Prologue
HAYLEY PARRISH STOPPED in front of a booth and gazed around the crowded Versailles Ballroom of the famous Peabody Hotel where bridal industry exhibitors vied for the attention of hundreds of future brides and their mothers. Banners reading Love Is In The Air At The Memphis Bridal Fair hung from gilded mirrors and over a raised platform in front of a projector screen.
“Hayley, doesn’t the sight of these gorgeous wedding dresses make you want to nudge that man of yours into setting a date?”
She looked down into the hopeful eyes of her mother, Lola, who was fingering different weights of white satin swatches. “We’re not ready to set a date yet, Mama.”
“Once you hook a fish, it isn’t good to wait too long before you reel him in,” replied her mother. “You’re twenty-five. Time is growing short if you want to wear white. In fact...” She held the swatches next to Hayley’s face. “No, you’re still all right as long as you remember to moisturize around your eyes. Once those little lines appear, you’ll have to wear eggshell or candlelight.”
Hayley wasn’t about to get into a discussion of white and its appropriateness for her wedding dress. “I can’t get married without a groom, Mama, and Sloane’s job will keep him in El Bahar for several more months.”
Her mother dropped the swatches with a genteel sound of disgust. “How many more months?”
“I don’t know.” Hayley led her mother away from the Betty’s Bridal Barn booth. “Just remember that he’s earning a nest egg for us.”
Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure he hasn’t flown the coop?”
“Mo-ther!”
“Well, can I meet him sometime at least? I swear, Hayley, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you made him up.”
Since that was precisely what Hayley had done, she distracted her mother by pulling her over to a booth that specialized in butter mints custom dyed to match the bridal colors.
It worked.
“Oh, look!” Her mother held up a black ruffled paper cup. “Isn’t this just precious?” The white mints inside sported black bow ties.
“That was a favorite with brides who had black and white weddings, though that scheme isn’t as popular now,” the booth attendant explained.
She and Hayley’s mother pored over a catalog devoted to butter mints, thus sparing Hayley the necessity of manufacturing more details about the mythical Sloane Devereaux.
She remembered the night over a year ago when Sloane was born. She’d just returned from a date with a man who had a relative who knew someone who lived next door to the niece of a woman who played bridge with her mother. Hayley’s mother was desperate for her to meet a man and get married, and for the sake of their relationship, Hayley occasionally broke down and accepted a maternally arranged blind date. This was one of those breakdowns.
The man was named Morris. Hayley had decided not to hold that against him.
Morris was eighteen years older than she was. Hayley liked mature men.
Morris was shorter than she was. Hayley was tired of wearing high heels anyway.
Morris liked to dance. Hayley decided he had possibilities and wore her flats.
Unfortunately, it soon became apparent to Hayley that the reason Morris liked to dance was that dancing provided an opportunity for groping, no doubt the only opportunity Morris could get.
Once a slow number began, Morris planted both hands on her bottom and yanked a surprised Hayley toward him. His head rested just beneath her chin, conveniently against her breasts.
Nearly overcome with the smell from the dark “instant hair” he’d used to camouflage his bald spot, she’d endured one dreadful dance, trying to hold herself away as he’d nuzzled ever closer.
After escaping to the ladies’ room, she’d been trying to think of a tactful way to bring their evening to a close, when she’d seen herself in the mirror.
Black smudges and speckled bits of “instant hair” adorned the bodice of her new white silk blouse and the skin at her throat where Morris had rubbed his head.
Hayley had abandoned Morris, returned home and promptly invented Sloane Devereaux, named after a character in a book she’d just read.
Sloane saved her from the Morrises of the world while giving her the unexpected bonus of an improved relationship with her mother. Now that Hayley, the youngest of the three Parrish girls, was supposedly engaged, she and her mother had never been closer.
Hayley loved her mother, and she knew her mother loved her, but they were two entirely different people—in both looks and temperament. Each accepted, but didn’t quite comprehend, the other.
But the instant Hayley had intimated that she and Sloane had come to an “understanding,” it was as though she and her mother had at last reached the common ground they’d sought. Any previous differences no longer mattered, and Hayley didn’t want to jeopardize this new rapport with her mother. So if one of the consequences of faking a fiancé was blowing a Saturday at the annual Memphis Bridal Fair, then Hayley was willing to make that sacrifice.
She smiled fondly as her petite, Southern belle mother collected a business card from the butter-mint woman. Planning every detail of Hayley’s wedding was Lola’s new mission in life—one she’d obviously been looking forward to.
Hayley wasn’t too concerned about all that planning going to waste. Eventually she’d break up with Sloane, citing the strain of the long separation on their relationship, but only after she found a substitute fiancé—a real one.
“Hayley, I’ve got extra entry forms for the wedding contest.” Her mother stopped in front of a catering booth and took two samples of punch, handing Hayley one.
“I’ve already entered.” Hayley accepted the punch, but waved away the entry forms for the Sweetheart Valentine Wedding, the grand prize of the Memphis Bridal Fair.
“But only once. When I was here with your sisters, we filled out at least a hundred forms.”
That’s because my sisters wanted to win, Hayley thought, shuddering at the memory of the elaborate stage shows that had been the other Parrish weddings.
Her mother sipped from the tiny paper cup. “Hmm. The mango makes the punch too pulpy but the color is perfect for bridesmaids’ dresses,” she noted. “And at your sisters’ weddings, the bridesmaids’ dresses matched the punch.”
The implication was that it would be the same for Hayley.
Any comparison with her older sisters, Gloria and Laura Jane, who were married replicas of their mother, was a sore point with Hayley, who was a female version of her tall, brown-haired father.
She missed her father—missed the closeness and the way they understood each other. Though he’d died when she was still in school, Hayley didn’t think he’d be worried that she’d reached her mid-twenties without marrying. However, her mother took it as a parental failure on her part that Hayley was still single.
Hayley wasn’t against marriage. Far from it. She just hadn’t found the right man. And frankly, there was no hurry. She liked being engaged. Friends and relatives had stopped flinging men her way, so Hayley didn’t have to fling them back anymore.
But heaven help her if her mother ever found out what she’d done.
“Let’s fill out a few more entry forms,” Lola suggested. “They’ll be closing the box soon.”
Hayley sucked the mango pulp from between her teeth. “Isn’t entering more than once cheating?”
“Hayley, this drawing is for the wedding of your dreams.” Lola tossed their cups into a white trash receptacle adorned with a satin bow. “Remember, all is fair in love and war.”
“I expected a lot more love and a lot less war,” Hayley murmured, watching brides and their mothers crowd around the booths.
“Then you’ve never tried to book a popular caterer for a weekend in June.”
No, she hadn’t. And she wouldn’t for this June, either, no matter how much her mother might want it
“A girl’s wedding is the single most defining moment of her life,” Lola said. “Her husband’s, too. You want a serious event, Hayley—so serious that your husband has no doubt that he now is a husband.”
Serious weddings equaled serious expenses, Hayley thought. When the time for her wedding actually arrived, she was going to have to convince her mother to scale down. She was not going through the same circus her sisters had. They’d reveled in the attention. Though the details of their weddings had been discussed incessantly for months, Hayley still didn’t understand why it was necessary to collect twenty-seven shades of blue from which to choose dresses, ribbons, napkins and matchbook covers.
“Write, Hayley.” Her mother curled Hayley’s fingers around a gold pencil with Hiram’s Catering embossed on it, and positioned it over an entry form.
To please her mother, Hayley started writing.
At that moment, an announcement interrupted the sappy ballads that had been playing all afternoon. “Ladies, if you will make your way to the podium, we’re ready to have the drawing for the winner of the Memphis Bridal Fair Sweetheart Valentine Wedding!”
“And you’ve only entered once, Hayley,” Lola fretted.
“Mama, it’s okay.”
Hayley and her mother swam into a pastel tidal wave that lapped at the edge of the platform. A tuxedo-clad disc jockey launched into an innocuous patter as two models emptied the box of entry forms into a dear, plastic ball.
“Give it a good spin there, girls,” he directed, then turned to a smiling couple at his side. “Let me introduce our guests of honor, Mr. and Mrs. James Martinez, winners of last year’s Valentine’s wedding.”
The couple beamed at the swell of enthusiastic applause.
“So how’s married life?” The DJ thrust a microphone at Mr. Martinez.
“Fine.”
Mrs. Martinez elbowed him.
“Wonderful. It’s wonderful. I’m real happy.”
Mrs. Martinez smiled.
“You two were actually married last month on Valentine’s Day, right?”
They nodded.
The DJ faced the matrimonial hopefuls. “As you know, there are lots of extra goodies in store if you can wait until Valentine’s Day to get married.”
Giggles rippled through the crowd.
“Now, our cameras captured some of those special moments leading up to the Martinezes’ big day.”
On cue, the lights dimmed and the slide show began.
“To celebrate their engagement, our couple dined at the exclusive Justine’s restaurant...”
Oohs and aahs sounded as a slide of Mr. and Mrs. Martinez being served champagne flashed on the screen.
The next slide showed a stiffly posed Mr. Martinez slipping an engagement ring onto his fiancée’s finger. “And to seal the engagement, you might use your thirty-percent-off coupon to select a ring from Robertson’s Fine Jewelry.”
“With the markup on diamonds, you’d think Robertsons’s could have offered fifty percent off,” Lola said, then patted Hayley’s arm. “But that will be Sloane’s problem.” Her mother’s gaze briefly dipped to Hayley’s naked left hand.
Hayley had no intention of buying a fake ring. Her mother could spot a cubic zirconia at twenty paces.
“Gift certificates from Mamie’s Gifts and Slocum’s Jewels will come in handy when you choose mementos for the wedding party.”
A slide showing gold cuff links and silver bangles was next.
Her mother sighed. “Couldn’t you just die?”
Hayley did feel dazzled as slide after slide illustrated the couple selecting furniture and household appliances, china, silver and crystal, or modeling outfits from his-and-hers trousseaux. She’d forgotten that there were serious perks associated with getting married.
But even her sisters hadn’t gotten the loot the Martinezes had.
“If you won, you’d be set for life,” Lola whispered.
She wasn’t the only one whispering, but everyone was awed into silence when the pictures of Mrs. Martinez’s bridesmaids flashed onto the screen.
In keeping with the Valentine’s Day theme, the bridesmaids wore long red velvet dresses and carried roses.
“Those nosegays alone must have cost a hundred and fifty dollars a piece,” Hayley’s mother murmured.
“There’s enough velvet in those dresses to upholster a sofa,” Hayley said.
The crowd gasped and broke into spontaneous applause when the slide of Mrs. Martinez in her wedding dress appeared.
“There isn’t a square inch of her that isn’t beaded or crystaled,” Hayley’s mother unnecessarily pointed out. “She wasn’t about to be upstaged. Remember that, Hayley.” Approval sounded in Lola’s voice.
“Don’t you think the dress is...excessive?” The elaborate dress was for someone who enjoyed being the center of attention. Someone completely unlike Hayley. “Add some feathers on her headpiece and she’d look right at home in Las Vegas.”
“Hush,” Lola scolded. “You don’t have to choose the exact same dress. The idea is to wear a dress equal to the scope of the wedding.”
Hayley detected future clashes with her mother on this scope thing. “Okay, but I’m not wearing a dress that makes me look like a sequined marshmallow, and I don’t want my bridesmaids looking like sofas in a Victorian bordello.” She might as well make a stand now.
“Of course not, sweetie,” her mother said placidly. That was too easy. Hayley wondered just exactly what sort of bridal regalia her mother had in mind for her. Not that it mattered, since any wedding discussion was academic at this point.
Hayley found herself wishing that she and her mother were really planning her wedding. The crowd was full of nervous anticipation as mothers and daughters clutched each other and crossed their fingers, and Hayley would have liked to share the feeling with her mother, as her sisters had done.
Instead, her feet hurt and she wanted to go home.
Pictures of the reception flashed on the screen.
Lola smiled at her and crossed her fingers.
“...fabulous reception aboard the Mississippi Princess paddle-wheel steamer, where you and your guests will sail down the river to historic Vicksburg, Mississippi!”
Squealing. Clapping. Little hops up and down.
“From there, you and your groom will continue on to New Orleans, and then you’re off on a honeymoon cruise to Puerto Rico!”
Screams. Wild applause.
“A cruise! Oh, Hayley, cruises are so romantic!” Her mother was clapping with the best of them. “It would be the perfect honeymoon for you and Sloane.”
A cruise in February sounded mighty fine to Hayley. In fact a honeymoon anywhere they served drinks with little umbrellas would do. She was beginning to have a serious attack of self-pity.
“And now, may I have a drumroll, please?”
The drummers in three of the bands demonstrating their music obliged.
The models twirled the plastic ball one more time. The DJ opened the door.
Mrs. Martinez reached in past her shoulder and pulled out a slip of paper.
Nervous giggles sounded as the DJ milked the moment. One of the drummers dropped out.
“And the winner of the ultimate, the fantastic, the unbelievable Sweetheart Valentine Wedding of her dreams is...Miss Hayley Parrish!”
How odd, Hayley thought, there must be another Hayley Parrish at the bridal fair.
Her mother screamed in her ear and burst into tears. One of the bands began playing a disco version of the wedding march, while another played “We’ve Only Just Begun.” Inexplicably, the third launched into “Raindrops Keep Falling on My. Head.”
“Hayley, c’moooon down!”
With stunned astonishment, Hayley realized she’d won. With her mother pushing, she made her way to the platform and up the steps to the sound of polite, though restrained applause. Her ears were still ringing and she had trouble hearing. Then she was nearly blinded by a spotlight.
“So, Hayley, congratulations! Is your fiancé here with you?” The DJ shoved the microphone in her face.
“No,” Hayley answered, mesmerized by the sea of envious brides pouting before her.
“Have you set a wedding date yet?”
“No.”
The DJ leaned close in pseudoconfidentiality. “Do you think you can talk him into having the wedding next Valentine’s Day and collecting those extra goodies?”
Hayley smiled weakly. “Waiting won’t be a problem.”
No, she had a much bigger problem. Standing by the edge of the platform, Lola looked as though she’d seen the gates of paradise. Tears glistened on her cheeks.
And at that moment, Hayley knew she was going to devote the next eleven months of her life to finding a man to marry on Valentine’s Day.