He was thinking things again.
A few minutes later, the four of them were finally on their way, with Sidney’s car once again following behind him. Vaughn took the shortest route to town, a twenty-minute drive along hilly, winding roads.
They pulled into the driveway of Carter Mansion, a Victorian-style bed-and-breakfast where the Sinclair sisters would be spending the night. As soon as Sidney’s car rolled to a stop behind the pickup truck, Isabelle scrambled out and hurried up the front steps of the inn, not bothering to wait for the rest of them.
“I guess she’s eager to check in,” Simon said, with an attempt at a casual laugh. Then he climbed out of the pickup, grabbed Isabelle’s suitcase from the trunk of the Mercedes, and quickly followed his fiancée inside.
And then there were two.
Vaughn exited the truck and walked around to Sidney’s car. He found her standing next to the sedan’s open trunk, taking in the picturesque town before them—a quaint cobblestone street flanked by brightly colored historical buildings.
“So this is ‘town.’” She cocked her head, as if surprised. “It’s so cute and charming.” She turned and raised an eyebrow. “You really grew up here?”
Ha, ha. “What were you expecting? A tavern, a gas station, and some diner named Flo’s, advertising the $5.99 meatloaf special?”
“Of course not.”
He gave her an unwavering I-can-wait-for-the-truth-all-day FBI stare.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Maybe that’s something along the lines of what I’d pictured.”
Satisfied with the admission, Vaughn reached for the handle of her suitcase. He grunted as he lifted it out of the trunk. “Christ, what did you pack in here?”
“An espresso machine. There’s no Starbucks for miles, so I had to improvise.”
He was about to respond—You’ve got to be kidding me—when he caught the sparkle of amusement in her eyes and realized she was messing with him. “Cute. What’s really in the suitcase?”
She grabbed her laptop bag and threw the strap over her shoulder. “Bridal magazines for Isabelle. Lots of them.” She shut the trunk of her car and they began walking up the driveway to the mansion.
“Ah. You mean the ones filled with articles like, ‘How to Dazzle Your Guests with Ridiculously Overpriced Centerpieces,’ and ‘Where to Register for Obnoxiously Expensive China You’ll Never Use’?”
“And here I thought I was snarky.”
“Come on. You have to admit, the whole thing is a racket,” he said. “The wedding industry preys on stressed-out brides, convincing them that they have to spend crazy amounts of money to create some romanticized idea of the perfect day.”
“And when you’re forty-five, and your twenty-four-year-old fiancée wants to create wonderful memories that you two will remember for the rest of your life, I’m sure that’s the exact speech you’ll use to rein her in,” Sidney quipped, not missing a beat.
Ooh, she sounded irritated with him again. Vaughn turned around, walking backward so he could face her. Strangely, seeing her aggravated expression made him grin—and want to goad her on even more. “I like this scenario. Tell me more about this twenty-four-year-old wife of mine. Is she hot? Smoking body?”
Sidney smiled sweetly. “Remember that thing you said to me at the coffee shop? That we could meet the next day, so you could surprise me by not turning out to be the ass I thought you might be? I think we’ve officially established that you would not have been successful in that endeavor.”
He stopped at the base of the steps. “But I haven’t shown you my best moves.”
“Honey, I already know your best moves,” she said, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. “And five years ago, I might’ve been tempted. But now I’m looking for more . . . serious contenders.”
Personally, he thought it wouldn’t kill her to have a little fun—she had her whole life to be bored by serious contenders. “That’s the second time you called me ‘honey.’ I can’t decide if I like it or if I’m starting to feel objectified,” he teased.
She sighed. “I seriously don’t think I can walk down an aisle with you.”
His voice dipped lower, a slow drawl. “Careful, Sinclair. Those are very heady words to a guy like me.”
She left him standing there, by himself, at the base of the steps.
With a grin, he turned and watched her go. Yep, still cantankerous.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the view from behind.
Vaughn followed her to the inn’s front door, catching sight of the placard that said the mansion had been built in 1849. Stepping inside, he saw that careful attention had been paid to preserve the historical character of the house. To his left was a parlor with a wood-burning fireplace and antique furnishings. Across the foyer was a living room with a small reception area.
A woman in her mid-fifties, dressed in jeans and a floral top, sat behind an ornate wooden check-in desk. She greeted them with a warm smile. “Welcome to Carter Mansion.”
Sidney looked around. “My sister, Isabelle, came in here a few minutes ago. At least, I thought she did.”
“She and Simon just headed upstairs. They said you were right behind them. Sidney, right?” The woman introduced herself as Lauren, one of the co-owners of the inn. She gave them an overview of the amenities as she checked Sidney in. “You’ll be staying in the Jocelyn Room. Your sister’s room is right next door.” She slid a small metal key ring with the inn’s logo across the desk.
Sidney’s eyes widened, seeing that. “Oh, wow. You have actual keys, not a key card.” She took out her cell phone and snapped a photo.
“She’s from the city,” Vaughn explained to the innkeeper.
Sidney nudged him with her shoulder. “You’re from the city now, too.”
“But I blend in anywhere. It’s an FBI thing.”
She snorted at that. “Blend? There had to be thirty people in that coffee shop that day, yet you were the one I noticed as soon I walked in.”
Interesting admission. “Checking me out, were you?”
Sidney blushed, then turned to Lauren—clearly not about to answer that. “What time is check-out?”
“Noon. A full gourmet breakfast will be served in your room at any time of your choosing between seven thirty and nine thirty A.M.” Lauren turned amiably to Vaughn. “I’m in the church gardening group with your mother. Be sure to tell her I said hello.”
“I’ll do that,” Vaughn said.
“She’s talked a lot about Simon’s engagement, but didn’t say anything about you.” The innkeeper pointed between Vaughn and Sidney. “Have you two been together long?”
Sidney blinked, then gestured at Vaughn. “Him and me?” She laughed. “Oh, no. Noooo, no, no.”
Vaughn smiled at Lauren, nonplussed. “In case you missed it, that would be a no.”
Ten
AFTER UNPACKING, SIDNEY and Isabelle curled up on Isabelle’s bed with a stack of bridal magazines and got down to work.
Over the next couple of hours, they decided on the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses, finalized the guest lists for the bridal shower and bachelorette party, and pulled together several magazine clippings with photos of table centerpieces to show the florist. Sidney was about to move on to the next item on the agenda—potential locations for the rehearsal dinner because that needed to be booked ASAP—when she looked over and saw that Isabelle had fallen asleep, her head tucked into the crook of her arm.
Quietly, Sidney got up and grabbed the throw blanket that had been folded across the bottom of the bed. She laid it over Isabelle, whose expression was one of serene contentment as she napped with a bridal magazine lying open on the bed in front of her. Seeing that, Sidney felt a pang of something bittersweet. She, too, had once felt that happy and hopeful about her own wedding—before she’d been unexpectedly yanked out o
f the fantasy by the appearance of her fiancé’s lover.
Shoving the unwelcome memory aside, she tiptoed out of the room.
Once inside her own room, Sidney caught up on e-mail and texted Trish the photo of the actual key the innkeeper had given her.
I THINK I’M IN MAYBERRY, she typed.
A few seconds later, she received Trish’s reply. I HEAR SMALL TOWNS HAVE HOT SHERIFFS. GO SPEED THAT MERCEDES DOWN MAIN STREET AND GET YOURSELF A DATE.
Sidney smiled. If only it were that easy.
Deciding that a more casual look would be appropriate for dinner, she changed into jeans, flat sandals, and a flowy, white embroidered camisole top. She let her hair down from the twist she’d pinned it into that morning, let it fall into messy waves, and used a curling iron to touch up the ends. She was just finishing up when she heard a knock at her door.
Isabelle shuffled in, yawning. “Simon just texted me. He said he’ll pick us up in twenty minutes.” She looked Sidney over. “Wow. That’s the most non-businesslike I’ve seen you look in years.”
Sidney scrutinized her reflection in the mirror on the back of the closet door. “It’s missing something. Do you think they sell cowboy boots in town?”
“Not ones that are made by Manolo Blahnik,” Isabelle said teasingly.
Well, that was indeed a crime.
• • •
FOR DINNER, KATHLEEN diverted from the traditional Irish traditions and instead made chicken with lemon, green olives, and couscous—which seemed to agree much better with both Isabelle and the peanut. Sidney sat with her sister to her right, and Kathleen, at the foot of the table, on her other side. The mood was boisterous, with everyone talking every which way, and Sidney found herself chatting quite a bit with Kathleen.
Over coffee and dessert, a delicious pistachio chocolate chip cake that was another favorite of “the boys,” the conversation took a turn that Sidney supposed was inevitable.
“I noticed you haven’t mentioned anything about a boyfriend,” Kathleen said to her. “Does that mean you’re single?”
The din around the table suddenly quieted, and five pairs of eyes focused on Sidney.
Well. Nothing like putting her on the spot again.
“Yes, I’m single,” she said.
“I don’t understand that.” Kathleen gestured to her. “How is it that a smart, pretty girl like you hasn’t been snatched up by some good man?”
“Mom,” Vaughn said. “I’m sure Sidney doesn’t want to be interrogated about her personal life.”
Deep down, Sidney knew that Vaughn—who’d obviously deduced that she’d been burned in the past—was only trying to be polite. But that was the problem, she didn’t want him to be polite, as if she needed to be shielded from such questions. That wasn’t any better than the damn “Poor Sidney” head-tilt.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind answering.” She turned to Kathleen. “I was seeing someone in New York, but that relationship ended shortly before I moved to Chicago.”
“So now that you’re single again, what kind of man are you looking for? Vaughn?” Kathleen pointed. “Could you pass the creamer?”
He did so, then turned to look once again at Sidney. His lips curved at the corners, the barest hint of a smile. He was daring her, she knew, waiting for her to back away from his mother’s questions.
She never had been very good at resisting his dares.
“Actually, I have a list of things I’m looking for.” Sidney took a sip of her coffee.
Vaughn raised an eyebrow. “You have a list?”
“Yep.”
“Of course you do.”
Isabelle looked over, surprised. “You never told me about this.”
“What kind of list?” Kathleen asked interestedly.
“It’s a test, really,” Sidney said. “A list of characteristics that indicate whether a man is ready for a serious relationship. It helps weed out the commitment-phobic guys, the womanizers, and any other bad apples, so a woman can focus on the candidates with more long-term potential.”
Vaughn rolled his eyes. “And now I’ve heard it all.”
“Where did you find this list?” Simon asked. “Is this something all women know about?”
“Why? Worried you won’t pass muster?” Isabelle winked at him.
“I did some research,” Sidney said. “Pulled it together after reading several articles online.”
“Lists, tests, research, online dating, speed dating—I can’t keep up with all these things you kids are doing,” Adam said, from the head of the table. “Whatever happened to the days when you’d see a girl at a restaurant or a coffee shop and just walk over and say hello?”
Vaughn turned to Sidney, his smile devilish. “Yes, whatever happened to those days, Sidney?”
She threw him a look. Don’t be cute. “You know what they say—it’s a jungle out there. Nowadays a woman has to make quick decisions about whether a man is up to par.” She shook her head mock reluctantly. “Sadly, some guys just won’t make the cut.”
“But all it takes is one,” Isabelle said, with a loving smile at her fiancé.
Simon slid his hand across the table, covering hers affectionately. “The right one.”
Until he nails his personal trainer. Sidney took another sip of her coffee, holding back the cynical comment. She didn’t want to spoil Isabelle and Simon’s idyllic all-you-need-is-love glow.
Vaughn cocked his head, looking at the happy couple. “Aw, aren’t you two just so . . . cheesy.”
Kathleen shushed him. “Don’t tease your brother.”
“What? Any moment, I’m expecting birds and little woodland animals to come in here and start singing songs about true love, they’re so adorable.”
Sidney laughed out loud. Quickly, she bit her lip to cover.
When Vaughn’s eyes met hers across the table, she realized that for one brief moment, they were on the same page.
“So,” Kathleen said, picking up the cake cutter. “Who wants seconds?”
• • •
AFTER THE DINNER dishes were cleared away, Kathleen disappeared for a few minutes, then came back into the kitchen carrying a stack of photo albums.
“Oh, crap, no,” Vaughn groaned.
“No way, Mom,” Simon said definitively. “Not the photo albums.”
“What? I’m sure the girls would love to see these. You boys were so cute when you were younger.” She shooed them away. “Go work on the shed while we talk.”
The three women moved into the family room, and Kathleen walked Isabelle and Sidney through the photo albums. She shared funny anecdotes about the family, and turned nostalgic when she opened Simon’s baby book. “I wrote everything down, knowing he was going to be my last. Adam and I had planned to have a bigger family, but there were complications when Simon was born. I’d always wanted to have a daughter.” She looked up from the baby book and smiled at Isabelle. “At least now I get to have a daughter-in-law. Finally.”
Isabelle returned the smile. “I realize that Simon and I have only known each other a few months, but I hope you know that my feelings for him are completely sincere. I think he’s just . . . wonderful. He’s funny and sweet and caring, and such a good man. I can’t wait to marry him and start a family, and begin building memories of our own, just like these.” She gestured to the photo albums on the coffee table in front of them.
Kathleen’s eyes were misty. “Well. I think that’s just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” She laughed, wiping her eyes. “I’d say this calls for a hug.” She pulled Isabelle in and squeezed her.
Sidney felt a tightening in her chest, watching the two women embrace. Isabelle had missed out on so many moments like this, both of them had. But happy though she was for Isabelle, seeing her sister bond with her future mother-in-law served as yet another reminder of the
place she had always assumed she, too, would be in at this point in her life.
Careful, warned the pragmatic voice in her head. That’s starting to sound a bit like jealousy.
Sidney stood up from the armchair. “I’m going to grab a glass of water. Anyone else need anything?”
“Actually, Sidney, if you don’t mind, grab a couple bottled waters from the refrigerator and bring them out to the boys,” Kathleen said. “And find out how much longer they plan to be.”
Thinking that some air would do her good, Sidney nodded. “Sure, no problem.” She grabbed three bottled waters from the fridge, then headed out to the backyard and followed a row of colorful flowers to the white painted shed. She could see Simon working on a section of the roof close to the ladder, so she called his name and held up the bottled water. “Your mom wants to know when you guys are wrapping up.”
He climbed down the ladder and took one of the bottled waters. “I think we’ll probably call it a day. It’ll be dark soon, anyway.” He shouted up to Vaughn, who poked his head around the peaked part of the roof. “I’m heading in.”
Vaughn nodded and went back to his hammering.
Not about to stand around all night waiting for him, Sidney set his bottled water on the grass next to the ladder. She turned to follow Simon, but then hesitated.
Perhaps she could use just a teeny tiny break before heading back inside to the most adorably-in-love couple this side of Chicago.
She noticed a path to the left of the shed. Seeing that it led into the woods adjacent to the Robertses’ house, she decided to check it out. Closer to the trees, the path split in two. Mindful of the approaching darkness, she ignored the path that led deeper into the woods and chose the other one, which took her to a small clearing. She slowed her stride as she neared the top, struck by the picturesque view. The Robertses’ property was at the top of a hill, and from the clearing she could see down into the valley. The deep blue of the sky was streaked with brilliant hues of red, burnt orange, and yellow as the sun began its descent behind the hills.