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With sleep evading her, Summer opted to get an early start on her usual morning routine of coffee, exercise, and a shower.
After all the crazy events of yesterday, she couldn’t imagine what might happen today. One thing was certain. She and Craig were about to dive into a new relationship. How would the rest of the family react? Ken probably would crow that he knew it all along. But the kids? The kids might not like this change.
Squaring her shoulders, she prepared to face the day and opened her apartment door to head downstairs. Once on the main level, she knocked on the boys’ bedroom door.
Nate poked his head out. “I’m up.” He stepped out into the hall in his Superman pajamas.
“Shower,” she ordered gently. “Breakfast in fifteen minutes.”
While the boy padded toward the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, Summer aimed for the kitchen. Since yesterday’s events had thrown off her regular routine, she played with different menu items in her head that would affect how she set the table. The weather was too humid for something heavy like pancakes. They’d had French toast on Saturday during that sweet surprise for her. Cereal was a possibility but only with fruit and whole grain toast on the side.
She stepped into the kitchen and stopped short. The table was set, almost as if she’d done it in her sleep last night. Almost. Because whoever had distributed the silverware had left a knife near Maddie’s seat. A butter knife, but a knife, nonetheless.
“Morning.”
Summer turned to find Ken in the doorway, fully dressed, a white ceramic mug in his hand. She indicated the set table. “You did this?”
He grinned. “Guilty as charged. I figured you could use some help this morning.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But I can’t take all the credit. Craig made dinner last night, cleaned up the kitchen afterward, packed Nate’s lunch, the whole nine yards. I guess your influence is wearing off on him. I even asked him if he planned to start wearing your skirts.” He scanned her head to toe. “My son don’t have your legs, though.”
When he headed for the coffeemaker for a refill, she took advantage of his distraction to surreptitiously remove the knife from Maddie’s reach. The family was becoming independent. Oh, they still needed help, but soon, that help wouldn’t be daily. A housecleaner two or three times a week would probably suffice. September was around the corner. The boys would return to school, Maddie would start pre-school, and Ken would be recovered enough to handle drop-offs and pickups at the bus stop without an issue.
Maybe she could turn the page, start a new chapter in her life without feeling guilty. She and Craig could transition from employer/employee to romantic couple while she turned her wedding planning business from fantasy to reality.
One thing April had said yesterday resonated with her. She’d managed to pull off a dream wedding, even with the type of distractions that would have devastated a weaker wedding planner. So why couldn’t she continue to juggle both jobs? Wedding plans didn’t get hectic in the early stage, which gave her plenty of time to ease from one job description to the other. She didn’t have to leave here right away.
Mind tumbling amid her plans, she scrambled egg whites with turkey, broccoli, and cheddar cheese for the family breakfast. As she slid the food onto the plates, her cell phone buzzed in her hip pocket. She flinched, nearly dropped the plate she held, but caught it at the last second and managed to place the omelet in front of Nate. Before the next series of buzzing commenced, she grabbed the phone and hit the connect button. “Hello?”
“What in Aunt Fanny’s farm have you done to me?” a strident voice demanded.
“Brenda? Is that you?” Why on earth would April’s second-in-command call at this hour?
“Yes, it’s Brenda. And I need you to come down to the office. Now!”
“I’m making breakfast—”
“Now, Summer. As in ‘twenty minutes ago.’”
“Why? What’s happening?”
“What’s happening is this place has gone nuclear on me, and since you’re responsible, I want your help.”
Summer had known Brenda for years and never heard her sound so frantic. And what did Brenda mean that she was responsible? For what? Only one way to find out.
“Okay. Hang on a sec.” She cupped her hand over the speaker and asked Ken, “Okay if I leave Maddie and Scott with you for an hour or two after breakfast? Some kind of emergency at the office.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said through a mouthful of egg whites and turkey. “Whatever you need.”
“Great. Thanks, Ken.” She uncovered the mouthpiece. “Brenda, give me thirty minutes.”
“Ten would be a whole lot better, Summer.”
“I’ll do the best I can, but I still have responsibilities here.”
Ken waved her off. “Go. I got this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go. Scoot. Skedaddle.”
“I’m on my way, Brenda.”
Detouring only long enough to grab her purse, she climbed into her Escalade and drove off. When she strode inside Rainey-Day-Wife’s office a short time later, she stepped into a cacophony of ringing phones. Five people sat at their desks, all already answering calls. A frazzled-looking Brenda—hair wild, eyes darting up, down, left, right—flipped the mouthpiece of her headset away from her lips and expelled an exhausted exhale. “Thank God.”
Summer glanced around at the buzz of activity, the harried employees, and frowned. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on. I’ve got three dozen messages from brides all over the New York area who want to hire you. And every time I pick up the phone, another woman is demanding to know how she can get in touch with April Raine’s fabulous wedding planner.”
“Really?” Excitement rippled through her.
“Don’t ‘really’ me. This is a nightmare.”
She probably shouldn’t smile but couldn’t stifle the joy that infused her from head to toe. “Okay, I’m sorry. But what should I do? Where do I start? I mean, I’m totally unprepared—”
“For starters, get yourself a business phone. Something separate from your current cell number. Then give me the number so I can put something on our company voicemail and stem the madness here.”
Brenda’s phone rang again, and she disconnected the headset. “You answer this one.” She pushed away from her desk. “I need more coffee.”
Summer reached across to pick up the receiver and deliver the usual spiel. “Thank you for calling Rainey-Day-Wife. How can I make your burden easier today?”
“Good morning,” a clipped, heavily British voice said on the other end of the phone. “It is morning there, right? I always get the time zones screwed up.”
Easing into the chair beside the desk, Summer smiled. “Yes, it’s morning here. May I help you?”
“I certainly hope so. My name is Daphne Beech. I’m the personal assistant for Duchess DeeLight.”
Duchess DeeLight? The international pop star? No way. This was a prank. Still, professional courtesy insisted she play along until the game ended with a bunch of teenage giggles and a hang up.
“How can I help you today, Ms. Beech?”
“I’m looking for Summer Raine, the wedding planner.”
“Lucky you. You found her.”
“Answering your own phone? How... American of you.” While the tone was complimentary, the emphasis she placed on that one word got Summer’s back up. Before she could form a biting reply, the woman pressed on. “May I ask for some kind of proof you are who you say you are?”
“I might ask the same of you, Ms. Beech.”
High-pitched laughter trilled from the receiver. “You might, indeed. I suppose we’ll simply have to trust that each of us is who we say we are. But if word of our conversation leaks to the American press, I’ll hold Summer personally responsible, whether or not you’re her.”
Summer frowned. Hardly seemed fair. “Why don’t you tell me exactly why you called, and we’ll take it from there?”
“Mmm,” the woman replied. “Suspicious. I approve. I’d like to sit down with you in person to discuss a business venture. I can be in New York on Thursday if that meets with your approval. Say... two o’clock at the Palm Court in the Plaza Hotel?”
“Can we make it three instead?” She’d already inconvenienced Ken enough with today’s flight from the house. But with enough notice, she could make sure Craig was home in time to stay with the kids on Thursday.
“Three o’clock? Perfect. We’ll do their afternoon tea.”
Brenda returned with her coffee mug, hovered near the desk, curiosity brewing in her tired eyes.
Meanwhile, Summer grabbed a pen and a yellow sticky pad and scrawled down the details: Daphne Beech, asst. for Duchess DeeLight, Palm Court, 3 pm., Thursday.
Brenda’s eyes went buggy as she read along. “The Duchess DeeLight?” she mouthed to Summer.
Summer shrugged. “I’ll be there,” she said into the phone.
“Splendid. Thank you so much, Summer. I’ll make the reservations under my name. I’m looking forward to meeting you. Cheers.”
“Ummm... yeah. Cheers.” She hung up, stared at the phone as if she expected someone to pop out of the little black box and scream, “Gotcha!”
“Duchess DeeLight?” Brenda asked again as she sank into her chair behind the desk. “Seriously?”
Summer turned to face her. “I don’t know. The woman says she works for the singer, but this could be some idiot’s idea of a joke. Or a potential bride who figures she’ll drop a famous name to get me to give her priority. I honestly don’t know.”
“Or it could be legit. I mean, you did handle a celebrity wedding yesterday.”
Legit. Her brain immediately started making a mental list of pros and cons.
Pro: If this Beech woman really wanted her to plan a wedding for the hottest music sensation to come from England since the Beatles, her business would get worldwide publicity.
Con: Provided the wedding was a hit. If the bride wasn’t happy, the backlash could destroy her reputation in the field.
Pro: Money wouldn’t be an issue so there’d be no financial limit on what her imagination could dream up. The most impressive venue, designer fashions, Faberge wedding favors, nothing was out of the realm of possibility.
Con: A diva like Duchess DeeLight could be demanding and nearly impossible to please.
Pro: Rubbing elbows with rich and famous celebrities who might, in turn, require her services for themselves or a family member. That kind of fame could launch her without an expensive advertising budget.
Con: A lot less time with Craig. And Ken. And the kids.
Her enthusiasm evaporated. “I think I’d rather start out small,” she murmured.
Brenda patted her hand. “Wedding jitters. And not only are you not the bride, you don’t even have the gig yet.” A quick squeeze to Summer’s fingertips. “Get that business phone and number for now. Field some other calls. Make no decisions until you’ve really thought about what you want and where you want to take this, okay? And don’t forget your other sister just got engaged. She’s going to want your help, too.”
Of course! Lyn and Doug! Lyn had even asked for Summer’s help planning their nuptials during the reception yesterday. And she really did have some interesting ideas in mind for those two.
Well, for now, she’d take Brenda’s advice. First stop, her cellular distributor for a business account. And of course, she’d need a name for her company. She had a list of possibilities in her apartment. From the pun, Raine or Shine Bride, to the pedestrian Weddings by Summer, to the snarky tag April had given her wedding to Brad a decade ago, Summer’s Splendiforous Spousal Spectaculars.
Okay, that last one was more a joke than a serious contender. But apparently, she had no more time for jokes. Her business had just taken off. She thought about last night with Craig. In some strange quirk of fate, simultaneously, her love life had decided to revive itself.
She was seriously going to have to buckle up for this ride.
♥
WHEN CRAIG ARRIVED home that afternoon, Summer came running at top speed from the front door.
She threw herself at him, practically sucking the breath from his lungs when she collided with him. Flinging her arms around his neck, she breathed heavily into his ear. “You are not going to believe the day I had today.”
“Easy, hon,” he murmured, his posture stiff from shock and fear. “I need to break this thing between us to the kids slowly.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She stepped back, but the smile playing on her lips was far from apologetic.
“Okay. What am I missing?”
He tried to keep up. Really, he did. But the words spilled out of her at such a rapid pace, he only caught random phrases. He had to rely on his already exhausted brain to piece together the gist of her conversation. Best as he could decipher, she planned to start some kind of wedding business, and April had somehow made her services popular overnight. There was some talk in there about the pop star Duchess DeeLight, high tea at the Palm Court, a bunch of ringing telephones, and someone named Brenda. None of what she said made a lot of sense, but her excitement charged the atmosphere like an electrical storm.
“Isn’tthatthemostincrediblethingever?” she summed up.
He gave up trying to wend his way through the entire wilderness and opted to bluff for now. “Incredible. How about we go inside and talk about it in more detail?”
“Okay.” She practically skipped toward the house, and he followed behind, a tired smile quirking his lips. Whatever happened today had replaced the lovely, serious childcare provider with this delightful waif. Apparently, his Summer had as many moods as the season she was named for: sunny, breezy, stormy, balmy, hot, and now playful.
He stopped in the middle of the walkway, thought about how he’d just referred to her. His Summer. He shook his head. Weird.
Recalling that fateful day in the studio, when he’d decided to take advantage of a random phone call that might entertain his audience, he had to laugh. If Maureen—or anyone else for that matter—had predicted that six months later the innocent victim of his stunt would not only be living under his roof, but having him falling in love again, he would have ordered a battery of psychological tests.
Go figure. Maybe the old pundits were right. Sometimes, truth was stranger than fiction.
Ahead of him, the subject of his musings halted, turned, stamped a foot, then raced back to grab his hand. “Come on! Scott’s playing video games, your dad’s taken Maddie to the playground, and we’ve got fifteen minutes, tops, before Nate’s bus gets here. I have so much to tell you.”
Still?
“Summer, slow down. Please. I’ve been awake for more than thirty-three hours at this point.”
“So have I. But let’s see if I can rejuvenate you a little.” She zoomed in and planted a kiss on his mouth that left him breathless. Rejuvenated, but breathless. “Better?”
He wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer. “Not yet but getting there.”
Behind them, a car door slammed. “Gee, Craig. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Her familiar voice slinked down his spine like a rat’s tail, and he stiffened. “Chelsea.”