That voice. Deep. Low. Caring. Always looking out for others. The combination of his grip, the tone and the whisper of his breath against her neck took her back to a time when life and love seemed simple. How much had changed since then.
“Yes. Thank you.” She turned and looked straight into concerned, desert camo eyes, flecks of green, gold and brown vying for attention. Warrior eyes. “I’m glad you were there.”
“Me, too.”
Her heart did a physiologically impossible dance in her chest. She chalked it up to an adrenaline rush from the near fall and looked at him again.
“Don’t fall!” Tara’s face mixed joy and concern over Kimberly’s lack of grace. “I’m coming right down. Kimberly, it’s been forever!”
“Friendly little thing.” Drew kept his tone low. “A bit out of step with the dignity of the surroundings, isn’t she?”
“Whereas I would say she was happy to see her cousin after several years away and leave it at that.”
Tara didn’t come to the side door and open it for them. She stepped through the main doors leading into the friary, waited while they came across the tapered steps, then grabbed Kimberly in a hug. “Oh, I miss you! You look marvelous, and I was totally hoping you were planning to have the wedding in Grace Haven and would pick the Abbey. Kimberly, it will be beautiful!”
Drew paused inside the door. So did Daryl. They exchanged looks; then Drew turned, one brow hiked. “You’re getting married?”
Right about then having the floor open up and swallow her whole would have gotten a preferential nod.
Didn’t happen.
Kimberly shook her head and waved off Tara’s words as she realized with her parents’ current circumstances, word of her broken engagement hadn’t been forwarded to the extended family. “Clearly I should have signed into social media last month and changed my status update.” She held out a ringless left hand for Tara to see. “I won’t be looking for a personal wedding venue anytime soon.”
Tara winced. “Kimberly, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
Kimberly shrugged it off. “It’s not a big deal. It’s actually for the best, but thanks.” She nodded toward Drew, Daryl and Amy. “Tara, this is Drew Slade, his daughter, Amy, and his security partner, Daryl Jackson. We’re helping a client prepare for her wedding, and our first venue doesn’t allow for the level of security we need. Then I thought of the Abbey.”
“And I’m glad you did,” Tara declared. “Drew, good to see you again,” she continued in an easy tone. “It’s been a long time,” she added, then motioned toward the office wing. “Shall we check dates first or tour the building?”
“Tour.” Drew’s ease at taking charge said he did it often. Would that take-charge attitude extend to overthrowing all the bride’s decisions? Kimberly aimed a frown his way.
He ignored it completely.
“Come this way.” Tara moved down the spacious entry hall. Daryl and Amy fell in behind Tara, and somehow Drew ended up alongside Kimberly. He turned her way as they walked and kept his voice low. “Who broke it off?”
He did not just ask that, did he? As if it was his business? Because it wasn’t. Remembering the price tag on this gig and the cost of her father’s experimental treatment in Houston made her smile and play nice when she longed to tell Drew Slade to mind his own business. She couldn’t do that, so she shrugged lightly. “He did.”
Drew studied her for long, thick seconds, long enough for her heart to do that step-toe dance again. Then he leaned closer. “He’s a moron, Kimber, but I might just send him a thank-you note.”
Kimberly was pretty sure her breathing paused as their eyes met. “For?”
He winked.
Her heart stuttered, or was that her lungs? Maybe both, because Drew Slade had just flirted with her. Sure, he was just trying to ease an awkward moment, but that one brief exchange was enough to stir up those old schoolgirl feelings.
But that was then and this was now, and a whole lot of ugly had passed under their respective bridges.
Tara waited for them to catch up. “Exactly whose wedding are we planning?”
“Shelby Vandeveld’s,” Kimberly replied.
“That’s a name that raises the stakes somewhat, doesn’t it?” Tara moved toward the chapel area. “As you can see, we have adequate space and generous surroundings to host events up to three hundred people. But the core of our allure lies in the chapel, of course.”
Daryl jotted notes as they walked.
Drew didn’t. In contrast, he studied the venue from top to bottom as they toured the gracious old building. When Tara ended with the domed chapel, Drew paused just inside the door. “Stunning.”
“One of the best kept secrets of the Finger Lakes,” Tara agreed.
Drew shoulder-nudged Kimberly. “You’re brilliant.”
“Save the praise until we mesh dates. I’m sure they have several fall retreats scheduled.”
“We do, so let’s move to my office and see what we’ve got,” Tara suggested.
They moved to the office, where Tara drew up an electronic calendar on her desktop. When Drew gave her the date, she shook her head quickly. “Not available for that weekend or the one before. We have a Sunday open the second week of October...”
“Just Sunday?”
She met Drew’s eye and nodded.
“We need a seventy-two-hour clean date.”
If asking for a three-day security window on popular venues mere weeks ahead of time surprised Tara, she covered it well. “Nothing in October.”
Kimberly had expected that answer, so when Tara paged back to September, she was surprised.
“We had a retreat cancellation,” Tara explained, and she tapped the calendar in front of her. “We actually have a four-day window in September as a result. Would your reception venue be available then?”
Drew frowned. “Most likely not.” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I should have anticipated Rick’s candidacy and been here at the first meeting between your mother and Shelby. The blame for this is coming straight to my door.”
Kimberly looked at Tara. “How many people were supposed to be at the canceled retreat?”
“Just shy of three hundred.” She studied Kimberly’s face and cringed as if reading her mind. “You know the rules, Kim.”
“How many Indonesian missions is Holy Name Church supporting right now?”
“Three.”
“A price tag like this could double that option and fulfill a patriotic duty. If we don’t figure this out, I’ve got a very nice bride who’s being robbed of her wedding day because she had the nerve to fall in love at a politically incorrect time. Where’s Uncle Steve?”
“He’s at the church food cupboard in Prattsburgh.”
“Would he mind a visit?”
“From you? Never. But don’t be disappointed if he has to say no.”
“What are we asking him, exactly?” Drew faced the two women directly. “The lack of dates puts this out of the question, doesn’t it? Maybe we should consider just having the wedding, pictures and reception at the inn and be done with it.”
“That’s a last-resort answer to an ongoing unresolved problem,” Kimberly chided him. “Let me go talk to Uncle Steve, and we’ll see if we can make this right.”
“There’s