She leaned a little closer. “I’m so glad you convinced her not to do the red.”

Adele laughed. “Me too. Look, I know you have other stuff to do. I’ll see you in here later, though?”

Harper nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I have the wedding-party photos to do, and all that ‘day of’ stuff. Do me a favor and go get yourself some hot tea. Mint or ginger or something.”

That sounded delicious, so as Harper went on her way, Adele zipped to the coffee shop and put in her order. Just as she reentered the wedding hall, she noticed a delivery being unloaded that was all wrong.

She rushed forward, trying not to spill her tea and checking her phone for the time simultaneously. Instead she dropped her phone, held on to her tea and called out, “Stop!”

Everyone halted, but one delivery person got a strange look on her face. “Can I please put this down? They’re heavy.”

Of course they were. They were the ice sculptures that weren’t supposed to be delivered for another five hours.

“Why are you here now? The sculptures weren’t supposed to be delivered until four o’clock.” She bent and picked up her phone. The screen protector had cracked, but everything else looked okay. Thank goodness for small mercies.

“Our order said to leave at nine thirty. It’s just over an hour’s drive in our refrigerated truck.” The apparent supervisor pulled out a folded paper and scanned it. “Look. Says here nine thirty.”

Adele tucked the phone in her pocket and reached for the paper. It did say nine thirty, but she’d specifically asked for four o’clock, which meant a two thirty departure from the city. “We can’t put them out now. They’ll be melted before the ceremony! Even four was pushing it.” The idea was for them to arrive at just the right time, so that they could be set up with the champagne within the reception configuration.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. But we’ve got another delivery today, and we can’t take them all the way back to Calgary and drive back out again this afternoon.”

She considered asking the kitchen staff if there was storage space there. But these were three forty-pound blocks, shaped like snowflakes. Getting them from the kitchen to this room would be a challenge for the already understaffed crew.

Her phone rang.

They were still three staff members short for tonight’s dinner service.

And she felt like crap—more so every minute.

Slow down and think, she reminded herself, trying to stem the feeling of panic crawling through her. She could handle this. It was her job. She handled anything that was thrown at her, right?

“Ms. Hawthorne?”

“Just a minute,” she answered, trying to think.

Her phone rang again. When she hung up, she felt ready to cry.

Two members of the string quartet were down with the flu and so sick they were unable to play.

“Ms. Hawthorne,” the delivery man said again. “What do we do with the sculptures?”

“I don’t know!” she blurted out, and then let out a huge sigh. “I’m sorry. I suddenly have three crises and I need a moment.”

She stood in the middle of the floor, wanting nothing more than to be back in bed. She was cold, she ached and she was simply tired.

Melting sculptures. Understaffed. No music. She knew bad luck came in threes, but she’d never had it happen at a wedding before.