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“Yes, you are.” He hugged her to his side, kissed the top of her head. “But let’s head over to the bank, and get this over with so we can plan our future.”
They drove a few blocks north to the bank. The sign Bank of Marietta was already gone, and a new historical plaque had been added to the wall, next to the great front doors.
Atticus held a door open for her, and she entered the lobby, and then froze.
It wasn’t a bank anymore. It was a restaurant with gorgeous sapphire velvet booths and modern artwork on the walls, the artwork’s bright pops of color a vivid contrast to all the white marble.
“You’ve already bought it,” she said, looking around the soaring space that was so beautifully remodeled.
“I did.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want to put pressure on you. I wanted you to make the decisions that were best for you.”
“What if I wanted to live in Irvine or Houston?”
“Then I’d manage this from afar, just like my other restaurants.” He drew her into his arms, holding her securely. “I want to be where you are. The where doesn’t matter.”
“I agree.” She rose to kiss him. “So, let’s get married.”
“I think that’s a fantastic idea.” He kissed her back before shouting into the restaurant. “She said yes.”
People poured from the back of the restaurant, familiar faces from Marietta, but also faces from other places… Atticus’s parents from Houston, his grandparents and brother from Galveston, Lesley from Queensland, and then there was her father, from California.
Rachel’s heart turned over as everyone appeared with glasses of champagne, and a waiter approached with two flutes on a tray.
Atticus handed her a flute, and took the other one for himself.
He faced her and raised his champagne in a toast. “To my future bride, I love you so very much, and I can’t wait to make you mine.” He glanced at his watch. “Which won’t be long as the ceremony begins in less than an hour.”
Everyone cheered and drank champagne before Taylor and Sadie stole Rachel away to help her dress for the wedding.
In the end, it was the most magical wedding Rachel could have ever imagined. Atticus had done all the planning, and there were flowers, and tuxedos, flower girls and a ring bearer, and then there was her dress, an elegant white satin dress with delicate cap sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and a full satin and tulle skirt that made Rachel feel like a princess.
“That was your mother’s dress,” her father told her, just before he walked her down the red carpet that had been rolled across the marble floor to where Atticus stood with the reverend, waiting for her.
So, she was married in her mother’s hometown, wearing her mother’s dress, in front of all the people she cared most about.
It was the most perfect wedding, in the most perfect place.
And when the reverend pronounced them husband and wife, Rachel felt so much love, and peace.
She didn’t know what the future would bring, but as Lesley had said on Christmas morning, life was short, there were no guarantees, and so Rachel was going to seize happiness, and not let it go.
The End
Love on Chance Avenue Series
Book 1: Take Me, Cowboy
Winner of the RITA® Award for Best Romance Novella
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Book 2: Miracle on Chance Avenue
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Book 3: Take a Chance on Me
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Book 4: Not Christmas Without You
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Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from Jane Porter’s charming holiday romance
Not Christmas Without You
Jane Porter
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It wasn’t the worst breakup in history.
Charity Wright knew that on the spectrum of heartbreaks, hers was mild. It was the sort of thing that someone might say “I have a touch of the flu,” except hers was a touch of heartbreak. Not so devastating that the holidays would be completely ruined but dispiriting, for sure. She secretly suspected that she might be getting too old to believe that happy-ever-afters could exist. And yet, she wasn’t a good pessimist. She preferred to see the glass as half-full, but on the inside she was increasingly worried. Was something wrong with her?
Why couldn’t she meet “the one”? Or, had she met the one—her thoughts immediately went to her first love, Joe Wyatt, before shying away—and she’d blown her only opportunity for happy-ever-after? Maybe soul mates didn’t exist. Maybe there wouldn’t be a Mr. Right for her, never mind a Mr. Perfect.
Her younger sister, Amanda, said Charity hadn’t found Mr. Right because Charity’s standards weren’t high enough—at least not since Joe, and he was years ago.
Older-sister Jenny said it was because all those romance novels Charity had read growing up had poisoned her brain, making her think that love was easy and fun. Obviously Jenny had never read a romance novel, because in romance, love was not easy or fun. Love was a battlefield, with a little nod to the great 80s’ singer, Pat Benatar.
This was why Charity needed a break from men and dating. She was just too banged up. A little too bruised. Charity was usually a never-ending well of hope, but at the moment, her hope was running dry. Which was why she kept thinking about Tricia’s offer to attend the travel agent familiarization trip in Wyoming in Tricia’s place.
It’d be a chance to get away from Marietta, a chance to have a break from the real estate office—as she unfortunately worked with her ex, the double-timing Greg—and a chance to go somewhere she’d never been. The Tetons were only a five-hour drive from Marietta, but she’d never been.
Growing up, the Wright sisters hadn’t traveled much because the family didn’t have the means to travel, never mind manage rent and food. But Charity was thirty now, and this travel agent familiarization would get her there, and even better, it was free. A four-night, five-day all-expense paid trip to a little ski resort in Wyoming. Would it be so wrong to go?
Was it so awful to pretend to be Tricia Thorpe instead of Charity Wright?
It wasn’t as if Tricia was a stranger. Tricia had been a close friend since they were girls, and Tricia’s brother married Charity’s sister, Jenny, making them family. And since Tricia couldn’t go on the trip due to a work conflict, and the Little Teton ski resort really wanted Marietta Travel to participate, why couldn’t Charity represent Marietta Travel?
It wasn’t as if Charity knew nothing about the travel agency. She’d worked for them one summer when they were shorthanded and she was in between jobs. True, she hadn’t actually booked travel, but she’d filed brochures and printed travel itineraries and assisted the agents with their research. She actually quite liked the job. She’d hoped they would hire her and train her, but they had wanted someone with experience, someone who already knew how to use the computer software and had a client base. That’s how Charity had ended up working for Sam Melk at Melk Realty, and then how she met Greg, who’d been hired a year after she started there. They were no longer dating, but Greg remained a problem, making little digs, constantly goading her. Charity shouldn’t have ever dated him in the first place, but what was done was done. All she could do was move forward.
A trip to Wyoming sounded like the perfect break, a most welcome break. Provided she didn’t have to ski—of course she’d been skiing at Bridger Bowl, just outside of Bozeman and she’d also done a little bit of skiing at Big Sky—but she was still quite an intermediate skier, and wasn’t cut out for black diamond anything.
Tricia had said no skiing was required. Tricia said Charity simply needed to soak up all the information and report back, and if there was anything Charity did well, it was taking notes.
Charity shut down her computer, walked through Melk Realty turning off printers and lights, adjusting the thermostat for the night, before locking the door on the office and making her way two blocks south on Main Street to Mar
ietta Travel.
Outside, festive white lights framed the windows and green garland wrapped around the light posts lining the street. The decorations on Main Street were familiar and beloved, and while Charity cherished her life in Marietta, there were disadvantages to living in a small town. She knew everyone, and everyone knew her, which also meant they knew when her romantic life derailed.
Marietta Travel still blazed with light and, peeking through the front window painted with a huge blue globe, topped with a jaunty red ribbon and the words The World is Yours in a gorgeous font, Charity spotted Tricia still at her desk in the glassed-in office at the very back.
Charity gave the painted window a quick critical study before trying the door. The paint was holding up. Good. She’d worried it might crack with the cold but it looked perfect still. No one but Tricia knew Charity had painted the window when Tricia’s usual sign painter tripped on his own icy sidewalk and broke his wrist, preventing him from doing the job. Tricia knew that Charity was forever sketching clothes, and asked Charity if she’d be willing to decorate their window for the Marietta Stroll, and Charity hadn’t been able to turn down the chance to make a little extra money on the side. With both of her parents now retired, money in her family was always tight.
