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“And,” Maren went on playfully, “word on the street has it that some of those famous Morning Glory biscuits might make an appearance.” She shrugged then and resumed chopping, pretending it was of little importance to her if he were successfully enticed or not.
“The ones with the garlic and cheddar?” Hal inquired.
“Yep, those ones.”
“Say no more,” he said, returning his hat to his head. “And you still haven’t talked Jasmine out of this business?”
“The business of getting married, having known the guy for six weeks?” Maren asked, pausing again to toss a pointed look at Hal. “No, that was your job. Oh, but wait, you married your beloved Marjorie after—what was it? Eleven days?”
“That was different,” was his reply. “Margie was perfection. Sure enough, her friends tried to talkherout of it.”
“Were you thrilled to prove them wrong?” Maren wondered.
“Had nothing to prove to anyone but Margie.”
“She was a very lucky lady,” Maren said, a decision reached years ago.
“All right, I’ll give the generator a once over, make sure she’s ready in case the power goes out.”
“Thanks, Hal. See you at dinner,” she reminded him deliberately.
Easing out of her faux fur coat to reveal her denim overalls, which were rolled up to her shins revealing a pair of blue socks with snowflakes—Bethany’s style was, unapologetically, bold and eclectic—she arched one brow at Maren. “You think love should have a timeline?” She asked.
Being a self-confessed love addict, Bethany had previously let it be known that she was in full support of Jasmine and Liam’s wedding.
Maren snorted. “I know nothing about it. I’m just considering impulsiveness versus stability, and building strong foundations,” she defended her position. “Knowing someone for only a few weeks might not provide a deep understanding of their true character, is all I’m saying.”
“Bah,” Bethany scoffed, shrugging it off with a wave of her hand. “They've found a deep connection that goes beyond thetime they've known each other. Some couples build strong bonds quickly. If you ever put yourself out there—in the market, so to speak—you might know this.”
Maren wrinkled her nose. Her life—the Morning Glory Inn presently—didn’t exactly lend itself to putting herself out there. “Like I said, I know nothing. I’m happy if Jasmine is happy.”
Chapter Two
Alec shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the plane landed, relieved that the plane had made it to New York before the storm hit. He normally looked forward to traveling back home to Buffalo, but this trip was different. His best friend Liam was getting married to someone he had only known for a few months, and Alec couldn't shake off his annoyance. Not only was he missing out on the highly anticipated Tech Innovations Convention, but he took serious issue with this whirlwind romance, certainly since it came so close on the heels of Liam’s break-up with his long-term girlfriend, Grace.
Liam McLaughlin was known for his intelligence and competence, a good-natured individual with a quick wit and sound judgement. This impulsive behavior was a stark contrast to his usual character and Alec was, reasonably so, worried about this decision.
Liam and Grace’s ten year relationship had been on-again, off-again, and constantly fraught with trouble. When they last broke up, Liam had said to Alec, “I don’t want to—I can’t—get sucked back in by her. I need this break to be permanent.”
Alec had rarely been so happy in his life to hear those words after watching for years the deterioration of Liam and Grace’s relationship. Though he was certain she hadn’t always been that way, Alec knew how toxic and manipulative Grace had become. It seemed like Liam had dodged one bullet only to be put in the path of another, with this Jasmine Carter, whom he had only just met at Christmas.
Although Alec typically wasn't suspicious of people's motives, he couldn't help but wonder whether Jasmine, who worked at a café, might be drawn to Liam's wealth. Liam not only held a lucrative position as a cybersecurity engineer fora globally recognized aerospace and defense industry company but also inherited a significant trust from his grandfather. The combination of his prestigious job and substantial inheritance raised questions about Jasmine's intentions—as it would about anyone’s intentions to wed after only knowing someone for six weeks.
While Alec planned to visit his parents during this trip and had several appointments up in Buffalo next week, it made no sense to stay with his parents for this weekend since Willowbrook and the wedding were an hour away. Instead, he’d booked three nights at Willowbrook’s only B & B, the only other option in the small town being a run-down motel, whose website curiously offered as one of their amenities a ‘highway serenade’.Indulge in the soothing sounds of passing traffichad literally been written about the amenity, given that the motel was just off the New York State Thruway. Alec was no marketing pro, but even he realized the motel would have been better off mentioning their convenient proximity to the thruway rather than highlighting the effect of that.
In consideration of the coming storm, he’d ordered a car ahead of time from a private company rather than trust his life in the hands of a part-time ride-share driver, hoping for a little more professionalism—and a lot more safety—to get him from the airport to Willowbrook in one piece.
After about thirty minutes on the road, snow started to sprinkle down from above. The driver handled the car skillfully, not letting the falling snow or worsening road conditions faze him. Alec was less unnerved by this than he was made more annoyed by the whole reason for his visit.
A Valentine’s Day wedding, for crying out loud. So cliché.
The last few miles of the long ride became particularly treacherous. The solid white sky he’d met at the airport was now an ominous gray and Alec twice found himself white-knucklingthe seat in front of him as they went further and further south. While he was impressed with the skill of Mark, his driver, he didn’t like not being in control himself.
With a grateful sigh, he spotted the elegant old house ahead. The wooden sign announcing the Morning Glory Inn had definitely seen better days, the paint chipping away to reveal the grain of the wood underneath. It leaned slightly to one side as if tired of standing in the same spot year after year. The expansive front yard was covered in several inches of freshly fallen snow.
Mark pulled the big SUV into the half-moon driveway, which appeared to have been freshly plowed, and put the vehicle in park.
“You’re a true professional, Mark,” Alec said. “I hope you’re okay driving back up to the city.”
