How to Make a Wedding: Twelve Love Stories

“I’m surprised you’re not giving me grief over my past of taunting your family.” Blunt, but he needed to have an in to apologize.

“I know your mom from Havenbrook Garden Club. My fiancé, Pete, is the attorney handling your father’s will, medical directives, and business matters. I help in the office since my counseling job is part-time. You’re the new CEO of your dad’s company—McGrath Construction, right?”

“Oh, so you’re Pete’s fiancée. Good man. Yes. Dad’s failing cognitive function affected his ability to make sound business decisions. Mom asked me to take over so the company doesn’t lose forty years’ worth of good reputation, equity, and customers. Thankfully, my Chicago home and contracting firm sold quickly.” That money left him a nice nest egg and enabled the clean break to move south. He’d needed a new start anyway, after his broken engagement.

Flora nodded. “Your mom told me it means the world to her that you came home to take care of things, despite your parents not taking the best care of you growing up. She seems very sorry and says she and your dad are desperate to have the relationship with you they’d neglected before.”

“I’ve forgiven them. To their credit, I didn’t keep in close contact once deployed overseas in the military after school. Speaking of, I hope you know I’m sorry for every terrible thing I did.”

“I do. I also know your mom recently made you the medical POA for your dad. Sorry to hear about his tumor. You have enough grief to contend with right now.” She smiled compassionately. “Plus, people change for the better. Pete’s business dealings with you so far make me believe you have, even though Meadow may not.”

That didn’t sound promising.

Colin helped Flora across Meadow’s icy yard, then scanned the roof. “Your sister’s not gonna be happy to see me again, but I need to make sure she’s not putting herself in danger going back in there.”

“Yeah, well, she can be stubborn like that.”

As predicted, Meadow’s face swelled like an angry puffer fish at the sight of him at her door.

“Now, now . . . cool your jets, sis. He’s an expert concerned about your safety. Besides, you know all other local contractors are either bad or, with other roof cave-ins I’ve heard about today, probably booked solid.”

Meadow’s countenance visibly crushed under being subjugated by circumstance into taking Colin’s help.

Thumbs hooked in his pockets, he waited for the go-ahead. She finally nodded but did so like someone eating sawdust.

Once inside, it didn’t take Colin long to survey the damage.

Meadow’s petrified look from the hallway twisted his insides as he descended the ladder he’d brought in from her shed. He tried not to grimace as he considered how to put this to her gently.

“What’s the verdict?” Flora’s voice quavered.

He steered his gaze toward Meadow. “You live and work here?”

“Yes. My home and business are one in the same. How extensive is the damage?” Meadow’s hands wrung like nervous dishrags.

“For sure, it’s not safe for you to stay here while repairs are made. The entire roof is unstable with all that snow and ice, and I can’t promise there won’t be more damage before morning. It’s starting to get dark. I can cover the hole with a tarp and reassess come daylight, but suffice it to say that kitchen’s not going to be usable for a while.”

Color drained from the sisters’ faces. They held one another up.

“How long’s a while?” Meadow’s pallor elicited his empathy.

Colin aimed for delicacy of tone. “I estimate a month.”

Flora wobbled. “No! My wedding’s in three weeks! This is catastrophic.”

Meadow rubbed Flora’s arms. “Sis, I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.” She faced Colin. “Thanks. I’ll take care of the tarp. You may go now.”

He wasn’t going anywhere. “Past aside, you’re obviously in a fix, and I’m a fixer. My strength is renovation of structures damaged by disaster. My schedule’s open. Consider letting me help you for all the trouble I caused you in high school.”

Flora waved her phone. “I need to step outside and call Pete while you chat.”

Meadow winced. “What’s this going to cost me?”

Her question stung for the simple fact he sensed she meant cost in emotional trauma, not cash. He wanted to say it would cost nothing but knew Meadow wouldn’t buy it. “We’ll hammer details out later.” He wasn’t worried about money.

Her eyes narrowed, alerting him that she didn’t trust him as far as she could toss him. An idea struck.

“I saw Meals on Wheels stickers on your catering SUV. I know of some shut-in vets in this area. Maybe after the repair, you could spare them a few meals a month for my services.”

“I’d love to help veterans, but you’d be underpaid.”

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