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It was a special spot—a very special beachy spot. Brides loved the location. Some had married in the chapel, and some had married on the beach; either way it was a popular draw for her business. And now it was ending.
Not that she could blame Mabel. She knew her friend was getting older, and caring for the chapel was just too much for her physically and probably financially. Its location alone would draw in top dollar. After the sale, Mabel would be able to live anywhere and do anything. Clara was happy for her friend but worried about possibly losing this as a wedding venue.
She made her way across the parking lot, crossed the yard, and headed for Mabel’s door. She didn’t even have a chance to knock when the door flung open.
“Oh, good. You’re here.” Mabel sent her a cheery smile as she backed up. “Come in.”
Clara now knew why she was there, and it saddened her. Still, she’d known the day was coming. Mabel hadn’t made the eventual sale a secret. She’d let Clara know the very first time she’d contacted her about holding a wedding at the chapel. And yet, the end had come much too soon.
Mabel showed her to the kitchen. “I’ll get your tea.”
The truth was Clara wasn’t interested in tea. In fact, she didn’t want to stay. Her business would take a big hit by losing this exclusive wedding setting.
She couldn’t bring herself to drag this out. “I saw the For Sale signs when I pulled in.”
Mabel frowned. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I had no idea they were going to act so quickly. I’m sorry. I meant to tell you first.”
“It’s okay.” It wasn’t okay for her. Not at all. “I understand. You need to do what’s best for you. And it isn’t like you didn’t warn me this would happen.”
The tea kettle whistled. Mabel filled their cups with hot water and then placed them on the table. She sat across from Clara. “It’s just that I’m not getting any younger. And this property is just too much for me. When my Tom was around, he would take care of it. But now there’s just me.”
Clara added some sweetener to the tea and stirred it. “What will you do when it’s sold? Move?”
Mabel frowned. “I don’t want to. I want to stay right here. This is my home. I’ve lived in this house my entire adult life. My memories of Tom are here.”
Clara’s thoughts shifted from her own problems to those of her friend’s. “You shouldn’t move unless that’s what you truly want.”
“I just don’t know if living here would be the same once the chapel is sold.”
“At least you don’t have to make the decision now.”
“That’s true.”
As they sipped their tea, Clara filled Mabel in on the plans for Tula’s wedding. Mabel had been sworn to secrecy. As they talked about it, some thoughts came to Clara about small decorating details she needed to look into. She pulled out her phone and typed herself notes.
“Well, I should be going.” Clara got to her feet. “Good luck with the sale.”
“Wait.” Mabel’s gray brows drew together as she searched her sweater pockets. “Here it is. I wrote down the price the real estate agent determined the chapel is worth.”
Clara accepted the folded piece of paper. She didn’t dare open it in front of Mabel, who was quite observant. Clara didn’t have to unfold the paper to know the chapel—the beautiful chapel that had joined countless hearts—was far more expensive than she could ever hope to afford.
They hugged and Clara walked away. She didn’t look at the chapel as she made her way to her car. She knew if she gazed upon it that the tears she’d been holding at bay would spring forth. Because there was something special about the little chapel that had drawn her in. A sense of peace and happiness. She’d foolishly even imagined holding her own wedding there. Not that she was getting married or anything. She didn’t even have a potential groom.
And so when she climbed into her car, she hesitated. The little piece of paper felt as though it were burning a hole in her palm. She should toss it aside and forget about it. She needed to focus on the things she could control.
And yet, she found herself unfolding it. Curiosity had gotten the best of her. And then her gaze landed upon the figure. It was eight-figures.Eight!She scanned the paper, making sure she hadn’t missed a decimal point. She hadn’t. Her heart sank right down to her perky pink pumps.
The chapel was so far out of her reach that if she approached a bank, they would laugh in her face. Tula’s wedding would be the last wedding she planned there. The thought weighed on her, but there was absolutely no way she could raise that kind of money. Unless she called her father.
She halted her thoughts. There was nothing that would make her do that. Nothing at all. That bridge had been burned.
She started her car and drove away. Clara refused to look back, just like when she’d left everything she’d ever known in DC—including her family and the man she’d once loved—to start a new life in California. She had to keep looking ahead or else she might falter—and that was unacceptable. Harrington’s didn’t fail. At least that was her father’s mantra her entire life. She just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Thiseveningwassupposedto be about business.
And yet the night felt so much more like a date.
