Brenda Minton - The Boss's Bride

“You almost ready, Gracie?” her dad called through the door.

“Almost.”

She opened the window, just to let in fresh air. She leaned out, breathing the hint of autumn, enjoying the breeze on her face. She looked across the grassy lawn and saw…

FREEDOM.

She shook her head at the word. That was the wrong word. A bride shouldn’t be thinking of freedom. She should be thinking of happy-ever-after with the man she loved. The word ached deep inside, mocking her. Love. It meant something, to love someone, to want to be with them forever. It meant loyalty.

She closed her eyes and thought back to that day one month ago when she’d meant to surprise Trent. She’d packed a lunch for them. She’d thought a picnic would be romantic. Instead she sat in her car watching him and then she’d eased out of the parking space, driving away as if she hadn’t seen anything. That moment had confirmed her suspicions.

It all added up. He had been seeing someone else while she’d been busy at home, planning their wedding. He had texted the other woman while they’d been sampling cakes at the Sweet Dreams Bakery. He’d called her while he and Gracie had dinner with his parents.

Gracie hadn’t known how to end a relationship just weeks short of the wedding.

But now she did.

Quiet as a mouse, she slid herself and the hoopskirt through the window. Once she stood on the grass outside the window, her heart began to pound. She thought about how wrong this was. She thought about all the money Mrs. Morgan had spent.

She thought of how things would have been different if her own mother had been alive and she’d had a woman to turn to, to talk to. If she didn’t feel so responsible for everyone else.

It hadn’t been her plan to sneak around the side of the church, to look out at the crowded parking lot. The limo was already decorated with cans, streamers and painted windows; two teenage boys were finishing up with cans of shaving cream. She hadn’t planned to slip away and then run as fast as she could down a side street.

But she did run.

And she felt freer than she had in months. She felt the breeze on her face, the coolness of the air, and knew she couldn’t marry Trent Morgan. But she didn’t know where to go or what to do now that she’d left her groom standing in the sanctuary of the church waiting for a bride who wouldn’t be walking down the aisle. She only knew that she couldn’t go through with this wedding.

Chapter One

The stockroom of The Fixer-Upper hardware store was dark, warm and strangely peaceful. Gracie sat on a stool, staring down at the white dress that hadn’t made it down the aisle. She shifted the skirt, all lace and silk, the type of creation she never would have picked on her own. The only things of her own choosing were her white cowboy boots with sequins and the crystal ribbon on the flowers.

She studied the bouquet Trent’s mother had picked, so different from the daisies Gracie had wanted. When Gracie had sneaked into The Fixer-Upper, she’d tossed the bouquet on a worktable. Even from several feet away, she could smell the sweetness of the flowers, a reminder that this had never really been her wedding. Even the yellow roses, which would have been okay, had been enhanced with a few exotic blooms. Mrs. Morgan had a thing for over-the-top.

From the church to the decorations, Trent’s mother had made all the decisions. Mrs. Morgan, wife of a prominent surgeon, had taken charge. After all, as Mrs. Morgan liked to point out, Gracie didn’t have a mother of her own to take care of these things. And because Gracie’s father’s granary was struggling, like every other business in Bygones, Kansas, the Morgan family had been footing the bill for their only son to marry Gracie Wilson.

Gracie smiled as she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. She’d finally made a decision of her own. She’d made the decision to bail on the whole dreadful affair.

It seemed as if everyone was counting on this marriage. It had definitely been a big help to the Bygones economy, thanks to the Morgans. My dad. Thinking of him, she felt guilty. He’d been happy, thinking she would never have to work hard again. She was marrying up, he’d said. She’d be set for life, her brother Evan had added.

She’d never agreed with her dad about marrying up. Her dad and her five brothers were the cream of the crop. Very few men could compete with those men of hers. Trent Morgan might have money but he was far from marrying “up” for Gracie. He’d proven more than once that he wasn’t the man she wanted to share her dreams or her life with.

She drew in a deep breath and she didn’t cry. As difficult as tomorrow would be for her, for her family, today she could breathe. She had made the right decision. She’d made the decision she’d been afraid to make weeks ago when she first caught him cheating. She’d made the decision she should have made months ago when first she realized something was wrong.

She’d started the relationship with Trent thinking it would be perfect. But they’d been two different people. She knew how to rely on her faith. He used his faith as a disguise.

She had tried to do the right thing for everyone. But she hadn’t done the right thing for herself.

She only hoped she still had a job here at The Fixer-Upper hardware store. She hoped her boss, Patrick

Fogerty, hadn’t replaced her. She would definitely need the money, because she had a feeling Mrs. Morgan would want to be reimbursed for the wedding that hadn’t happened.

Her dad couldn’t afford the expense.

Somehow she’d make this right. She would get her life back. Tomorrow she’d admit to Miss Coraline Connolly, retired principal of the Bygones school system, that she’d been right. She and Ann Mars, owner of the This ’N’ That, had both questioned her in the past few days, telling her she didn’t look as happy as a bride-to-be ought to.

Outside The Fixer-Upper she could hear cars. People were probably looking for her. She guessed her dad would have gone home to search in all of her old hiding places. No one would think to check for her in the hardware store, a business that had been in town for only two months, with an owner few people really knew.

They’d like him once they got to know him, she thought, once they realized he wasn’t just a city person looking for a fresh start. He was a decent man who really wanted to be a part of a community. She thought that about all the new business owners in Bygones. From the coffee shop to the bakery, they had made the town better. They were giving her hometown hope. The folks in Bygones needed hope.

She needed hope. She closed her eyes and prayed, something she should have been doing more of. She should have paid attention to her nagging doubts about this marriage. She should have listened to God. Instead she’d listened to everyone else, to all the people telling her how great it would be to marry a man like Trent.

Gracie swiped a hand across her eyes. A tear or two slipped down her cheeks, not for the marriage that wouldn’t be, but for her dad, her family and her community. She thought about her mom and how things would have been different if Eva Wilson had lived.

The door chime dinged on the wall across from her. Someone had opened the front door of the hardware store. She scooted to the edge of the stool and glanced at the back door, her only way to escape. But running out the back door would set off an alarm, and the overworked, understaffed local police didn’t need more drama. They were probably busy looking for her.

She reached for a three-foot length of rebar and held it tight in her hand, just in case the person coming in thought they could rip the place off, since everyone in town was otherwise occupied. There had been some vandalism lately. As quiet as Bygones used to be, a break-in wouldn’t be so surprising in this economy. The door to the storeroom opened. She held the rebar close, took a deep breath and waited.