He pulled back, eyeing me with a serious expression. I’d never told him about that kiss Jude and I shared a long time ago, but sometimes I wondered if he didn’t suspect something. He’d never much cared for Jude. “What do you mean by that? What people?” he said, those blue eyes of his searching mine.
My cheeks burned hot under his scrutiny. Not that I had anything to feel guilty about. Nothing had happened between Jude and me, nothing at all. I tried to shrug it off. “I’m just anxious to set the date, that’s all.” I looked away, stammering a bit with my words. Should I tell him what happened today? No, what good would that do? Besides, it was nothing. “I just thought if we could narrow it down to a certain month . . . maybe June,” I asked hopefully.
He sighed. “Spring just won’t work for me.” I lowered my eyes and nodded, ready to agree to Christmas, when he came back with, “How about September? I think I can swing some time off then.”
My head snapped up. “September?” Suddenly visions popped to mind of saying “I do” under the sweeping branches of a Live Oak tree, its shimmering leaves surrounding us with a magical sheen. My simple white sheath dress with a delicate lace that formed cap sleeves, a little satin ribbon for trim, the one I’d sighed over just this week at the expo, would stand out against the backdrop of nature’s fall palette of crimson reds, deep oranges, and golden yellows. I’d carry a simple bouquet of lily of the valley tied with gold double-faced ribbon . . .
“Lila?” Sean was waiting for my answer.
“September’s perfect.”
He reached out and pulled me close again. “Well, now that it’s settled, we can get back to more important things,” he whispered against my lips.
I agreed. And for one blissful evening, I pushed aside thoughts about murder and my troubles with Trey and Mama and simply enjoyed being in the arms of the man I loved.
Chapter 15
The streets were clear enough that I was able to take the Vespa into the office first thing Friday morning. I’d planned, however, to make a midmorning trade with Trey. He was due at Machiavelli’s around ten for some early kitchen prep work, at which time I’d meet him and exchange keys. I’d promised to fill his car’s tank, if he’d loan it to me for my trip into Dunston. I’d then swing by and pick up Lynn at the Magnolia Bed and Breakfast around ten fifteen, which should leave plenty of time to make it to Dunston for the eleven o’clock service.
Before heading up to work, I popped into Espresso Yourself to tell Makayla the good news about our wedding date. She was just finishing up with a customer. As soon as she saw me, her mouth curved into a wide smile. “You’re looking like the cat that swallowed the canary. What gives, girl?” Her musical laughter filled the room.
“Got any plans for September?” I asked.
Her brows furrowed. “September? I don’t think so . . .” She squealed. “Y’all have set the date! Well, it’s about time. Didn’t think you’d ever pin that man down!”
I giggled. “We compromised. He wanted Christmastime and I wanted spring, so we settled on September.”
She turned and started mixing my usual. “This calls for a celebration,” she said, her words muffled by the whir of the espresso machine. “One caramel latte coming up. My treat.”
I thanked her. “I’ll need the extra caffeine jolt. I have a busy morning.” I told her about plans to take Lynn to Chuck’s funeral. Then I glanced around the café and commented, “Looks like you got things back in order.”
Her gaze traveled around the room and she nodded. “Thankfully there wasn’t anything permanently damaged. Mostly just a mess to clean up. I was able to get most of the lost supplies restocked yesterday afternoon.”
My eyes were drawn to her still-barren walls. “Were you able to get hold of all the photographers yet?”
“Yes, and they’ve been wonderful. They not only offered to replace the damaged photos, but the frames, too. Most of them promised to bring them by today.”
I remembered that Rufus hadn’t heard from her yet. “What about Rufus? Were you able to reach him? He’s been at the expo all week.”
“Rufus? That name sounds familiar.”
“Rufus Manning. The photo of the couple holding hands. The one I really liked, remember?”
She reached under her counter, retrieving the stack of photos Trey and I had removed from the broken frames, and began laying them on top of her counter. “I do remember that photo,” she said. “I called everyone who had a picture in this stack, but . . .” She’d reached the bottom of the stack without finding Rufus’s photo. “That’s strange.” She looked up at me. “Did you throw away that print?”
“I didn’t. Maybe Trey did, though.”
“Maybe so. It must have been severely damaged. Glad you brought it up. I’ll give Rufus a call this morning.”
The bells above the door jingled and another customer walked in, so I thanked her again for the coffee and headed off to work.