It was Sunday night, and the results of the contest were in. Kiki told everyone they’d be announced from the beach house in half an hour. The huge public response was quite the triumph for Pierre. Too bad he was still in Scotland. According to the TV station manager, they’d been inundated with votes. People were able to text their selections to a special number sponsored by the TV station. They could also go online to the station’s Web site and vote that way. And that was it. No votes could be placed at La Di Da’s Web site. It wasn’t set up properly to accommodate the process, and as far as Greer was concerned, that was a good thing. It meant it was much more likely that the contest wasn’t fixed. And the fact that the mayor of Charleston was involved in oversight added to her comfort levels. Everyone knew he was a person of integrity.
But Pierre was a wily man. And who knew what he was capable of?
Even so, the contest results were hardly on her mind at the moment. She’d felt numb ever since the square dance. She didn’t know what to do. Should she talk to Serena? Should she talk to Wesley? Should she tell Ford what had happened?
Or should she just shut up and hope that Wesley had been drunk … or in a temporary panic when he’d confessed his worries to her? If so, surely by now, he regretted it. He really should apologize to her for making her feel uncomfortable, but in a way, she hoped he never came near her again. She could live without the apology. She just wanted him and Serena to be happy.
And she’d been worried that it was Serena who might be getting cold feet! Wesley had seemed devoted to her. Greer would never forget the day of the auction seeing them walk toward her on the corner of Calhoun and Meeting, hand in hand, and how excited he’d been to tell Greer they were getting married.
“Shut the front door!” Miss Thing exclaimed when Greer snuck off into the dunes and called her three besties for a group chat. “He did this during a square dance? What is this, Oklahoma? Did he take you on a ride in his surrey with the fringe on top next?”
“Miss Thing!” Macy exclaimed. “This is serious business.”
None of them had been able to go to the barbecue event. Miss Thing had still been working on her taxes for her Price Is Right winnings with their elderly accountant—the one who acted in love with her. Once more she’d asked Pete from Roastbusters to come to dinner, too, as a buffer. Macy and Deacon had had a special dinner to attend with his Aunt Fran and her devoted beau, Colonel Block. Ella’s niece had had a piano recital. No Mancini ever missed a piano recital.
But Greer welcomed Miss Thing’s sass. Maybe she was worrying overmuch. “We were together less than ten seconds,” she said. “And then I left the dance floor.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten over you,” said Macy. “You’re a real catch.”
Greer moaned. “You’re sweet, but that’s the last thing I want to hear.”
“When I saw them together onstage the night you guys became finalists,” Ella said, “and they kissed like the world was ending, I got the feeling from Wesley that it really was.”
There was a beat of silence.
“I-I never noticed that,” Greer said.
“I didn’t either,” said Miss Thing.
“He seemed uncomfortable to me,” Ella insisted. “Like he was putting on a show. Your kiss with Ford seemed so much more real in comparison.”
That warmed Greer’s heart.
“Now that I think about it,” Miss Thing said, “when they walked up the red carpet at that super-fun grand opening, Serena was all smiles, and Wesley was like an undertaker—even though they were heading into a bar, and drinks were on the house.”
Greer chuckled. “Miss Thing, you always manage to make me smile. But the truth is, every time I see them, they look totally into each other.”
“Maybe he’s been trying to make it work with Serena,” Macy said, “and most of the time he can manage it. But apparently, not all the time, and some of us are nosy enough—or shall I say, intuitive enough—to notice.”
“It’s why y’all are matchmakers and I’m your biggest cheerleader,” said Miss Thing.
“Well, what should I do?” asked Greer.
Nobody said anything over the line for a few seconds. The breeze was blowing strong off the water, and she stood to face it, knowing full well by the time she returned to the house, her hair would be a mess. They were going on TV in half an hour, and Kiki had told them to clean up and look good.
“Take it minute by minute,” Miss Thing suggested. “Sweetie, you aren’t responsible for Wesley’s behavior. I wouldn’t go to battle stations just yet.”
“I think that’s excellent advice,” said Ella. “This could potentially be very damaging for their relationship. And maybe he regrets saying it.”
“I agree,” said Macy. “Let it go for now. But if he corners you again, Greer, you’ll have to do something about it.”
“Yes, I will.” Greer blew out a big breath. “Let’s hope this whole thing just goes away. But I feel much better having talked to you.”
“We miss you,” Ella said.
Greer got tears in her eyes. “I miss you, too. Things will go back to normal starting this week. It’ll be nice to have the contest behind me.”
“Everything’s fine at the office,” said Macy, “so don’t worry. You’re keeping up with what you have to.”
Greer thought of Jill. Had Ella’s little sister been thinking about what she’d said? That she ought to go after her man, come hell or high water? After this weekend, they were going to sit together and make some real decisions about what to do. But Jill needed to figure out a plan soon, before the tech conference happened.
“That’s right,” said Miss Thing. “Right now, Greer, you just enjoy being with your young fella. He makes me wish I were your age again. I hope you’re getting lots of nookie. Isn’t that how English people say it?”
“They do,” Greer said. “I’m having a bunch of fun. My heart’s getting involved, but I’d rather not run and hide.”
“That’s right,” said Macy. “Whatever happens, you will still be our strong, loveable friend and sister of the heart. You’ll always have Two Love Lane to come home to.”
“What Macy said,” said Ella. “Arrivederci.”
“Ciao, bellas.” Greer blew them all a kiss through the phone.
Walking back to the house, she mused on how it was so hard not to tell Ella, Macy, and Miss Thing that she loved Ford outright. She just wasn’t ready. If she did, they’d ask her what kind of future she saw with him, and she didn’t want to go there.
She also wished she could tell them about Jill’s romantic dilemma. Especially because Greer had a lot of hope for a good outcome, but it would be tricky getting there. But who knew? Maybe with Greer’s help Jill would find the courage to get on a plane and track down her business mogul, tell him she loved him, and have the happily ever after she deserved.
“There you are!” Henny said when she walked in.
Greer felt the tension before she even looked around. Kiki was prowling the kitchen, going back and forth with her phone to her ear. Maybe she was talking to Pierre. In the living room one of the two cameramen had set up his equipment and was fiddling with the blinds at one of the windows. He looked displeased about the lighting and asked Henny to adjust the slats while he looked through the camera lens, which was pointed at the fireplace. Greer caught a glimpse of the other cameraman outside, grabbing a last-minute smoke, his eyes narrowed in the sun.
The TV station manager, in a gray suit and combed-back hair, was in the adjoining hallway consulting with the anchorman and anchorwoman hosting the announcement “party.” Pretty in pink, the anchorwoman held a sheaf of papers in her hand. Her fellow anchor wore a double-breasted navy suit. The three of them looked sharp and were studying those papers with serious expressions, occasionally whispering to each other.
Toni sat on one corner of the sofa, her legs crossed, the top one kicking back and forth like a pendulum. Her fiancé sprawled with his arm behind her, a seemingly casual pose but for the deep furrow on his brow.
Lisa sat next to him, clinging to her phone. Presumably, Buck would be able to get on FaceTime during the announcement, but one never knew with the military’s schedule. Lisa’s father, who’d made them all a delicious pot of Frogmore Stew for dinner Saturday night, was on her other side, his mouth in a taut line. He twisted his U.S. Marines ball cap in his gnarled fingers.
Serena and Wesley stood at the piano, holding hands. Her face and neck had blotches of pink on it Greer had never seen before. Wesley was preoccupied with studying the painting over the fireplace mantel, but his free hand was gripped in a fist dangling at his side. They were together but seemed apart. Maybe Greer only felt that way because of what Wesley had confessed to her that afternoon.
Ford was the only one who looked relatively relaxed. He held a drink in his hand. Only lemonade. The contest rules prohibited their drinking anything stronger. He looked fresh and masculine in nicely creased khakis—his new favorite style of trousers; he called them his Charleston pants—and a starched blue button-down. Loafers and no socks completed the look. He winked at her. “Have a nice walk?”
“Yes, I did,” she said. “We still have another five minutes, right?”
“Yes, but—” Henny grabbed her pearls. “But this is the big moment!”
Greer felt abashed. “Sorry I worried you. I’m so excited to find out the outcome.” But inside, she wasn’t as worried about the contest results nearly as much as she was about Wesley and Serena. It wasn’t her business—but it was. Wesley had involved her. And she liked Serena. She hated to see her hurt.
Kiki came from the kitchen. “All right, it’s time,” she said, never a barrel of laughs, which could be why she and Toni seemed to hit if off well.
The anchors stood in front of the fireplace. Ford walked over to Greer and took her hand. At his touch, a feeling of utter happiness ricocheted through her.
“I like your Charleston look,” she said with a grin.
He grinned back. “Drake and Gus took me under their wing. We went to Dumas and Ben Silver. It took them a long time to convince me not to wear socks with my loafers.”
She chuckled, and for the first time, felt a clutch of nerves.
“You look wonderful yourself,” he said, “a real beach girl.”
“Thanks.” She’d worn her favorite sundress for the occasion. She’d had it since before she’d broken up with Wesley. She’d bought it in her mid-twenties on a visit to Charleston for an alumni event at the College of Charleston and taken it back with her to Boston, where she spent one summer working at MIT, crunching numbers with a bunch of nerdy but fantastic teammates. They’d all been kicking ass in the math world. It was simple cotton, a pretty but now faded floral print, and it reminded her that she didn’t need to impress anyone as long as she was happy with herself.
The announcement party went on for an excruciating but exciting fifteen minutes, the two anchors traveling between the couples, the roaming cameraman following them and panning from couple to couple, sometimes focusing on only one face at a time, depending on who was being asked a question.
Did you enjoy yourself?
Why do you deserve to win Royal Bliss?
What does it mean to you if you win?
If you lose, how will that change your wedding plans?
They asked Greer and Ford, How did this temporary engagement go? Could it turn into something real? Any sparks this week? Or will you go back to being a partnerless future bride, Miss Jones?
“We did what we said we would,” said Greer. “We worked together as partners to try to win the gown. It’s been tons of fun.” Oh, God, she was thinking. She was the worst liar. This thing with Ford had most definitely turned into something real.
“Yes, but could you two possibly fall in love?” asked the female anchor.
“We’re all for love,” said Ford. “Who isn’t?”
Both anchors looked bemused by that answer. Greer wished she could be anywhere else but there. She was head over heels in love! No doubt about it. And it was painful to have to put on an act.
“It’s been quite the adventure,” Ford said. “I don’t regret asking her to marry me in the least.”
“Even though the plan is to move on after the contest?” the male anchor asked.
“Yes, wouldn’t that sting?” the female anchor asked. “After all, you volunteered to be her partner so she could have a chance at winning.”
Ford shrugged. “And she agreed to my out-of-the-blue proposal. Because of her, I’ve met some really great people in the contest and in Charleston. A world-class city, that’s for sure. Yet everyone acts like my next-door neighbor. I feel I could ask anyone here for a cup of sugar, and they’d say yes. And throw in a chess pie with it, to boot.”
“Diplomatic answer, sir,” said the female anchor, her mouth curved up in a pleased smile.
It most certainly was. Greer loved his sense of humor, his ability to be flexible. She loved him.
The two anchors finally retreated to the fireplace. The cameraman with the stationary camera was already at work, beaming their faces to the local public watching on their television sets and online.
Ford held Greer’s hand tighter. “It’s the moment of truth.”
“Yes,” she whispered, every cell in her body on high alert. She still wanted Royal Bliss. She wanted it very much. But even more, she wanted to tell Ford she loved him.