Long Time Coming

Her smile widened. “Yes, I’m sure,” she said as she took small, measured steps and she left the kitchen.

Micah sat opposite Tessa, thoroughly enjoying his meal and his dining partner. The grilled steaks were the perfect complement to the oven-baked seasoned potato wedges and accompanying salad. As soon as he drained his second glass of Merlot he felt more relaxed than he had in a very long time.

“Thank you for dinner. You’re a very good cook.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

Her cooking skills were adequate; but it was her first cousin Faith Whitfield who, as a professional chef, had become a renowned cake designer. Tessa, Faith and her floral-designer sister Simone completed the threesome that made up Signature Bridals.

The sheet of paper with his scribbled notes lay next to Micah’s plate. He moved a candle closer, glancing at the first notation. “Bridget and Seth want an interfaith service. My sister is Catholic and her fiancé is Jewish.” He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Will that pose a problem for you?”

Tessa shook her head. “No.” And it wouldn’t because she’d coordinated countless interfaith marriages. “Have they selected a priest and a rabbi?”

“Seth’s cousin is a rabbi, and Bridget has requested her local parish priest be present, along with a coworker who is also an ordained minister.”

Tessa laughed. “It looks as if they’ve covered all of the bases.”

He glanced at the paper again. “She’d like you to take care of everything with the exception of food. Mom has a friend who’s a caterer.”

“What about a cake?”

Micah studied his notes, attempting to decipher what he’d written. Tessa was right. His handwriting did look like hieroglyphs. “She didn’t say anything about a cake.”

“We’ll take care of the cake,” Tessa told him. “How many attendants do they plan to have?”

“They’ve planned on a maid of honor and a best man.”

She mentally filed away this information. “How about a ring bearer or flower girl?”

Micah shook his head. “No.”

“Do they plan on having music?”

He smiled. “What would New Year’s Eve be without music?”

Lowering her gaze, Tessa smiled. “You’re right about that. How many guests do they expect to invite?”

“The last count was eighty.”

“I’ll plan for one hundred just in case they want to add a few more names,” she said in a quiet voice. “Signature Bridals will assume responsibility for mailing the invitations and securing the services of a photographer, a florist and a reputable band. Does she have a dress?”

Micah shook his head again. “I don’t believe she has because I recall her telling Mom that she had to go look for a dress.”

“I have dresses.”

“You have dresses here?” he asked.

Tessa smiled. “Yes. I have at least twenty dresses on hand at any given time. However, it is imperative that I meet with Bridget as soon as she’s off jury duty to set up a realistic wedding budget and timeline.”

Tracing the rim of his wineglass with his finger, Micah fixed his gaze on the delicate glass. “Money’s not an issue. My parents are prepared to pay for whatever Bridget wants.”

Tessa wondered if Bridget Sanborn’s impulsiveness came from her being spoiled and/or pampered. “Time is more important than the money. Your sister has less than twelve weeks in which to plan a formal wedding. Do you have any idea when she’ll be available?”

Lifting a broad shoulder under his white shirt, Micah said, “The judge has just sequestered the jury, so hopefully they’ll reach a quick decision.”

Propping her elbow on the table, Tessa rested her chin on the heel of her hand and stared directly at Micah. She had to admit that the diffuse light flattered the sharp angles in the face of the man sitting opposite her. He was well-spoken and urbane—two traits she’d found missing in some of the men she’d come in contact with. Either they were one or the other.

“There’s not much I can do until I meet with her. There are too many questions and details to go over that only she’ll know. But there is something I could check out now.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to see the wedding site.”

“How soon do you need to see it?”

“Like yesterday.” There was a hint of laughter in Tessa’s voice.

A small smile played at the corners of Micah’s firm mouth. “That can be arranged.” He stood up and reached for the jacket he’d left on the stool. Retrieving his cell phone, he scrolled through the directory. Within seconds he heard Rosalind Sanborn’s dulcet greeting.

“Mom, I’m here with the wedding consultant.” It took less than three minutes for Micah to give his mother an update on what Tessa needed for Bridget’s wedding, Rosalind promising to help when and wherever she could. There was no mistaking the excitement in her voice.

Covering the mouthpiece with his thumb, he met Tessa’s questioning look across the table. “Are you available to come to New Jersey with me on Sunday?” She nodded. He removed his thumb. “Yes. We’ll see you Sunday.” Ending the call, he placed the tiny phone in his shirt pocket.

Tessa expelled an inaudible sigh. She’d just scaled one hurdle in the Sanborn-Cohen nuptials. She didn’t have to scramble to look for a place in which to hold the reception for eighty.

“What time is your mother expecting us?”

“My mother is always up early, so maybe we’ll get there in time to share brunch with her and my father. And if Bridget is finished with jury duty, she’ll also be there.”

Tessa spent the next hour outlining minute details of a formal wedding, from invitations, prewedding parties, hair and makeup to ceremony, reception flowers, photographs of the ceremony, reception and music. Some of the candles on the table were sputtering when she finished.

She pushed to her feet and Micah stood up with her. “I need to clean up the kitchen.”

Micah caught her wrist as she picked up a plate. “Sit. I’ll clean up.”

“No.”

He tightened his hold, registering the fragile bones under his loose grip. “You cooked, so I’ll clean.”

She shook her head. “No, Micah.”

Not releasing her hand, he rounded the table. “Yes.” He hadn’t raised his voice, but the single word was pregnant with authority.

“Must I remind you that you’re in my home?”

Attractive lines fanned out around his eyes when he smiled. He let go of her hand. “There’s no way I’d ever mistake your place for mine. I live in a studio apartment above a garage that’s about the size of your kitchen and pantry. The bathroom is no larger than a closet. It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic, because there’s only enough room for a convertible sofa, a table and a chair.”

Tessa’s naturally arching eyebrows lifted as she smiled. “A single chair?”