“Tara. I’ve looked over all your reports. I appreciate your efforts to keep me informed.” Regina’s precise tones didn’t offer the slightest hint of whether she’d actually liked what she’d read or not.
In her room at the Captain’s Cottage, Tara nodded, caught herself, and added a hasty, “Yes, ma’am.” She’d done all that she’d been asked and more, transferring her notes on each day’s events into a full account before she turned in for the night. First thing the next morning, she’d emailed a summary to Regina while she sipped her first cup of coffee in the dining room.
“I’m disappointed with the rosy picture you’ve painted of Heart’s Landing. The weddings you’ve attended, there haven’t been any mistakes? No problems?” Regina’s voice turned hopeful.
“No wedding goes off without some kind of hitch,” Tara conceded. Rain had nearly spoiled an outdoor wedding earlier in the week, but the staff at the Captain’s Cottage had been quick to react. The tent they’d erected moments before the ceremony had kept the wedding party and guests perfectly dry. When the father of the bride raised a water goblet instead of a wine glass for the traditional first toast at another wedding, Alicia had deftly exchanged stemware before the second round of well-wishes. Mildred Morey had plucked a wilted Bird of Paradise from the bridal bouquet and replaced it with a fresh one just before the Garrison bride had walked down the aisle.
Tara glanced at the bouquet she’d caught. She drew in a breath of floral-scented air for strength. “The only problems I’m aware of have been so minor or so quickly corrected, dwelling on them would make us look petty and biased.”
“Well,” Regina huffed. “I guess the town cleaned up its act after they botched my wedding. I warned you it wouldn’t be easy to pull Heart’s Landing off its pedestal. That’s why I told you to focus on Captain Thaddeus. If you’re calling, that means you must’ve found something to discredit him. What is it?”
She could practically see Regina leaning into the phone, twirling her eyeglasses in anticipation of some juicy tidbit. She gulped. “Nothing. Everything I’ve learned about Thaddeus Heart indicates that he was what the legend says—a man with an unconditional love for his wife.”
“There has to be something. Piracy. Smuggling. Mistreatment of the passengers or crew.”
Shocked by the implication, Tara sucked in a breath. “No,” she said firmly. “None of that. I’ve gone over the cargo manifests and the bills of lading with a fine-toothed comb. He was as upright and moral as they come.”
“You can’t expect me to believe that all the rumors floating around about him are false.” Regina’s shrill, nasal tone raised the hairs on the back of Tara’s neck. “If you haven’t found anything negative about Captain Thaddeus, you haven’t tried hard enough, dug deep enough.”
To say the woman was less than happy with the results of her research was a vast understatement. Nevertheless, Tara refused to smear a good man’s name without proof. “I’ve read every one of the captain’s journals and the Mary Shelby’s log books twice. Some of them, three times. Without exception, he professes a steadfast love for his wife.”
“The storm, then. What about that? He couldn’t have sailed through a hurricane to make port for her birthday.”
“It looks like he did. According to the weather reports, the year everyone says Captain Thaddeus braved a hurricane, one roared up the East Coast in October.” She read the passage she’d copied from the last log book. “I know it doesn’t sound like much of a blow. I suppose we could accuse people of embellishing the story.”
“There’s more to it than that, Tara. I feel it in my gut. You need to keep digging.”
“I’ve just about run out of options.”
“This isn’t the kind of defeatist attitude I expected to hear from you.”
Regina’s voice was so taut, Tara could practically hear the editor’s teeth grind together.
“I know. I’m sorry. But if there’s validity to the rumors about Captain Thaddeus, the proof is not in his journals or in the ship’s logs.”
“Well. I guess that’s it, then.”
Tara held her breath while Regina drummed her nails against her desk. She braced herself when the drumming stopped.
“Finish out the week there as planned. I’ll expect your report on my desk first thing Monday morning. Two pages, max.” Regina paused for effect. “Payroll will have your final check ready the day we announce this year’s winner.”
“You’re firing me?” Tara gulped. Her worst fears had come true.
“We had a deal, you and I. You were supposed to give me the proof necessary to knock Heart’s Landing out of the running for America’s Top Wedding Destination. In return, I’d hand you that promotion you’ve been after. I warned there’d be consequences if you failed.”
“Wait—wait a second.” Tara swung a searching glance through her room. Her desperate gaze landed on the thin volumes on her desk. The answer to her dilemma might be sitting in her very room, and she hadn’t even had time to thumb through them. “There’s one more avenue I haven’t explored. I stumbled across Mary Heart’s diaries in the attic this morning. They could contain the proof we’re looking for.”
“For your sake, I hope so, Tara.”
“I—” she started, intending to reassure her boss, but she was speaking to dead air. Regina, having said her piece, had ended the call.
Tara drew in a thready breath. Fired. Regina actually planned to let her go. She’d expected it might come to that when she’d taken this assignment. But anticipating an event and actually experiencing it were two entirely different things. Tears she was powerless to stop rolled down her cheeks.
What was she going to do if Regina followed through with her threat? With her savings nearly depleted, she might be able to hang on to her apartment for another month, two tops. She could land a job as a barista or a waitress while she looked for a position with another magazine, but what was the point? No one in the industry would hire her, not after she’d been fired by Weddings Today.
She might as well admit defeat and get it over with. Her dream of becoming a world-famous journalist had crashed and burned on Rhode Island’s rocky shores. As soon as she returned to the city, she’d pack up her belongings, rent a car, and head south. Back to Savannah. Back to her childhood bed in her parents’ house. Back to a job in her parents’ restaurant. Sadly, she shook her head. They’d be so disappointed.
And where would that leave things with Jason? New York had merely been a four-hour drive from Heart’s Landing, but Savannah was a thousand miles away. She couldn’t ask him to give them a chance if she moved back home. For a man who’d already been hurt by one long-distance relationship, the risk of more heartache was simply too great.
Her cell phone chirped a reminder of tonight’s dinner with the town’s dignitaries. She was supposed to meet Jason downstairs in less than half an hour. She didn’t feel much like going, but that was beside the point, wasn’t it? She’d agreed to evaluate Heart’s Landing for Weddings Today. As long as she still worked for the magazine, she’d keep her word. Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she spun toward the closet. As she did, her gaze landed once more on the stack of Mary Heart’s diaries lying on the desk where Jason had left them. She clutched her fingers into a two-handed fist and pressed it against the underside of her chin.
According to Jason, every child in Heart’s Landing could recite the story of Captain Thaddeus, but how many knew Mary’s side of things? Had she shared the same deep, abiding commitment to her marriage? Had the captain’s wife actually lashed herself to the railing while she’d watched for her husband’s ship?
There was only one way to find out.
She’d have to read all of the diaries from cover to cover. But her time in Heart’s Landing was rapidly coming to a close, and she didn’t have a minute to waste. She traced the initials engraved in the leather cover on the top of the stack. Tonight, as soon as she returned from dinner, she’d get started. She crossed her fingers. Her only hope of salvaging her career, her dreams, lay in disproving the “love for the ages” that had formed the foundation of Heart’s Landing.
“Jason, can we talk?” Evelyn whispered from the doorway.
Laughter tugged at Jason’s lips. He looked up from the calendar of upcoming weddings that would be held at the Captain’s Cottage. “I don’t know. Can we? Or does the cat have your tongue?”
Across the room, his cousin’s fingers spanned her neck. “Laryngitis,” she croaked, her voice barely a whisper.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Even as he said the words, Jason’s grin collapsed. He glanced at the calendar. The Smith wedding, one of the largest events of the season, would take place that night. Already, the Cottage hummed with activity as caterers, decorators, and florists prepped the ballroom. The couple had gone all in on their nautical theme, from engraved invitations that featured the image of a swashbuckling sailor right down to a ship-shaped head table. And the highlight of the evening was an appearance by none other than Captain Thaddeus and his wife, who’d entertain the bride and groom’s three-hundred-plus guests with sea shanties and love ballads. Something that couldn’t happen if “Mary” squeaked like a mouse every time she opened her mouth.
Evelyn gave her head a vigorous shake. Crossing to his desk, she sank into one of the guest chairs. “I wish,” she hissed.
“Have you gargled? Taken something for it? Tea and honey? Throat lozenges?” He leaned forward to catch Evelyn’s whispers.
“Doc says there’s a virus going around. I’m not supposed to talk for three days. I could do permanent damage to my vocal chords.”
That was that, then. He’d have to find someone to take Evelyn’s place. He reached for his cell phone.
“Clarissa?” Evelyn whispered.
Jason made a face. “No.” His ex-girlfriend hadn’t just backed out at the last minute. She’d reneged on all their practice sessions. He doubted she knew the melodies, much less the words to the songs. “I’ll call Lydia Thomas.” The mayor’s daughter had filled in for Evelyn once before.
But his cousin shook her head. “She has the same thing. Caught it from her dad.”
Jason groaned. Lydia had been his last hope. His thoughts shifting, he considered alternatives. Performing solo wasn’t ideal, but he could usually do it in a pinch. In this case, though, that wasn’t an option. The couple had specifically requested a ballad at the end of the performance. The love song had been written as a duet. He couldn’t handle it on his own.
His heart sank.
On the other side of his desk, his cousin tried and failed to speak. Her lips pressed tightly together, she snagged a pad and a pen. After scribbling something on the paper, she held it up for him to see.
Ask Tara.
His heart hauled his thoughts back to the night he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor. He swallowed dryly. “You think she’d do it?”
Evelyn’s head bobbed. She wrote another note.
She knows the music, the songs.
Jason closed his eyes. With his hands tented, he tapped his forefingers to his lips. The day Tara had joined Evelyn in the music conservatory, he’d been so intrigued by her voice that he’d lingered in the hallway far longer than anyone had suspected. He had no doubt that with just a little more practice, Tara could handle the music. After all, she sang in her church choir each week. The Captain’s songs weren’t nearly as challenging as some hymns. His pulse rate steadied. He couldn’t wait for her to experience the joy their performance brought to the bride and groom, their families and friends.
“Okay.” He opened his eyes. “I’ll ask her. You’ll accompany us on the piano?” Thank goodness laryngitis hadn’t affected Evelyn’s fingers. If it had, they’d really be in trouble.
When his cousin nodded, he rose. After dinner last night, Tara had told him she needed to spend the morning working in her room. He’d head there. “I’d better talk to her right away.”
He knocked on her door a few minutes later. Tara opened it looking adorable in sweat pants and a loose T-shirt, her hair piled in a messy top knot.
“Hey.” Warmth bloomed in his chest and spread through his midsection. “Busy?”
She brushed a wayward hank of hair from her face. “Yeah, but I could use a break. What’s up?”
“I need to ask a favor. It’s a pretty big one,” he warned.
“As much as you’ve done for me these last few days, I’d have to be an ogre to turn you down.” A soft smile broke across her face. “Whatever it is, if I can, I’d be happy to help out.”
“Evelyn and I were scheduled to appear as Captain Thaddeus and Mary at a wedding tonight, but she’s developed laryngitis. The woman who fills in for her is sick, too. I’d really appreciate it if you could take her place.”
“Me?” Tara’s blue eyes widened. “You’re sure you can’t find anyone else?”
“Positive.” Her hesitation took him by surprise. He was pretty sure he’d stated his case clearly. “I’d hate to disappoint them if we had to cancel. You know how much Heart’s Landing prides itself on delivering the perfect wedding for every bride.”
Tara stroked the soft skin under her chin, a motion he’d noticed her make whenever she felt stressed. “As long as there won’t be too many people there, I guess I could handle it.”
His weight shifted from one foot to another. He wished he could offer her the reassurance she wanted, but the truth was, tonight’s wedding was a big one. “Well, we’ve handled much larger weddings at the Captain’s Cottage, but this one isn’t as small as some of the others you’ve attended this week,” he hedged.
Tara’s sharp understanding quickly put the pieces together. “Tell me this isn’t for the Smith wedding. Doesn’t that have, like, a huge guest list?”
“It’ll be fun. You’ll see. I’ll be there, right beside you, every step of the way. So will Evelyn. She might not be able to talk or sing, but she can still play the piano.”
“I don’t know. I…” Tara’s complexion paled.
Afraid she was about to turn him down, he rushed ahead. “Tell you what. Let’s meet downstairs in an hour. I need the practice anyway, so why don’t you run through the songs with me? Meanwhile, Evelyn will continue looking for someone else to play the part.” If all else failed, he’d skip the love song, handle the vocals by himself, and refund his fee. The solution was far from ideal, but he’d make it work if he had to.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to practice.” She wrung her hands together.
“Great! Meet you in the conservatory in one hour. You’ll be awesome. You’ll see.” Shoving every ounce of confidence he had—and some he didn’t possess—into the statement, he turned smartly on one heel and left her standing in the doorway, afraid that if he pressed her any more, she’d turn him down flat.