The Sometime Bride

nice enough to be her friend. Which would be a definite first for Carrie St. John, as she’d never befriended any man for longer than thirty-six hours without things between them becoming intimate. But, of course, as her track record consisted only of two serious beaus, maybe she was being a bit hasty in making a sweeping assessment.
    Besides, friendship was good. Perhaps even what she most needed at the moment. And having a friend who looked and carried himself like the athletically inclined Mike Davis, could quite possibly come in handy. Maybe even in the very near future.
    “All right, I’ll stay,” Carrie said, “but under one condition.”
    “Any condition’s fine with me,” Mike said, knowing that as long as whatever it was involved his taking off his boiling clothes, it would be A-OK with him. Particularly if it involved Carrie St. John stripping down as well.
    “You understand this thing between us is about camaraderie. Two down-and-outs on the same flip side of the coin. Compadres.”
    Mike gave her a tight smile, damning every inner instinct he had and telling his licentious libido to behave. “Sure thing, Carrie,” he said, reaching out an arm to shake her hand. “We’ll play it any way you want.”

Chapter Three

    Carrie sat in the narrow oaken stairwell, finally getting a cell signal. The remoteness of the inn made service unpredictable. Carrie hadn’t been able to pick up more than two bars anywhere but here.
    She nervously twirled a lock of chestnut hair, rehearsing what she would tell her grandmother. I’m sorry, Grandmother, but things just didn’t work out… No, Carrie had already been there and done that one. Besides, her second strike would make her look like a total washout, not the “together” young woman her adoring Grandma Russell took her to be.
    Grandmother, there’s been a last-minute change in plans…
    Nope, that would only make her look inconsiderate. Horribly inconsiderate, given the wedding shower was scheduled for tomorrow.
    Carrie sighed and hit autodial, trusting something brilliant would come to mind the instant she heard her grandmother’s voice.
    “Hello?”
    “Grandmother, it’s Carrie—”
    “Oh, sweetheart,” her grandma began in her endless prattle, “so lovely to hear your voice. Amelia and I were just discussing china patterns, and we really think the one you—”
    “Grandmother…”
    “Oh, lands sakes, child. I know, I know! Really none of my business. But, to tell you the truth, the everyday pattern you picked is ever so much more attractive and could really double for formal ware if push came to shove, and—”
    Carrie blew a hard breath. This was going to be even harder than she’d imagined. “Grandmother!”
    “Well, okay, okay, dear. You are absolutely right about that! Who needs to fret over china patterns when you’ve got a perfectly gorgeous man on your arm!”
    “Grandma Russell!” Carrie shouted into the phone.
    “Well, gracious me, child, you don’t need to yell. Ma Bell’s improved quite a bit since the days I courted your grandpa.” She chuckled. “Lands sakes, child. Meant that one the other way around—quite the other way…”
    Carrie sighed and slumped back against the wall behind her.
    “Now, sweetheart,” her grandmother finally asked, “what was it you wanted to tell me?”
    Carrie racked her brain for a creative intro. “Well, it’s about seating arrangements, actually.”
    “Tomorrow, sweetie? Your great-aunties and I’ve got that all worked out. No need for you to fret one bit. Nellie even hand-stitched the place cards.”
    The bottom dropped out of Carrie’s stomach. “Aunt Nellie crocheted those beautiful lace place cards? But, I thought… That was supposed to be part of her wedding gift! I thought she was making those for the…wedding.”
    “Couldn’t wait to see your face, she said. And you’ll have to really butter her up on this one too, sweetness. She did a divine job. Absolutely divine! You would think the royal family was coming to tea, and not just your wedding party.”
    Carrie swallowed hard and tried to summon her courage. “Grandma…?”
    “Yes, dearie?”
    “What time is the shower again?”
    “Land sakes, child, you are a nervous bride, aren’t you? Four o’clock, same as it was last time you asked. But don’t worry if you’re not here right on the button. Just don’t make us old gals wait too long. You know how it is with us geriatrics. We tend to nod off after a