Brooke shrugged. “It’s been so hot. And long hair is such a pain. Blowing it dry and everything, I just don’t have the time.…”
The bride looked pointedly down at her watch, and then at the vacant hostess stand. It was a Monday, and the restaurant was already crowded. “Should we have made a reservation? I only have an hour before I need to get back to the office.”
“The hostess will be back in a minute. A party of twelve came in right before you did,” Cara assured her. She couldn’t get over Brooke’s hair. It was not a flattering cut, emphasizing the sharp planes of her hollow cheeks.
“What does Harris think of it?”
“He says he loves it, but I’m not so sure. Mom would never say anything critical—at least to my face. And of course, Patricia and my dad are appalled. Which kind of makes it fun.”
“Brooke? Brooke Trapnell?”
A tall slender man with sun-streaked shoulder-length brown hair broke away from the group of men with whom he’d just entered the lobby. He wore a forest-green golf shirt with an embroidered logo, khaki cargo shorts, and Topsider deck shoes.
Brooke turned to see who was addressing her. For a moment, she looked puzzled, but then her face lit up. “Petey!” She flung her arms around the newcomer’s neck. They hugged tightly.
Brooke pulled back a little, beaming up at his face. “Oh my God, Pete. I can’t believe it’s really you. Where have you been? What are you doing here?”
“Well, you know, I’ve been out west, Montana and Colorado, working for the Park Service. And I’ve just transferred here a couple months ago.”
“Here? You’re back in Savannah? That’s awesome.”
“Actually, no. I’m working on Cumberland Island. I’m just up here today for some meetings with our regional director.” He gestured toward the group of men who were drifting toward the dining room. “What about you? Are you still living here in town? I heard you graduated from law school, so what, you’re a lady lawyer now?”
Brooke’s laugh was almost giddy. “I don’t know about the lady part, but yeah, I’m a second-year associate. I do mostly corporate law.”
“Cool.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey. Didn’t your folks used to have a place down on Cumberland?”
“My mom’s family does. Loblolly. I can’t believe you remember that after all these years.”
“Do you ever go down there?”
“Hey, Pete.” One of the park-service men was standing at the hostess stand, gesturing toward him. “Our table’s ready.”
“Coming.”
Pete turned back to Brooke. “Gotta go. But we need to catch up. Wait. Let me give you my card.”
He dug in the pocket of his cargo shorts, but came out empty-handed. “Damn. Wouldn’t you know? I didn’t bring any with me.”
Brooke reached into her pocketbook and brought out a sterling silver case. She withdrew a thick vellum square and handed it to him. “Here’s mine.”
“Pete!”
“Coming!”
***
When they were seated and the waitress had taken their orders, Cara brought out her iPad, and they got down to business.
“So. Here’s the reception menu we came up with after you had to leave the other day.…”
“You mean after Patricia took over the whole thing?” Brooke scanned the screen, nodding. “Sure. This looks okay. But it seems like a lot of food to me.”
“We’re doing a seated dinner,” Cara reminded her. With her fingertip, she scrolled over to the next page. “These are the appetizers that will be passed during cocktail hour.…”
Brooke wrinkled her nose. “Fried calamari? Gross. Let me guess. Patricia’s idea?”
“Layne’s version is really lightly battered. If you want, I can set it up for you and Harris to taste that, and the rest of the appetizers.”
