Marry Me by Kristin Wallace Page A

thrown into the mix. Seems everyone in town has a sister, daughter, granddaughter, or niece of marriageable age whom I need to meet.”
    â€œAny interesting prospects?” she asked, picking up the letter opener on his desk and twirling it between her fingers.
    Seth looked down at Beth’s picture. Sadness reached out to swallow him whole. “No.”
    â€œShe wouldn’t want you to live your life alone.”
    Something in her tone brought his head back up. Their eyes met. Hers were flat and guarded. Seth realized the question hadn’t been idle curiosity and knew his answer had hurt her. He wished he could make her understand.
    â€œI know. I just can’t—” he tried to explain. “I’m not sure anyone will ever take her place.”
    â€œYou’re not ready yet, I get it.” She stood up, looking anywhere but at Seth. “I need to go.”
    Yeah, she was hurt all right, but there wasn’t anything he could say to undo it. He ran a hand through his hair. “Julia—”
    She did look up then, but keep-your-distance Julia Richardson was firmly back in place. “Seth, I know. I’ll see you around.”
    What had happened here?
    He blew out a deep. “Right. See you.”

Chapter Six

    Some women feel they don’t exist unless they’re with a man. Julia’s mother was one of those women. She simply could not be alone. In between marriages Brooke Richardson kept time with a professional tennis player, a congressman, a doctor, a lawyer, a real estate developer, a CEO, an investment banker, a minor league baseball player, a chef, and a violin player for a symphony orchestra.
    Each relationship followed a predictable pattern. She’d fall madly in love and spend every waking moment with her new man. Until he did something completely offensive like leaving his dirty coffee cup on the kitchen counter all day, causing her to kick him out, or she became so jealous and possessive she turned into one of those crazed stalker women and the man headed for the hills.
    Living in the house had been like an endless soap opera, filled with angst and pity. She was angst. Julia was pity.
    Julia had decided back then her life would never revolve around a man. Ironic, since her life now consisted of helping other women revolve their lives around a man.
    Something else twisted? Having an outdoor wedding in the middle of summer. Slipping on a fifty-pound wedding dress and standing around in one-hundred-plus degree weather all day was not Julia’s idea of a good time. At least she’d had a week to prepare for the outdoor extravaganza, as opposed to a couple days.
    The wedding and reception was taking place at the Botanical Gardens on the outskirts of town. It hadn’t taken long for Julia to realize dealing with the country club staff was a piece of cake compared to transforming a patch of nature’s glory into a suitable setting for the grand nuptials.
    Since the crack of dawn she and Betsy had been directing a dozen workers in the set up. Well, Betsy had been directing, Julia had mostly been pointing in a vague direction whenever anyone asked her where something was supposed to go.
    The ceremony was to be held in the rose garden. In front of a semicircle of rose bushes was a white trellis festooned with ivy. Six rows of dainty white folding chairs were arranged in front of the trellis. About a hundred feet away, a giant tent with filmy white drapery and a temporary parquet dance floor had been erected for the reception. Chef Devon was catering the wedding, and she and her staff had been busy underneath the tent for hours now.
    Speaking of the ceremony, according to Julia’s schedule it was nearly time to start. Most of the guests were already seated. She went in search of Betsy. As she walked, Julia pulled her sticky blouse from her skin and fanned herself. After hours of running around in the Georgia soup, her hair had turned into a giant