Let Logan go. I don’t know if I can do that.
“I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” I glance over at a roaming Mrs. Rattles. “Your mom sure looks frustrated.”
Mrs. Rattles is pacing impatiently around the store, pulling at every dress within her grasp.
“Eloise! Any one of these options would look better on Ginny! Whatever did you do to Virginia’s dress?” Mrs. Rattles’ red pants suit stands out like a magic marker against the sea of white gowns lining the racks. She runs her manicured nails through her over-the-top permed hair that fans her head like a lion’s mane. “Those shoulder straps you altered—my daughter is not an Olympic swimmer!”
Eloise heaves her large frame off her wooden chair and sighs. “Helena, I will do what I can. But not everyone is blessed with your oldest daughter’s bone structure.”
Sweet Lord. I whip my head back to a red-faced Ginny, who quickly whispers to me, “Mama’s extra stressed out. She’s having doubts about us marrying at The Cowherd.”
That…will suck if Ginny’s wedding is pulled from the schedule.
“But I really want to marry there,” she says, reading my eyes. “And Mama’s thinking that Dave—she refers to him as David now because it sounds more heroic—and I must be the couple to save Jane’s ghost because we happen to be marrying right before the legend’s deadline. She thinks we’ll become super famous, and you know, so will she.”
I nod slowly. “Well, maybe. I mean, the whole thing’s a bit ridiculous, but?—”
Mrs. Rattles steps up on the platform next to us and grabs me hard by the arm.
I smile politely as I attempt to disengage my bicep from her death grip. “Something wrong?”
“Of course there is. When is there ever anything right with my youngest daughter’s wedding? First, we’ve got the unplanned bun in the oven, and who knows when that bun will start popping if you know what I mean.”
Ginny deflates, very much like a balloon does when it gets a hole in it. Amazing how a tiny tear can just knock all the air right out of it.
I put my arm around Ginny. “At least she has zero morning sickness.”
“True. And she’s slim by nature—two points in our favor,” her mother says. “But when my oldest got married, everything was perfect. The groom, the cake, the dress …” At the mention of the word dress, Mrs. Rattles looks back pointedly at Eloise. “And now we’re having sourcing problems. I told Ginny a hundred times, ‘Do not let the flowers slip through the cracks, Virginia!’ But she’s not a follow-througher! No follow-through at all.”
Ginny looks like if she continues not to move, this whole ordeal could turn out to be a nightmare and she can wake up and it will…poof!…disappear.
“But I’ve figured out a way to make it all right.” Mrs. Rattles exhales in relief. “I had a premonition that my Virginia and her David are the soul mates who will unlock that jail cell. I can feel it in my bones. And I’m never wrong.”
“That could be,” I say, trying to sound positive. “The legend is fictional, of course, but I suppose anything can happen?—”
“Ginny told me she and Dave are currently the only couple on the saloon’s calendar between now and the deadline. Is that true?”
I nod. “We have you penciled in for July fourth.”
“I like that my daughter would have the place to herself. No competition is always good. But your family’s establishment is certainly the worse for wear. So I just don’t know if I can allow Ginny to hold her wedding there. Even if she is knocked up.” Mrs. Rattles sighs and eyes me for a moment. “Freeing the ghost would help you out too, though, right Macey?”
“In theory, yes,” I say. “Mayor Huggins said he’d think about letting my father run the bar again if Jane Austen’s ghost is freed. Not because he’s kind but because he doesn’t think there’s a chance in hell of that ever happening.”
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Rattles says. “Seems you really are battling a curse.”
“Thank you,” I say curtly. “But there’s always tomorrow, so I will remain optimistic. And if you really think Ginny could be the heroine to free Jane Austen’s ghost, she should definitely marry at The Cowherd. It’s in the legend that the ghost must bear witness to the union.”
Mrs. Rattles thinks, and thinks again, and finally sighs. “Fine. The ceremony will take place at The Cowherd Whiskey Chapel with drinks afterward. But…” She continues on, ignoring my smile. “The formal reception will be at the inn on Main Street. It’s beautiful; it’s indoors so we don’t have to deal with the insufferable heat of July…” She pauses. “And it’s not at a run-down saloon.”
I gratefully take the deal. The Cowherd needs the business, and Ginny needs one less thing for her mother to be stressed about.
“And who are you taking as your date to my daughter’s wedding?” Mrs. Rattles asks me sternly. “You know he should be worthy of Virginia’s bridal party.”
Shit. Who the hell am I going to take with me? Because, now I have to take someone. Since Logan will be accompanied by his—fiancée. I can barely hear the word in my own head without puking.
I give Mrs. Rattles a vague shrug and glance out the window at the storefront’s Where’s Your Mr. Darcy sign blowing in the late spring breeze.
God, how stupid I must have sounded when I flirted with Logan earlier. I assumed nothing had changed since he went away, but clearly something has. Something major. Someone major. But, like Ginny pointed out, I never wanted to get married. So…
