The Something Borrowed Sisters

Book 0: Harbor Cove

by Shirley Jump

Genres: Sagas; Small Town & Rural; Clean & Wholesome Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

The third Monroe sister falls hard in this heartwarming story about the best of friends, best of lovers, and best of times—perfect for fans of Jill Shalvis and Jenny Hale!

Release date: December 12, 2023

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 336

Sample

Twinkling lights strung between the trees provided a starlit sky, the perfect backdrop to the early Saturday evening setting, dotted with a white tent, tables, and chairs. Margaret Monroe had to admit that it looked… magical. Like someone had lifted a picture of a wedding off of Pinterest and plopped it down right here in the town of Harbor Cove, Massachusetts.

Grandma’s two-story Victorian house on Bayberry Lane had been positively smothered with pink and white balloons—every single one Emma’s idea. They were tied to the porch, the lamppost, the shutters—everywhere. Her little sister’s passion for balloons was almost as great as her middle sister’s love of the color pink. A sprinkling of pink rose petals led down the wide back steps and created a trail in the lawn leading to an elaborate wood arch, hewn by the groom himself.

The Monroe family had spent several days creating a fairy-tale wedding setting in the backyard of Grandma Eleanor’s house. Everyone had pitched in except for Gabby, who had been ordered to stay away so that it could all be a big surprise on her wedding day. When she’d snuck over and seen the setting earlier that night, she’d cried with joy, which was exactly their intent. Margaret’s middle sister, Gabby, was marrying her best friend, Jake, and everything, from the clear early evening sky to the violinist playing romantic instrumentals, was exactly as it should be.

And yet, Margaret could barely bring herself to smile. She’d struggled all day to put on a happy face while the girls hung out in Gabby’s old room to get their hair and makeup done, while helping Gabby into her dress, and then while they had one final glass of champagne before Gabby became a married woman.

The violinist began playing a modern, peppy version of the classic processional music. The groom’s father and the bride’s grandmother went down the aisle first, arm in arm. Grandma sat on the left side of the aisle, Jake’s father on the groom’s side. The girls’ father, Davis, walked down the aisle with his second wife, Joanna, and took a seat in the front row. There was a hush in the crowd as the violinist shifted gears to a slower version of the song, signaling that the bridal party was next.

The officiant nodded and bridesmaid Emma began her stroll down the aisle with a happy little sashay of her hips. Margaret waited a moment and then followed after her sister. Margaret’s steps were more measured, less dancing and more formality. She clasped the small bouquet of fresh flowers so tightly she was afraid she’d break the stems. Margaret hated the pale pink dress she was wearing, hated the cheery, ridiculous balloons, and most of all, hated her tight, uncomfortable shoes. She was overjoyed for her middle sister, Gabby, and Jake, who had been a friend of the family for as long as Margaret could remember, but she could have done without the Pepto-Bismol reminder of true love and all that crap.

Maybe Gabby and Jake would be the case that proved her wrong. Emma and Luke seemed happy together, but their marriage was like a brand-new seedling. Give it some room to grow in funky directions and pair that with the challenges of years rooted with the same person, and things could change.

You’re just being bitter. It’s Gabby’s wedding day. Stop.

So, Margaret kept a smile on her face and pretended she believed happily-ever-after existed. But inside, she knew the truth: Even the best of marriages with the best of intentions could fall apart, ebbing away bit by bit when you weren’t looking.

Margaret gave Jake a smile when she reached the end of the aisle and then stepped to the left, in front of Emma. Four-year-old Scout skip-walked down the aisle, scattering pink rose petals onto the runner before darting shyly into the seat by Grandma. Emma gave Scout a little wave from under her bouquet that Scout returned, and the people in the audience awed.

The violinist switched gears into a rousing rendition of the wedding processional, and Gabby began walking. Gabby clearly didn’t believe the same things Margaret did about marriage. She was positively glowing with joy as she came down the aisle and met her groom. As Grandma would say, one bad apple didn’t mean the whole tree was spoiled. Margaret’s two sisters could very well be happy forever with their husbands. Just because Margaret’s marriage was teetering on the brink didn’t mean theirs ever would.

Margaret went through the motions—taking Gabby’s bouquet, fixing the train of Gabby’s dress—and avoided looking at her own husband, Mike, who was sitting in the front row with Grandma, her not-official-yet-boyfriend, Harry, and Luke’s daughter, Scout. Luke and another friend of Jake’s were serving as ushers, while Jake’s best friend and boss at the newspaper, Leroy Walker, held the position of best man. The officiant, a customer of Gabby’s who apparently did wedding gigs whenever he wasn’t working as an engineer, greeted the crowd, introduced Gabby and Jake, and made a couple of dorky jokes that made everyone laugh except for Margaret.

Thank goodness Gabby was the center of attention in her vintage dress, worn by their mother three decades ago. From the side, she looked almost exactly like Margaret’s favorite picture of their late mother, a candid shot from Momma’s own wedding. Her brown hair had been swept into a messy bun and she was wearing their mother’s pearl earrings. The resemblance was so close that it caused a burst of nostalgia to tighten in Margaret’s chest.

“Jacob Theodore Maddox,” the officiant said to Jake, “please take Gabriella’s hands and repeat after me.”

Jake grinned as he captured Gabby’s hands in his. From where Margaret was standing behind her middle sister, she could literally feel the love emanating out of Jake’s every pore. The feeling was like a tidal wave, powerful and deep. Had Mike ever looked at Margaret that way? Had he ever felt that kind of all-consuming love?

Had she? Those days seemed so far in the past. It was as if it had all happened to someone else.

There was a moment back then when it seemed nothing in the world existed but Mike and Margaret—the M&M’s, Grandma used to say. Margaret’s gaze drifted to him and darted back when she realized he was looking at her, too. Was he thinking of those days, too? Or was his mind wandering to whether the Patriots were winning their game tonight? Margaret decided she didn’t want to know.

The officiant adjusted his tie, smiled at both of them, and then dropped his gaze to the binder in his hands. “Jacob, do you take Gabriella to be your wife—”

“I do!” Jake said.

The officiant chuckled. “I wasn’t done yet, but I love your enthusiasm.” The people in the audience laughed and awed again. Grandma dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Scout looked around as if she was trying to figure out what everyone found so funny.

Jake leaned into Gabby. “Sorry. I guess I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispered. Gabby giggled and gave Jake’s hand a squeeze.

“Same here,” she said.

“Okay, then I’ll make this quick,” the officiant cut in. “Do you take Gabriella to be your wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

Jake was practically bouncing in place with excitement and joy, and his smile stretched from ear to ear. “I sure do.”

Several people in the audience wiped away tears. Even Margaret felt a swell of emotions, but it was a weird combination of happiness for her sister and Jake mixed with a little bit of something that felt a lot like envy.

She’d been married for ten years and honestly couldn’t remember the time when she and Mike had had that same kind of… magic. Granted, her wedding had been far less conventional, almost an outrage at the time. If Margaret Monroe had a rebellious streak, it had started and ended with the day she married Mike Brentwood.

Her gaze drifted back to her husband. Once upon a time, she’d seen his broad shoulders and thought she could lean on them forever. She’d seen that familiar look in his eyes and read it as true love. She’d seen every smile as an endearing piece of the man she’d fallen in love with, back when she was too young to truly know what love was.

In those days, he’d been everything she wasn’t—daring and spontaneous, outgoing and adventurous. Their first date had been a long, winding motorcycle ride through picturesque valleys of fall colors, Margaret’s arms wrapped tightly around Mike’s waist so she wouldn’t fall off the back of the bike or let go of this boy who intrigued her like no other.

Mike was going places, he’d told her. Leaving this town and taking his chances on making it big as an author, doing anything other than getting the accounting degree his father wanted. The day after graduating college, she hopped on the back of Mike’s bike, and they ran off to New Hampshire and got married. It was the single most spontaneous thing Margaret had ever done.

He still had the same mop of dark hair that he’d had in his late teens, only it was shorter now, less wind-ruffled bad boy and more straight-and-narrow office worker. When his brown eyes met hers, she still felt, for a second, like she could lose herself in their dark depths. Then Scout tugged on Mike’s sleeve. He looked away, and the fleeting connection disappeared. If it had ever been there to begin with.

Around her, the wedding had been moving along while Margaret had been daydreaming about things that should have been and never were. She realized she’d missed Gabby’s vows. Gabby was staring at her and mouthing ring.

Crap. Margaret slid Jake’s thick wedding band off her thumb and handed it to Gabby. A moment later, Leroy handed Jake a ring to put on Gabby’s hand. A few more words and it was over, with the officiant pronouncing them husband and wife.

“About time,” Jake said as he swept Gabby into his arms and dipped her down for a sweet and tender kiss. She laughed and kissed him back, a hand on her head to hold her veil in place until he swept her back onto her feet. Then he took her hand in his, the violinist changed gears, and the two of them literally danced down the aisle to a Matchbox Twenty song while well-wishers clapped along.

“Almost makes you cry, doesn’t it?” Emma whispered to Margaret as they watched the newlyweds sashay away. She had brought her chin so close to Margaret’s shoulder that Margaret caught the scent of Emma’s light floral perfume. “They look so happy.”

“Yeah,” Margaret said. “Or something like that.”

Emma flashed her a look of concern. “What’s up with you? It’s Gabby’s wedding day, and you sound like Scrooge on Christmas.”

“I…” This wasn’t the time or the place to talk about the ten million things revolving in Margaret’s mind or the decision she had yet to make. Emotions rioted in her gut, too many to capture in words, much less share, something Margaret tried never to do. Emma was the spontaneous one, the one who wore her emotions on her sleeve. Gabby was more cautious but open with her heart and full of words when she was happy, sad, or angry. Margaret, however, kept her emotional cards close to her chest. Maybe it was because she was the oldest or maybe because she’d had to grow up so quickly when their mother died, but either way, she wasn’t about to spill her guts about what was going on inside her, not now, and probably not ever. So, she latched on to the most obvious excuse for her funk and let that take the place of the truth. “It’s just a lot, seeing Gabby in Mom’s wedding dress.”

Gabby had tailored their late mother’s wedding dress to fit her, adding a long tulle and lace veil and attaching a matching train that skipped across the lawn behind her. She looked beautiful and so happy it should be illegal.

As Margaret and Emma started following down the aisle, Luke came up beside them, slipping his arm around his wife. Scout scrambled up to take Emma’s opposite hand and the three of them took the lead with Margaret trailing behind, a party of one.

“I almost burst into tears when she came down the aisle,” Emma said over her shoulder. “She looks so much like Momma. It was incredible. And the whole wedding was just…”

Emma kept talking, but Margaret had stopped listening, her mind already drifting back to the same question she had yet to answer for herself. It was the question that had been haunting her for weeks, after she woke up one day and realized that even with Mike sleeping beside her, she had never felt more lonely in her life. What am I going to do?

Margaret couldn’t just sit at this crossroads forever, waiting for the life she’d wanted to come sailing back by or for joy to suddenly fill Mike’s eyes and their home. The status quo had become untenable for both of them. Which meant Margaret had to decide.

She watched the guests leave the wedding site and stroll toward the big tent set up with more twinkling lights, pink linen–covered tables, and a parquet dance floor. The band, a local four-piece group called Winging It, was tuning up, and soon everyone would be eating, drinking, and celebrating love. Margaret had heard the band several times and loved their music, but still she lingered, delaying for as long as she could.

“You okay?” Mike said as he approached Margaret. He put a hand on the small of her back, a momentary touch that felt more like an obligation than love because it was gone in a blink.

A part of her ached to lean into Mike’s touch before it disappeared. To grab him and say, Where have you gone? Where has our marriage gone? They’d had the same argument last year and the year before, and his answer was always the same: I’m still here, aren’t I?

He was here—physically. Emotionally, he had left her years ago. Or maybe she had left him. Either way, the fun, happy marriage they’d once had seemed like a mirage.

“I, uh, need to help Gabby with her train.” Margaret spun away and headed for her sister. Action, that was what would take her mind off all of this. Anything that could keep her from thinking too much and wondering about things that were never going to change. She saw Mike head toward the cash bar. Even from here, she could sense the unhappiness radiating off of him.

Gabby was talking to their grandmother, who looked absolutely adorable today in a light blue lacy dress that came to her knees. Eleanor Whitmore had put on a pair of low heels, maybe because her date—and sort-of boyfriend—Harry Erlich was several inches taller. He had his arm around her waist, protective and tender, and reminding Margaret yet again of all the things she was avoiding. Was everyone at this wedding in love, for Pete’s sake?

“Gabby, we need to fasten your train before you trip over it and break your nose.” Margaret took her sister’s hand and pulled her toward the area around the back of the tent. Away from the view of Harry mooning over Grandma and Luke and Emma giving each other a little kiss.

“Ow.” Gabby tugged her hand out of Margaret’s grip. “I’m not five, you know. I’m fully capable of walking over there on my own.”

“There’s a lot to do at the reception, and you can’t do any of it if you’re tripping all over yourself. Turn around.”

Gabby didn’t move. She put a fist on her hip and glared at Margaret. “Meggy, what is your problem?”

Ugh. She hated that nickname her sister insisted on using. It didn’t help Margaret’s mood one bit. “I don’t have a problem, Gabby. Work with me, will you?” Margaret shifted around Gabby and tried to slip one of the thread loops on the train over the tiny transparent buttons on the dress.

Gabby turned out of her reach. The loop slid out of Margaret’s grasp. “This is my wedding day. Can you at least try not to be your usual grumpy self?”

“I am not—” Margaret stopped herself. She thought of her grandmother’s quirky wisdom and how she had a saying for almost any situation. In this moment, she’d probably say: If one person says something to you, they’re a lone voice in the wilderness. If two do, it’s a crowd shouting at you to notice. Both Emma and Gabby had remarked on Margaret’s sourness today. Heck, even Margaret could feel the storm clouds hanging over her head. It wasn’t fair to her sister to darken the wedding with her own problems. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool. Weddings are stressful, no matter how you slice it.” Gabby turned back to the front again, and Margaret bent down to pin up the train. She had made it through two of the twelve loops when Gabby said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not here in Pepto-Bismol land.” Margaret put up a hand to cut off Gabby’s objection. Yet again, Margaret had let her own irritation spoil Gabby’s happy moment. “Sorry. You know how I feel about pink. Like you said, it’s your wedding day. And this is nothing, really. I’m just in a weird mood.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

“Of course.” But it was a lie, one that she’d told many, many times over the years. Margaret had spent most of her life hiding the truth from her sisters, shielding them from the darker parts of life. They’d been through enough when their mother died. Emma had only been five, Gabby slightly older at eight, when their world imploded. Even though she was only a touch older at nine, Margaret had vowed that day to make sure nothing ever hurt her sisters again.

It had been a lofty goal. And almost impossible, she realized when they were teenagers and boys came along to break their hearts. Even though she knew her sisters were now full-grown adults, the part of her that had watched them crumple on the love seat that day their father delivered the devastating news had never quite gone away. As she got older, she learned to feign happiness while inside her stomach churned with doubt and stress, and she controlled the narrative to protect her sisters from pain.

“There,” Margaret said as she fastened the last loop and fluffed the fabric to help the pinned train fall perfectly into place. “You’re all set. And if I haven’t told you already, you look wonderful in Momma’s dress. She’d be so proud of you, Gabby. So, so proud.”

Gabby’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course. And not that it matters as much, but I’m wicked proud of you, too.” She chucked Gabby under the chin and wondered when her sister got so grown-up. It seemed like yesterday when they were all little girls, playing Barbies on Grandma’s living room carpet. “You turned out okay for a younger sister.”

Gabby laughed, erasing the tears from her eyes. “Thank you for my something borrowed, by the way.” She fingered the necklace Margaret had loaned her that morning.

Seeing the necklace on Gabby’s neck brought back a thousand memories in a rush. It was a simple design and nothing terribly expensive. Mike had bought it for her in a shop in Portsmouth the morning after they got married. They’d been walking to breakfast from the inn they had stayed at for their wedding night, and she’d seen it in the window. Two intertwined hearts, each punctuated by a colored gem that screamed “meant to be.” An aquamarine for his birthday in March, and a diamond for her birthday in April.

Whenever Margaret looked at that necklace, she thought of all the hopes and joy that had been in the air that day. Then time passed, the necklace got tucked away in Margaret’s jewelry box, and the dreams they’d once had settled into a humdrum, painfully silent reality.

“It’s adorable,” she’d said that day on the sidewalk.

“Just like us.” He’d kissed her temple and squeezed her against him.

“You are such a dork. An adorable dork, but still.” Margaret laughed as she rose onto her toes and kissed Mike.

“I have an idea,” Mike said. “I’ll be back in a second.” He’d darted into the store. The next thing she knew, the shopkeeper was lifting the necklace out of the window while Mike made goofy faces through the glass. A moment later, he was behind her, fastening the necklace and whispering how much he loved her.

“You are everything to me,” he’d said. “You’re the only future I want. Forever.”

Now the necklace was part of another wedding, another potential happily-ever-after. Maybe it would create more joy for Gabby than it had for Margaret. She lifted the pendant. The lights strung in the tent danced off the stones. Once upon a time, she’d worn this necklace every day, almost superstitious about taking it off and breaking the magical spell of that day in New Hampshire. Over the years, she’d realized there was no such thing as magic and this necklace was just a necklace, not a talisman. “You know, this necklace is the whole reason I took over the jewelry store and made it my own.”

“Really?”

“Mike told the owner we had just gotten married, and he came outside to congratulate us.” She remembered standing on that sunny sidewalk, holding Mike’s hand, giddy with happiness, thinking that life could surely only get better from this moment forward. “He and I started talking and I told him how fascinated I was by jewelry. How unique it can be, how special it can make someone feel. The owner of that store is the one who gave me my first job in the industry.”

When she’d told the owner she lived in Harbor Cove, he’d told her he was in the middle of opening a second store, and if she wanted a job, he’d hire her. Margaret had started working there a few weeks later and eventually bought Carats in the Cove when the owner and his wife retired. All that from a single piece of jewelry.

“Serendipity, huh?” Gabby smiled. “Well, that makes the necklace all the more special.” She gave Margaret a kiss on the cheek. “And now I must grab my new husband for a dance. Thanks, Margaret. For everything.”

The band launched into a cover of a Katy Perry song, perfect for setting a mood of fun and celebration. Gabby danced away, hips moving with the beat. Jake crossed the dance floor, caught her hand, spun her around, and then drew her against his chest for a long, tender kiss.

Margaret looked away from the image of wedded bliss and tried to ignore the growing surge of envy in her stomach. She prayed that her sisters’ marriages always remained that happy. That they would never know what it was like to feel like a soloist in a union that was supposed to be a forever duo.

God, she was really getting maudlin, wasn’t she? Margaret shook off the thoughts as she crossed to the table of appetizers and fixed herself a plate she didn’t really want. There was no official head table, just a sweetheart table for two at the front of the room, which left Margaret free to sit wherever she wanted. She opted for a table in the corner, hoping no one would bother her or try to make small talk.

The rest of the guests were busy mingling, getting drinks, or congratulating the new couple. Margaret fiddled with the food on her plate and selfishly wished the reception would hurry up and end so she could go home, climb into bed, and put on something mindless like Chopped until she fell asleep.

Mike ambled across the space and sat down next to her. He set his nonalcoholic beer on the table and then handed her a glass of Chardonnay. “Got you a drink at the bar.”

“Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.” And a nice distraction for Margaret. She took a sip. A bright pink ring of her lipstick smudged across the rim of the glass like half a kiss.

“Every once in a while, I get it right.” Mike sipped at his drink and watched the guests moving across the large space under the tent. The hum of conversation wove in and out of the music. “They look happy.”

“Yeah.” Margaret sipped at her wine and ignored her food. The stress in her stomach kept her perpetually nauseous. She’d lost ten pounds in the last couple months, undoubtedly because she had no appetite and spent any free time she had logging punishing runs along the trails that ran through Harbor Cove. “Hopefully it’ll work out for them.”

“There’s the pessimist I know and love.” Mike tipped his bottle and clinked with her glass. He took a long sip of the Heineken and went back to watching the crowd. Silence became the uncomfortable weight between them.

M. . .