Amity stood beside Hope in a tea-length black satin dress that hugged her curvy figure like a glove. With her hair pulled back in a waterfall braid, she somehow managed to look elegant yet adorable.
The two women stood just outside the entrance to the room waiting for the piano to switch from the fifteen-minute set of romantic songs to the processional, Canon in D. That would signal it was time for her trip down the aisle.
After giving Pastor Dan a jaunty wave and flirty smile, Amity shifted her attention back to Hope. “What did you think of Sylvie calling your aunt and offering to make the cake?”
Hope froze. Had she and Verna even discussed the cake? “Sylvie, the Mad Batter?”
“There’s only one.”
Hope closed her eyes briefly.
“Don’t worry.” Amity placed a gloved hand on Hope’s arm. “Syl knows exactly the kind of cake you prefer. She told your aunt how you’d raved over the one she displayed at the Bridal Expo. Verna said that’s the one she should make.”
Swallowing hard, Hope offered a faint smile. “Would that be the striped one with the . . . skulls?”
Fairly quivering with excitement, Amity nodded. “It’s amazing.”
“Fabulous.” As she said the word, Hope realized it was true. What was a couple of skulls between friends? And knowing Sylvie’s baking skills, the cake would be melt-in-her-mouth delicious.
Amity searched her face as the processional music began. “Ready for this, Chickadee?”
“I love him, Am.” Hope’s heart swelled. “I can’t wait to say my vows again, in front of friends and family. I want everyone to know just how much John means to me and how committed I am to this marriage.”
Verna hurried over, her eyes shining with excitement and pride.
As Hope followed Amity down the red carpet runner with her arm linked through Verna’s, her eyes met John’s.
Every emotion was there. The love, the promise, the “’Til death us do part.” Thinking of all the adventures they would share in the future, Hope hurried down the aisle to her husband to begin the next stage of their lives together.
Cindy Kirk sold her first book in 1999 as a result of a contest win, which garnered a critique of the entire manuscript. She’s been writing—and selling—ever since. Cindy has been a Booksellers’ Best Award winner, a finalist for the National Readers’ Choice Awards, and a Publishers Weekly bestseller. Cindy has served on the board of directors of the Romance Writers of America (RWA) since 2007. In November 2014, she began serving as president of the 10,000+ member organization. She’s a frequent speaker at not only the national RWA conferences, but large regional writing conferences. She has also presented at smaller retreats and conferences across the country. She lives on an acreage in Nebraska with her high school sweetheart husband of too-many-years-to-count and their three “boys” (a shih tzu, a blue heeler, and a dorkie). Their daughter lives close by with her wonderful husband and their two little girls.
Cindy invites you to check out her website,
www.cindykirk.com.
Twitter: @CindyKirkAuth
To
Susie Warren
Beth Vogt
Alena Tauriainen
For being there . . .
The crazy January day it snowed in Rosebud, Alabama, Ginger Winters sensed a shift in her soul.
In the distance, pealing church bells clashed with the moan of the wind cutting down Main Street.
“Have you ever?” Ruby-Jane, Ginger’s receptionist, best friend, and all-around girl Friday, opened the front door, letting the warmth out and the cold in. “Snow in Rosebud. Two hours from the Florida coast and we have snow.” She breathed deep. “Glorious.” Then she frowned. “Are those the church bells?”
“For the wedding . . . this weekend.” Ginger joined Ruby-Jane by the door, folding her arms, hugging herself. “If you’re Bridgett Maynard, even the wedding bells get rehearsed.”
Ruby-Jane glanced at Ginger. “I thought they were getting married at her grandparents’ plantation.”
“They are, but at four o’clock, when the wedding starts at the Magnolia House, the bells of Applewood Church will be ringing.”
“Disturbing all of us who didn’t get an invite.” Ruby-Jane made a face. “It’s a sad thing when your friend from kindergarten turns on you in junior high and ignores you the rest of your life.”
“Look at it this way. Bridgett dropped you and you found me.” Ginger gave her a wide-eyed, isn’t-that-grand expression, tapping the appointment book tucked under RJ’s arm. “What’s up with the day’s appointments?”
“Mrs. Davenport pitched a fit but I told her we were moving appointments around since you didn’t want anyone driving in this mess. And you know Mrs. Carney wanted you to come out to the house but I told her you weren’t driving either.”
“Sweet Mrs. Carney.”
“Demanding Mrs. Carney.”
“Come on, RJ, she’s been coming to this very shop, with its various owners, since after the Second World War. She’s a beauty shop faithful.”