The Wedding Thief Read online

  I winced. “Yes, but honestly that was—”

  He waved his hand. “I know, an accident.”

  “You’re right, though. I guess it’s been a crazy time.”

  “I don’t normally do the kinds of things I’ve been doing. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade one minute of the past couple of weeks for anything. I’ve had the most fun ever. I wanted the chance to tell you that.” He seemed to be studying my dress. “And now I get to see what you look like as a bridesmaid.”

  “It’s not really my color, but I didn’t—”

  “I think it looks nice on you.”

  I felt myself blush. “Oh, well, thanks. You look nice too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before.”

  “Really?” He glanced at his sleeve as though he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Well, I couldn’t very well show up here in jeans. Even for a few minutes.”

  A few minutes. That’s all the time he had? I wished I could stretch those minutes into hours, into days. But we’d be going our separate ways, and all I could do was be happy for him.

  “Well, I’m glad you came,” I said. “And I’m glad you survived the two weeks with me. Maybe you can think of it as boot camp. Now you can go back to New York and look forward to something a little more relaxing. Like Paris.” I pressed a smile onto my face, but it was hard to keep it there.

  David looked across the patio, past the tables and chairs, past the dance floor and the band, to where the blue hills dipped and rose again, and the sun sat like a caramel candy low on the horizon. “I’m not going to Paris.”

  There was only one thing I could think of that would delay his trip. “Has something come up with your work?”

  He continued to stare into the distance. Finally, he turned to me. “I talked to Ana last night. We barely spoke when she was away. We just traded voice mails and texts. I figured she was so busy that…anyway, last night at the gallery, I took her outside and told her everything. About the hand. About what happened to it. About Jeanette. Getting arrested. Everything.”

  “You must have been relieved to finally come clean about—”

  “And then I told her it was over between us.”

  Over. I looked at him and felt the patio shift under me. “What happened?”

  His shoulders rose and fell. “I just realized Ana wasn’t what I wanted. That a lifetime with her might not be the right thing for me.”

  “But I thought…I mean, you were all set to propose. The words on the dessert plate—”

  “I know. I was all set. Until I wasn’t. I realized my heart wasn’t in it. That I was making a mistake. That maybe I needed to be with somebody a little different from Ana.”

  They weren’t getting married. He’d broken it off. He needed somebody a little different. The moment hung there like honey dripping from a spoon. On the putting green behind the patio, children were running and laughing; people were taking selfies. At the bar, servers in black suits were mixing up pitchers of something frothy and pink. On the dance floor, Dr. Sherwood was twirling my mother.

  “So, yeah, I was giving Ana this big speech,” David went on. “And all of a sudden she stopped me and told me she and Alex had eloped.”

  I went numb for a minute. And then, maybe because the whole situation seemed so ridiculous, I started to laugh. “What?” And he’d thought she was traditional?

  “They got married in Aspen. Crazy, isn’t it? She realized she didn’t love me; I realized I didn’t love her. Could have been one of your dad’s plays.”

  It could have been. I was about to tell him so when Jerome walked by with his Canon and snapped some pictures of us. Then he gave me a little wave and moved on.

  “So you’re okay with everything?” I said. “The way it turned out with Ana?”

  “Yeah, I am.” He straightened the knot in his tie. “I feel like I got a lucky break. And now I have a clean slate.”

  A clean slate. Funny how he said what I was thinking. “I kind of feel the same way, with my sister. And Carter.” I thought I saw something flicker in David’s eyes. Something that made the cinnamon brown even warmer. “Maybe we should get a couple of drinks and toast to clean slates,” I said. I hoped he’d stay a little longer.

  Aunt Bootsie wobbled toward me in her pink suit, a silk flower on her lapel, her silver hair brushed back from her face. She grabbed my arm and, with drunken breath, whispered, “Who’s the hunk?” before heading inside.

  “I’d like to make that toast,” David said. “But there’s something I want to do first. How about a dance?” He nodded toward the floor, packed with gyrating bodies, Mariel and Carter among them.

  He wanted to dance. With me. I felt fizzy and light, as if I’d been transfused with champagne. Everything inside me began to whirl. Or maybe it was the patio that was moving. The band started to play “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” and I thought about Dad and how he loved that song, especially when Sinatra sang it. It was another one of his favorites. And now it was one of mine.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’d love to.”

  David smiled, took my hand, and led me into the crowd.

  The Rolling Pin’s

  Famous Orange Chocolate Chunk Cookies

  2¾ cups all-purpose flour

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ¾ teaspoon baking soda

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  1 cup (16 tablespoons) unsalted butter, softened

  1 cup packed light brown sugar

  ¾ cup granulated sugar

  1 tablespoon orange zest

  2 large eggs

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  ¾ teaspoon orange extract

  4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped into chunks

  4 ounces milk chocolate, chopped into chunks

  4 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped into chunks

  Whisk flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl and set aside.

  In another bowl, using an electric mixer, whip butter, brown sugar, granulated sugar, and orange zest until creamy, about 2 minutes. Add one egg and mix until combined. Add second egg, vanilla extract, and orange extract and mix until combined.

  With mixer at low speed, slowly add flour mixture and mix just until combined. Stir in chocolate chunks.

  Shape dough into large balls (about 3 tablespoons each), put them on plates, and cover with plastic wrap. Chill for 1 hour in the refrigerator.

  Line cookie sheets with parchment paper and preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Transfer dough balls to cookie sheets and bake for about 14 to 16 minutes. Let cool on cookie sheets for several minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to finish cooling.

  TIP: If you don’t want to bake the cookies all at once, put some of the dough balls in an airtight container, with waxed paper between each layer, and freeze them. Then thaw and bake when you’re ready.

  Acknowledgments

  My team at Little, Brown is the best and they deserve a huge thank-you: Judy Clain and Miya Kumangai, my editors; Kirin Diemont, jacket design; Jayne Yaffe Kemp and Tracy Roe, copyediting; Katharine Myers, publicity; Ira Boudah and Lauren Hess, marketing; Laura Mamelok, subsidiary rights; and the folks in sales and audio who I didn’t have the pleasure to work with directly, but who were integral to the publishing process.

  Several people let me pick their brains about various topics: G. Alexander Carden, M.D., Elizabeth MacKinnon Haak, Dianna Kebeck, Captain Mick Keehan, Frank Sargenti, Captain Gino Silvestri, and Kathleen Timmons, DVM. Thank you all.

  My early readers provided much helpful feedback. My appreciation goes to Suzanne Ainslie, Peter Helie, Rebecca Holliman, Christine Lacerenza, Kate Simses, and Mike Simses. I’m also indebted to Jamie Callan for her invaluable observations and suggestions along the way.

  Finally, the biggest thanks of all go to the two most important people in my life: my husband, Bob, and my daughter, Morgan. I couldn’t do this without them.

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  About the Author

  Mary Simses grew up in Darien, Connecticut, and began writing short stories as a child. She spent most of her life in New England, where she worked in magazine publishing and later as a corporate attorney, writing short stories “on the side.” Mary is the author of The Irresistible Blueberry Bakeshop & Café, adapted as The Irresistible Blueberry Farm for the Hallmark Movies and Mysteries channel, and The Rules of Love & Grammar. Mary enjoys photography, old jazz standards, and escaping to Connecticut in the summer. She lives in South Florida.

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