She adjusted her earpiece, eyes scanning the room. “What’s going on, Hayley?”
“The photographer just texted that he’s not coming.”
Small problem when Grace considered what else could go wrong. “Thank you, Hayley. I’ll handle it.”
The photographer was a new one whom she’d used once before and been pleased with his work, but she wouldn’t be using him again if he wasn’t reliable. And he clearly wasn’t. She’d be removing him from her list of contacts immediately.
Luckily, Grace had a solid list of vendors. She called Sherry Sanders, one of her most dependable photographers, and begged her to come for a last-minute gig tonight.
She’d figured the mention of Julia and Donovan’s names would be enough to pique Sherry’s interest, and she was right. Sherry had promised to grab her equipment and get there as soon as possible. Because there was a good chance a picture from the party would end up in one of the provincial papers, a photo credit line that would create an uptick in business. Not to mention, if Julia and Donovan were happy, they’d probably book Sherry for the actual wedding. And no serious photographer would be foolish enough to turn down the opportunity to work what looked to be one of the most talked-about weddings of the year.
By the time Sherry arrived and Grace had issued instructions about the number of family members and other important people in the couple’s lives, their style and general preferences, and made sure her team knew that Sherry was going to be handling all the photography, the wine bar had filled up. Grace recognized many of the guests. The who’s who in the city’s social scene, familiar faces in the papers’ society pages and industry professionals who were often as well-known as their restaurants. They glittered in expensive summer dresses and well-tailored suits. Jewelry and wineglasses shimmered under the lights.
Grace spotted Donovan’s parents and sister across the room. Gus Ford looked a lot like his sons, a blend of Donovan’s stoic seriousness and Owen’s easy smile. He wore a suit as well as they did, too. So clearly, there was no reason for her to get all jittery over the way Owen filled out his suit. It was simply good genetics. Like pheromones. Which Grace chalked up to animal instinct. Something she had overcome, much like her nontraditional childhood.
Evelyn was petite and energetic. Her eyes were bright as she chattered to her husband. Her elegant lilac dress set off her dark hair and complemented the deep indigo tie Gus wore. Grace smiled. She’d never had the opportunity to dress as a couple, except for Halloween, and she’d stopped participating in the costume and candy-consuming ritual when she was ten.
Grace headed over to greet them in person and assure them that they could come to her if they had any questions or concerns.
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Grace Monroe.” She held out a hand to the brunette standing with Gus and Evelyn. Even if Mallory hadn’t looked like a taller, sleeker version of her mother, Grace would have known they were related by the way her parents looked at her. A mix of pride and love showered over their lone daughter.
“Mallory Ford.” Her grip was firm, the sign of a woman who lived and succeeded in a man’s world. “This is outstanding. Really. I can’t believe it’s Elephants.”
Grace decided she liked Mallory, or at least liked her taste. She seemed to look beyond the surface to note the effort and time that had gone into making each choice. Her strapless dress was aqua and gathered at one side with a slit that provided a peek of leg. With the wrong accessories or on a shorter, curvier woman, it might have looked trashy. But Mallory, with her hair left down to cascade down her back, simple gold drop earrings and bangle bracelet and matching shoes, looked upscale and luxe. Which Grace imagined she was. “Thank you.”
“I agree.” Evelyn looked around, appreciation clear on her face. “I know it’s our place, and I can recognize so much of it, yet it looks different. Like a version created just for Julia and Donovan.” Which was exactly what Grace had been going for. Evelyn clasped a hand around her husband’s arm. “Isn’t it wonderful, Gus?”
“Better than wonderful.” Gus’s voice was as warm as his eyes. “You’ve done a fantastic job, Ms. Monroe.”
Grace felt the warmth from the pair of them seep into her, like a flower absorbing the heat of the sun. She clasped each of their hands in turn, wrapping them with both of hers. “Please, call me Grace.”
She jumped when she sensed someone move up beside her and the scent of clover with a hint of smoke, like honey by the campfire, surrounded her. She knew that scent. She loved that scent, but wished she didn’t.
“How come you never say that to me?” Grace tried not to stiffen as she turned to look at Owen.
“Owen.” Evelyn seemed delighted to see her son. Grace wished she felt the same. Instead, she was left with a discomfiting heat swirling beneath her skin. Mallory hugged her brother and whispered something in his ear that made him throw back his head and laugh.
Grace felt a bubble of envy and shifted a step away, out of reach. She wasn’t jealous of Mallory, just of the easy relationship she seemed to have with her brother. Grace hadn’t spoken to her own brother in six months. Not since the last time she’d been over to visit the family farm. But then despite the only sixteen-month age gap, she and Sky had never been close. Different priorities, different lives. Sky had decided to stay on the family farm and take over the business with his pregnant girlfriend. While she had done the opposite.
Gus moved to stand beside her by one of the tables. “I like these.” He was admiring the birdcage of flowers, running a thick finger along the cage much as his son had earlier. Grace shoved away the thought of Owen’s hands caressing anything, even a stone bird, but her ears were attuned to the conversation he was having with his mother and sister. And she had to lecture herself not to inhale deeply before his scent drifted away, replaced by lemon cleaning products, the spicy shrimp appetizers being passed around and her own grapefruit-and-mint perfume.
“You’ve done a fine job, Owen. Julia and Donovan are going to love this.” Evelyn laid a hand on her son’s arm. “Really love it.”
“I hope so.” Owen’s tone was cheerful, as though Grace hadn’t just brushed him off. Again. “Grace certainly worked hard enough.”
A curl of pride wound through her. Not that she didn’t believe she deserved the accolades, but it was always nice to be recognized. And then she felt guilty for brushing him off, since he hadn’t been trying anything. Not this time.
She flicked a glance at him. He was looking back. She felt her breath catch, took that deep breath she’d been avoiding and caught a full breath of that smoky sweetness that was all Owen. Her knees wobbled. Or they might have wobbled on a less tightly controlled person. Grace simply locked her knees and turned her full attention to Gus, who was now scarfing down both the spicy shrimp and the slices of warm baguette being served with it, wearing the beatific look of a man on a diet.
“Not too many, love,” Evelyn called.
“I know, I know. I’ll eat some green stuff, too.” But Gus winked at Grace as he grumbled and then leaned forward as though to impart some wisdom. “She’s always pushing me to eat green stuff. But I really only like it when I grow it myself. You didn’t by any chance create a green-free menu?”
Grace laughed at his hopeful look. “I’m afraid not. But since Julia is a French-inspired chef, it’s all been cooked in lots of butter.”
Gus’s eyes lit up as he called over his shoulder to his wife. “I’ll eat some green veggies when they come out, dear.”
Evelyn smiled. “It’s a celebration. Try everything, just don’t overdo it.”
Gus went back to stand with her, the two of them drawing Mallory into a conversation about a guest they wanted her to meet. Owen moved closer to Grace, hovering by her side, not touching, but close enough.
She got another whiff of him and tried