The Wedding Promise Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Cape Light Titles

  CAPE LIGHT

  HOME SONG

  A GATHERING PLACE

  A NEW LEAF

  A CHRISTMAS PROMISE

  THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL

  A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER

  A CHRISTMAS VISITOR

  A CHRISTMAS STAR

  A WISH FOR CHRISTMAS

  ON CHRISTMAS EVE

  The Angel Island Titles

  THE INN AT ANGEL ISLAND

  THE WEDDING PROMISE

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

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  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2011 by The Thomas Kinkade Company and Parachute Publishing, LLC.

  All rights reserved.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kinkade, Thomas, (date)–

  eISBN : 978-1-101-47631-4

  1. Taverns (Inns)—Fiction. 2. Hotelkeepers—Fiction. 3. Weddings—Planning—Fiction. 4. Islands—New England—Fiction. 5. Domestic fiction. I. Spencer, Katherine, (date)–II. Title.

  PS3561.I534W43 2011

  813’.54—dc22

  2010046224

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Dear Friends,

  It is always a pleasure to return to a place we have enjoyed visiting before. And it certainly gives me and Katherine Spencer great joy that you have decided to come back to the Inn at Angel Island.

  To me, the inn represents a place of peace and harmony, a warm and homey place filled with the soothing aroma of homemade muffins fresh from the oven. It is a haven that looks out at one of God’s greatest creations: the sea.

  But even in this blessed spot, doubt and fear and negativity can find a way in. Even when our hearts are filled with love and joy, as they are on the occasion of a wedding, we may still have to fight off the feelings that keep us from happiness and grace.

  Jennifer and Kyle are in love and eager to marry. Their fondest hope is to be married at the Inn at Angel Island, but that wonderful decision sets off ripples of fear in Liza Martin, the innkeeper. Can she handle the job? Will she fail? And how can she be totally happy for the couple when she sometimes fears that she will never experience the love she herself longs for?

  And what about the bride and groom? They are happily in love, but no love ever goes untested. Will their love be strong enough to weather the dark storms that are approaching?

  There is no greater miracle than love—and in a place like Angel Island, it seems as if God Himself has carved that miracle into the sheltering cliffs and traced it on the shoreline like footsteps in the sand.

  Let’s follow them. . . .

  Please join us at the wedding. You are always our most welcome guest.

  Share the Light,

  Thomas Kinkade

  Chapter One

  THE Hobarts were the last guests to leave the Inn at Angel Island on Monday morning. Kate Hobart came down the steps just ahead of her husband and handed Liza the room key.

  “Everything was perfect, Liza. I wish we could stay the rest of the week. Or two.”

  “I wish you could, too.” Liza placed the key in the cubbyhole of the oak secretary.

  The Hobarts had been at the inn for the past four days, celebrating their anniversary. Two other couples had checked in during the weekend, but the Hobarts had stayed the longest and Liza had come to know them the best.

  “Come back anytime. Beach weather is on the way,” she promised.

  It was the second week in May, and a wave of warm weather over the weekend had given everyone a taste of summer.

  “We’re thinking about a stay in July, with the rest of the family,” Kate said, slipping a brochure into her purse. “Do you have any adjoining rooms?”

  “There’s a suite on the third floor. Two bedrooms with a private bath. Ocean view,” Liza added.

  Liza did not add that those particular rooms were far from renovated. If the Hobarts made a reservation, the suite would jump to the top of Liza’s to-do list.

  “I’ll check our calendar and get back to you,” Kate said. “It was only a few days, but it’s so peaceful here. It’s going to be hard to get back to real life again, right, Tom?”

  Kate glanced at her husband, who was coming down the stairs with their bags.

  “I’m planning on a slow reentry, honey. With a stop along the road for one last lobster roll.”

  The half-dreaming, half-scheming look on his face made Liza laugh.

  “Sorry, pal,” Kate replied. “I’ve already gone overboard on that awesome breakfast. Which was worth every calorie.”

  Liza was glad to hear that. The rooms weren’t perfect yet, but all the guests were quickly won over by the meals—by Claire North’s cooking, to be precise.

  Liza answered a few questions about directions and wished the Hobarts a safe trip back to Connecticut. Then she stood on the porch and watched them drive away.

  The Inn at Angel Island had been officially open since the first week in April, just a little more than a month. Though she’d only entertained a handful of guests so far, Liza already knew she would always feel the sam
e exhilarated rush when her guests arrived, and always feel sorry to see them go, as if she were saying good-bye to dear friends.

  Most of the guests had come on the weekends, arriving Friday and leaving Sunday morning. A few, like the Hobarts, had stayed longer, from Thursday or Friday night through to Monday. No one had come yet for a solid week. But she hoped to see far fewer blank spots in the reservation book once the warm weather and vacation season arrived. And it was just on the horizon, Liza reminded herself.

  She had considered placing advertisements in local travel magazines or even the newspapers. She’d been in the advertising business before moving to the island and knew that a well-designed, well-placed ad worked. But she didn’t have the extra money right now. The inn still needed loads of repairs, and her priority was to keep the renovation going. Right now, there were only a few rooms to offer on the second floor, and one totally refinished bathroom.

  No point in advertising when she couldn’t accommodate a flood of customers. Or even a steady stream.

  “Are the Hobarts gone?”

  “They just left.” Liza turned at the sound of Claire’s voice. As usual, Claire had come up so quietly, Liza hadn’t realized she was there. “They said they’re coming back in July. Mainly for some more of that baked French toast thing you served this morning.”

  “Cinnamon Raisin Strata,” Claire quietly corrected her. “I’ll copy down the recipe. You can send it to Mrs. Hobart.”

  “That’s very thoughtful, Claire. But why would I do that? It’s the perfect bait to get them back.” Liza was partly joking—and partly serious. “We don’t have any bookings until Memorial Day weekend. Only one reservation in June, and July is a big blank,” she reported. “Let’s not even turn the page to August.”

  “Don’t turn the page and don’t worry. The calls will come,” Claire said decidedly. She’d set down a large basket of freshly laundered linens on the wicker table and now began to fold the towels and sheets in her calm, methodical way. The laundry looked so perfectly smooth when she was finished, you’d think a folding machine had done the task.

  “I know it’s too soon to worry. I’m just feeling restless. I’m going to check the old registration books and send out more reminder cards. Maybe I can stir up some business.”

  “Good idea. People may have heard that your aunt passed away and assume the place is closed.” Claire snapped a fresh white pillowcase in the breeze. “Your aunt Elizabeth used to fret about the same thing this time of year. But most folks haven’t even stuck their noses out the door and realized that summer’s almost here.”

  Liza knew that was true. New England winters were long and harsh. It took most of the hardy residents in the area a while to thaw out and accept that the warm weather had arrived. Then suddenly, the long, hot days of summer rolled in.

  As usual, something about Claire’s quiet, certain tone soothed Liza’s anxiety. Claire had a way of looking at the world that made life seem easy and uncomplicated.

  The housekeeper and cook had worked for Liza’s aunt Elizabeth for many years—as both an employee and a companion. Claire had also taken care of Aunt Elizabeth in her final months last winter when she fell sick with pneumonia and never recovered.

  When Liza arrived and took over, she discovered that Claire more or less came with the property—which was at first worrisome but soon turned out to be a blessing in disguise. A great blessing, Liza knew now. She wouldn’t have survived more than a week on her own without Claire’s help.

  “Guess I’ll go up and put away these linens.” Claire lifted the heavy basket with ease and headed for the door. Liza rushed ahead to open it for her. “I did want to tell you, the sink in the laundry room is backed up. Looks like the tree roots again.”

  Liza’s heart sank. Another unexpected repair? Was that really possible? And what was this about the tree roots again? She was afraid to ask.

  “What do you mean? Do the roots get into the pipes somehow?”

  “Every few years. Always in the spring. The new shoots work themselves right through the metal. Nature is amazing, isn’t it? So . . . persistent,” Claire added with a wistful smile.

  Liza forced a smile in answer but didn’t feel half so awed by the natural wonder . . . wondering more what this clog was going to cost.

  “It always hits that sink first. Low spot on the building. We need to take care of it before the rest of the works get backed up,” Claire warned.

  “Yes, of course. There’s a number in the book, I guess?”

  Liza had quickly learned that no matter what the crisis, there was always a number in her aunt’s battered old phone book.

  So far, there was no repair crisis the big, old house had not seen before.

  “Joe Lindstadt. He’s the one. But you might try D for drains . . . or C for clogs. Your aunt had an odd way of categorizing her phone numbers.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” Liza agreed.

  Aunt Elizabeth had her own way of doing things, artistic soul that she was. Her phone book was the least of it.

  Claire took her basket of laundry and went inside. Liza rose but did not follow. She stared out at the startling blue sky and the wide ocean, silently calculating. The profits from the guests who had stayed over the weekend could have pushed her accounts into the black this month. But now those clogged pipes would wipe out any profits, and then some.

  When she looked at the inn’s budget, the income and outlay, she wondered how she would stay in business at all. But you just got started, she reminded herself. You need to have patience. Isn’t that what Claire always tells you? Patience and faith.

  It had taken a huge leap of faith to quit her job and move here from Boston, taking on the inn without any experience at all at running a hotel. Except for spending summers here with her aunt and uncle, watching them run the place.

  The change had been exhilarating at first. But now that reality had set in, along with invading tree roots and a list of other unexpected crises, Liza sometimes wondered what she had gotten into. But in her heart, she knew she’d made the right choice. The daring choice, but the perfect choice for her.

  She would quickly look past her worries and out at the world around her—the tender blue sky and sparkling sea that greeted her every morning. The long curving stretch of sandy beach below the cliffs, just across from the inn’s front door. The garden her aunt had planted so long ago, green stems slowly pushing through the earth, peonies and early roses bursting into bloom. The sight calmed her heart and restored her spirit.

  She was so grateful to live here, surrounded by beauty every day in every season, and grateful to have the freedom of running her own business. The freedom to create a life for herself that felt authentic and true to her spirit and values.

  If the pipes got clogged and the gutters drooped . . . well, it was an old building and one that had been neglected for years. Liza knew she had to step back and focus on the big picture. Things were slowly but surely falling into place, getting a little bit better every day. She had made a big change in her life to be here, but she felt it had been the right one. She felt right being here, as if she was in the place she was meant to be, doing what she had always been meant to do.

  Liza gave the ocean one last lingering look, then entered the inn, intending to search through her aunt’s phone book and call Joe Lindstadt—then had the impulse to call Daniel Merritt instead.

  She knew Daniel couldn’t fix this problem, though his skills seemed to cover just about everything else under the inn’s roof. But she did know she’d feel better just hearing his deep, calm voice. He had a way of making her laugh about even the worst catastrophe.

  Daniel, a local carpenter and jack-of-all-trades, had also come with the property and had also proven to be another blessing in her life. Her aunt Elizabeth had relied on Daniel for everything from a squeaky hinge to a shaky chimney.

  Liza was far more self-reliant, willing to try her hand at most jobs that didn’t require great skill, just basic know-ho
w and grunt work. When she made a mess, as she often did, Daniel would step in and show her the proper way to do things. They would usually wind up doing the job together, which Liza always enjoyed. That was how they had first gotten to know each other and become friends.

  Now it seemed there was something more between them, though it was hard to say exactly what. Liza didn’t worry about it. She was very newly divorced and had not yet begun dating. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for a new relationship—even with a man as attractive as Daniel. All she did know was that she always looked forward to seeing him and always laughed with him. She always felt better just being around him. That seemed enough for now.

  Finally, Liza decided not to bother Daniel and instead, under D for drains, found Joe’s number. Daniel might run over even though he couldn’t fix it, and she didn’t want to waste his time.

  Later that morning, Liza stood beside Joe Lindstadt in the dank, dingy basement, peering over his shoulder as he searched for the trap on the main line.

  Joe stood up, clicked off his flashlight, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Ms. Martin,” he said, and named a price that was twice as high as what she’d expected. “I can usually do a job like this for less,” he went on. “But for one thing, these pipes are old. We have to handle them with care. And that new water heater has blocked the trap. So I have to cut a new trap somewhere. If we have to dig—”

  “I understand,” Liza replied evenly. She could tell it was a fair price for the work involved, just a lot more than she had anticipated. But what could she do?

  “I can start today. Or maybe you’d like to think about it?” he offered in a kind tone.

  Liza knew he was giving her a chance to call around for another estimate. But choices were limited on the island and most of the repairmen came from the town of Cape Light, on the mainland. Joe had come over to the island quickly and now that he was there, it was best to just let him get started on the work.