Conversation and laughter reverberated in the lodge, and Devin made mental notes of all that was happening from his perspective, seated at a round table for eight in the center of the room.
Luckily he didn’t have to remember all the details. The wedding photographer was also freelancing for the Chatelaine Daily News. Esme and Ryder had agreed to allow some of the photos to be published along with a brief article he was writing about the wedding.
The lodge was nothing less than impressive. The oak-floored, white-walled space with multiple windows and wood-beam accents had been totally transformed into the perfect venue for the reception.
Guests were seated at tables covered in cream linen and low centerpieces with greenery and white roses. Small trees strung with white lights were nestled near lattice dividers artfully placed in the corners and framing the cake table featuring a three-tiered confection.
One end of the lodge had been delineated as the dance floor, and a DJ played a seamless mix of instrumentals from country to oldies to pop ballads at a low volume.
Esme and Ryder relaxed at a sweetheart table for two, and the bridal party as well as family members sat at nearby tables around them. But Bea wasn’t there.
After the ceremony as he’d spoken to the bridal party in the receiving line, their gazes had locked. She’d looked so gorgeous. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her and had lost his train of thought while chatting with Ryder. But before he’d gotten a chance to talk to Bea, she’d run off.
Lily had explained that Bea had gone to check on the food for the reception, but a part of him wondered if she might be upset about the review of the Cowgirl Café published in the paper. He’d written the damn thing three times, striving for honesty but not wanting to come across as harsh. That exercise in near futility only proved what he’d tried to deny for a long time. He had a thing for Bea.
He’d wanted to ask her out more than a few times, but he’d hesitated. He was a journalist, after all, and she might think the only reason he was trying to get to know her was because of a potentially big story related to her uncle, Wendell Fortune.
Back in 1965, members of the Fortune family had owned a silver mine near Chatelaine that had collapsed, killing all of the workers. Speculation had always existed about the involvement of Wendell’s brothers, Elias and Edgar, in the incident. And recently a question had been raised about the actual number of miners who’d perished. Fifty had been the documented number, but mysterious notes had been found claiming fifty-one lives had been lost.
The arrival of Freya Fortune in Chatelaine with Elias’s will—and the claim of him wanting to make amends with his family—had also reinvigorated local interest in the topic.
Who was the fifty-first person, and why point to an additional death now? A couple of months ago, Devin had asked Wendell those questions.
He glanced over at the lean eighty-something older man with a grizzled beard sitting a few tables away with his sister-in-law, Freya. Wendell had said he had nothing to add to the record about the mining disaster, but Devin couldn’t shake the feeling that the man was hiding something. And possibly Freya, too.
Mrs. Cofield, an older woman with a silver streak in her dark hair who was seated across from Devin, paused in eating her chicken entrée. She and her husband lived on one of the larger ranches in the area.
She addressed the middle-aged couple next to her. “Wendell Fortune doesn’t look well at all. I hardly recognized him when he sat up front before the ceremony.”
“You’re right—he doesn’t look good,” the blonde with high-arched brows responded. “I haven’t seen him in a while. From what I understand, he’s been hiding out in that monstrosity he owns...”
Monstrosity? That was harsh. Wendell’s home in town, Fortune’s Castle, was elaborate and a little crazy in its medieval design, but Devin didn’t think it was an eyesore. And besides, it wasn’t in a very populated area where people had to look at it every day.
Holding back the comment, Devin focused on his delicious steak instead of the banter taking place.
“Mr. Street,” Mrs. Cofield called out to him, “do you know what’s going on with Wendell Fortune?”
He gave her a polite smile. “I’m sorry. I missed what you were saying...”
“Wendell Fortune—have you heard anything about his health?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that.” Devin took a sip of iced tea. And even if he did, he’d never reveal that information. He ran a respectable newspaper, not a gossip magazine.
Fortunately, just then, Brandon Hayes tapped his glass diverting attention as he rose from his seat at a table near Esme and Ryder.
He faced the guests. “As part of my speech, I’m supposed to sing my brother’s praises and tell you all about his many good points.” He looked to the couple with a humorous smile. “Or I can dish the dirt so my new sister-in-law has a really clear picture of what she’s gotten herself into...”
He delivered some good-natured teasing, then ended with a heartfelt wish for Ryder and Esme’s long and happy future.
During the applause after the toast, Bea came from the back of the room and joined Brandon and the rest of the bridal party.
Devin took note—everyone at the table had a plus-one seated next to them except for Bea. She was smart and beautiful—how could she not have a date for the wedding? Was she on her own because she was busy supervising the catering for the reception?
As the room grew quieter, she rose from her seat and spoke to the newlyweds. “There’s a saying about love looking outward in the same direction. When I look at you two, that’s what I see...” Bea continued to share a loving, heartfelt recognition of the couple. At the end of her speech, she encouraged everyone to raise their glasses. “To Esme and Ryder.”
After the toast, servers delivered trays with an assortment of fruit tartlets to the table.
Mrs. Cofield put one on her plate. “Aren’t these on the menu at her restaurant?” She pointed to Bea, who was moving from table to table, chatting with guests. “Considering what happened with the Cowgirl Café, I’m not surprised she’s been hiding from everyone. I heard some ridiculous rumor about someone stealing the food.”
The blonde sniffed. “She should just own up to whatever really happened. If the place does finally open, I’m not sure I’ll ever eat there. She ruined my sister’s birthday celebration.” She raised her voice, seemingly wanting others to overhear the conversation. “I’m completely on board with the restaurant review in the Chatelaine Daily News. I’m not convinced her café deserves a second chance.”
That wasn’t what he’d said...exactly. Irritation sparked in Devin. Although the restaurant hadn’t confirmed anything officially, from what he’d pieced together, whatever had happened wasn’t entirely Bea’s fault. But this wasn’t the time or place to mention the review or the failed grand opening...unless the woman intentionally wanted to hurt Bea’s feelings.
The DJ called out, “It’s time to bring Mr. and Mrs. Hayes back to the dance floor...”
Esme and Ryder’s first dance as a couple had been to a slow song at the start of the reception. Now an upbeat country track played through the speakers.
Bea paused at a nearby table and then headed toward his.
The thought of her smiling at Mrs. Cofield and the blonde woman without a clue of what they’d been saying about her, and the café, irked him even more.
Devin rose to his feet and intercepted her. “This is the song you mentioned, isn’t it?” He grasped Bea’s hand. “The one you really wanted to dance to tonight?”
As she glanced up at him, her expression grew perplexed.
He gave her hand a squeeze, willing her to follow along.
To his relief, Bea squeezed back. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
Devin led her to the dance floor. As soon as he took her into his arms, they moved in time to a country two-step.
Bea leaned in, making it easier for him to hear her. “I’m assuming I read the situation right—you needed a save?”
Devin considered his answer. There was no point in telling her the truth and risk ruining her night. “I did. If you hadn’t come along, I would have had to fake an injury so I could leave the table.”
She quirked a brow. “What type of injury were you going to fake?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Maybe a sudden reoccurrence of an old elbow injury from my college football days.”
“An old elbow injury?” As she leaned back to look up at him, humor filled her blue eyes and a light flush came into her cheeks. “Aggravated by what? Sitting there eating dinner?”
“Hey, it could happen.”
As Bea’s laughter radiated into him, he couldn’t help but chuckle. The happiness on her face caused his heart to jolt with an extra beat. Damn, she was pretty.
Momentarily distracted, he missed a step. If he didn’t keep his mind on what he was doing, he’d stomp on her coral-painted toes peeking out of her strappy sandals.
Unfazed by his clumsiness, Bea synced her steps with his and settled comfortably in his arms.
More couples came onto the dance floor, and they were pushed closer together. Devin fought the urge to confirm his suspicion that she’d fit perfectly against him.
As she leaned near his ear, the alluring perfume wafting from the curve of her neck intoxicated him. “You’re not faking wanting to dance with me, are you?”
Her whispered words, only for him, raised goose bumps on his skin. Devin’s heart thumped harder in his chest. “Not a chance.”