Toss the Bouquet by Ruth Logan Herne

present.
    As he approached the hotel, bells from the church began to ring. He tried the church door. It opened under his hand. He stepped inside and slipped into a back pew.
    He’d walked into the middle of a candlelit evening prayer service. Attendance was minimal but heartfelt. A couple of homeless people had claimed pews on the far side and were curled up, sound asleep, away from the cold city night.
    When I was hungry you fed me. Naked, you clothed me.
    The image of the two sleepers stirred his heart. God had already given him so much. What need did he have for more?
    None, he decided. He had more than enough already.
    The Serenity Prayer came back to him, his mother’s counsel: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
    When the service drew to a quiet close, he slipped across the back of the church, left a contribution in the church’s offering box, and did the same for the two sleepers down on their luck.
    When I was hungry you fed me . . .
    An opportunity for change dangled before him, if only he had the courage to reach out and take it.
    With God’s help and Tara’s love, he did.
    The following morning he met with Marc Mitchum, withdrew his name from consideration, and headed back to Philly. He’d make it just in time for the gala, and hopefully in time to see Tara before the event started.
    But if not?
    Well, they’d have the rest of their lives to work things out. He’d make sure of it.

    Tara and Jean scanned the list late Friday afternoon to ensure they hadn’t missed anything.
    Displays? Done.
    Models? Ready!
    Food? Being catered by a nearby culinary academy, reasonably priced and proud to show their stuff.
    Greg’s flowers and floral displays from friends of the Elizondos decked the sales areas. The soft scent of spring blossoms filled the air.
    A dream come true. A night that would have been perfect if Greg were there, but he wasn’t, and most likely he would be following his own dreams in New York before long.
    Tara’s conscience jumped in with a mental scolding. What if Ruth had abandoned Naomi? What if she’d followed her mother-in-law’s direction and returned to Moab? Where would her happy ending be now? Be patient. Trust. And by the way, that dress looks marvelous!
    â€œTara, does this look right?” Meghan interrupted her thoughts. She was retucking the Maid Marian–style gown display for the tenth time that afternoon.
    â€œTouch it again and I’ll lock you in an alterations room, Meghan. I know where they keep the keys, so don’t test me.”
    Meghan burst out laughing and stepped away, hands up. “I’m going to get changed. Can you handle this customer?” She nodded toward the front.
    â€œAbsolutely.” Tara draped the organza bunting over her shoulder and moved forward. “Hi, I’m Tara. Can I help you?”
    The woman glanced around. A wide smile split her broad, bronzed face. “This is just plain beautiful inside here, Miss Tara. I can see why Elena’s has been a cornerstone in Old City for so long! I am Nettie Johnson from a few blocks over, and I am here on a mission.”
    â€œFor a dress?”
    She laughed and shook her head quickly. “For Mr. Greg. Is he here?”
    Tara shook her head regretfully. “He’s in Manhattan until later tonight. Can I help you?”
    â€œOh, no need!” The woman’s smile deepened. She reached out and grasped Tara’s hands in hers. “We are flyin’ high at this moment, and I just wanted to come by and give Gregory a big hug and a public thank-you for what he’s done. We not only get to keep our mission right here in Old City, but the landlord has agreed to fix an abundance of things he has been puttin’ off for years! And all because Greg did battle for us. He is a special man, and our staff and