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Synopsis
After leaving her old life behind and starting over for good, a former country star finds herself at odds with a handsome new man. But is he the enemy . . . or her only ally? Musician Ella McMillan can't believe she just walked away from her life. So long, boyfriend. Goodbye, country music career. Coming home to Magnolia Harbor could be a fresh start with her mom—until Ella discovers that her mother is getting married again. Now Ella's been roped into planning an engagement party with the groom's utterly gorgeous and infuriatingly buttoned-up son. Fortunately, they have one thing in common, even if they don't agree on what to do about it . . . Dr. Dylan Killough strongly objects to his father's upcoming marriage. He'll do almost anything to sabotage the engagement, and he needs Ella's help. But despite her own feelings, Ella is determined to throw the perfect party and give her mother the wedding of her dreams. Between sampling party hors d'oeuvres and visiting romantic wedding venues, sparks are suddenly flying between Ella and Dylan-and Dylan is questioning everything he thought he knew about relationships. Now can he convince Ella that he believes in happily-ever-afters after all?
Release date: April 27, 2021
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 416
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A Wedding on Lilac Lane
Hope Ramsay
Chapter One
Dylan Killough couldn’t decide what to make of Ella McMillan. She stood on the stage with a fiddle tucked under her chin as she played a mournful accompaniment to “Molly Malone.” A crown of green carnations encircled her brow, and her feather earrings floated on the air as she played. With each stroke of her bow, another lock of unruly auburn hair tumbled out of the messy knot at the top of her head.
She looked as if she’d stepped out of an Irish fairy tale. But the boho dress and feathered earrings suggested that she reliably voted the Democrat line, if she voted at all.
“I do love listening to your daughter play the fiddle,” Dad said, beaming at Brenda McMillan, Ella’s mother and Dad’s current girlfriend.
The whole Dad-Brenda thing unsettled Dylan even though it shouldn’t have. Dad had been a widower for decades. He should have a girlfriend, even if he was in his fifties. But maybe not Brenda. Dylan didn’t like Brenda much.
Or her daughter, who had arrived around the holidays, moved into Brenda’s beach house out at Paradise Beach, and evidently had no plans to actually work for a living or leave anytime soon. Since Dylan and his father shared a house, Dad had recently resorted to sneaking away in the afternoons or taking long weekends with Brenda on the mainland.
Dad had never brought her home for an overnight. Thank goodness. The mornings after in the kitchen they shared might get really awkward.
His father was acting like a sex-crazed teenager, which embarrassed Dylan. The geriatric set in Magnolia Harbor, many of whom were patients in Dylan’s family practice, seemed to regard Brenda and Dad’s romance as the juiciest topic du jour. And they thought nothing about asking Dylan for details, which he forthrightly refused to supply.
Dylan took a sip of his Guinness and glanced at his cell phone, checking the score for the NCAA First Four game being played in Dayton. Clemson, his alma mater, was down by two points.
He would much rather be home lounging on the sofa watching the ball game. But no, Dad had made his presence at this dinner mandatory because Ella was subbing for Connor O’Neal at the yacht club’s annual St. Patrick’s Day bash. Connor, one of Dylan’s patients, was down with a late-season case of the flu, which had been bad timing for a guy who made a living playing Irish music.
“Well, that wraps up our first set of the night,” Jason Tighe said in his broad South Carolina drawl. “Y’all drink up now. We’ll be back in fifteen.”
“I miss Connor’s Irish accent,” Dylan said.
Brenda and Dad turned toward him with twin frowns, although Brenda’s was way more intimidating.
“What?” Dylan cast his gaze from Brenda to his father. “I love the way Jason sings, but he sounds like a good ole boy from Georgia when he talks.”
Brenda gave Dad one of those glances, where she rolled her eyes. Brenda didn’t like Dylan much either. They didn’t have a mutual admiration society going. He also resented the way Brenda made him feel whenever the three of them were together: Exactly like a fifth wheel, or a party pooper, or something like that. Maybe he should excuse himself now that Ella had finished her first set. The club was playing the game on the TV above the bar, which was across the room.
But before he could make an escape, Ella arrived at the table and took the empty chair to his right. If he got up the minute she sat down, he’d never hear the end of it. So he hunkered down, glanced at the score on his phone, and took a deep, calming breath.
Which was filled with Ella’s scent. Damn. The woman even smelled like a hippie. What was that aroma? Sandalwood? Patchouli?
She probably burned incense when no one was looking. Or used essential oils or some such thing. The aroma tickled his nose and not entirely in an I’m-about-to-sneeze way either. With her hair all tumbling down, and wearing that green velvet dress, which belonged on the set of Game of Thrones, she was attractive. If you had a thing for free-spirited musicians.
“You’re a better fiddler than Connor,” Dad said, sucking up to Brenda’s daughter. Who, in truth, was a pretty good fiddler, but Dylan didn’t want to admit it.
“Thanks,” Ella said in a high, piping voice, as she glanced at her mother. Something passed between them in that glance. A family in-joke he would probably never get.
The conversation stalled for a moment as Dad turned toward Brenda. The two of them appeared a little nervous now that Dylan thought about it. And right then, just before Brenda opened her mouth, an overwhelming sense of dread seized him.
It was as if a freight train were speeding right at him, the headlight cutting through the fog, but he couldn’t move himself out of its path.
“I guess it’s now or never,” Brenda said under her breath, then reached for Dad’s hand. She gave Ella and Dylan a forthright look out of her dark gray eyes.
“Jim and I have been talking things through, and we’ve decided to get married. We want both of you to plan the engagement party.”
* * *
Ella struggled to draw breath. She wasn’t surprised that Jim and Mom were tying the knot, but she was incredibly disappointed that Mom had chosen this moment to announce the happy news.
Typical behavior for Mom. Not that Ella wanted to be the center of attention, but hell, she’d been learning songs like mad, practicing until her fingers hurt for this fill-in gig with Sackweed, Connor O’Neal’s Irish band. It was supposed to be her night to shine. Her night to prove to Mom that she’d mastered her craft, even if she wasn’t playing a violin concerto or sonata written by some long-dead composer.
She’d been excited that Jim and his son would be coming to hear her play, but now it turned out that this gig had been a convenient excuse to get the “family” together. Not that the four of them felt like a family.
Ella snatched up a glass of water and took a big gulp. She never drank alcohol when she was performing because only a tiny bit of booze buzzed her head. But right now, sitting here with Jim’s uptight son beside her, she could have used a bracing shot of Jack. She put her water glass down and glanced at Dylan.
He’d certainly dressed for a yacht club party in khakis, white shirt, navy jacket, and bow tie. Come to think of it, she’d never seen Dylan wear any other kind of tie. To say he dressed conservatively was to understate the point by a mile.
He clearly wasn’t happy about Mom’s announcement. A muscle pulsed in his jaw, and his fingers closed into a white-knuckled fist.
What was his problem? Did the medical doctor resent being asked to plan a party? Or was it more sinister than that? She watched him watch her mother.
Oh, yeah. More sinister. Dylan didn’t like Mom.
Ella’s irritation with her mother evaporated, replaced with a strong need to defend her. How dare Dylan give her mother a judgmental look like that?
“So?” Jim asked, his bright blue eyes hopeful as he captured her gaze.
Damn. She didn’t want to disappoint Jim. She liked him. A lot. He was kind and generous, and he made Mom laugh. He was, in fact, the best thing that had ever happened to Mom.
“I think it’s great,” Ella said. “Congratulations, you guys.”
“You’re okay with this?” Mom asked.
“Of course I am. I’m so happy for you. Jim’s terrific.”
This earned her a smile. She’d actually made Mom happy. Wonder of wonders. Sometimes figuring out how to make Mom happy was a challenge.
Jim turned toward his son, who was staring down at his cell phone, more interested in the Clemson basketball game than anything else. The guy had been glued to his iPhone all night.
“What about you?” Jim asked.
Dylan looked up but didn’t make eye contact with anyone. “Are you guys sure about this?”
Wow. Nothing like blurting out your feelings without regard for anyone’s emotions. Was Dylan always like that? If so, he and Mom were going to have a rough relationship. Mom believed in the old saying that, if you didn’t have something nice to say, you said nothing at all. Of course, Mom had never applied that rule of comportment to herself when it came to critiquing Ella’s violin performances.
Jim laughed, pulling Ella from her sour thoughts. “We’re sure. I know you don’t have much party planning experience, but we’re confident you can handle this.” Jim was a master at defusing conflict. But it didn’t quite work this time.
“Dad.” Dylan invested that word with a boatload of irritation. Her soon-to-be stepbrother was not a happy camper, but he was going to learn that speaking out loud about his negative feelings would not endear him to Mom. Mom was giving him the frown-of-death, which suggested that the scene was about to get ugly if Ella didn’t head Dylan off at the pass.
“What kind of party do you want? Where were you thinking of getting married? How many people? Sit-down dinner or buffet? Music? Mom, I need details,” she said in a rush.
Mom’s frown evaporated like dew on a summer’s day. Whew. “We talked to Ashley Scott about getting married in her garden in May.”
“We actually booked a date,” Jim added. “May twenty-second.”
“And we wanted to keep the wedding to the family only, but since Jim is such a prominent member of the community—”
“We thought maybe an engagement party would be in order,” Jim said, finishing Mom’s sentence.
It was cute. And she was warming to the idea, sort of. But one glance in Dylan’s direction told her she was the only one. Her soon-to-be stepbrother was not down with the program.
Whoa. That was a thought. Did she want a brother?
Not really.
“You know,” Dylan finally said, “it might be best if you kept things small. I mean it’s not as if…” His voice faded out the minute Jim turned his intense blue eyes in his son’s direction. Wow. Who knew Jim could silence Dylan with a mere look. Jim’s cred went up by a factor of ten.
Ella jumped in, continuing in her gung ho tone. “So, um, did you have an idea of how big you wanted your party to be?”
“We need to put together a guest list,” Jim said. “Maybe a hundred people.”
“Wow. I guess with a big guest list like that, we’ll have some trouble finding a venue,” she said.
Dylan slumped back in his chair and might have rolled his somewhat attractive blue eyes. Oh boy, it was her lucky day. She could just see the fun times ahead planning this party with him.
“We were thinking maybe the reception hall at Grace Church,” Jim said.
“We were?” Mom’s tone suggested that Jim had been thinking about the church and had failed to communicate with his bride-to-be. Not good.
“It’s a big room, Brenda,” Jim said.
“Right. But that’s its main attraction. It’s big and empty and kind of boring.”
“Well, maybe we could rent out Rafferty’s for an evening.”
Dylan sat up in his chair. “Dad, have you any idea how much that would cost?”
“Some. But, you know, you only get married twice.” Jim lifted a half-full glass of green beer.
Dylan glowered.
Just then, Jason waved in Ella’s direction, signaling the start of the second set. She’d never been so happy for the end of a break. “Look, I gotta go to work. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“Of course. We wanted to tell you two tonight since we’re all together,” Mom said. “And, honey, the violin sounds wonderful.”
Something warm spilled into Ella’s core. Mom hadn’t failed to notice all the hard work she’d done over the last few weeks. She might even have enjoyed the unusual praise were it not for the grumpy stare Dylan Killough aimed in her direction.
Chapter Two
Magnolia Harbor Primary Care Physicians were located on Palmetto Street in a squat brick building. The bottom floor housed the Jonquil Island free clinic, and the family practice was located in the suite above.
Ella opted not to wait for the slow elevator and climbed the stairs, her heart pounding more from trepidation than exertion. Last night, Dylan Killough had made it clear that he wasn’t thrilled by Mom and Jim’s engagement. This morning, he’d surprised her by leaving a message on her phone at 8:30 a.m. suggesting that they meet today at 2:00.
She hadn’t expected that. She’d expected him to duck the responsibility. So she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was okay after all.
She pushed through the office doors on the second floor and walked up to the reception desk. “Oh, hey, Ella,” the lady said as if she’d known Ella all her life. Ella had no idea who this woman was. Probably one of the ladies Mom knew from A Stitch in Time, the yarn store where Ella’s mother worked.
“Hi,” she said, forcing a smile.
“I’ll let Doctor D know that you’re here. He was asking about you five minutes ago.” The woman glanced at the clock.
It was officially five minutes after two in the afternoon. Ella was late. She would have been on time, but the traffic on the beach road had been horrible. Some idiot college kid, here for spring break, had crossed the center line and hit a car coming in the opposite direction. Based on the wreckage, people had gotten hurt.
But obviously any injured folks hadn’t been brought here to the local family practice. She clamped down on the urge to say the words “I’m sorry.” Instead, she waited without another word until the receptionist picked up her telephone handset and paged the good doctor.
A minute later, she was ushered down a long hallway with exam rooms on either side. Dylan’s office was at the end, and it wasn’t large but it did have a window with a view down Palmetto Street.
“You’re late,” Dylan grumbled. His eyes were a dark shade of blue flecked with amber that should have made them warmer than his father’s. But the cool distance in his regard set her on edge. What did he want from her?
Had he called her here so he could foist the party planning off on her? Which would be fine because Dylan didn’t look like a guy who had a clue about anything fun or joyous. His button-down was buttoned up, and his bow tie—a red one this time—was perfectly knotted at his throat.
She sat down, folded her hands in her lap, and gave him the mildest look she could manage. Years of living with Cody had taught her how to hide her emotions and put on a blank look. Having a poker face had been a hard, but useful, skill to learn.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his swivel chair, “what do you think about this whole wedding idea?”
What did she think about the wedding? Hadn’t she been clear last night? She was happy for Mom. She opted not to say a word because this guy might be playing some kind of game with her. Cody had been so good at playing games. Trapping her with her own words. Better not to say anything that could be used against her later.
“You don’t know?” Dylan asked into her silence, his voice inching up a little.
She stared at him mildly but remained silent.
He stared back, almost unblinking. “You don’t have any thoughts on this at all?”
She studied him before answering. He was so corporate. Curly hair cut short, broad brow, probing stare, square jaw. A lot of women would find him attractive, but he was most definitely not her type. But he didn’t look brotherly either.
Maybe she should have never prayed for a sibling back when she was eight years old. This had to be a case of God laughing at her.
“Look,” she finally said, “I think I made it clear last night that I’m happy for my mother. And happy that Jim loves her. I gather you don’t feel that way. If that’s the case, then—”
“No, it’s not the case. I mean, yes.” He stopped and took a big breath. “If Dad wants to have a lady friend, that’s fine. But to get married. At his age—” He bit off the last words but needn’t have bothered.
Ella straightened her shoulders, irritation firing her synapses. “So what is it? Don’t you think my mother is good enough for your father to marry?”
He blinked. “Well, no, actually.”
OMG. Did Mom know he felt this way? Probably not. And Ella was not about to tell her that Dylan didn’t think she was good enough. His opinion of Mom didn’t matter. And she, for one, didn’t really want him helping to plan this party.
She stood up. “Okay, we’re done. I’m happy to plan the party without you. I’m sure that’s what you want me to do.” She turned toward the door.
“Wait.”
She kept walking.
“Did you know that Dad plans to move into Cloud Nine?” Cloud Nine was the name Mom had given her beach house out on Paradise Beach. “I think they want you to move out.” Dylan hurled the words at her like sharp, pointy arrows.
Ella froze in front of the door. Mom wouldn’t do that? Would she?
* * *
The minute the words left Dylan’s mouth he knew they’d hit their mark. Ella stood still, her back to him, shoulders stiffening. A tiny mote of remorse trickled through him, and for an instant he thought about a beautiful butterfly being ruthlessly pinned to a display board.
Was he that cruel? Evidently so. But he needed an ally, and who better than Brenda’s daughter, who had abandoned her own mother for years? Surely she would understand his misgivings, if he could get her to understand all the implications. But he had to play this carefully.
“Look, I’m sorry if that hurt you, but my father is definitely moving into your mother’s house. He told me so.”
Ella turned, her blue-gray eyes a little brighter than they had been before. She was good at hiding her emotions, but not perfect. “So that part about them wanting me to move out…” Her voice trailed off in a question mark.
“Conjecture. But I’m sure it’s true. Dad hasn’t brought your mother over for a sleepover. We share a house, you know, and he’s never been comfortable about that sort of thing with me there. So…”
She nodded. She was listening to him now.
“And besides, we both know the beach house has only one bathroom and paper-thin walls,” he continued, pressing his point. “Even if they don’t ask you to move out, are you prepared to stay?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was so small and soft.
“You know what? You shouldn’t feel especially aggrieved, because when Dad moves out, he’s probably going to sell the house I grew up in. So I’m going to have to find new living arrangements too.”
Her shoulders slumped a fraction. “I’m so sorry about that,” she said.
“I suppose I should have moved out a long time ago,” he admitted. He’d moved in after his residency when he’d decided to join his father’s medical practice. Until then he’d been living on his own, so he ought to be okay with the idea of his father selling the house. But he wasn’t.
His feelings about the house were not the main reason he was so opposed to Dad’s engagement to Brenda McMillan. Dylan was sure Brenda would break Dad’s heart, and Dad had suffered one too many broken hearts over the years. Mom’s death had destroyed him for a few years, and then Tammy Hansen swooped in and knocked him off his feet…until she dumped him four years later.
Tammy had been super needy, but nothing like Brenda. Even worse, since getting involved with Brenda, Dad’s personality had changed. He’d lost some of his drive. He was ignoring parts of the practice. He was giving up items on his bucket list.
In short, Dad was changing into someone Dylan hardly recognized.
He needed to stop this marriage before Dad woke up one day and realized he’d made a monumental mistake he couldn’t get himself out of easily. Breaking them up would be hard, but with Ella’s help, it might be possible. She couldn’t be happy about what was going on, could she?
“So, you see,” he said, following up on his advantage, “you and I are in the same boat.”
Ella stared at him for a good fifteen seconds before striding across the room and leaning on the chair back. “I can see that you actually believe that. But you know, aside from being asked to plan a party together, we don’t have anything much in common.”
“No? We’re both going to be homeless. And beyond that…” He paused a moment before continuing. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want to pry. But even though you went through the motions of being happy for them last night, I got the feeling that their announcement annoyed you.”
She blinked. Had he scored a point, or had he surprised her? “What I was feeling last night is none of your business.”
“No? Are you happy with your mother?”
“Am I happy with my mother, or for my mother? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“You know what I mean.”
She stood up straight, squaring her shoulders and giving him a look that could turn anyone to stone. “My relationship with my mother is none of your damn business.”
“Look. I don’t mean to offend. But we’re going to be part of the same family. So your relationship with your mother is my business. Everyone knows you and your mother had a falling-out. Didn’t you stay away for years? There had to be a reason for that, right? And now here you are finally reconnecting with her, and she’s pushing you away.”
“That’s not what she’s doing. She asked me to plan her party. And if Jim wants to move into the beach house, that’s fine with me. So don’t try to tell me what I think or feel, okay?” She jutted out her chin, the picture of a devoted daughter. Wow, he hadn’t expected that.
He switched tactics, throwing more ammunition at her. “Don’t you think they’re a little old to get married?”
“Is there an age limit?” Her brows rose.
“No. I’m just saying that they’re too old to have kids, and if you’re okay with them living together, then why should they get married?”
“Because they’re in love?”
“Yeah, but when they break up, it would be so much easier without a bunch of lawyers and prenups and whatever.”
“Wow. You’re a real pessimist, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not a pessimist. I’m a realist. And I’m opposed to this wedding.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“I don’t want anything to do with planning this engagement party.”
“Fine. I’ll do it myself. It will be so much easier without you.” She captured his gaze. Something about the angry flush in her cheeks made his heart skip a beat.
“Don’t count on it being easier,” he said, meeting her angry stare with his own determination.
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m going to do everything I can to break them up.”
Chapter Three
Ella had to fight to keep her mouth from dropping open. “You’re insane. I’m going now.” She turned on her heel and rushed through the door. When she reached the sidewalk outside the doctor’s office, she stopped to get her bearings.
Now what? She jammed her hands into her jeans and stared up at the pale haze of spring green on the trees lining the street. She wanted to murder someone.
Starting with Doctor D.
But she had a bone to pick with Mom too. Why hadn’t she said one word about her plans? And did Jim really want her to move out of the beach house? She didn’t think so, but it would be a mistake to make assumptions either way.
She swallowed back the swelling lump in her throat. She was not going to cry right here on the sidewalk outside Doctor Dreadful’s office. Oh no. She was going to stay cool and calm and get to the bottom of this.
Although if Jim did want to move in with Mom, she wasn’t sure she’d be entirely comfortable living in the same place, sharing a bathroom with her new stepfather. She may have lied about that to Dylan, but hell if she was going to give him the lowdown on her feelings.
She started down Palmetto Street, walking with no purpose until her feet carried her toward Granny’s house. Just like that, the knot in her stomach eased.
Granny was sensible. Granny would know what to do.
Her pace quickened, and it occurred to her that, if Jim wanted to move in with Mom, Ella could always move in with Granny. There was a spare bedroom in Granny’s house, and now that her grandmother was getting older, it might be a good thing if Ella claimed it. She could keep an eye on her grandmother, and Mom could have some privacy. It was the perfect solution.
Take that, Doctor D.
She arrived at her grandmother’s house and stood on the sidewalk for a moment. Granny’s house wasn’t big or fancy but said “home” to Ella. Granny had recently fixed it up using the insurance money she’d gotten when a tree had crashed through her roof last December during a freak snowstorm. She’d painted it a pretty shade of yellow with cream-colored trim and forest-green shutters. A bright American flag fluttered on a pole attached to one of the porch columns, and Granny had already hung baskets of petunias that made a splash of deep purple against the yellow paint.
It reminded Ella of a vintage photograph or an old-time postcard. Ella had a weakness for postcards, especially since they were becoming obsolete. As a fiddler in a country-and-western band, she had spent months at a time on the road, eating in diners and gassing up at truck stops. At every stop along . . .
Dylan Killough couldn’t decide what to make of Ella McMillan. She stood on the stage with a fiddle tucked under her chin as she played a mournful accompaniment to “Molly Malone.” A crown of green carnations encircled her brow, and her feather earrings floated on the air as she played. With each stroke of her bow, another lock of unruly auburn hair tumbled out of the messy knot at the top of her head.
She looked as if she’d stepped out of an Irish fairy tale. But the boho dress and feathered earrings suggested that she reliably voted the Democrat line, if she voted at all.
“I do love listening to your daughter play the fiddle,” Dad said, beaming at Brenda McMillan, Ella’s mother and Dad’s current girlfriend.
The whole Dad-Brenda thing unsettled Dylan even though it shouldn’t have. Dad had been a widower for decades. He should have a girlfriend, even if he was in his fifties. But maybe not Brenda. Dylan didn’t like Brenda much.
Or her daughter, who had arrived around the holidays, moved into Brenda’s beach house out at Paradise Beach, and evidently had no plans to actually work for a living or leave anytime soon. Since Dylan and his father shared a house, Dad had recently resorted to sneaking away in the afternoons or taking long weekends with Brenda on the mainland.
Dad had never brought her home for an overnight. Thank goodness. The mornings after in the kitchen they shared might get really awkward.
His father was acting like a sex-crazed teenager, which embarrassed Dylan. The geriatric set in Magnolia Harbor, many of whom were patients in Dylan’s family practice, seemed to regard Brenda and Dad’s romance as the juiciest topic du jour. And they thought nothing about asking Dylan for details, which he forthrightly refused to supply.
Dylan took a sip of his Guinness and glanced at his cell phone, checking the score for the NCAA First Four game being played in Dayton. Clemson, his alma mater, was down by two points.
He would much rather be home lounging on the sofa watching the ball game. But no, Dad had made his presence at this dinner mandatory because Ella was subbing for Connor O’Neal at the yacht club’s annual St. Patrick’s Day bash. Connor, one of Dylan’s patients, was down with a late-season case of the flu, which had been bad timing for a guy who made a living playing Irish music.
“Well, that wraps up our first set of the night,” Jason Tighe said in his broad South Carolina drawl. “Y’all drink up now. We’ll be back in fifteen.”
“I miss Connor’s Irish accent,” Dylan said.
Brenda and Dad turned toward him with twin frowns, although Brenda’s was way more intimidating.
“What?” Dylan cast his gaze from Brenda to his father. “I love the way Jason sings, but he sounds like a good ole boy from Georgia when he talks.”
Brenda gave Dad one of those glances, where she rolled her eyes. Brenda didn’t like Dylan much either. They didn’t have a mutual admiration society going. He also resented the way Brenda made him feel whenever the three of them were together: Exactly like a fifth wheel, or a party pooper, or something like that. Maybe he should excuse himself now that Ella had finished her first set. The club was playing the game on the TV above the bar, which was across the room.
But before he could make an escape, Ella arrived at the table and took the empty chair to his right. If he got up the minute she sat down, he’d never hear the end of it. So he hunkered down, glanced at the score on his phone, and took a deep, calming breath.
Which was filled with Ella’s scent. Damn. The woman even smelled like a hippie. What was that aroma? Sandalwood? Patchouli?
She probably burned incense when no one was looking. Or used essential oils or some such thing. The aroma tickled his nose and not entirely in an I’m-about-to-sneeze way either. With her hair all tumbling down, and wearing that green velvet dress, which belonged on the set of Game of Thrones, she was attractive. If you had a thing for free-spirited musicians.
“You’re a better fiddler than Connor,” Dad said, sucking up to Brenda’s daughter. Who, in truth, was a pretty good fiddler, but Dylan didn’t want to admit it.
“Thanks,” Ella said in a high, piping voice, as she glanced at her mother. Something passed between them in that glance. A family in-joke he would probably never get.
The conversation stalled for a moment as Dad turned toward Brenda. The two of them appeared a little nervous now that Dylan thought about it. And right then, just before Brenda opened her mouth, an overwhelming sense of dread seized him.
It was as if a freight train were speeding right at him, the headlight cutting through the fog, but he couldn’t move himself out of its path.
“I guess it’s now or never,” Brenda said under her breath, then reached for Dad’s hand. She gave Ella and Dylan a forthright look out of her dark gray eyes.
“Jim and I have been talking things through, and we’ve decided to get married. We want both of you to plan the engagement party.”
* * *
Ella struggled to draw breath. She wasn’t surprised that Jim and Mom were tying the knot, but she was incredibly disappointed that Mom had chosen this moment to announce the happy news.
Typical behavior for Mom. Not that Ella wanted to be the center of attention, but hell, she’d been learning songs like mad, practicing until her fingers hurt for this fill-in gig with Sackweed, Connor O’Neal’s Irish band. It was supposed to be her night to shine. Her night to prove to Mom that she’d mastered her craft, even if she wasn’t playing a violin concerto or sonata written by some long-dead composer.
She’d been excited that Jim and his son would be coming to hear her play, but now it turned out that this gig had been a convenient excuse to get the “family” together. Not that the four of them felt like a family.
Ella snatched up a glass of water and took a big gulp. She never drank alcohol when she was performing because only a tiny bit of booze buzzed her head. But right now, sitting here with Jim’s uptight son beside her, she could have used a bracing shot of Jack. She put her water glass down and glanced at Dylan.
He’d certainly dressed for a yacht club party in khakis, white shirt, navy jacket, and bow tie. Come to think of it, she’d never seen Dylan wear any other kind of tie. To say he dressed conservatively was to understate the point by a mile.
He clearly wasn’t happy about Mom’s announcement. A muscle pulsed in his jaw, and his fingers closed into a white-knuckled fist.
What was his problem? Did the medical doctor resent being asked to plan a party? Or was it more sinister than that? She watched him watch her mother.
Oh, yeah. More sinister. Dylan didn’t like Mom.
Ella’s irritation with her mother evaporated, replaced with a strong need to defend her. How dare Dylan give her mother a judgmental look like that?
“So?” Jim asked, his bright blue eyes hopeful as he captured her gaze.
Damn. She didn’t want to disappoint Jim. She liked him. A lot. He was kind and generous, and he made Mom laugh. He was, in fact, the best thing that had ever happened to Mom.
“I think it’s great,” Ella said. “Congratulations, you guys.”
“You’re okay with this?” Mom asked.
“Of course I am. I’m so happy for you. Jim’s terrific.”
This earned her a smile. She’d actually made Mom happy. Wonder of wonders. Sometimes figuring out how to make Mom happy was a challenge.
Jim turned toward his son, who was staring down at his cell phone, more interested in the Clemson basketball game than anything else. The guy had been glued to his iPhone all night.
“What about you?” Jim asked.
Dylan looked up but didn’t make eye contact with anyone. “Are you guys sure about this?”
Wow. Nothing like blurting out your feelings without regard for anyone’s emotions. Was Dylan always like that? If so, he and Mom were going to have a rough relationship. Mom believed in the old saying that, if you didn’t have something nice to say, you said nothing at all. Of course, Mom had never applied that rule of comportment to herself when it came to critiquing Ella’s violin performances.
Jim laughed, pulling Ella from her sour thoughts. “We’re sure. I know you don’t have much party planning experience, but we’re confident you can handle this.” Jim was a master at defusing conflict. But it didn’t quite work this time.
“Dad.” Dylan invested that word with a boatload of irritation. Her soon-to-be stepbrother was not a happy camper, but he was going to learn that speaking out loud about his negative feelings would not endear him to Mom. Mom was giving him the frown-of-death, which suggested that the scene was about to get ugly if Ella didn’t head Dylan off at the pass.
“What kind of party do you want? Where were you thinking of getting married? How many people? Sit-down dinner or buffet? Music? Mom, I need details,” she said in a rush.
Mom’s frown evaporated like dew on a summer’s day. Whew. “We talked to Ashley Scott about getting married in her garden in May.”
“We actually booked a date,” Jim added. “May twenty-second.”
“And we wanted to keep the wedding to the family only, but since Jim is such a prominent member of the community—”
“We thought maybe an engagement party would be in order,” Jim said, finishing Mom’s sentence.
It was cute. And she was warming to the idea, sort of. But one glance in Dylan’s direction told her she was the only one. Her soon-to-be stepbrother was not down with the program.
Whoa. That was a thought. Did she want a brother?
Not really.
“You know,” Dylan finally said, “it might be best if you kept things small. I mean it’s not as if…” His voice faded out the minute Jim turned his intense blue eyes in his son’s direction. Wow. Who knew Jim could silence Dylan with a mere look. Jim’s cred went up by a factor of ten.
Ella jumped in, continuing in her gung ho tone. “So, um, did you have an idea of how big you wanted your party to be?”
“We need to put together a guest list,” Jim said. “Maybe a hundred people.”
“Wow. I guess with a big guest list like that, we’ll have some trouble finding a venue,” she said.
Dylan slumped back in his chair and might have rolled his somewhat attractive blue eyes. Oh boy, it was her lucky day. She could just see the fun times ahead planning this party with him.
“We were thinking maybe the reception hall at Grace Church,” Jim said.
“We were?” Mom’s tone suggested that Jim had been thinking about the church and had failed to communicate with his bride-to-be. Not good.
“It’s a big room, Brenda,” Jim said.
“Right. But that’s its main attraction. It’s big and empty and kind of boring.”
“Well, maybe we could rent out Rafferty’s for an evening.”
Dylan sat up in his chair. “Dad, have you any idea how much that would cost?”
“Some. But, you know, you only get married twice.” Jim lifted a half-full glass of green beer.
Dylan glowered.
Just then, Jason waved in Ella’s direction, signaling the start of the second set. She’d never been so happy for the end of a break. “Look, I gotta go to work. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“Of course. We wanted to tell you two tonight since we’re all together,” Mom said. “And, honey, the violin sounds wonderful.”
Something warm spilled into Ella’s core. Mom hadn’t failed to notice all the hard work she’d done over the last few weeks. She might even have enjoyed the unusual praise were it not for the grumpy stare Dylan Killough aimed in her direction.
Chapter Two
Magnolia Harbor Primary Care Physicians were located on Palmetto Street in a squat brick building. The bottom floor housed the Jonquil Island free clinic, and the family practice was located in the suite above.
Ella opted not to wait for the slow elevator and climbed the stairs, her heart pounding more from trepidation than exertion. Last night, Dylan Killough had made it clear that he wasn’t thrilled by Mom and Jim’s engagement. This morning, he’d surprised her by leaving a message on her phone at 8:30 a.m. suggesting that they meet today at 2:00.
She hadn’t expected that. She’d expected him to duck the responsibility. So she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was okay after all.
She pushed through the office doors on the second floor and walked up to the reception desk. “Oh, hey, Ella,” the lady said as if she’d known Ella all her life. Ella had no idea who this woman was. Probably one of the ladies Mom knew from A Stitch in Time, the yarn store where Ella’s mother worked.
“Hi,” she said, forcing a smile.
“I’ll let Doctor D know that you’re here. He was asking about you five minutes ago.” The woman glanced at the clock.
It was officially five minutes after two in the afternoon. Ella was late. She would have been on time, but the traffic on the beach road had been horrible. Some idiot college kid, here for spring break, had crossed the center line and hit a car coming in the opposite direction. Based on the wreckage, people had gotten hurt.
But obviously any injured folks hadn’t been brought here to the local family practice. She clamped down on the urge to say the words “I’m sorry.” Instead, she waited without another word until the receptionist picked up her telephone handset and paged the good doctor.
A minute later, she was ushered down a long hallway with exam rooms on either side. Dylan’s office was at the end, and it wasn’t large but it did have a window with a view down Palmetto Street.
“You’re late,” Dylan grumbled. His eyes were a dark shade of blue flecked with amber that should have made them warmer than his father’s. But the cool distance in his regard set her on edge. What did he want from her?
Had he called her here so he could foist the party planning off on her? Which would be fine because Dylan didn’t look like a guy who had a clue about anything fun or joyous. His button-down was buttoned up, and his bow tie—a red one this time—was perfectly knotted at his throat.
She sat down, folded her hands in her lap, and gave him the mildest look she could manage. Years of living with Cody had taught her how to hide her emotions and put on a blank look. Having a poker face had been a hard, but useful, skill to learn.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his swivel chair, “what do you think about this whole wedding idea?”
What did she think about the wedding? Hadn’t she been clear last night? She was happy for Mom. She opted not to say a word because this guy might be playing some kind of game with her. Cody had been so good at playing games. Trapping her with her own words. Better not to say anything that could be used against her later.
“You don’t know?” Dylan asked into her silence, his voice inching up a little.
She stared at him mildly but remained silent.
He stared back, almost unblinking. “You don’t have any thoughts on this at all?”
She studied him before answering. He was so corporate. Curly hair cut short, broad brow, probing stare, square jaw. A lot of women would find him attractive, but he was most definitely not her type. But he didn’t look brotherly either.
Maybe she should have never prayed for a sibling back when she was eight years old. This had to be a case of God laughing at her.
“Look,” she finally said, “I think I made it clear last night that I’m happy for my mother. And happy that Jim loves her. I gather you don’t feel that way. If that’s the case, then—”
“No, it’s not the case. I mean, yes.” He stopped and took a big breath. “If Dad wants to have a lady friend, that’s fine. But to get married. At his age—” He bit off the last words but needn’t have bothered.
Ella straightened her shoulders, irritation firing her synapses. “So what is it? Don’t you think my mother is good enough for your father to marry?”
He blinked. “Well, no, actually.”
OMG. Did Mom know he felt this way? Probably not. And Ella was not about to tell her that Dylan didn’t think she was good enough. His opinion of Mom didn’t matter. And she, for one, didn’t really want him helping to plan this party.
She stood up. “Okay, we’re done. I’m happy to plan the party without you. I’m sure that’s what you want me to do.” She turned toward the door.
“Wait.”
She kept walking.
“Did you know that Dad plans to move into Cloud Nine?” Cloud Nine was the name Mom had given her beach house out on Paradise Beach. “I think they want you to move out.” Dylan hurled the words at her like sharp, pointy arrows.
Ella froze in front of the door. Mom wouldn’t do that? Would she?
* * *
The minute the words left Dylan’s mouth he knew they’d hit their mark. Ella stood still, her back to him, shoulders stiffening. A tiny mote of remorse trickled through him, and for an instant he thought about a beautiful butterfly being ruthlessly pinned to a display board.
Was he that cruel? Evidently so. But he needed an ally, and who better than Brenda’s daughter, who had abandoned her own mother for years? Surely she would understand his misgivings, if he could get her to understand all the implications. But he had to play this carefully.
“Look, I’m sorry if that hurt you, but my father is definitely moving into your mother’s house. He told me so.”
Ella turned, her blue-gray eyes a little brighter than they had been before. She was good at hiding her emotions, but not perfect. “So that part about them wanting me to move out…” Her voice trailed off in a question mark.
“Conjecture. But I’m sure it’s true. Dad hasn’t brought your mother over for a sleepover. We share a house, you know, and he’s never been comfortable about that sort of thing with me there. So…”
She nodded. She was listening to him now.
“And besides, we both know the beach house has only one bathroom and paper-thin walls,” he continued, pressing his point. “Even if they don’t ask you to move out, are you prepared to stay?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was so small and soft.
“You know what? You shouldn’t feel especially aggrieved, because when Dad moves out, he’s probably going to sell the house I grew up in. So I’m going to have to find new living arrangements too.”
Her shoulders slumped a fraction. “I’m so sorry about that,” she said.
“I suppose I should have moved out a long time ago,” he admitted. He’d moved in after his residency when he’d decided to join his father’s medical practice. Until then he’d been living on his own, so he ought to be okay with the idea of his father selling the house. But he wasn’t.
His feelings about the house were not the main reason he was so opposed to Dad’s engagement to Brenda McMillan. Dylan was sure Brenda would break Dad’s heart, and Dad had suffered one too many broken hearts over the years. Mom’s death had destroyed him for a few years, and then Tammy Hansen swooped in and knocked him off his feet…until she dumped him four years later.
Tammy had been super needy, but nothing like Brenda. Even worse, since getting involved with Brenda, Dad’s personality had changed. He’d lost some of his drive. He was ignoring parts of the practice. He was giving up items on his bucket list.
In short, Dad was changing into someone Dylan hardly recognized.
He needed to stop this marriage before Dad woke up one day and realized he’d made a monumental mistake he couldn’t get himself out of easily. Breaking them up would be hard, but with Ella’s help, it might be possible. She couldn’t be happy about what was going on, could she?
“So, you see,” he said, following up on his advantage, “you and I are in the same boat.”
Ella stared at him for a good fifteen seconds before striding across the room and leaning on the chair back. “I can see that you actually believe that. But you know, aside from being asked to plan a party together, we don’t have anything much in common.”
“No? We’re both going to be homeless. And beyond that…” He paused a moment before continuing. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t want to pry. But even though you went through the motions of being happy for them last night, I got the feeling that their announcement annoyed you.”
She blinked. Had he scored a point, or had he surprised her? “What I was feeling last night is none of your business.”
“No? Are you happy with your mother?”
“Am I happy with my mother, or for my mother? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“You know what I mean.”
She stood up straight, squaring her shoulders and giving him a look that could turn anyone to stone. “My relationship with my mother is none of your damn business.”
“Look. I don’t mean to offend. But we’re going to be part of the same family. So your relationship with your mother is my business. Everyone knows you and your mother had a falling-out. Didn’t you stay away for years? There had to be a reason for that, right? And now here you are finally reconnecting with her, and she’s pushing you away.”
“That’s not what she’s doing. She asked me to plan her party. And if Jim wants to move into the beach house, that’s fine with me. So don’t try to tell me what I think or feel, okay?” She jutted out her chin, the picture of a devoted daughter. Wow, he hadn’t expected that.
He switched tactics, throwing more ammunition at her. “Don’t you think they’re a little old to get married?”
“Is there an age limit?” Her brows rose.
“No. I’m just saying that they’re too old to have kids, and if you’re okay with them living together, then why should they get married?”
“Because they’re in love?”
“Yeah, but when they break up, it would be so much easier without a bunch of lawyers and prenups and whatever.”
“Wow. You’re a real pessimist, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not a pessimist. I’m a realist. And I’m opposed to this wedding.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“I don’t want anything to do with planning this engagement party.”
“Fine. I’ll do it myself. It will be so much easier without you.” She captured his gaze. Something about the angry flush in her cheeks made his heart skip a beat.
“Don’t count on it being easier,” he said, meeting her angry stare with his own determination.
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m going to do everything I can to break them up.”
Chapter Three
Ella had to fight to keep her mouth from dropping open. “You’re insane. I’m going now.” She turned on her heel and rushed through the door. When she reached the sidewalk outside the doctor’s office, she stopped to get her bearings.
Now what? She jammed her hands into her jeans and stared up at the pale haze of spring green on the trees lining the street. She wanted to murder someone.
Starting with Doctor D.
But she had a bone to pick with Mom too. Why hadn’t she said one word about her plans? And did Jim really want her to move out of the beach house? She didn’t think so, but it would be a mistake to make assumptions either way.
She swallowed back the swelling lump in her throat. She was not going to cry right here on the sidewalk outside Doctor Dreadful’s office. Oh no. She was going to stay cool and calm and get to the bottom of this.
Although if Jim did want to move in with Mom, she wasn’t sure she’d be entirely comfortable living in the same place, sharing a bathroom with her new stepfather. She may have lied about that to Dylan, but hell if she was going to give him the lowdown on her feelings.
She started down Palmetto Street, walking with no purpose until her feet carried her toward Granny’s house. Just like that, the knot in her stomach eased.
Granny was sensible. Granny would know what to do.
Her pace quickened, and it occurred to her that, if Jim wanted to move in with Mom, Ella could always move in with Granny. There was a spare bedroom in Granny’s house, and now that her grandmother was getting older, it might be a good thing if Ella claimed it. She could keep an eye on her grandmother, and Mom could have some privacy. It was the perfect solution.
Take that, Doctor D.
She arrived at her grandmother’s house and stood on the sidewalk for a moment. Granny’s house wasn’t big or fancy but said “home” to Ella. Granny had recently fixed it up using the insurance money she’d gotten when a tree had crashed through her roof last December during a freak snowstorm. She’d painted it a pretty shade of yellow with cream-colored trim and forest-green shutters. A bright American flag fluttered on a pole attached to one of the porch columns, and Granny had already hung baskets of petunias that made a splash of deep purple against the yellow paint.
It reminded Ella of a vintage photograph or an old-time postcard. Ella had a weakness for postcards, especially since they were becoming obsolete. As a fiddler in a country-and-western band, she had spent months at a time on the road, eating in diners and gassing up at truck stops. At every stop along . . .
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A Wedding on Lilac Lane
Hope Ramsay
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