Picture Perfect (Weddings by Design Book #1): A Novel

  Capping off the holiday for me? I would get to meet Brock Benson in person. My thoughts turned to mush every time I thought about it. Not that I cared to replace my hunky Drew with the handsome dancing/singing/acting star. Oh no. Brock Benson might be superstar material, but he couldn’t hold a candle to my guy.

  On the day before Brock’s arrival, I drove to my studio early in the morning, anxious to tidy up and then deal with the day’s work in a hurry. A heavier-than-usual agenda included a morning photo shoot involving twin baby girls. In Christmas attire, of course. They arrived early, and I dove right in, catching some of the best shots imaginable.

  Around eleven, just after wrapping up the shoot, I received a phone call that caught me off guard. I didn’t recognize the number on the phone right away, but I took the call anyway. The words from the other end of the line threw me a little.

  “George is gone.”

  “What?” I struggled to recognize the voice on the other end of the line. Didn’t sound like Bella.

  “George. My publicist. He’s gone. I fired him.”

  Sierra Caswell . . . calling me? Personally?

  “You . . . you did?” But George handles everything for you.

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “If you want the truth, he was all about promoting me, not about caring for the real me.”

  Well, that’s kind of what a publicist does.

  Still, I couldn’t argue with the fact that letting him go was the best news I’d heard in a while. Thankful that my clients had already gone, I settled into my chair and leaned back, anxious to hear what she might say.

  “So it’s just us now, Hannah,” Sierra said, her usual practicality waning. “And I might as well tell you that the whole music video at the wedding thing . . .”

  I pulled the phone a bit closer to listen.

  “Ain’t happenin’.” She chuckled. “Every time I mentioned it to David, he looked like he wanted to hurl. I mean, the guy can hardly stand being on camera under the best of circumstances. Apparently the idea of landing in the middle of a music video on our wedding day was giving him cold feet and he was too afraid to tell me.” She giggled. “Can you imagine someone you love being that afraid to tell you what they really feel?”

  “Actually, I can. I tend to run on the overly cautious side too. When it comes to sharing what’s on my heart, I mean.”

  “Really?” She laughed. “I guess I’m the sort to just blab whatever’s on my mind. Maybe that’s why George was paranoid about protecting me, because he knows me so well. I guess, on some strange level, he was really looking out for me.”

  “I’m sure he was.” At everyone else’s expense.

  “Anyway, I’m glad David finally told me what he was feeling. It helps to know we’re just having a wedding and nothing more. The whole thing was starting to feel a little surreal.”

  Tell me about it.

  “So here’s what I’m thinking. I know we said you couldn’t photograph me from the left side. But honestly, I kind of like my crooked nose. George wasn’t into letting people see my imperfections, but I don’t mind them. I want my fans to know me and love me for who I really am. If I go on hiding my flaws, they’ll fall in love with someone who isn’t real. You know?”

  “I do.” More than you can imagine.

  “Hey, and speaking of keeping it real, I want you to know that David and I are coming down for this parade thing that Brock’s going to be in. I’ll be staying at Bella’s place. David is going to stay at the Tremont.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Our rehearsal dinner is that same night, you know, so we’ll be there already. Might as well go to the parade. I haven’t been to Dickens on the Strand before, so give me some ideas of fun things we can do while we’re there.”

  Sierra Caswell was asking me for advice? Outside the realm of photography? Girlfriend to girlfriend? Crazy.

  “There’s no better season on Galveston Island than Christmas.” I closed my eyes and could almost envision it. “The whole thing is like a picture book. Like stepping back in time. Imagine a Victorian Christmas, one with music and costumes and food and every good thing.”

  “Sounds amazing,” she said. “So, I should show up in a costume?”

  “Well, you get in free if you do.” Not that Sierra Caswell needed to get in free, but whatever.

  “What do we do, though?”

  “Shop, mostly. And eat. We have the best funnel cakes in the world. There’s a costume showcase. You can win all sorts of prizes for dressing up as the Loveliest Lady or the Best-Dressed Family. That sort of thing.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Oh, it is. My grandpa Aengus won the Most Dapper Gent contest once, years ago. The cool part is, if you win, you get to show off your costumes in Pickwick’s Lanternlight Parade. But if you’re not really into coming in costume, don’t worry about it. There’s plenty to do. They’ve got madrigal music, live musicians, jugglers . . .”

  I went off on a rabbit trail about the jugglers, but then worked my way back to the topic at hand. “Oh, and some couples even get married at Dickens on the Strand. There’s always a group wedding at noon on Saturday. You can get married there or renew your wedding vows. Whatever you like.”

  She laughed. “Well, if things get any crazier with my wedding, I might go that route. Sure would be easier than planning my own ceremony.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, look on the bright side. You won’t ever have to go through this again.”

  “You’re right.” She sighed. “I can’t wait for you to meet David. He’s the best. He’s been through so much, being engaged to me. You have no idea how stressful it is, especially with the paparazzi involved. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the way things were before any of this fame stuff ever started.” She paused. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I feel so . . . lucky.”

  “No such thing as luck, girl. I’d have to say you’re blessed. Or as my grandpa Aengus would say, ‘Blessed by the best.’”

  She laughed. “Is your grandpa a Texan?”

  “He lived in Texas, but his heart was still in Ireland.”

  Her voice softened. “Has he passed away?”

  “Yeah.” A catch in my throat made me stop. “I . . . I miss him a lot.”

  “I miss my grandfather too. He was always so good at giving me advice. I didn’t always take it, but his heart was in the right place.”

  “Mine too.”

  We both sighed in unison and then laughed.

  “Didn’t mean to get off on all that,” she said. “I just wanted to give you a call and tell you about George. I’ve already told Bella. She’s happy, I think.”

  Me too. But I wouldn’t say that out loud.

  At this point the conversation continued to how cute Bella’s children were. I filled her in on the details of little Rosie’s new tooth. Before long I had Sierra laughing with some of my stories about the antics the Rossi children had pulled.

  Just before we ended the call, I thought of something I’d better share. “Hey, do you mind if I ask a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “You remember Drew Kincaid?” I asked.

  “Of course. You’re not still worried that I’m going to hire him instead, are you?” she asked. “I feel really bad for telling you all of that.”

  “No, just the opposite, in fact. I want to ask if it’s okay for him to help me out at your wedding.”

  “No way. I get two for the price of one?”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Drew and I are . . . well, we’re . . .”

  “No way. You’re dating?” She let out a squeal and lit into how cool it was to have both of us on the same team. I couldn’t agree more.

  As we prepared to end the conversation, I thanked Sierra for sticking with me. She countered with, “Girl, it’s the right thing. I can feel it. I can’t wait to meet you in person, by the way. You seem like my kind of girl.”

  “You . . . you too.”
r />   Who knew? The diva wasn’t such a diva after all. Bella had been right all along.

  After ending the call, I raced to Drew’s studio to tell him all about my day, especially as it pertained to Sierra’s wedding plans. I found him under the sink in the bathroom, working on the pipes, his hair a mess and smudges of dirt all over his face.

  “What’s happening here?” I asked.

  He groaned and sat up, nearly smacking his head as he did. “Same thing as before, only worse. The plumbing is shot. When the freeze hit last night, the pipes froze and then split off at the seams. I had a water leak like you wouldn’t believe. Water went under the wall and soaked my office. Almost ruined the power adapter leading to my computer.”

  “Oh no. You caught it in time?”

  “Just.” He crawled out from under the sink and raked his fingers through his messy hair. “It doesn’t make any sense, as much as I pay to rent this place. You would think they’d take better care of things. I’ve tried talking to my landlord, but he just loads me up on more stories of things he’s going to do next week. But next week never comes.”

  “It’s an old building,” I observed. “Probably needs a complete overhaul.”

  “Yeah, plumbing, electrical . . . everything.” Under the sink, the steady drip, drip, drip of water sounded, and Drew groaned again. “It’s not ‘quaint old,’ like your place. Far from it, in fact.”

  I shrugged, unsure of what to say. My heart went out to him.

  “Just seems like a lot of money with little to show for it.”

  “I’ve got the same problem. Sort of, anyway. I pay a lot for my studio but don’t spend much time there. So much of my work is out on location. Weddings, family events, personal photos. I only spend about half of my time indoors, if that.”

  “Same here.”

  He appeared to be thinking—I knew it because the tiny crevices between his eyes deepened. After a moment he snapped his fingers. “Hannah, that’s it.”

  “W-what?”

  “We should share an office space. I’ve got some great backdrops. You’ve got a great location. I’ve got a wonderful marketing strategy. You’ve got the best ambience in town. We both do at least half of our work outside the studio, so we wouldn’t be tripping over each other.”

  My heart raced as I pondered his words. “I—I’m not sure what you’re saying. You think we can run two separate businesses out of one location? Won’t that confuse people?”

  “No.” He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Not two businesses. One business.”

  “One business?”

  Was he talking about merging . . . everything? At this news, I wanted to sit down. Only, I couldn’t find a chair that didn’t have some sort of plumbing supply on it.

  “Think about it, Hannah. It would be half of the rent but double the proceeds. We’d have each other to lean on. If I didn’t have time for a shoot, you could cover it, and vice versa.”

  “I don’t know, Drew.” Releasing a slow breath, I began to pace the room.

  But the idea did hold some merit. With the rent on my place so high, splitting it down the middle would give me some breathing room. I wouldn’t have to depend on large photo shoots to cover my expenses. We could split them. And who better to split them with?

  “We’ve competed against each other for too long.” He drew near and took my hand again, which caused a delicious shiver to wriggle its way down my spine. “We need to be working with each other, not against. We can pull from each other’s strengths.”

  I had to admit, the idea held merit. How long had I searched for the chink in his armor so that I could bring him down? If we merged forces, I could let all of that go.

  Merge forces. Hmm.

  Gazing into Drew’s gorgeous baby blues, I had to conclude one thing: letting go of my competitive spirit was getting easier every day. No telling what Grandpa Aengus would say . . . but did it really matter?

  “Okay, I like this idea,” I said after a moment’s reflection. “But I have to ask you something first. And answer me honestly.”

  “Of course.”

  “I just have to know . . . do you put your business first?”

  He shrugged. “I would guess that most new business owners do, especially those who don’t have large families. I mean, I’ve got no siblings to distract me, ya know?”

  I laughed. “I have three married sisters, two parents who know every detail of my life, and a best friend who still thinks that having a slumber party is a good idea. I’m drowning—at home and at work. I want to give 100 percent on all fronts, but there are only so many 100 percents you can give before you realize there’s nothing left. And I hate to admit it, but I feel pretty . . . I don’t know . . . blah inside. Sometimes, anyway. I mean, I’m energized about the business to the point of thinking about it nonstop. But I don’t have as much energy left over to give to some of the things that really matter. Or, rather, things that used to matter.”

  A wave of guilt washed over me as I remembered how much I used to enjoy taking photos at church, or going on mission trips. “Years ago, I would’ve been out on the streets at Christmastime, doing outreaches with the homeless. Now I’m so busy taking pictures of people who have everything that I don’t see the people who have nothing. It’s like I’ve cropped that image out of my life. I can try as hard as I want, but in the end, something’s gotta give.”

  “I hear ya.” He held up his wrench and sighed. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. And the real reason I asked if you put your business first was because I’m tired of doing that.” My words came with more passion now. “I want my life to be about God first. And then the people he’s put in my path. And then, somewhere down the line, the business.”

  “I totally agree with that, Hannah. And I think we would hold each other accountable, don’t you?”

  I nodded as I thought it through. “So, you’re serious?” I asked. “Because if we merge forces, there’s no turning back. Not if we get mad at each other. Not if one of us has a bad day. Not if one of us outshines the other.”

  “Hey, I’m counting on you outshining me.” He grinned. “Won’t hurt my feelings a bit.”

  “I doubt that.” I slipped into his outstretched arms and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, overwhelmed by the feelings of peace that enveloped me. So much for the so-called feuding between the McDermotts and the Kincaids. We’d put an end to that tall tale once and for all.

  “Want to talk about all of this over a pizza?” He flashed a boyish smile. “I’m starved.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  We got into his car and headed to Parma John’s, and my phone beeped. I glanced down to see that a message had come through.

  “Anything important?” Drew asked.

  “Not sure.” I opened it, and my heart flew to my throat as I read the note from Jacquie Goldfarb.

  “Everything okay over there?” Drew looked concerned.

  “Um, yeah.” I closed the phone and leaned back against the seat, my thoughts in a whirl.

  Oh. Help.

  “So . . .”

  “Not sure you would believe me.”

  “Try me.” Drew’s brow creased, and I could read the concern in his eyes.

  “It’s Jacquie Goldfarb,” I whispered. “She’s coming back to Galveston for Dickens on the Strand, and she wants to see me.”

  22

  Learn to Croon

  May the road rise to meet you.

  May the wind be always at your back.

  May the sun shine warm upon your face.

  May the rains fall soft upon your fields, and until we meet again,

  May the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.

  Irish blessing

  A girl never forgets two things: the day she started her period for the first time, and the day she met the love of her life. In my case, adding a third life-changing event was unavoidable. The day I met Brock Benson in person.

  I’d pre
pped for this, of course. Had rehearsed what I’d say when introduced. Practiced the angles I’d use to shoot his photos, based on internet pictures I’d found of him. All of this I’d done. But somewhere along the way I’d forgotten to remember that he was just an ordinary guy. Well, maybe not ordinary like my predictable dad, but ordinary in his own Hollywood-esque way. Just a regular guy, according to my awesome and irresistible Drew—who, it turned out, was anything but a regular guy.

  Bella invited us to her place to meet Brock a couple of hours before the parade began on the first Saturday in December. Drew did the driving, what with me being so nervous and all.

  “You okay over there?” He glanced at me from behind the wheel as I touched up my mascara.

  “Hmm?” I giggled. “Oh, um, yeah.” Unfortunately, I lost control of the mascara wand at about that time and left a big smudge on my right cheek.

  Drew rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if I should be jealous or just very, very aware.”

  “Aware?” I reached for a tissue and did my best to remove the mascara, but it didn’t want to budge.

  “That you’re twitterpated.”

  “Who taught you that word?” I looked away from the mirror and straight at him.

  “Who do you think?” He wrinkled his nose and pointed at my face. “Oh, and you’ve got a little something right there.”

  “I know, I know.” More swiping continued until I left a red patch under my eye. Black and red. Great combo. Now it looked like I’d been punched. “Well, I’m not twitterpated. I guess you could just say I’m starstruck. I’ve been a fan of Brock’s ever since . . .” Visions of his earlier pirate movies flooded over me. And his most recent episode in Stars Collide. And that gorgeous, graceful Viennese waltz on Dancing with the Stars. “Well, for a while.” A lingering sigh escaped.

  “He’s married, you know.”

  I slugged Drew in the arm. “I know. Don’t be silly. I don’t like him like that. I just . . .” Another deep, lingering sigh. “Admire him.”