The Wedding Promise Read online

  She turned a brittle page and a photograph slipped out. The color was faded, and there was a large crease down the middle. But Liza could still see it was a picture of a summer wedding party, taken behind the inn during the days when Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Clive ran the place. Not a very large party but an elegant, joyous affair. The bride and groom looked jubilant. Her aunt looked beautiful and her uncle very dapper. The gardens were in full bloom, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.

  Liza turned it over and read the note on the back. Bernadette and James, Happily Wed 6/30/55. Liza recognized her aunt’s handwriting immediately. Then she remembered what Claire had told Jennifer.

  “There were many weddings here, back in the day. Lovely ones, too,” Claire had said.

  Had Claire slipped the photo in the book for Liza to see?

  Liza doubted that. Claire was so forthright; if she’d found the photo, she would have just handed it over.

  Liza was sure Claire hadn’t planted it. But it was one of those meaningful coincidences Claire was often the first to notice. Once she did point them out, Liza found it hard, if not impossible, to see the situation any other way.

  Now she stared at the photo a moment longer, then propped it up on the desk. If a picture spoke a thousand words, this one was speaking ten thousand to her.

  A short time later, Liza had pushed aside her accounts and sat surfing the web, searching terms like “wedding planning checklist” and “wedding planning tools.”

  For some odd reason, she felt a little guilty doing this research, since she had so adamantly opposed the idea. Liza told herself this online exploration didn’t mean she had changed her mind. She was just curious to see how a small, simple but elegant wedding might be put together. For future reference . . . when she was ready.

  But as she scrolled through information and hopped from site to site, even printing out pages here and there, Liza knew she was catching the bug.

  The old photo on her desk urged her on, too. Aunt Elizabeth’s smile beamed out at her, her very expression seeming to say, “Look how easy this is, Liza. Don’t be such a scaredy-cat. Of course you can do it.”

  By the time Claire returned from shopping in the town of Cape Light, Liza had printed out an entire pile of wedding information. She knew Claire would notice as she passed the desk, but she didn’t try to hide it from her.

  The first thing Claire noticed, however, was the photo. “Goodness, where did you find that?”

  “It was in that guest ledger you brought down. It fell out when I turned a page.” Liza glanced at Claire, noting her honest surprise.

  Claire reached out and picked up the photograph. “Everyone’s having such a good time. I love the expression on your aunt’s face. Did it give you any ideas?” she asked curiously.

  “I guess it did. I started checking out some wedding sites,” Liza explained. “If Jennifer really wants something simple and the guest list will be small, maybe we could pull it off. I can at least make a few notes and tell her my ideas.”

  Claire did not seem surprised. She did seem pleased, though, and rested her string bag of groceries on the desk.

  “For some reason, Jennifer Bennet has her heart set on this place. All you can do is try your best to help her,” Claire said. “What else are we here for?”

  By “here,” Liza had the feeling that Claire didn’t just mean at the inn, or even on the island. But here on earth, living their lives. That was a good question, Liza thought. The kind Claire often came up with.

  “I met Emily Warwick in town today. She asked about you, Jennifer.” Jennifer’s mother, Sylvia, raised an eyebrow as she helped herself to some green salad. “She didn’t even know you were engaged.”

  Jennifer’s father laughed at his wife’s shocked tone. Jennifer just rolled her eyes.

  “Mayor Warwick is a busy person, Sylvia,” her father said between bites of his dinner. “She doesn’t have time to keep up on all the social news.”

  Her mother never called Emily by her title, Jennifer noticed. It wasn’t because they were good friends. They actually weren’t. It was more because they had gone to school together, and Sylvia just couldn’t defer to an old schoolmate that way.

  “I was just surprised, that’s all. I announced it in church just last week. I guess she didn’t remember. She asked if you and Kyle had set a date. I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Really?” Jennifer’s father looked up from his plate. “How did that feel, dear?” he asked his wife.

  Sylvia didn’t notice the quip. But Jennifer did. Her father glanced at her and winked.

  “We have set a date, Mom. Sort of. It’s going to be very soon, in a month or so. You know that’s our plan.”

  “It’s fine to tell me ‘that’s our plan,’ Jennifer. But putting a wedding together involves a lot of work. Not just picking some random date—an impossible deadline at that. I really don’t know what you’re thinking sometimes. What in the world is the rush?”

  “Kyle and I want to start our life together. We’ve known each other forever and we’re ready,” Jennifer replied, a touch of impatience in her voice. How many times did she have to explain this to her mother?

  “Oh, let’s not get into this again,” Mr. Bennet said. “Sylvia, the kids have decided. There’s no sense dragging our heels. You don’t want to see them run off and elope, do you?”

  Sylvia looked suddenly alarmed. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” she asked her daughter.

  The idea had occurred to Jennifer and Kyle. They’d even discussed it secretly. But not seriously.

  Jennifer knew she was not the eloping type. She had always imagined herself in a long white gown, walking down the aisle on her father’s arm, surrounded by family and friends.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not about to run off and get married up at town hall, in between people paying parking tickets. Even if Mayor Warwick could perform the ceremony,” she added. “But we want to get married in a few weeks. Definitely by the end of June. Can we agree on that much?”

  Her mother glanced at her, then fiddled with her fork, not really eating the baked salmon that Jennifer had cooked. Since she was home from school now and didn’t have much to do, Jennifer liked to help out by cooking. She enjoyed it, knowing it was practice for when she had her own home.

  “Even if I did agree, what about the rest of it?” her mother asked. “What about a bridal gown and dresses for bridesmaids? Those take months to order.”

  “There are tons of dresses on the Internet, Mom. Lots of really nice ones,” Jennifer added, feeling she was finally making some headway.

  “A dress from the Internet—to wear down the aisle on your wedding day? Oh, Jennifer, please . . . we might as well have the reception at McDonald’s.”

  Jennifer started laughing. “Good idea. The guests can drive by the window and get their own food. We can put a favor in the bags, along with the fries.”

  “Okay, now you’re getting silly.” Her father looked over at her. Jennifer could see he wanted to laugh, but her mother was clearly not amused. “There are stores for dresses. I’m sure Jen can find something. What else do we need to worry about?” he asked.

  “A place to hold the reception. Have you called any restaurants or caterers?” her mother challenged her. “How are we going to find a suitable place on such short notice? There aren’t many choices—the yacht club in Newburyport, the Spoon Harbor Inn, Lilac Hall, but there you need special permission from the Warwicks and your own caterer.”

  Frank Bennet’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “So you’ve already looked into this, Sylvia? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Her mother rose and carried away her father’s empty dinner dish. “I looked into it a little. The best places are all booked for the summer and into next year.”

  “Well, we could have the wedding here,” Mr. Bennet suggested. “The house isn’t very large, but we could put a tent in the backyard or something.”

  “Oh, I do
n’t want to do that,” her mother said quickly. “It would seem so . . . patched together. And those tents always leak if it rains. We don’t have the type of house for a big party. And I would have to do some redecorating—paint the living room and dining room at least.”

  Jennifer’s father looked about to argue with her, then stopped himself. He glanced at Jennifer. “What do you think, sweetie? You’re the bride.”

  “Kyle and I already know where we want to have the wedding. We’ve had the place picked out for years.”

  “You have?” Sylvia stared at her daughter. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Jennifer shrugged. “I wanted to handle it on my own. I was there today, in fact. I stopped in and asked some questions.” Jennifer braced herself. She knew what her mother would ask next and could also guess her reaction to the answer.

  “Excellent.” Her father seemed encouraged and glanced at Sylvia. “She’s a grown woman now. Of course she can plan her own wedding. So, what did you find out? Any openings in their calendar?”

  “It doesn’t look like the date will be a problem. The woman I spoke to, Liza—she owns the place—she said they usually don’t do big parties, but she would think about it. I’m not sure why, but I think she’ll say yes.”

  “What do you mean, they usually don’t do big parties, dear?” her mother asked carefully. “Where is this place? Do we know it?”

  “Yes, Jen, is it around here? We don’t want the guests to have to drive too far.”

  “It’s very close. The Inn at Angel Island,” she told them. “It’s the absolute perfect place for our wedding. Kyle and I totally agree. We don’t want to get married anywhere else.”

  Her father looked confused. “That old place?”

  “That big old mansion when you come across the bridge? I thought it was sold and a builder tore it down. Or maybe it fell down all on its own.” Her mother gave her a look, the kind that said she wasn’t taking the conversation seriously anymore.

  “No one has torn it down. No one intends to,” Jennifer informed her parents. “There’s a new owner, Liza Martin. She inherited the inn from her aunt and has been renovating everything and just opened for business again about a month ago.”

  Her mother folded her napkin carefully. “I think I heard something about that. Well, it must have been in terrible shape if the poor woman has to renovate so extensively. Do you really want to get married in a place that’s so run-down? That won’t reflect well on your father and me. It will look as though we tried to get away cheap, as if we don’t care enough to have your wedding at a really nice place.”

  “Mom, come on. You haven’t even seen it. It’s not run-down. She’s fixed it up.”

  Jennifer looked at her father, who was usually much more reasonable. But he looked worried, too.

  “I’m not sure, Jennifer. I hardly remember that inn. From what you just told us . . . well, I think we would all have to visit before we can agree on this.”

  “And didn’t you just say that this woman who runs the place—”

  “The innkeeper’s name is Liza Martin,” Jennifer cut in.

  “Liza, right,” her mother said impatiently. “Didn’t you just tell us that she doesn’t do big parties? And she might not even be able to have a wedding there?”

  “She hasn’t had the opportunity to do a big party.” Jennifer fudged her answer a little, presenting the situation in the best light. “Since our wedding is going to be on the small side, it would be a good place for her to start.”

  Her mother smiled and tossed her hands in the air. “Oh, well, that changes everything. I’d be so happy to give some strange woman the chance to practice putting on a wedding—my only daughter’s wedding,” Sylvia clarified. “I’m so glad we have this chance to do a good deed.”

  “Sylvia, let’s all relax a minute and talk this out,” Jennifer’s dad said.

  Jennifer could tell her father wasn’t thrilled with the idea of the inn, either, but at least he was willing to hear her out.

  Her mother took a deep breath and stared straight ahead, her chin set at a stubborn angle.

  “Jennifer,” her father said, “I’d just like to know something. Why that particular place? Why do you and Kyle have your hearts so set on it?”

  “Because it’s where we met, Dad. Not at the inn, but on the beach right below. And we went up to the inn later that day and sat with the innkeeper, Elizabeth Dunne, Liza’s aunt. She passed away in February,” Jennifer explained. “We sat with Elizabeth and she was so nice to us. And we used to go back and visit her all the time and once she told me that she was sure Kyle and I would get married. And I said, ‘Maybe we could have the wedding here, at your inn.’ And she answered, ‘Would you? That would make my heart sing.’ ” Jennifer smiled at the memory, even though it was the second time that day she’d told the story. “Wasn’t that a wonderful thing to say?”

  “Very . . . poetic,” her father agreed.

  “So, you feel an attachment to this place because of that old woman, the one who passed away?” her mother asked. “Is that it?”

  “Not exactly. That’s not the only reason. It’s just our special place. That’s where we met, where we had our first date, our first kiss . . .” Jennifer was starting to feel embarrassed now, discussing these personal things with her parents. “We don’t care if it’s not some fancy, famous place. The Inn at Angel Island has real meaning for us. Those other places have no meaning, no character. This is what we want and if Liza Martin says she’ll hold the wedding there, that’s where we’ll be married.” Jennifer had rarely been so insistent with her parents. But she’d rarely felt this strongly about anything in her entire life.

  She could see her mother bristle. “No need to raise your voice, Jennifer.”

  “I wouldn’t have to raise my voice if you’d just listen to me. You argue with everything I say. This is my wedding, remember?”

  “I’m not sure what we’re all debating about.” Her father also raised his voice a notch, just to be heard over the two women. “We don’t even know if the new innkeeper is willing.”

  Jennifer knew that was true, but she just couldn’t believe that Liza wouldn’t come around and change her mind.

  “You’re right, Frank.” Her mother wasn’t exactly smiling, but she did look calmer. “How did you leave it with her, Jen?”

  Before Jennifer could answer, the phone rang.

  “Let the machine get it,” Sylvia said. “This is important.”

  “I just want to listen. It might be Kyle,” Jennifer insisted. Kyle usually called on her cell phone, but she wanted to make sure. Besides, she could use an excuse to get up and end the conversation. She could see that her parents weren’t going to be persuaded tonight.

  Jennifer listened for the message, hoping to hear Kyle. Instead, she heard a woman’s voice.

  “Hi, Jennifer. It’s Liza Martin. I hope I’m not calling too late. . . . ”

  Jennifer stood rooted to the spot, listening.

  “—I just want you to know that I’ve given our conversation some thought, and I have some ideas about your wedding. Maybe we can meet in a few days and you can see if I can put together a party that would be right for you.”

  “Oh, blast!” Her mother groaned, and sat down in a kitchen chair. “I had a feeling this would happen. She probably realized how much money she was turning down.”

  “Sylvia, let’s give the woman a chance,” Frank said.

  Jennifer dashed to the phone, managing to pick it up before Liza hung up.

  “Liza? Hi, it’s me, Jen. Thanks for calling back so quickly. I just heard your message. I’m so happy you decided to do it.” Jennifer’s heart was pounding. She could hardly speak.

  “Well, I’m not entirely sure I’m the woman for the job, but you can be the judge. Why don’t you stop by later this week and we’ll try to figure it out,” Liza suggested.

  “Tell me a good time for you. My schedule is totally free.”

  Jennifer
had been hoping to go back to the inn tomorrow. But she didn’t want to pressure Liza too much. This call was the answer to her prayers. She was just amazingly grateful.

  “Let’s see . . . how about Thursday morning, around eleven? Does that work?”

  “That would be fine.”

  “Tell her your mother is coming, too,” Sylvia shouted from the next room.

  “Of course you’ll want your mother with you,” Liza said before Jennifer even had time to relay the message. “I look forward to meeting her.”

  Easy to say that now, Jennifer nearly replied.

  Instead, she thanked Liza again and said good night.

  As Jennifer hung up the phone, she hoped her mother wouldn’t interrogate Liza and criticize every inch of the inn. Liza might decide she didn’t want to do the wedding after all.

  I’ll worry about that when I get to it, Jennifer decided. At least I have good news for Kyle.

  While her parents continued to discuss what her mother called, “this absurd fixation on that inn,” Jennifer slipped upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door.

  She took out her cell phone and quickly called Kyle. She couldn’t wait to talk to him. She had tried to reach him a few times after she visited the inn, but he had been in meetings all day.

  “Hi, Jen, I was just going to call you,” he greeted her. “I just got in from the gym. What’s up?”

  Jennifer felt breathless, as if she had just run a few laps. “I went to the Inn at Angel Island today. It’s still there and it’s still open. . . . But Elizabeth Dunne passed away,” she added sadly.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. But I’m glad it’s still open. Did she sell it?”

  “Her niece runs it now. She’s very nice. We had a long talk about the wedding.”

  Jennifer quickly relayed their meeting—how Liza had at first refused to even consider the idea, then seemed to soften, and finally called tonight to set up an appointment.

  “I guess you persuaded her, Jen. It’s hard to resist those big blue eyes. Don’t I know it . . . ” he teased her.