to the extreme, he had a knack for twisting logic around until your head ached. “But for the record, are you comfortable with the situation?”
Cass shot Rosie a conspiratorial smile. “Well, don’t tell Dean, but I wanted to hire you all along.”
Rosie nodded, pleased. “Good. Now that we’ve cleared the air, why don’t you tell me what it is you want and I’ll take it from there. That way, the suggestions will come from me, and your mother won’t be so apt to dismiss them.”
Rosie soon discovered Cass had some very definite ideas regarding her wedding. She scribbled notes, growing concerned at the number of times she heard “Dean thinks we should” or “Dean wants.” She glanced up occasionally to see Cass’s face glowing with the inner vision of her dream wedding.
When the chatter halted, Rosie looked up, hand poised to continue her note taking.
Cass smiled softly as she studied her engagement ring and sighed. “All this doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? I’d marry Dean in a barn with a handful of wildflowers, or elope if I needed to. All that really matters is that we love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together.”
Her love for Dean was palpable. Maybe he’d changed and they’d simply talked about the ceremony enough that Cass knew his preferences. It was none of Rosie’s business. Obviously, Cass wouldn’t appreciate or heed any warning at this point.
“Rosie, if you have enough information from me, I think I’ll drop by the bank and see my fiancé.”
“Oh, sure. I have plenty to go on. How about we meet again next week, same time?” Rosie suggested.
Cass agreed and practically floated through the door. Rosie jotted the appointment in her book as the droning hum of the refrigerated units filled the silence.
The Bing-Lassiter nuptials, while tasteful and small, would put her own wedding to shame. A business loan and a quick divorce when she wanted it wasn’t exactly the stuff romantic dreams were made of.
How could she even think of marrying Sam under the circumstances he’d offered? On the other hand, how could she not help him keep his daughter?
Just once, she wanted a piece of the dream her clients experienced. The thought clicked firmly into place in her brain and in her heart.
Jeezus Pete! Here she was repeating old behavior, accepting Sam’s dictates without a protest, while all along the loss of yet another dream nagged at her.
She might never experience a real marriage and most likely wouldn’t ever know the joy of being a mother, but she could experience a little bit of what it must be like to have a real wedding.
The doormat syndrome stopped right here, right now. The thing she had to figure out was how to get Sam to agree to a slight adjustment in their plans.
CHAPTER SEVEN
R osie stood on the back porch of her parents’ home, enjoying the cool breeze from an overhead fan, her mind focused on how to tell Sam she wanted to make adjustments to their bare-bones wedding plans.
Things were shaping up. Ernie’s delivery van was back on the road, and she needed to return her rental. She and Claire had managed a whirlwind trip into Little Rock the evening before, killing two birds with one stone. They’d purchased several items, including the dress that Rosie now worried was too much, too formal, and blatantly advertised her growing need to turn this imitation wedding into something she could remember fondly.
She had no problem being assertive where her business was concerned. Why should this be any different?
Behind her, the screen door slammed, jolting Rosie from her reverie and back into her birthday celebration. As the guest of honor, she wasn’t allowed to help with the meal. Today of all days, she could have used the distraction.
And where was Sam? He’d been beside her a moment ago.
Panic held Rosie in its grip. She blocked the noise of J.T.’s boys playing, the sizzle coming from her dad’s grill, and her mama
Cass shot Rosie a conspiratorial smile. “Well, don’t tell Dean, but I wanted to hire you all along.”
Rosie nodded, pleased. “Good. Now that we’ve cleared the air, why don’t you tell me what it is you want and I’ll take it from there. That way, the suggestions will come from me, and your mother won’t be so apt to dismiss them.”
Rosie soon discovered Cass had some very definite ideas regarding her wedding. She scribbled notes, growing concerned at the number of times she heard “Dean thinks we should” or “Dean wants.” She glanced up occasionally to see Cass’s face glowing with the inner vision of her dream wedding.
When the chatter halted, Rosie looked up, hand poised to continue her note taking.
Cass smiled softly as she studied her engagement ring and sighed. “All this doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? I’d marry Dean in a barn with a handful of wildflowers, or elope if I needed to. All that really matters is that we love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together.”
Her love for Dean was palpable. Maybe he’d changed and they’d simply talked about the ceremony enough that Cass knew his preferences. It was none of Rosie’s business. Obviously, Cass wouldn’t appreciate or heed any warning at this point.
“Rosie, if you have enough information from me, I think I’ll drop by the bank and see my fiancé.”
“Oh, sure. I have plenty to go on. How about we meet again next week, same time?” Rosie suggested.
Cass agreed and practically floated through the door. Rosie jotted the appointment in her book as the droning hum of the refrigerated units filled the silence.
The Bing-Lassiter nuptials, while tasteful and small, would put her own wedding to shame. A business loan and a quick divorce when she wanted it wasn’t exactly the stuff romantic dreams were made of.
How could she even think of marrying Sam under the circumstances he’d offered? On the other hand, how could she not help him keep his daughter?
Just once, she wanted a piece of the dream her clients experienced. The thought clicked firmly into place in her brain and in her heart.
Jeezus Pete! Here she was repeating old behavior, accepting Sam’s dictates without a protest, while all along the loss of yet another dream nagged at her.
She might never experience a real marriage and most likely wouldn’t ever know the joy of being a mother, but she could experience a little bit of what it must be like to have a real wedding.
The doormat syndrome stopped right here, right now. The thing she had to figure out was how to get Sam to agree to a slight adjustment in their plans.
CHAPTER SEVEN
R osie stood on the back porch of her parents’ home, enjoying the cool breeze from an overhead fan, her mind focused on how to tell Sam she wanted to make adjustments to their bare-bones wedding plans.
Things were shaping up. Ernie’s delivery van was back on the road, and she needed to return her rental. She and Claire had managed a whirlwind trip into Little Rock the evening before, killing two birds with one stone. They’d purchased several items, including the dress that Rosie now worried was too much, too formal, and blatantly advertised her growing need to turn this imitation wedding into something she could remember fondly.
She had no problem being assertive where her business was concerned. Why should this be any different?
Behind her, the screen door slammed, jolting Rosie from her reverie and back into her birthday celebration. As the guest of honor, she wasn’t allowed to help with the meal. Today of all days, she could have used the distraction.
And where was Sam? He’d been beside her a moment ago.
Panic held Rosie in its grip. She blocked the noise of J.T.’s boys playing, the sizzle coming from her dad’s grill, and her mama
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